Trophies And Dead Things

'I… well, I…'

'Funny thing about this, McFate: Sharon-this civilian-shared most of the details of her investigation with me. I knew a lot of the facts you didn't deem 'relevant.' If you'd reported properly, I would probably have worked out the solution to your case, and Taylor would still be alive.' Greg was as angry as I'd ever seen him.

'Lieutenant, I-'

'Oh, get the hell out of here. We'll discuss it tomorrow.'

McFate left the cubicle without looking at either of us.

'You know,' Greg said when he was gone, 'I'm pleased that one of my last official acts on Homicide will be making sure he's reprimanded for this. I damned well want it to go in his file.'

'The captaincy came through, then?'

'They're announcing it Monday.'

I felt an odd tug of sadness. 'Congratulations.'

'Jesus, you make it sound as if I'd just told you I had a fatal disease.'

'Oh, Greg.' I stood and moved toward the door, suddenly needing to be out of there. 'It's only that it'll seem strange for you not to be here, where you've been ever since I've known you.'

'Wherever I am, I'll always be there for you.'

'I know, but… everything's changing.' I actually felt as if I might cry.

As soon as I closed my front door behind me, I realized how weary I was-and that I was also coming down with a cold. I took a handful of vitamin C with a big glass of red wine, then showered and washed my hair and bundled up in my white terry-cloth bathrobe.

And thought, My God, I haven't checked on Hank in nearly ten hours!

I hurried to the phone, but before I could dial the hospital I saw the red light was on on my answering machine. Quickly I reached for the rewind button-five calls.

My mother: 'Are you there? I read in the paper about Hank getting shot and you chasing after that sniper like a lunatic. Oh, Shari, why can't you get a decent job where you won't always be-'

I thought, Oh, Ma, I love you, too. And fast-forwarded through the rest of the message.

Luke Widdows: 'I heard about the shooting. Are you okay? Call me anytime.'

Jim Addison: 'You didn't return my last call, but don't bother. I've been reading about you in the papers. You know, I always thought you were a gentle person like me, but this thing with the sniper… what you did was like police brutality. Sharon, you're just too violent for me. Violent women are unnatural-' The beep cut him off with a satisfying finality.

I smiled, remembering how I'd worried about Jim's potential for violence. Now he was put off by mine!

The fourth call was the one I'd been hoping for, Anne-Marie: 'Well, God, he's okay. Surgery went fine. I think that on Sunday he'll be able to have a certain visitor he's already asking for. I'm going home to sleep now, so check with me sometime after noon tomorrow.'

I stopped the tape, replayed the message. Hank was all right; soon I could visit him. I'd take him a stack of magazines, a care package from that bakery on Twenty-fourth Street whose blueberry muffins he so loved…

I'd almost forgotten that there was one more message. I switched the tape on. It was from George Kostakos.

I played it all the way through. Reversed the tape, listened to it again. His wife was fully recovered from her breakdown, and they'd begun divorce proceedings. She'd taken the Palo Alto house, and he'd moved to a condominium on Russian Hill. He still cared for me. If I felt the same, he'd love to see me. His new phone number was…

At first I felt a stubborn resistance. All those months he'd been silent, left me wondering where we stood, and now he thought he could simply walk back into my life. But then I felt a softening: it couldn't have been easy for him, either. Besides, on some level I'd always known where we stood, known he'd eventually return.

I pictured George: his rough-hewn face, his changeable hazel eyes, his gray-frosted black hair, his tall, lean body. I put my hand to my lips, imagining how it would be to see him after all this time. Imagining how we would be together.

The pain and anger and disillusionment of the past week fell away from me. Their vestiges would return, I knew. Bad memories would recur-probably for the rest of my life. But I would take comfort in moments like this, when I felt temporarily safe, warm, insulated. I stretched, yawned. What an embarrassment of riches I'd come home to!

Restlessly I moved about the silent house, testing the doors and windows, even though I knew they were all locked. I prowled through the parlor, straightening a book on the shelf, dusting a cobweb from the mantelpiece. In the kitchen I checked to see if the pilot light on the stove was lit. Snooped at the ice cubes in the freezer, felt the bread for freshness, looked to see if there were enough eggs for breakfast. But finally weariness drove me to the bedroom, where I dropped my robe to the floor and crawled naked between the sheets.

As I hugged my pillow and closed my eyes, I resolved to wake by noon and return four of the five phone calls. I would reassure my mother. Thank Luke Widdows for the information that had aided me in my investigation. Ask Anne-Marie if I couldn't visit Hank sooner than Sunday. And tell George yes, I felt the same, wanted to see him.

And after that I would initiate a call of my own. I couldn't go on fooling myself: it was high time I told Ted to drop Ralph and Alice off at their new home.

Marcia Muller

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