become too artificial and unnatural. I also wanted Jed to let me understand what had happened to end his marriage, and to let me meet the children who meant so much to him.
Now that Jed had expressed his love for me tonight something I hadn’t felt ready to do yet I was confident we were on our way to a more secure relationship, and I eased myself onto my side next to his body. I hugged him tightly against me and finally gave myself to pleasant dreams, unpeopled by the stalkers and rapists and murderers who loomed before me every day.
“Was it good for you?”
“Mike, there aren’t words to describe how good it was,” I responded when Chapman called the apartment in the middle of Sunday afternoon.
“If you stop playing with yourself and give some girl a chance, maybe you’ll find out.”
“Am I interrupting something warm and wonderful right now?”
“No, Mike, he’s gone. This is fine.”
“Gone? Already? Jeez, I figured you two would still be making up for lost time. The guy doesn’t have a problem, does he, blondie? Not a long-ball hitter?”
“No problem, Mikey. Now why don’t you pretend to be mature and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Jed and I had awakened at daybreak. I was happy and excited, and we made love again, unmindful of what the rest of the world was worrying about. We had coffee together and read the Sunday paper, but he left early to catch up on the mail and messages that had accumulated in his office while he was out of town, before going to his apartment to unpack and settle in for the work week ahead.
“Did you catch the funeral service yesterday?”
“Of course. What did you think?”
“I’m throwing Kirk Douglas on the list of possible perps that was the worst acting job I’ve ever seen that man do. He’s practically my hero you know that but this was a lousy performance, pretending that broad was a saint.”
“He made Isabella furious, Mike,” I chuckled as I recalled her outrage. She had thrown herself at him during the filming of Blue Lotus, tried every one of her teddy-bear tricks to seduce him, but he reminded her that he was very much in love with his wife and wasn’t the least bit interested in a dalliance with her.
“She really thought she was irresistible. Thought a man had to be dead or insane if he didn’t react to her charms.”
“What are you doing today?”
I looked out the window as the rain streaked against it, the gray clouds mirroring my mood.
“Nothing, really. I’ve got some motions to answer for my next trial, so I’m just going to hang around and do my homework, return some of my phone calls.”
“Good. Lieutenant Dane just reached me. He had a notification from the Chief of Detectives. Thought you’d be pleased to know that they’re lifting your bodyguard tomorrow. Uniform team will drive you to work in the morning and then you’re on your own. Battaglia approved.
And I’m back on night watch as of midnight tomorrow.“
“Oh, Mike, that’s great news. Living with these watchdogs could really drive me nuts, I’m so used to just picking up and moving when and where I want to.”
“Here’s the case update. LAPD is going through Isabella’s house right now they’ll let us know if they find anything of interest. Wally Flanders is letting us work this with him, so we’ll get copies of any reports he gets. And best of all is that he wants us to do some of the interviews. Richard Burrell and Johnny Garelli for starters both’ll be coming into New York this week.”
“As suspects or witnesses?”
“Hey, everybody’s a ”possible“ in my book until they convince me otherwise. Now, for whatever it’s worth, Wally FedEx’d some of the photos that have been developed and turned in. Should be in the squad office tomorrow.
He thought Isabella was in a couple of frames but didn’t see anything else of interest. I left orders to get them to the lab immediately for enlargement, so by the time I get in at eleven-thirty to start a midnight tour, they should be available.“
“Great. Let’s not waste any time. I have to go to a black-tie dinner with Jed tomorrow evening, but I’ll be home by eleven. I’ll make a pot of coffee for you. Bring the pictures by when you swing out and we’ll look through them together, okay?”
“Long as nobody gets chopped up in little pieces or dumped in the East River before midnight, I’ll be there, Coop. Lighten up we’re going to break this thing open ASAP and get your life back to normal… if that’s what anybody calls normal. It’s really nasty outside just stay in and relax, you’re not missing a thing. See you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone and went back to the dining-room table to work on the Vargas case. Not a complicated matter, a typical ‘push-in’ burglary that escalated into a rape, and my white legal pad filled up quickly with the draft of my answers to the demands for information made by the defendant’s attorney in the pretrial stage. I flipped through the complaint to find the exact time of occurrence, then backed up to get the precinct arrest number from the rap sheet. Like most stranger rapists, thirty-four-year-old Ervilio Vargas had a record that stretched back to his early teens. From fare beats and car boosts he moved to break-ins, then began to commit felonies with weapons, then threw in sexual assaults when he encountered women during his burglaries. He had done city time and state time, released to early parole on his last sentence, but never able to stay out of trouble very long. I planned to try him as a ‘persistent felony offender’ with more than five felony convictions to his credit. I was looking for a life sentence and no shot at parole. He had ruined far too many lives and been given more chances than any human being deserved. The victim was very cooperative and anxious to put Vargas out of business, too. If all the paperwork was done expeditiously, we’d be ready for trial before the Christmas recess. Happy New Year, Ervilio.
I had worked for more than an hour when the phone rang again, and I was delighted to hear my best friend’s voice on the line. Talking to Nina was the easiest thing in the world. We had been close since the first day at Wellesley and had guided each other through every significant event and every trivial detail of our lives. There were very few secrets we kept from each other, and she was unique in that her friendship had always been completely unconditional.
Nina didn’t pronounce judgments or exact demands or hold grudges she was simply a loyal and loving friend.
“I know your life is upside down at the moment, Alex, but you’ve got to stay in touch with me. No calls, no messages, no cards… what’s going on?”
“I’m fine, Nina, really, I promise.” She was referring to the fact that we had a regular routine of staying in touch with each other, and it was always pretty easy to guess when our lives were disturbed, because the flow of communication was interrupted as well. Despite the three-hour time difference between us, we called each other several times every week. We didn’t always speak directly because of our work schedules, but we left messages on our home machines, so that no matter what hour I got in after a long day, the sound of Nina’s familiar voice would frequently help me unwind and put my day in perspective.
Her joys, her heartaches, her professional triumphs all strung out on an endless strip of rewound tape, as mine were on her machine in L.A. And we both collected art postcards from museums all over the world, writing each other a note on one of them almost every evening to track our lives through almost fifteen years of graduate school, legal jobs, romances, motherhood, and now, mystery.
“Can you talk? Are you in the middle of anything?”
“Are you kidding? It’s been pouring all day. It’s the first chance I’ve had to stay in and relax I’m just catching up on everything. How about you? How’re Jerry and Gabe?”
Gabriel was their two-year-old son, my godchild.
“They’re great. They’re out in Malibu at the beach today.
So what did you think of the service?“
“Compared to what, Nina? It didn’t sound like they were eulogizing the woman we knew.”
“Let me tell you what nonsense was going on at this end.
Did you ever dress for a funeral I mean, worry about what designer you were going to wear? The girls in the front row were tripping over each other for the photo-ops, black Armani versus black Ungaro versus black Bob
