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“Humph,” Claire said. “Well, about the two legible fingerprints on that bottle found at the scene. One belongs to Steven Meacham. The other didn’t match to anybody. But I’ve got something for you, girlfriend. Sandy Meacham had a good-sized blunt-force wound to the skull. Looks like she got clobbered with maybe a gun butt.”
I thought about that – that the killer had gotten violent – then I told Claire how the canvass of the Meacham neighborhood had netted us no leads whatsoever. She gave me the results of the blood screen – that Sandy Meacham had been drinking, and that the Meachams had both died of smoke inhalation.
It was all interesting, but none of it added up to a damned thing. I said so to Claire as she pulled into the handicapped zone right in front of Susie’s Café.
She looked at me and said, “I am handicapped, Linds. I’m carrying fifty pounds of baby fat, and I can’t walk a block without huffing.”
“I’m not going to write you up for this, Butterfly. But as for the land speed record you just set in a business district…”
My best friend kissed my cheek as I helped her down out of the Pathfinder. “I love that you worry about me.”
“Lotta good it does,” I said, hugging her, cracking open the door to Susie’s.
As we plowed through the gang at the bar toward the back room, the plinking steel-band version of a Bob Marley classic surrounded us, as well as the divine aromas of roasting chicken, garlic, and curry. Cindy and Yuki were already at our booth, and Lorraine dragged up a chair for Claire. She dropped laminated menus that we knew by heart onto the table and took our order for a pitcher of tap and mineral water for Claire.
And then with Cindy urging her on – “Yu-ki, tell them, tell them” – Yuki “volunteered” her news.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Okay. I had a date. With Jason Twilly.”
“And you were careful what you said to him,” Cindy said, sternly. “You remembered that he’s a reporter.”
“We didn’t talk about the case at all,” Yuki said, laughing. “It was di
“Was it fun? Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah, yeah, if he asks me, I suppose I will.”
“Jeez. First date in what, a year?” I said. “Think you’d be more excited.”
“It hasn’t been a year,” Yuki said. “It’s been sixteen months, but never mind that. What’re we toasting?”
“We’re toasting Ruby Rose,” said Claire, lifting her water glass.
“Who?” we all asked in unison.
“Ruby Rose. She’s right here,” Claire said, patting her belly. “That’s the name Edmund and I picked out for our little baby girl.”
Chapter 47
WHEN I RETURNED home from Susie’s, the sun was still hanging above the horizon, splashing orange light on the hood of a squad car parked right outside my apartment.
I bent to the open car window, said, “Hey there. Something wrong?”
“You got a couple of minutes?”
I said, “Sure,” and my partner opened the car door, unfolded his long legs, and walked over to my front steps, where he sat down. I joined him. I didn’t like the look on Rich’s face as he opened a pack of cigarettes and offered me one.
I shook my head no, then said, “You don’t smoke.”
“Old habit making a brief return visit.”
I’d kicked tobacco once or twice myself, and now I felt the pull of the many-splendored ritual as the match sparked, the tip of the cigarette glowed, and Rich released a long exhalation into the dusky air.
“Kelly Malone is calling me every day so I can tell her that we’ve got nothing. Had to tell her about the Meachams.”
I murmured sympathetically.
“She says she can’t sleep, thinking how her parents died. She’s crying all the time.”
Rich coughed on the smoke and waved his hand to tell me that he couldn’t talk anymore. I understood how helpless he felt. The Malones’ deaths were shaping up to be a part of a vicious serial killing spree. And we were clueless.
I said, “He’s going to screw up, Richie, they almost always do. And we’re not in this alone. Claire, Ha
“You like Ha
“Sure. Don’t you?”
Conklin shrugged. “Why does he know so much and so little at the same time?”
“He’s doing what we’re doing. Wading through the sludge. Trying to make sense of the senseless.”
“Good word for it. Sludging. We’re sludging, and the killer is laughing – but hell, I’m a bright guy. I can translate Latin platitudes into English! That’s worth something. Isn’t it?”
I was laughing with Rich as he joked himself out of his blue mood when I saw a black sedan crawling slowly up the street in search of a parking spot. It was Joe.
“Oh, look. Stay and meet Joe,” I said. “He’s heard a lot about you.”
“Nah, not tonight, Linds,” said Rich, standing up, grinding out the butt of his cigarette on the pavement. “Maybe some other time. See you in the morning.”
Joe’s car stopped.
Richie’s car pulled out of the spot.
Then Joe’s car pulled in.
Chapter 48
“YOU EVER USE THIS THING?” Joe was asking me about the stove.
“Sure I do.”
“Uh-huh? So what’s this?”
He pulled a user’s manual and some Styrofoam packing out of the oven.
“I use the stove top,” I said.
He shook his head, laughed at me, asked if I could open the wine and start the salad. I said I thought I could handle that. I uncorked the chardo
I sipped my wine and with a Phil Collins CD playing in the background, listened to Joe talk about three accounts he’d landed for his new disaster-preparedness consultancy and his upcoming meeting with the governor. Joe was happy. And I was glad that he was using his modern, larger, fancier apartment as his office – and making himself at home right here.
And my apartment was a darned cute place, I have to say. My four cluttered but cozy rooms are on the third floor of a nice old Victorian town house, and there’s a deck off the living room where the sun sets on my sliver view of the bay. It was becoming our sliver view of the bay.
I topped up Joe’s wineglass, watched him stuff a couple of tilapias with crabmeat and slide the pan into the oven. He washed his hands and turned his handsome self to me.
“The fish will be ready in about forty-five minutes. Want to go outside and catch the last rays?”
“Not really,” I said.
I put down my glass, hooked my leg around Joe’s waist, and pulled him to me, gri
I laughed, bit his earlobe, said, “You didn’t think 130 was a load when you were younger.”
“Like I said. Light as a feather.”
He dropped me softly onto the bed, crawled in next to me, took my face in his big hands, and gave me a kiss that made me groan. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and Joe did the almost impossible, pulled off his shirt and kissed me at the same time, tugged off my pants, and also somehow managed to kick the door shut to keep Martha out of our private moments.
“You’re amazing,” I said, laughing.
“You haven’t seen anything, yet, baby doll,” my lover growled.
Soon we were both naked, our skin hot and slick, limbs completely wrapped around each other. But as we grappled together, making the delicious climb to ecstasy, an image of another man came winging into my mind.
I fought it hard, because I didn’t want him there.