from the tastes of Tuscany, even as its name reflected one of the dominant crops of that region.
The stucco had been continued inside, wrapping around and suffusing into ceilings slung low above Old World furnishings. There, generations of soft and russet candlelight had transformed the grimmest patrons into temporary romantics.
After helping remove Kathy's overcoat, David escorted her into the basil aroma of Italian cuisine, imagining the ceiling growing two feet lower as he snaked among the tables, grumbling about pricey restaurants unable to pay electric bills. He touched the shoulders of some people he knew and addressed them by name. There were only two empty tables in the main dining room and the maitre d' sat them at the recessed corner one, David's favorite which he had phoned ahead to reserve. Mellow Sinatra oozed from a speaker directly overhead, clouding the hum of diners in their designer clothes and the chitchat of fawning waiters. It would be the best spot to discuss the summary after dinner.
Kathy evened out her burnt almond sheath dress before sitting. 'And don't tell me I tore my dress in the back,' she said.
'I hadn't noticed,' he retorted, sitting alongside her and sliding the birthday package under the table onto the next chair.
'Why do we hide it,' she said, 'when this is the ninth gift in a row we've exchanged here?'
David gazed around the room and said, 'What gift?' He unbuttoned his blue blazer and tugged down the only turtleneck he owned. He felt it snap back up.
'Can I open it now?' she asked, tightening an earring.
He placed the book-size package before her and said, 'Happy birthday. Hope you like it. By the way, where's your gun tonight?'
'What? What's that got to do with anything?'
'I don't see any bulges.'
'It's in my purse.' She eyed him suspiciously. 'Don't tell me you bought another holster. You did that three years ago.'
He remained silent while she admired the red bow up close and put it aside next to her purse before removing the outer wrapper. She separated the tissue inside, frowned, peered up at David and back at the box.
'This looks magnificent, but why?'
He leaned over to view a Beretta Cougar F semiautomatic as if he had never seen it before. A card attached to its grip read, '.45 cal. firepower with Cam-Loc System.'
Kathy ran her fingertips along its muzzle and then replaced the tissue. 'David, I love you dearly but I hate guns. Plus, I have one already. Thank God, I've never had to use it.'
'But this is state of the art. It puts that ridiculous government issue to shame,' he said. 'And the `Cam-Loc'? That means there's less recoil.'
'But I hate guns.'
'So do I.'
'David, come off it,' she said with a sardonic grin. 'Then why the big deal with this?'
'I already said it. It's state of the art. You've got to keep pace with criminals.'
'How can you hate guns when you have that ludicrous collection taking up half the house?'
'You know the answer. We've been through this before. I inherited it.'
'Then sell it.'
'I can be talked into that.' David was surprised at his own firmness.
Kathy's eyes crinkled at the corners, thinning the shadow she seldom wore. 'Will you give me that promise as another present?'
'Will you keep the Beretta and throw out the other one?'
'Yes.'
David said, 'It's a deal,' and held out his hand.
She studied the hand for a moment and said, 'I want more than a handshake.'
'Not here,' he said, looking around.
'Oh, for crying out loud,' she responded and lifted up to kiss him on the lips. He pulled back.
'Wait,' he said. 'Let's clarify this. If the house goes when we get married, the guns go, too.'
'Now there you go again.' Kathy rearranged the silverware. 'Why do you always have to rethink things?'
'Because I'm wrong so many times.' David thought his response was clever and his face showed it. 'Let's put it this way,' he continued, 'the house and the collection go together. We'll treat them as one.'
Kathy paused, her features shifting as if she were reaching for the marrow of a complex solution. 'David, let's face it. You're nearly forty and still living in a pad.'
David signaled for the waiter and said, 'Sure, and that's why we'll probably sell it.'
'And the guns?'
'And the guns.'
David had been going through the motions. Kathy's fortuitous birthday, talk of guns and the future of 10 Oak Lane, his studied repartee-they all combined to inhibit, however feebly, the angst of a punishing day and of yesterday and of the days before that. And he shrunk from thoughts that the days were running out before more violence erupted, before more friends were taken, or clues were lost or the hospital became buried in terminal scandal.
He felt pinched in and, try as he might, failed to develop into a temporary romantic even after two rounds of drinks. He knew Kathy shared the emotion but it was an unequal sharing because the killings had occurred on his turf, some of the victims were his friends and, after all, she was the professional. But they both agreed to forgo a champagne toast this time.
After pledging they would refrain from 'detective talk' during dinner-prime rib for each-they ate in near silence. Finally, over coffee, David sensed his features turning to steel as he said, 'Okay, now down to business. First, about Nick back there in the parking lot. I thought you said he wanted me off the cases. He was his usual frothy self but other than that …'
Kathy blurted, 'I spoke to him.'
'Saying what?'
'That you're of more value in the investigation than out of it. Simple.'
'He agreed?'
'It sure looks like it.'
'Okay, end of that.' He pulled out the summary printout from his breast pocket. 'Next, here's a nutshell of what's transpired lately, plus what I think are possibilities and who I think the suspects are. Look at the last line-no big surprises, you agree?'
Kathy read the list of suspects and replied, 'I agree except for Nick.' She shook her head. 'Hey, it's your list. And I still have doubts about the psychiatrist, but tell me again, why's he included?'
'He wanted the Chief of Staff job pretty badly and … just a vague hunch, I guess.'
'But David, before we go any further, when you say suspects, you mean in the Spritz killing or what?'
'Ah, one of the two sixty-four dollar questions. Did Spritz kill all the others or are there two murderers? The other is, how do the drugs tie in, if at all?'
They discussed the trilogy of motive, opportunity and means and debated the merits of the physical evidence to date. They had engaged in 'detective talk' for over an hour-it was now nine o'clock-before deciding in favor of David's confrontation with each of the suspects as the next priority.
David paid the bill in plastic and they rose to leave. He bent down, kissed her forehead and said, 'Happy birthday, again. You're sleeping at my pad as you call it, right.'
'I'll suffer through it.'
'No more detective talk there?'
'No talk at all.'
As he led Kathy to the exit, they approached the other table that was empty when they had arrived. Three of the four chairs were now occupied. Kathy crashed into David as he stopped in his tracks. Seated were Nick, Sparky and a matronly woman David had never seen before. They were drinking wine.
