he found the note propped against the saltcellar, and he looked pleased, then mildly irritated as he glanced at the food he had just bought, and then he began to look even happier as he realized he did not, after all, have to cook it. A phone call and a quick distribution of groceries into the refrigerator and freezer, followed by a trip downstairs for a change of clothes and a small overnight bag, and he was also out the door. However, a minute later his key sounded in the lock. He went back to the kitchen, picked up the manila envelope, and went out again.
At the shipping place, Jon hesitated briefly over the methods of delivery before deciding that the other jobs he'd done for Kate lately had been matters of life and - no, maybe that wasn't the best phrase - had been urgent as hell, so he might as well treat this the same way. If Kate was too busy to mail it herself and couldn't be bothered to give instructions, well, she'd just have to pay for it. Besides, the expense made him feel he'd had revenge for having had to put that lovely fresh bit of salmon into the freezer instead of directly onto the grill.
He sent the envelope the fastest way they offered, and the most expensive. He then climbed back into his car and headed across the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin and the mountaintop house of friends.
In the other direction, near Monterey, Kate and Lee found a hotel with a room on the ground level and a glimpse of the ocean. One of the first things Kate did was to leave a message for Jon on the machine to tell him where they were: the freedom from responsibility represented by leaving her beeper and gun behind extended only so far. That done, however, she forced herself to relax. During the night the rhythm of the waves pervaded their bodies, and during the day they walked and did tourist things at the aquarium, and they talked.
For the first time since August, they began tentatively to explore this new stage in their relationship, with both of them now convinced that Lee was, literally, back on her feet and able to shoulder a real part of the burden. Cautious of hurting each other, careful not to wield grievances, trying hard for a clean beginning, they talked.
One of the things they talked about was a topic that had lain between them for five months, ever since the argument about Aunt Agatha's letter. Yes, Lee still wanted a child. No, she hadn't forgotten it; she hadn't said it in a fit of madness; it had not been a passing fantasy. She also was not about to go ahead with it unless Kate agreed. If she had a child, that child would have two parents, not a mom and an 'other.'
She had, she told Kate, gone so far as to research the problems. On the medical side, there were actually a few doctors out there who regarded pregnancy in a woman who had poor use of her legs as something other than a prescription for an abortion. On the legal side, she felt she could now present a case, if called for, that she was competent to perform the tasks of motherhood. She might not be able to run after a two-year-old, but she could hobble fast. The dual legal threat concerning the status of the child of a lesbian and a handicapped woman would remain, but she was as prepared as she could be.
Kate did not agree with any of this. She did, however, listen.
All the members of that family - householder, partner, servant, and the ghost of an as-yet-unformed child - spent a quiet two days in their various places of rest, blissfully unaware of the storm that was moving in on two fronts.
At 1:15 on Sunday afternoon, the telephone in the empty house on Russian Hill began to ring.
By the time Jon Samson arrived home later that afternoon, relaxed and slightly rosy from the wintery sun beating down on his friends' sheltered swimming pool, the tape on the answering machine was filled, almost entirely with the same message, delivered in Al Hawkin's increasingly frantic voice. When Jon got out of his car, he was pounced upon by a burly but not unattractive uniformed police officer who had been doing drive-bys all afternoon, waiting for a sign of life at the house.
While Jon was rescuing the salmon from the freezer and preparing to grill it with some tiny red-skinned potatoes for his new friend, Kate and Lee, also sunburned and satisfactorily tired, were approaching the city.
'Do you want to go somewhere for dinner, or just pick something up?' Lee asked. 'If we just go home, Jon will feel obliged to cook.'
(Jon, meanwhile, was trying hard to cook, although the telephone calls were becoming very frustrating, not only because he hadn't the faintest idea where the pictures in the envelope he'd sent had come from but also because they kept interrupting his attempts at conversation with the burly cop. The beeper's intermittent noise also drove him bats, because it was locked into the small table with Kate's gun. He finally had the uniformed officer carry the table into Lee's consulting rooms and shut the door on it, and went back to his charcoal.)
'I don't feel like a restaurant,' Kate said. 'Shall we just stop for a burger? In fact - would you like to meet Dio?'
'I'd love to, but you can't just drop in on him on a Sunday night.'
'Oh yes I can,' she said, a shade grimly.
Wanda Steiner opened the door. 'Kate! Hello, dear. Do come in.'
'Hello, Wanda. Sorry to drop in on you like this. I was wondering if Dio was in. I don't know if you've had dinner, but I thought he might like to come out and have a hamburger with us.'
'I'm sure he'd love to - you know how boys his age can eat, and he did seem to enjoy your last meeting - but he's still out at the park with Reg, kicking around a soccer ball.' .
'Oh well, that's okay. Another time.'
'No, dear, why don't you just pop down and see if they aren't nearly finished? Reg won't admit when he's had enough, but he did pull a shoulder muscle the other day playing basketball. That's why they're playing soccer, to give his arm a rest. No, I'm sure he'd be happy for an excuse to quit, and I think Dio wanted to talk with you, anyway.'
'Did he?' Kate said, feeling her pulse quicken.
'I think so. Anyway, you go see. It's only at the park -that's two blocks up the way you were going and one over to the right. Just have him back by nine. School tomorrow, you know.'
TWENTY-FOUR
At the park, a graying man with the stocky build of a lifelong athlete was running up and down the otherwise-deserted playing field with three boys. What they held over him by young muscle, numbers, and speed was countered by experience and wile, although to Kate's eye, he appeared to be flagging a bit. She got out of the car and walked slowly toward them across the soggy winter grass, enjoying the thud and scuffle and snatches of breathless exclamations across the cold dusk air.
'Watch out, Jay.'
'He's got —'
'No you don't!' shouted the older voice, a laugh lodged in the back of it.
'It's mine!'
'Pass it, Dio. Pass it!'
'I - oh shit!' came Dio's voice as he caught his foot on a stray toe and went sprawling.
'Language,' chided Reg's voice.
'I meant shoot,' Dio called, but the action was moving rapidly away from him as Reg ran with the ball in a zigzag pattern down the field, deflecting the teenagers with his broad shoulders, stopping abruptly twice to change direction and run around them, and finally booting the black-and-white ball ahead of him through some invisible goal. He threw up both hands in triumph, but as the boys stood around him protesting his sly maneuvers, he bent over and stood with his hands on his knees, sides heaving.
Dio looked up at Kate's approach.
'Did you see that?' he demanded. 'He fouled me. It was deliberate.'
'I wouldn't put it past him,' she agreed amiably. 'Hi, Reg. Still sitting out an easy retirement, I see.'
'That's me.' He gasped, and stuck out a hand filthy with sweat, mud, grass, and God knew what else. She shook it.
'See, she agreed! That was a foul.'
'So maybe next time you won't insist on three against one,' Reg said.
'Cheating old man,' Dio protested, without sounding actually angry.
Reg Steiner ignored him. 'What can I do for you, Ms Martinelli?'
'Wanda told me I could steal Dio for a little. If he wants to join us for dinner,' she added, making it a question.
'Sure,' Dio said. 'Is that okay, Reg?'
'Fine. I'll drop Jason and Paulo home. Better get your sweats from the car.'
Sweatpants on and sweatshirt in hand, Dio climbed into the back of the Saab, filling it instantly with the
