to the Philharmonic, ambled across the stage. The vivacious and talented young black woman and Catheryn had been friends for years, but since they’d started working together, their friendship had deepened. Quickly assessing the atmosphere of tension, Adele addressed me. “Dan, I thought I recognized that good-looking mug of yours. World treating you okay?”
“No complaints,” I answered, pleased to see Catheryn’s associate. “How’s that fat little baby of yours?”
“Still fat. Not so little anymore. She’s walking, pulling things off tables, and becoming a general pain in the butt, thank you.”
“It gets worse, honey. And once they start talking, it gets a lot worse. Speaking of family, what’s new with Pat?”
“Not much. He’s still working the swing shift at the hospital and playing Mr. Mom during the day. He keeps saying we should get down to the beach sometime and visit you and Kate.”
“Do that. Bring the kid.”
“We will.” Then turning to Catheryn, Adele asked, “Still need a lift?”
“I’ll give Kate a ride home,” I said. “Assuming she can break free from the clutches of the maestro here.”
“I think she’ll manage,” laughed Adele, filling the silence following my comment. “Come on, Arthur,” she added, slipping an arm through his. “Rehearsal’s over. Walk me out.”
“Really, Adele, Catheryn and I have to-”
“Goodnight, Arthur,” said Catheryn, cutting him off. “I’ll call tomorrow. ’Bye, Adele. See you at the airport.”
“Sure thing, hon. Goodnight, Dan.”
“’Night, doll.”
Catheryn and I watched as Adele, arm firmly linked through Arthur’s, left the stage. Then Catheryn turned to me. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “On occasion Arthur can be…”
“A raging hemorrhoid?”
“I was about to say overly insistent. Virtuoso performers of his stature are often demanding. He can also be very sweet.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s so typical of you to make snap judgments,” said Catheryn with a touch of irritation. “You’ve never even given him a chance.”
“It’s not exactly a snap judgment, sugar. I’ve seen plenty of Arthur. I don’t have to inspect a whole bucket of road apples to know where they came from.”
Catheryn sighed. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, apparently deciding not to pursue it. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing, maybe grab a bite to eat. Speaking of which, I made reservations for us at Patina,” I added, referring to an upscale restaurant in the Walt Disney Concert Hall that catered to a theater clientele. Getting short-notice seating at the exclusive establishment on a performance night was difficult, and I had pulled some strings to do it.
“I’m not dressed for dinner, Dan.”
“Hell, even in combat boots and battle fatigues you’d be the best looking woman in the place. C’mon, let’s get over there before the pretheater crowd shows up.”
Catheryn hesitated.
“Look, you have to eat,” I pushed on, realizing her reluctance stemmed more from our recent argument than her casual attire. “Plus, it’ll give us a chance to talk.”
“What about the kids?”
I shrugged. “They can talk, too.”
“You know what I mean,” said Catheryn with a fleeting smile.
“Don’t worry, Christy’s staying at the house till you get back. I ordered pizza, rented a movie, and made Allison promise not to kill Nate.”
“I planned on packing tonight for the trip. I have only one more day left before I leave.”
“One more day before you leave?” I said, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Kate, I’m not that dumb.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yesterday you said it was two days until you leave; the day before that it was three. What kind of scam are you trying to pull?”
Catheryn chuckled. “I should’ve known I couldn’t sneak one by on you.”
“Right. And don’t forget it.” Then, more seriously, “Please, Kate?”
At last she relented. “All right, Dan. Dinner at Patina. I swear, you never cease to amaze me.”
“Unpredictability’s part of my charm,” I said with a grin. “Drives women wild, inspiring female desire wherever I go.”
Catheryn smiled back. “Dan, over the years I’ve seen you inspire a whole spectrum of female reactions. Funny, I don’t recall desire being one of them.”
“That, my dear,” I said, assaying a passable Rhett Butler imitation, “is because you haven’t been looking.”
5
Following rehearsal, all of the Philharmonic’s larger instruments were being crated for shipment to Rome in time for the first engagement of the tour. While I waited in the performers’ lounge, Catheryn packed her cello in a specially designed trunk backstage, then freshened up in the dressing room downstairs. When she finally rejoined me, her long auburn hair down, mascara lightly reapplied, a trace of gloss on her lips, I let out a low whistle. “Damn, Kate. You sure clean up good.”
“Careful,” laughed Catheryn. “That kind of sweet-talking is liable to go to my head.”
“Plenty more where that came from, sugar.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Bidding goodnight to the guard at the registration desk, we exited onto Grand Avenue. Across the street, lights still burned in both the Administration Building and the Los Angeles County Courthouse, the latter a venue where, over the course of my years on the Force, I’d spent more frustrating hours than I cared to remember. To the north, over the roofs of the Ahmanson Theater and its smaller cousin, the Mark Taper Forum, I noticed the spotlights of Dodger Stadium were on, bathing the ridge above Chavez Ravine in a ghostly glow. RV show, maybe a rock concert, I thought as we walked a half-block south to the Walt Disney Concert Hall.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Catheryn remarked as she noticed me gazing up at the landmark structure’s stainless steel curves and soaring walls of gleaming metal that, to my eye, looked like sails unfurling above a hull-shaped foundation.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed, thinking that the new entertainment center was a fitting addition to its three sister performing-arts venues to the north.
Moments later we arrived at Patina, which occupied a street-level corner section of the huge, 3.6 acre Disney Hall complex. As we entered the restaurant, I noticed that an evening-gowned and dinner-jacketed crowd had already begun filling Patina’s interior. I escorted Catheryn past an inviting bar to a nearby reception desk. After checking the reservation book, the maitre d’ showed us to an intimate table near the back. As we crossed the room, Catheryn nodded to a young woman playing a harp beside the entrance to an outdoor patio. Apparently recognizing Catheryn, the woman smiled warmly in return.
I stood to one side as the maitre d’ seated Catheryn. Around us, in an atmosphere of muted pastels understated elegance, a number of walls displayed works curated by the LA Museum of Contemporary Art across the street. After conferring briefly with the sommelier regarding a choice of wine, I sat across from Catheryn. Within moments an avuncular-looking waiter with silver hair and a comfortable paunch approached our table. In one hand he carried a small wine stand, in the other a silver ice bucket containing a split of Louis Roederer “Cristal” champagne. “Mrs. Kane, Detective,” the waiter said pleasantly, peering over half-moon glasses as he set
