Cry Havoc

'Yeah, we'll do that, but what's she like? You've got to tell me all about her.'

'Like what?' Frank stalled.

'Everything. You must be gaga for her if you're going to all this trouble.'

'You gotta look nice for the opera. It's the Pavilion. Opening night.'

Tracey planted herself in front of Frank, arms crossed, and one brow arched high.

'Everything? she demanded. 'How am I supposed to dress you if I don't know what your objective is?'

'I'm not busting a Colombian cartel,' Frank laughed. 'I don't have an objective.'

'Of course, you do,' Tracey insisted. 'But you probably don't even know it yet.'

'Well, then why don't you tell me. You and No always seem to know what I'm doing before I do it.'

'How serious are you two?'

'I haven't asked her father for permission to marry her, if that's what you mean.'

'You're evading the question.'

'You'd have made a helluva trial lawyer. Too late for a career change?'

Tracey glowered, tapping an impatient foot.

'We can stand here all day or you can answer a simple question.'

'Maybe it's not so simple.'

'For you, I'm sure it's not. Do you love her?'

'Jesus, Trace.' Frank looked for the hole in the ground she could dive into. 'It's only been a couple months. How am I supposed to know that?'

Tracey tapped a nail above Frank's left breast.

'This'll tell you.'

Frank knew that was true. And she knew more than she could admit to. Some words were still just too hard.

'I like her a lot. Okay?'

'Now, see? That wasn't so bad. And does she like you?'

'Yeah, but I piss her off.'

'No,' Tracey mocked. 'I can't imagine.'

'What?'

'Honey, I love you, but I can't imagine being in love with you.'

'Why not?' Frank asked, somewhat hurt.

'You can be as sweet as the day is long—I know that—but you come with a lot of baggage.'

'I'm working on it.'

'You still seeing that shrink?'

Tracey could get away with the question for two reasons—she was her best friend's wife, and she was a psych tech; Frank knew nothing was implied.

'Nope. But I'm ... I see things different now. It's okay. The stuff that bugs her, it's the stuff that would bug any civilian. You know how it is. The shit we see. Human and otherwise. Rubs off on us after a while. Gail was raised in Berkeley. Ultra PC. She's got a sensitivity that I lack.' Frank paused. 'She thinks I drink too much.'

'You do.'

'Think so?'

'I know so.'

That wasn't the answer Frank expected.

'So when can we get this shopping over with?'

Tracey took Frank's arm again, pulling her deeper into the stylish racks of clothing.

'Like I said, you're a piece of work. But I love you. If she hurts you, I'll kill her.'

'I don't think that'll be necessary,' Frank assured, letting herself be towed along.

When the sun had purpled the skyline and the city lights winkled like so many diamonds and rubies and emeralds, Frank met Gail at the door.

The doc sucked in her breath.

'Ohmigod.'

'Too much?' Frank grinned.

The doc shook her bob.

'You look stunning.'

After some not very serious attempts to get Frank into gowns and lace, Tracey had judiciously selected a pair of black silk trousers and a matching silk shell held up with rhinestone spaghetti straps. Frank had wagged her head in disbelief, but the salesgirls had oohed and aahed, dashing off for rhinestone earrings and shoe clips. She'd accepted a black clutch with a rhinestone clasp, but drew the line at a pair of frighteningly high stilettos and a make-over.

She'd let Tracey drag her into the salon for a French twist and laughed when Tracey put her arms around her, purring, 'If she doesn't want you after this, you just come runnin' back to mama, you hear, girlfriend?'

Frank thanked Gail, telling her, 'You're lookin' pretty fly, yourself, Doc.'

The ME wore a simple creme-colored turtleneck tank, but it clung seductively over Gail's ample hips and ended above her knees, leaving plenty of great leg showing. A few large pieces of gold jewelry dramatized the effect, as did some artfully applied make-up.

When Gail chuckled, 'Am I dope?' something shook loose in Frank's gut and went flying up to her heart. Right where Tracey said it'd be.

'The dopest,' she said sincerely. 'You look wonderful.'

'Do I look okay, really? You know . . . symmetrical?'

Frank took Gail by the waist, inspecting the soft rounds under her dress. The right breast was real, the left, a perfectly matched prosthesis.

'Can't tell which is which. They look the same. Both fine.'

'Okay. I'm just checking. There's only so much I can tell from a mirror.'

Frank reassured, 'You look perfect. Every inch of you.'

Stopping and starting their way downtown, Gail asked, 'Did you send anyone to Camp Lockdown this week?'

'Camp Lockup,' she corrected, then answered, 'One,' recalling Jill's bizarrely cleared shooting. 'And Lewis got her first case. Guy with his throat slit. Sitting in his Caddy with a chicken in his lap.'

'A chicken?'

'Yeah. Headless. Turns out the vic's aunt is Crystal Love-Jones. Ever heard of her?'

'Sounds like someone who advertises in the personal section.'

'She's a crack dealer. Pushes tons a year. Keeps an assembly of lawyers on retainer. Narco's never been able to touch her. Anyway, it looks like the Colonel was bled dry. I'm wondering if he was dead or alive when it happened.'

Gail frowned, 'He was a Colonel?'

'That's what No's calling him. You know, the chicken? Colonel Sanders?'

'Ah, gotcha, that ineffable, indefatigable police humor. How'd Lewis do on her first solo?'

'All right. Made a couple mistakes but mostly 'cause No prodded her into them.'

'Why are you all so hard on her?'

'Boot camp,' Frank shrugged. 'Everybody goes through it.'

'Sounds like a frat house hazing,' Gail argued. 'Inane and senseless.'

'Naw, there's a reason. If she can't take a little shit in the squad room she won't be able to take it on the street. I'd rather know now than when my back's against a wall. It's not a big deal.'

'It's just so juvenile.'

'We like to call it that ineffable, indefatigable po-leece humor. When do you think you'll get to the Colonel's post?'

'Oh, God, we're so backed up right now. Handley's sick. Jacob and I've been in court all week. And I should