Trophies And Dead Things

He noticed my reluctance to leave, plus the way I was eyeing the tacqueria sack, and said, 'You want some of this? There's enough for two.'

'I don't think I could take Mexican food right now. And I shouldn't keep you from your work.'

'Oh, come on to the kitchen with me. Sit a spell, have a glass of wine at least. You can brief me on Hilderly while I eat.'

I followed him back there, mildly embarrassed that he'd realized how needy I felt tonight.

For once, however, he didn't feel called upon to dissect my emotional state. While I sipped chablis and outlined what I'd found out about Hilderlyet al., he ate two burritos, dripping salsa and grease all over the table, then balled up the wrappings and tossed them at the garbage bag under the sink. They missed and ended up next to it. Hank shrugged and went to get some coffee.

'No wonder Anne-Marie can't live with you,' I said.

He grinned, plainly pleased by his own slovenliness. 'Speaking of Anne-Marie, did you know the police dug the sniper's bullet out of one of her planter boxes on our porch?'

'No. When did that happen?'

'This morning. I read about it in Brand Ex a couple of hours ago.' Brand Ex is the local nickname for the evening paper, the Examiner. 'Looked like a three-fifty-seven Magnum, and they were rushing the ballistics work on it. Bet it'll match the others.'

'You're pretty calm about all this. Are you still convinced the sniping was just a coincidence?'

'I can't imagine any reasonable connection.' But his face showed strain as he started for the door to the hallway, carrying his coffee.

'Hey,' I said, 'you didn't give me any opinion on Hilderly.' I'd posed the same questions for him as I'd asked myself on the drive back to the city.

But Hank's thoughts were clearly elsewhere now. He said, 'I'm as much at sea as you are. Keep digging.' Then he pointed his index finger at me in a parting salute and went down the hall.

I sighed and contemplated my empty wineglass. Even though Hank had more pressing matters on his desk, he could have… what? Did I want him to speculate on the case with me, help me try to puzzle it out? Or did I really want him to keep me company, hold my hand? What the hell was wrong with me, anyway? I'd always been self- sufficient, enjoyed my own company, even been something of a loner. Why this recent urge to surround myself with people? I'd never felt it before.

But that was before you knew George Kostakos, my inner voice said. That was before you started to fall in love with him.

'Shut up,' I told it, and went to get more wine.

After a while Larry Koslowski came in with Pam Ogata, our newest associate and, like Larry, a specialist in commercial law. We chatted for a while about Pam's difficulties in finding a decent apartment, and pretty soon she and I ransacked the refrigerator and made ourselves sandwiches out of various leftovers-amid much dire warning about potential health hazards from Larry. Then Pam-who was staying with friends who had small kids and thus spent as little time there as possible-remembered they were rerunning Funeral in Berlin on Channel 44, and we went to the parlor to watch it. It was after ten when I finally left. Rae hadn't yet returned from the surveillance job, and the light still burned in Hank's office.

The fog was thick again, dimming the light from the windows of the other houses that clustered around the small triangular park that fronted All Souls' shabby brown Victorian. I paused on the steps, buttoning my jacket and turning up its collar. And as I did, a feeling stole over me-uneasy, strong. The feeling that someone was watching from somewhere in the misted darkness.

Come on, McCone, I thought. More urban paranoia? But after the events of the previous night, anyone wouldbe paranoid.

I stepped back into the doorway, looked around, and listened for a time. The little streets that converged on the side of the hill were relatively quiet. Traffic noises and salsa music drifted up from Mission, and an occasional car drove by. Someone had a stereo turned up too loud, and from behind me I could hear the mutter of the All Souls TV. A man trudged uphill, pulling a handcart of groceries from the nearby twenty-four-hour Safeway. A couple strolled downhill, holding hands. It appeared to be just another Bernal Heights weeknight, the mostly peaceable, law-abiding citizens easing out of their daily routines, getting ready for sleep.

Even so, when I finally left, I hurried down the steps. As I moved toward the corner where the MG was parked, I kept close to the buildings, enveloped in protective shadow.

Twelve

By morning the fog had retreated to sea, leaving behind one of those glorious sun-washed days that make me recall just why it is I've chosen to live in San Francisco. The blue skies and temperate breezes cheered me, and I spent the hours before noon performing routine chores, plus exercising my supervisory skills by listening to Rae's exuberant and oft-repeated account of yesterday's exploits.

It seemed she'd gotten lucky her first day on the job and had delivered photographic evidence of the liquor- store clerk's thieving to the client, who in turn had contacted the police. To hear Rae tell it, her keen wits and talent had been the prime ingredients in this coup (she made no mention of sheer good fortune), and she was at any minute to be inducted into the Detectives' Hall of Fame. Since I was in a good mood and also remembered the thrill of my own first success in the business, I listened patiently and made appropriate congratulatory noises, then ended up treating her to lunch at her favorite bistro on Twenty-fourth Street. It wasn't until we got back to All Souls at one-thirty that I was able to turn my attention to the Hilderly case.

Jess Goodhue hadn't yet arrived at KSTS, and of course the TV station wouldn't give out her home phone number. When I called directory assistance for the number of Taylor's Oysters, I was told it was no longer in service. Finally I phoned Tom Grant's home office and asked Ms.Curtis to schedule an appointment so Grant could sign the document renouncing his share in the Hilderly estate. She put me on hold, and then Grant came on the line. He was booked solid for the day, but said he could see me that evening.

'What time?' I asked.

'I have a dinner with a client and then an appointment for an interview. Make it around nine, and I'll give you a drink and show you my studio.'

I hesitated. The invitation held a seductive note that I didn't care for. Then I decided I was behaving too much like a Tennessee Williams heroine, seeing a potential debaucher behind every tree, and agreed to the appointment.

As I hung up the phone Ted entered the office and placed a pink message slip on my desk. Gene Carver, Hilderly's former boss at Tax Management Corporation, had called over the noon hour. When I called back, Carver was available and agreed to answer a few questions.

'I'm interested in a seminar you required Perry to attend in late May-possibly one with a motivational slant.'

'Motivational?' Carver sounded amused. 'I don't think so. The only seminar I recall last spring was the one on taxation problems associated with divorce. Big gathering cosponsored by the bar association and the California CPAs Foundation at the Cathedral Hill Hotel on the last weekend of the month. I went. So did Perry and two of my other accountants.'

That was what had promised to change Hilderly's life, as he'd told his son Kurt? An unlikely topic. Unless… 'Do you recall if a divorce attorney named Thomas Y. Grant participated?'

'Sure. Old friend of Perry's, it turned out. Ran one of the workshops.'

'Grant and Perry were friends?'

'Apparently they went back a long way. At first they didn't recognize each other; then they both seemed surprised and confused. But Perry spoke with Grant at the morning break, and later I saw them having lunch together at Tommy's Joint.'

'Did Perry say anything about Grant to you?'

'As a matter of fact, he did. Let me see if I can remember it right.' Carver paused. 'This was when the afternoon session broke. What he said was that Grant was a man who had made a great deal out of an essentially