his boyish grin reminding her of why she had first gotten involved with him some four years ago.
“Matter of fact, yes. Wanted your take on this cheerful fellow who goes around cutting iambic pentameter into the backs of his victims and leaving them dead by poison. And what's up with DeAngelos?”
“DeAngelos? Had lunch with him today. He's not exactly president of your fan club either.”
“Why do you say that? What'd he have to say?”
“Says you're pushy.”
“Oh, is that how he put it?”
“Close enough.”
“You mean with your sensitivity to offensive language, you can't repeat such words?”
“It wasn't that bad.” Parry managed a smile.
“So have you and Leanne cracked the case yet?” she asked. “It would appear the two of you are working it alone.”
“That's not fair, Jess, but yeah, sure, with zip to go on we've cracked the case wide open.” He let out a long, exasperated sigh and stepped closer to her desk. “This is beginning to remind me of a case we worked in Hawaii in '90, before I met you. Forensics on the case had nothing.”
“Are you telling me that your meeting with DeAngelos today went badly?” She leaned over the desk, a half smile on her face. “Now he's a cheerful fellow.”
“So, you've been tracking my movements?”
“Damn straight I have. It appears the only way I can know what's going on around here. You haven't exactly been forthcoming, Jim.”
“Sturtevante's idea to jump on DeAngelos and shake something loose from him. Identifying the poison is key to the case.”
“I should have been asked to the table, Jim.”
He dropped his steady gaze, nodding. “Yeah, I know, Jess, and I'm sorry. Some mix-up in communications.”
“A big one, I'd say, since Kim wasn't invited either.”
“It was a big waste of time. You two would have heard nothing. Trust me.”
“What precisely did you discuss?”
“Filled his ear with a lot of questions, but got very little out of him. That is, until he started talking about how you're in his face all the time, how he can't make any headway with the FBI looking over his shoulder. Said the two of you mutually agreed to have all the test samples forwarded to my office for routing to Washington.”
“Mutually agreed, huh? He said that?”
“Yeah, is that how it came about?”
“Result's the same; no matter. And according to his assistant, Heyward, the samples're in your hands now.”
He breathed deeply, and pushing to a full standing position, said, “Fact is, they're on their way to D.C. as we speak. Your best toxicology team's making it priority one.”
“Good… good.”
“Happy?” he asked.
“Relatively, yes. Very happy, actually.”
“I mean about the samples getting off in so timely a fashion.”
“Yes, that's what I'm talking about.”
“Oh, yeah, of course…”
“Maybe this idea of us trying to work together, Jim… maybe it's foolhardy to think we can if…”
“Come on, Jess. What're you getting at?”
“… if we don't even hear the simplest of words the same way? If every little thing has to be scrutinized and analyzed for double entendre, innuendo.”
“Hey, I only said what I said. No hidden agenda.”
'Tell that to your subconscious, and I suppose mine. You can't deny, Jim, that a lot of business has gone unfinished between us. And that right now there are at least eight people in the room.”
“Eight in the room? I don't recall that many in bed with us,” he replied, smiling.
“There's the me I think I am, the me I want to be, the me you want to be, the me I really am, as well as the you you think you are, the you you want to be, the you that I want you to be, and the you you really are. He repeated her words. “Eight people between us. How'd it get so complicated? Why?”
She shook her head, still sitting safely behind the desk, glad it stood between them. “I don't know.”
He near whispered, “I'm sorry it ended so badly, Jess. Really I am.”
“So am I.”
“You deserved more than a telephone good-bye.”
Her eyes widened. “Well, thank you, Mr. Parry, for that acknowledgment.”
“But as usual, distance was the demon.”
“Oh, sure, Jim. Place blame on something other than yourself, some intangible, that poor James Parry could do nothing about, like distance.”
“Hey, hold on, Jess.”
“You might've come to London when I asked; we might've ended things better there.”
“You really think so?” He came closer, a hand outstretched. “You think London would have changed anything?”
“Maybe, but then we'll never know, since you chose to ignore me there.”
“Ignore you. I can just see me in a hotel room waiting for you to finish another of your endless autopsies, and you making eyes at this Scotland Yard guy the whole time.”
“So, you've learned about Richard, have you?”
“There're no secrets in the FBI community. We leave that for the CIA, remember?”
“After our last conversation, you relinquished all right to any say-so in my life on any subject, Chief. I owe you my best as a member of the profiling and forensic investigation team on a case we happen to be working together today. But I'll thank you to keep your opinions on my private life to yourself for the duration of this case, unless you see fit to relieve me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I didn't say that.”
“Imagine the repercussions of that one.” He paced now, staring at the ceiling, waving an arm and shaking his head. “Imagine it. I replace the famous Dr. Jessica Coran on the case, headline news from here to China.”
She raised her shoulders. “What repercussions? I wouldn't make a single wave over it.”
He laughed derisively, and when he spoke, his tone was angry. “And with whom do I replace you, Jessica? I didn't ask for you on this case, you know. I don't know whose bright idea it was, but it wasn't mine. I thought you came as a… a package deal with the psychic.”
She rose to her feet and came around the desk, fists balled, jaw set. “Where did you hear that nonsense?”
“It appeared to be the case. At any rate, you tell me, with whom do I replace the most famous forensic investigator the FBI's ever known, and-”
“John Thorpe,” she interjected.
“-and the media and the people of Philly will have my ass by morning.”
“You're making far too much of it, Jim.”
“Making too much of your reputation? Me? Oh, yeah, sure… What can the Bureau do to me that they haven't already done?”
“I'm sorry about your losing your post in Hawaii, Jim,” she said. “But I've got to know, did it have anything to do with the Lopaka Kowona case? Our final report on the way he died?”
He brushed this off with a wave of his hand and an unconvincing shake of the head. “No, not so's anyone would notice. Fact is, people have long forgotten what I did for the islands back then. If you recall, dear, you garnered all the accolades for putting an end to the Trade Winds Killer. No, our little secret on exactly how Kowona died is intact.”
“We were both there when the cameras rolled, Jim.”
