“Don’t eat in those places! E.coli! Salmonella! Come chez me!”
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up with a whoop and Kerricalculated: he’d have to drive all the way up from his place in Chinatown,which gave her time. On 108th Street she stopped at her favoritemarket, picked up eats, and minutes later was unpacking at her home, aconverted two bedroom way over on West 110th near Riverside Parkwith its jogging and picnic areas and dog walking trails if she had a dog,which she didn’t, sigh.
She patted Gummy, her tabby who sidled overto rub her leg and then jump onto the counter. “Yes Gums, food, I’m happy tosee you too,” she said, scooping out tuna fish, putting the cat and her bowlback on the floor. “Whatsamatter, you bored with Kibbles ‘n Bits?”
By the time she showered fast and was backto cutting and chopping, the bell rang, and there was Alex, one arm leaning onher jamb, the other holding up a pretty-wrapped bottle of wine.
“Shiraz your favorite,” he smiled crookedly,coming in, pressing the bottle to her heart. He had showered and smelled ofcologne and looked handsome – her soul swelled and she thought, cripes, maybethis wasn’t such a good idea, especially with him checking her out like that inher form-fitting jeans and sleeveless blue cotton sweater and her hair flying notquite dry from her shampoo. He also seemed to anticipate awkwardness bymarching straight to the center island, plunking the wine there, then stoopingto greet Gummy. She purred; actually seemed to smile as he cooed and scratchedbehind her ears and then she jumped into his arms.
Holding her, he took one of the bar stoolsand watched Kerri, back to busy cutting, chopping, heating up a pan. He’d beenhere before, oh yes, and now looked happily around at her apartment’s familiar openness,the warmth of bare brick that made up one wall, the sturdy beams of this oldbrownstone that dated back to the late 1800s.
“Let me help.” He put Gummy down, hesitatedfor one last pat, then seemed to think of something else as he straightened andstarted to unwrap the wine. Just the ribbon he took off, though, then steppedbehind Kerri, pulled to the nape of her neck her still-damp hair, and tied itwith the ribbon. “There,” he said. “Pretty.”
Oh, the feeling of his fingers on her neck.Kerri flushed bad, feared it showed, smiled and mumbled something stupid aboutthe mushrooms, the mushrooms, they had to be washed and sliced.
He turned back to the sink, splashed water,got to work on the mushrooms. “So tell,” he said over the water. “What’re thesenew thoughts about the Perry case?”
Over sizzling chicken breasts and onionslices she told him first about the visit to Ben Allen. He remembered the name.“Hostile. The cop investigating him…”
“Eddie Ruiz.”
“Right. Eddie said he showed up with hislawyer first thing and started ranting about police brutality.”
“That’s him. Very big ego, has sethimself up as the god of vulnerable people who worship him. So I went to seehim, made up BS to get him to talk. Got those mushrooms ready?”
Alex did and turned with them, dumped them drippinginto the hot skillet where they sizzled like fire crackers and made him grin. ChickenStroganoff. They’d made this recipe together before.
“You’ve lost me,” he said, watching her stir.“Why’d you go to Allen in the first place? Nothing stuck to him. Sasha fakedhis prescription, he claimed to know nothing and that was that.”
“I went because A – I’d never seen him,talked to him, and B – there are new things I just found out.” With tongs Kerriflipped a chicken breast, then another. “Mainly, when I saw that hetaught at the U too…wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. It really starts with - rememberI told you about that woman named Liddy who came in last night?”
“Partly. You passed me running to someplace.”
“Now I’m catching you up.” Kerri stirredthe mushrooms and onions, simultaneously telling about Liddy Barron, her nightmaresand apparitions all involving water in some form. “Instead of looney tunes, thathit home because we’d just seen Sasha’s photo of the Hudson she’d shared withBecca – and Liddy Barron’s husband owns a boat, docks it at the 79thStreet Boat Basin. He’s a neuroscientist named Paul Barron. While researchinghim I found that his research partner is a dude named Carl Finn, newstop on the breadcrumb trail because - ta-dah! – Finn, Barron and Ben Allen allteach at the U, and they’re pals. On Allen’s wall there’s a photo ofthem whooping it up in front of Barron’s boat. I’ve got it in my cell phone, andthe same pic’s on Carl Finn’s Facebook page. Think it’s time to turn down theheat?”
“Yes. I’m confused but continue.” Alex waslaying out two places on the counter - knives, forks, napkins – as Kerri turnedthe heat lower, continued.
“Sorry if it’s coming out in a jumble, that’swhere I need you to help me sort it out. So…from Ben Allen’s photo – whichno cop would have noticed in June - we now have a connection between him, Sasha,and Carl Finn, who is also, conveniently for Sasha, an M.D. A ladies man too,which she may have found out fast. You should see his Facebook photos hugging lotsof women.”
“A needy, pretty young thing. I’ll bet headored her on sight.”
“What a thrill that would have been forher. A good-looking doc seeming to love and take care of her, she would havefallen madly for him, and trusted him…this is all guessing – my thoughts goingwild.”
“Let ‘em, this is good.”
“It gets better. Finn’s in research notclinical practice, so off the radar aimed at regular docs re gettingprescription drugs.” Kerri stirred again; turned another chicken breast. “So that’smy new theory: Allen sending Sasha on to Finn.”
“Like a party favor.”
“Funny you should say that, ‘cause after Ileft Allen it occurred that he liked Sasha a lot. Actually emoted abouther, hence, a wrinkle in my theory – such as a love triangle? Jealousy? On theother hand Sasha may have gotten too needy for Finn, demanding and in the waybecause he was simultaneously romancing some rich lawyer who may have gottenwind of
