'I'll have coffee, but Irish Whiskey is a little raunchy for me.'
'Tell you what: Have a half-and-half of Bushmills and Irish Mist on the rocks. You'll love it.'
'All right, I'm game. I hope you'll let me pay for all this, John. It'll go on the pad.'
'Nope,' he said. 'It's my turn. You've fed me enough.'
'Salami sandwiches,' she scoffed. 'This is food.'
They dawdled over their coffee and postprandial drinks.
'John,' she said, 'you think Loftus picked up some floozy off the street?'
He shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'I don't see him as a guy who had to rent a hooker. Also, there was loose cash in the back room, credit cards, and some valuable jewelry, including a Starrett wristwatch. A streetwalker would have snaffled the lot. No, I think his playmate was someone he knew. Whoever it was went along with his kinky idea of fun. He couldn't have tied his own wrists to the bedposts.'
'And then the party got rough?'
He stared at her. 'Doesn't make much sense, does it? But that's the way it looks.'
'Did your guys come up with anything at local bars and restaurants?'
'Negative. But as they say in the tabloids, the manhunt is widening.'
'Was there any evidence that drugs had been done that night, before he was killed?'
He shook his head again. 'The coke we found was in sealed glassine envelopes. There was nothing to indicate coke or anything else had been used. Analysis of his blood showed he had had a few drinks, but he wasn't drunk. How do you like your drink?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Heavenly. I'd like to fill a bathtub with this stuff, roll around in it, and then drink my way out.'
He laughed.'Talk about kinky! More coffee?'
'Maybe a half-cup. You working tonight?'
'No, I'm starting a forty-eighter. And I'm going to sleep all of it away.'
'I hope so,' Dora said. 'You look beat. How do you feel?'
'A hundred percent better than I did two hours ago.'
'A rare steak will do that.'
'It's really a rare you,' he said, looking at her. 'You always give me a lift.'
He drove her back to the Bedlington and double-parked outside.
'Thanks for a memorable dinner,' she said.
'Thanks for sharing the memory.'
'You want to come up for a nightcap?' she asked hesitantly.
'I'd love to,' he said, 'but I'm not going to. I've got a long drive ahead of me, and then I want to hit the sack. Raincheck?'
'Of course.'
He turned sideways to face her. He put an arm along the back of her seat, not touching her. But she stiffened and continued to stare straight ahead through the windshield.
'I'll tell you something,' he said, his voice sounding rusty. 'You may not believe it, but it's the truth. When I first met you-and later, too-I know I pitched you, coming on like a hotrock. I figured a toss in the hay would be nice- why the hell not?' 'John,' she said softly.
'No, let me finish. But now it's more than that. I think about you all the time. I dream up excuses to call you or see you, and then I don't do it. You know why? Because I'm ashamed of acting like a schmo by bugging you all the time. And also, I'm afraid of rejection. I've been rejected before and shrugged it off because I didn't give a damn. Now I give a damn. I don't know what I feel about you, I don't know how to label it, but I wasn't lying when I said that just being with you gives me a lift. It's like I'm hooked, and I get a rush every time I see you.'
'Maybe it's because we're working together,' she said quietly. 'People who work in the same office, for instance, or on the same project, develop a special intimacy: shared work and hopes and aims.'
'Sure, that's part of it,' he agreed. 'But I could be a shoe salesman or you could be a telephone operator and I know I'd feel the same way. It's more than just the job. This is something strictly between you and me.'
Then she turned to look at him. 'Don't think I haven't been aware of it. At first I thought you were just a stud looking for a one-night stand. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. But now I think you're telling the truth because my feelings toward you have changed.' She laughed nervously. 'I can even tell you exactly when it happened: when I suddenly realized I should have bought you a maroon cashmere muffler for Christmas. Nutsy-right? But as I've said many times, I'm married, and as I've said many, many times, happily married.'
'And that's the most important thing in your life?'
'It was. Damn you!' she burst out, trying to smile. 'You've upset my nice, neat applecart. You're the one who's making me question what really is important to me. I was sure before I met you. Now I'm not sure anymore.'
They'd never know whether she kissed him first or he kissed her. But they came together on the front seat of that ramshackle car, held each other tightly, clinging like frightened people, and kissed.
He was the first to break away. 'I'll take that nightcap now,' he said hoarsely.
'No, you won't,' Dora said unsteadily. 'You'll drive home carefully and grab some Z's. And I'll go up to my bedroom by myself.'
'It doesn't make sense,' he argued.
'I know,' she agreed. 'But I need time to figure this out. Good night, darling. Get a good night's sleep.'
'Fat chance,' he said mournfully, and they kissed just one more time. A quickie.
Chapter 33
'Hiya, lady. This is Gregor Pinchik.'
'Hello, Mr. Pinchik. I'm glad to hear from you again.'
'Mr. Pinchik! Hey, you can call me Greg; I won't get sore.'
'All right, Greg. And you can call me Dora instead of lady; I won't get sore.'
'Sure, I can do that. Listen, this guy you got me tracing, this Turner Pierce-it's really getting interesting.'
'You've found out more about him?'
'I'm almost positive it's him. About five years ago or so a hacker shows up in Denver calling himself Theodore Parker. Same initials, T and P-right? Like Thomas Powell in Dallas. But in Denver he's got a wide black mustache just like you described, so I figure it's gotta be him.'
'Sounds like it. What was he up to in Denver?'
'Still pulling telephone scams. But now he's selling access codes. Those are the numbers companies issue to their employees so they can call long distance from outside the office and have it billed to the company. Like a salesman on the road can call headquarters and have the charges reversed by punching out his access code.'
'How did Theodore Parker get hold of the codes?'
'Oh hell, there are a dozen different ways. You invade a company's computers and pick them up. Or you buy software that dials four-digit numbers in sequence until you hit one that works. Or maybe you steal the salesman's code card. Then you're in like Flynn. It's easier when the company has an 800 number, but you can also get on their lines through their switchboard.'
'And he was peddling the codes?'
'That's right. Mostly to college students and soldiers away from home, but also to heavies who made a lot of long-distance calls to places like Bolivia and Colombia and Panama and didn't want to run the risk of having their own phone lines tapped.'
'What a world!'
'You can say that again. Anyway, this Theodore Parker had a nice business going. He was even selling the codes to penny-ante crooks who were running what they call 'telephone rooms.' These are places you can go and for a buck or two call anyplace on earth and talk as long as you like. It would all be billed to the company that owned the access codes the crooks bought from Parker.'
'Beautiful. And what happened to him?'
'The Denver hackers I contacted told me the gendarmes were getting close, so Theodore Parker skedaddled.
