Free Fall

"Yes, he is. If you knew Mark, you'd know that, too." Confident.

I nodded, and then I looked at the salad again. Then I said, "What size bra do you wear?"

She turned a deep shade of crimson. "Now you're being ugly."

"I put you at a thirty-four B. I went into Mark's apartment to look through his bank papers and I found a thirty-six C-cup brassiere."

She looked shocked. "You broke into his apartment? You went through his things?"

"That's what private detectives do, Ms. Sheridan."

She put her hands in her lap. "It isn't real."

"It was a red Lily of France brassiere. I held it. It was real."

She shook her head. 'That's not what I mean. They knew you would look so they planted it there to make you think he was seeing another woman. What do they call it? A false lead?"

"Later that evening, I staked out a country-and-western bar called Cody's. It's a place where the police officers who work with Mark tend to gather. At a little bit after eight last night, Mark and his partner Floyd Riggens arrived. Mark was with a tall woman with dark brown hair." I felt bad telling her and the bad feeling was oily and close, but there didn't seem to be any other way.

"And?"

"I wish I had better news, but there it is. I have looked into the matter and this is what I have found. I think my work here is done."

"You mean you're quitting?"

"The case is solved. There's nothing left to do."

Je

I said, "Maybe we should leave."

"I'm all right." She made loud whooping sounds like she couldn't catch her breath and the tears rolled down her cheeks, making dark tracks from the mascara. The waiter stormed over to the maitre d' and made an angry gesture. The woman with the big hair said something to an elderly man at an adjoining table and the elderly man glared at me. I felt two inches tall.

"Try to see it this way, Je

Je

"You're not?"

"I'm crying because Mark's in trouble and he needs our help and you're quitting. What kind of crummy detective are you?"

I spread my hands. The maitre d' said something to the waiter and the waiter came over.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

"Everything is fine, thank you."

He looked at Je

She shook her head. "He's a quitter."

The waiter frowned and went away. The woman with the big hair made a tsking sound like she thought they should've done something.

Je

"No."

"Then you don't know, do you? You don't know if they slept together. You don't know if he kissed her good night. You don't even know if they left the bar together."

I rubbed my brow. "No."

The woman with the big hair whispered again to the elderly man, then stood and went to three women sitting in a window booth. One of the women stood to meet her.

Je

The woman with the big hair shouted, "Help her, for God's sake."

The three women at the window booth shouted, "Yeah!"

I looked at them and then I looked back at Je

Je

I nodded.

"You see how it's possible, don't you? You see that I'm right about this?"

I spread my hands. The Defeated Detective.

She said, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Cole. Thank you. I knew I could depend on you." She was bubbling now, just like Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz. She used her napkin to dry her eyes, but all she did was smear the mascara. It made her look like a raccoon.

The woman with the big hair smiled and the elderly man looked relieved. The waiter and the maitre d' nodded at each other. The three women in the window booth resumed their meal. The restaurant returned to its normal course of lunchtime events, and Je

"Jesus Christ," I said.

The waiter appeared at my elbow. "Is something wrong with the niçoise, sir?"

I looked at him carefully. "Get away from me before I shoot you."

He said, "Very good, sir," and he got.

CHAPTER 6

At twelve fifty-five, I gave Je

The problem was that Je

I stopped at a Lucky market, bought two large bottles of Evian water, put one in my trunk, then continued on toward my office. Half a block later two guys in a light blue four-door sedan pulled up behind me and I thought I was being followed. A Hispanic guy in a dark blue Dodgers cap was driving and a younger guy with a light blond butch cut was riding shotgun. His was the kind of blond that was so blond it was almost white. I looked at them, but they weren't looking at me, and a block and a half later they turned into a Midas Muffler shop. So much for being followed.

When I got up to my office I opened the French doors off the little balcony, then turned on the radio, and lay down on my couch. KLSX on the airwaves. Howard Stern all morning, classic rock all afternoon. We were well into classic rock and I liked it just fine. Lynyrd Skynyrd. What could be better than that?

It was a cool, clear afternoon and I could be at the beach but instead I was here. Portrait of a detective in a detective's office. When a detective is in a detective's office, shouldn't he be detecting? One of life's imponderables. The problem was that I didn't suspect Mark Thurman of a crime, and crime still didn't look good to me as the answer to Je