Twisted

That made it easy for Isaac to trade his homemade fare for the contents of the rich kids’ caf trays. Chewing away with forced aplomb, pretending to like the bland stuff, because he desperately wanted to blend in.

It had been a while since Mama had packed him a lunch. Maybe he’d ditch it, get himself a fried sausage from a street vendor near the library.

No way, the guilt would overwhelm him. He stuffed the bag in his briefcase, left, and hurried down the stairs.

Guilt was a big part of his makeup. So scratch the M.B.A. and the drug companies.

There goes the house on the beach.

As he hit the street, he changed his mind again. Two days of library work had produced nothing. What could he hope to find? He walked to Pico, caught the number seven bus, and rode all the way to Overland when the aroma of his mother’s food, seeping through the brown paper, got his gastric juices going and he unfolded the flap and looked inside.

Atop the foil-wrapped morsels was a scrap of paper, folded over. He fished it out, read “BRO,” in large, clumsy capitals. Isaiah’s writing.

He unfolded the note.

THE LADY COP CALLED LAST NIGHT.

Just that, no number.

He got up from his seat, rang the buzzer. Exited at the next stop.

The station’s rear door was locked. Since he’d been coming here that had only happened twice, because someone had forgotten to open it. He found his 999 key.

It didn’t come close to fitting. Change of locks? Then he noticed the closed-circuit camera above the door. Flaking paint where the device had been installed. The lens was focused right on him. It made him feel like a suspect and he turned his back.

New security measures because of some terrorism alert?

He was thinking about that when he saw an older silver Cadillac drive into the lot and park. That old drill-sergeant type, Detective Dilbeck.

Isaac approached the car and Dilbeck rolled down his window.

“Morning, Detective.”

“Morning, Mr. Gomez.”

“The door’s locked and my key doesn’t work.”

“Mine neither,” said Dilbeck. “Everyone comes in through the front until things calm down.”

“Calm down from what?”

Dilbeck bared his teeth. “Captain Schoelkopf was murdered yesterday.”

“Oh no.”

“For the time being, they’re being extra careful. Not that what happened to the captain applies to anyone else. He cheated on his wife, hell has no fury and all that. You haven’t a

Isaac smiled. His stomach churned.

Dilbeck got out of his car and began walking toward the lot’s entrance. Isaac stayed in place.

“No work today, Mr. Gomez?”

Isaac half heard him. Thinking: heightened security probably means a metal detector. The gun…

“Actually, I’m on my way to school, just dropped by to get Detective Co

“She’s home,” said Dilbeck. “You know what happened to her?”

“Yes, sir. It’s kind of important that I talk to her. She was trying to reach me about a case we’re- she’s working on.”

“Well, she’s not working on anything now, Mr. Gomez.”

“Still, I think I should return her- ”

Dilbeck clapped his shoulder and stared into his eyes. “You’re a nice young fellow, but we’re sticklers for privacy around here. How about I call Detective Co

Isaac gave him the BioStatistics office number. Now he had to return to campus. What a tangled web we weave.

He reached USC forty minutes later, took an indirect route to BioStat that circumvented Doheny, and headed straight for his mailbox. It had been days since he’d checked and the box was stuffed. Circulars, departmental memos, junk mail.

Five messages from Klara, all in the same curvy handwriting. The last three were dated yesterday. Exclamation points.

Sandwiched between those was a single slip listing Petra’s name and a number to call. A 933 prefix that had to be her home.

He asked the secretary if he could use a department phone to make a local call.

She said, “Haven’t you been a stranger.”

He shrugged. “Working on the dissertation.”

“Poor baby. Don’t tie up this one, use the extension in the Xerox room. You know the drill: eight for an outside line and no phoning Europe.”

The door to the photocopy room was open. He’d nearly made it over there when a hand landed on his upper back.

Light touch, the barest contact. He wheeled and faced Klara Distenfield. She wore a royal blue dress printed with tiny yellow fish, fresh lipstick, mascara, perfume- the same perfume. Her hand remained near the side of his neck.

She smiled and said, “Finally.”

He ushered her into the room.

“What an elusive fellow.”

“Klara, I’m sorry- ”

“You should be.” No rancor in her voice. That made him really anxious. He found himself looking her up and down, stopped, but not before the images had registered. Red hair pi

Her gold-green eyes narrowed. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to reach you?”

“I’ve been out. Family issues- ”

“Everyone’s got a family.” Her lips pursed and tiny wrinkles formed above the gloss. “Whatever the family issue was, it couldn’t be too grave. I talked to your brother and he didn’t say anything. He sounds like you, by the way.”

The prospect of constructing another lie exhausted him. He said, “Nothing grave, it just took time.”

“So you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

“Me?” She laughed. “I’m great. Why?”

“I thought you were upset.”

“About what?”

“What happened.”

“Me?” She placed a dainty hand over one commodious breast. “I was a little… thrown. But then we had coffee, remember? And I was fine. Didn’t I seem fine?”

“The next day,” he said, “you weren’t at work. Mary Zoltan said you were sick. She implied it was more than a cold.” He shook his head. “Maybe I misread the whole thing.”

“Mary’s an idiot. I wasn’t the least bit sick. I missed two days because my daughter was ill. High fever, stiff neck. We were worried about- ”

“Meningitis. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, just a virus. But I was pretty frantic.” She sidled closer to him. “You were worried I had some big old neurotic reaction to our little tumble? That’s kind of touching.” Her smile was wry. “Except that you dealt with it by avoiding me.”

“Not neurotic,” he said. “I thought I…” He shook his head.

“You thought you’d traumatized the poor sex-starved librarian and she was going to make your life miserable.” She threw back her head and laughed. Soft laugh. Sexy. Her hand moved down to his crotch. “You’re not that worried.”

“Klara, what happened- ”

“Was great. Don’t see it any other way.” She squeezed him, released him. Winked.

“Klara- ”

“Chemistry is chemistry, Isaac. One can never explain it rationally. That doesn’t mean we have to give in to our impulses.” Sly grin. “Though I can think of worse things.” She stroked his face. “You’re really a beautiful young man. I admire your brain and I adore your body, but it could never be anything more than an erotic tumble. Which isn’t half-bad, right? You’ve got the potential to be a fantastic lover and I’m a pretty good teacher.”

Another downward glance. “Don’t worry, that’s not an invitation for Episode Two. Because right now there are more important things to discuss. And that’s why I’ve been trying to reach you for days, silly lad. First of all, a cop has been nosing around, asking about you. He just left the library, as a matter of fact. Which is why I came here to leave you yet another message.”