'Come here, sugar.' Her hands and arms, empty now, opened wide to him, inviting him in.
'What?'
'Come the hell over here, lover, now!'
He came around the table toward her.
'I think you need a good hug and a feel,' she said.
Arthur dropped his head in a hangdog fashion, grinned, and opened his arms to her. She wrapped him in her arms where they stood against the stainless-steel table she had backed him into. 'Want to make love on the steel?' she asked.
'Whataya mean? Now?' He looked over his shoulder at the table, empty of any of Lauralie's parts, but alongside the saw resting there, the surface was littered with bits and pieces of chewed flesh and bodily fluids.
She pressed herself tighter against him. 'Now, right now,' she whispered naughtily in his ear.
'But it's all filthy from the cutting and-'
'Just get naked. I'll spray it down with the hose while you get naked for me, okay?'
'It's going to be cold as hell against the skin.'
'Arthur, get undressed and lay down! You're going to have the time of your life.' She lifted the saw, putting it aside, found the hose, and rinsed off the operating table with warm soapy water. Water and human tissue and debris swept down the built-in sewage drain along each side of the table, taking the residue and blood to a tank that Arthur had ingeniously attached to the underside of the table.
Arthur stripped as she worked to clean the table. 'We'll warm up this ol' steel right quickly, Arthur,' she was saying as he tested the cold steel, first with his hands, then, climbing onto the flat surface, with elbows and knees. He squinted with the chill of it, despite the warm water she'd used. She turned the warm water hose on him now, laughing.
Finally, he eased onto his back, the sensation creating a trembling in him, the exact opposite of sliding down into a steaming hot tub of water, this gradual getting used to a chilling surface.
His eyes closed against the cold pain to his backside, Arthur said, 'Never imagined I'd ever be making love to a beautiful young woman on one of my operating tables.'
'One of your dogs maybe!' she joked, snickering.
'Told my receptionist we had to sell the table to pay for the increase in rent on the office. She bought it, but when she sees the books again, she'll know I was lying. Guess I'll have to drop a hint that I've been gambling again. She knows about my habit with the horses.'
'Arthur, please shut up, close your eyes, baby, and get your mind off all these worries.'
He closed his eyes, comfortable now on his back, hardening at her gentle touch. 'God, Lauralie, I wish we were in Paris or maybe London…at the race track even…you, me together without a care, just enjoying the breeze, the ponies, the excitement of the race, sex afterwards…'
'Dream on, Artie, baby,' she said, bringing down the rotary saw against his chest, clicking the on switch, and plunging its biting, grinding titanium steel into his heart.
His startled brown eyes flew open at the sound of the saw long enough to catch the geyser of blood that blinded him, a spray that likewise discolored Lauralie's features, making a fiend of her-the last thing he saw before dying.
'No more goddamn questions out of you,' she muttered over the still-twitching body. 'And you needn't worry that the cops are going to put you away, Arthur. Nobody can hurt you now, and you never have to worry about hurting me or incriminating me in any way. Such a dear you've been and so patient throughout this long ordeal.'
CHAPTER 13
It had beed a long time since Lucas had completely relaxed, but here at Meredyth Sanger's favorite hideaway, her family's country ranch retreat, a majestic log cabin and stables, proved dreamlike, convincing them both to call in the next morning to take the day off. Both of them had been physically and mentally exhausted by the pace of events, and Doctor Sanger had prescribed a full day of horseback riding, canoeing, swimming, and making love. The day became an idyllic Huckleberry Finn extravagance, a day without responsibilities or worries to plague them. Doctor and detective, for a time, freed their minds of the horrors Lauralie and her boyfriend had dealt them unrelentingly for days now. For the time being, the couple had gotten their lives back, while others back in Houston continued to work their more objective and scientific angles on the ongoing case of the Post-it Ripper, a name being used now in the press for the odd-looking, mole-faced killer gracing the tube and the front pages of the papers.
As was protocol, Captain Gordon Lincoln would have to make the decision to release the photo of Lauralie Blodgett and her name as a person of interest, wanted for questioning in the case.
Lucas and Meredyth breakfasted and went out for a romantic mid-morning swim off the pier on Madera Lake, a loon somewhere in the reeds calling out, acting as a melodic backdrop to their water sport. They returned, had lunch, went to the stable and had a pair of horses saddled, and they rode about the property. She pointed out natural features, told him about neighbors around the lake, how they got together on occasion, barbecues and holidays. She said the Brodys directly across were especially friendly and nice. She pointed out a small home at the edge of her property where a lady and her two sons who maintained the stables and the machines on the ranch lived rent-free.
Nearing dusk, they went exploring by canoe among the reeds along the shore as they watched the sun calmly wink and drop from sight behind the juniper forest that tickled the underside of the darkening sky.
All day long they had visited Meredyth's childhood secret places, and she'd made love to him in each one of them. After dark, Lucas and Meredyth sat on the swing porch out front of the lavish log cabin home, listening to the insect and bird activity and staring out at the lake where loons continued gathering and playing their melodic tune. Here on Madera Lake, Houston and its problems, especially the Mira Lourdes case with its cruel dissonance, seemed a vague memory a world away. Still, as wonderful a day and evening as they had, thoughts of the case seeped into consciousness like water through rock, always winning out in the end.
'I'd better check in, see if anyone's thinking of firing me,' Lucas told her as he stepped off the front porch, going for his car radio. Meredyth walked out to his car with him. There he got on the police-band radio and called in, asking for the duty roster desk. He got Kelton's night-owl replacement, Jim Bowker. Bowker calmly informed him, 'So far, Lieutenant, there've been no new ripples in the P.O. murder case.'
'The P.O. case? That's what its being called now down at the precinct?'
'That's right, sir.'
'And everything's cool?'
'Copacetic, sir.'
'Right, thanks, Sergeant Bowker.'
'Enjoy what's left of your day off, Lieutenant, you've earned it, sir. I don't care what Captain Gordon thinks.'
'Has Gordon been making noises?'
'Elephant stampedes through the department, sir. He's peeved you chose this time to disappear, you and Dr. Sanger at once, that is.'
'Thanks.' He looked across at Meredyth. Despite their attempt at being discreet, everybody at the Three-one knew about their romantic involvement. A precinct, like a reservation, was a breeding ground for rumors and gossip. Lucas had given thought to their hiding out on the res, but he was glad they'd found this place instead.
'What is it?' Meredyth asked him from outside the car, standing over him. 'Everything okay?'
He reached a hand out to her. 'Oh, yeah, just fine. Captain's happy we took some time off. Says it can only give us more objectivity when we come back at it fresh.'
She accepted the lie because she wanted it to be true. Leaning into the car, she kissed his cheek and said, 'The human mind can only take so much; the emotions can only absorb so much before a person shuts down. If I hadn't taken this step back, Lucas, I think I'd've lost it. Speaking for myself, I know I'll be more objective and
