Destiny

A

Embarrassed and off balance, Bart sat across from her.

"Have you ordered?" Maria asked.

Bart shook his head. "I was waiting for A

Maria threw her hands up. "Don't you worry. I'll prepare your meals. I'll make sure you get plenty." She turned and walked away.

Bart shook his head and gri

"I like them," A

"Then you like a lot of people. It seems like everywhere we go, you know somebody." Bart didn't sound jealous.

"I've met a lot of people."

"But you're an absentee resident. Gone as much as you're here."

"I grew up in an orphanage," A

Bart leaned back in his chair. "I didn't know that."

A

"I mean, I figured you had a family somewhere."

"No."

He shook his head. "How long have I known you?"

"Two years."

Smiling, he said, "Two years, four months."

A

"I'll take your word for it," she told him.

"It's been that long. And in all that time, I didn't know you were adopted."

"I was never adopted," A

Bart looked uncomfortable. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into this."

"It's no big deal," A

Gazing into her eyes, Bart said, "It's just that you have this way about you. Like with that woman – "

"You mean Maria?"

"See? I didn't even know her name."

"That's because she's never been a homicide suspect," A

Bart gave her a wry look. "No. That's not it. You're just… someone people are lucky to get to know."

"Thank you." A

"I was telling my girlfriend about you. That maybe we should try to fix you up with somebody we knew."

A

"Yeah. Girlfriend."

Hesitating, A

"We've dated off and on for the last few years," Bart said. "It's hard to maintain a steady relationship when you're a cop. But a week ago, we got engaged."

"You asked her to marry you?" A

He gri

"Gutsy."

"Yeah. She's some piece of work."

"So what did you say?"

Bart shrugged. "I told her I'd think about it."

"You did not."

"No," he agreed, "I didn't. I said I would." He shifted in his seat. "I'd like to ask you a favor if I could."

"You can. I seem to ask you for favors from time to time." A

"I'd like something special for a wedding ring," Bart said. "Something that has… a history to it. You know. Something that has – "

"Permanence," A

Bart nodded and smiled happily. "Yeah. Permanence. I want to give her something that didn't just come off an assembly line."

"I can do that. How much time do I have?"

Spreading his hands, Bart shrugged. "A few months. A year. We haven't exactly set a date yet."

"What does she do?"

He gazed at her through suspicious, narrowed eyes. "Are you curious about the kind of woman that would go out with me? Or choose to marry me?"

"I figured I'd be checking a psych ward."

Bart snorted.

"Actually," A

"I like that," Bart said seriously.

"Good. So what does she do?"

"She's a doctor. In Manhattan."

"A doctor is good," A

"She works in the ER. She patched me up three years ago when I was shot."

"You never told me you'd been shot," A

"I didn't die. Nothing to tell. But I got to know Ruth."

"Ruth. That's a good, strong name."

"She's a strong lady."

"So the offer you made earlier about coming up to my loft and helping me dress – "

"Whoa," Bart protested, throwing his hands up. "In the first place, I knew you would never say yes."

Feeling mischievous, A

"You wouldn't."

She decided to let him off the hook. "You're right."

"So what about you?" he asked. "Do you have a special guy stashed someplace?"

"No."

"Then you should let Ruth and me fix you up."

"I'm not looking for a relationship," A

"And that's why I knew you wouldn't let me come up." Bart smiled. "Speaking of work, yours, as I might have mentioned, has taken on a decidedly weird twist."

"How?" A

"Those fingerprints you asked me to run? They're co

Surprise stopped A

"Yeah. They belong to the prime suspect."

Chapter 20

"SIXTY-THREE YEARS ago," Bart McGilley went on, "a woman was found dead in a hotel room in Los Angeles. She worked for MGM studios. Bought set pieces. Stuff they used in the backgrounds to make a scene more real."

"Anyway, from the way everything looks, this woman, Doris Cooper, age twenty-eight and an L.A. resident, was murdered for one of the things she bought."

"What was it?" A

Bart shrugged. "Nobody knows. Nobody knew what she'd bought that day. The detectives working the case didn't follow up all that well. During the heyday of the movies back then, the death of a set designer only got a splash of ink, not a river of it."

"She was a nobody," A

"Right."

A