'You put it on me,' she said, holding the watch in her hand. He hesitated, not touching the watch, 'I can't, my fingers are too clumsy.
Put it on, I want to see it on you.'
'You big silly,' she said. 'Your fingers are magical.' She kissed his fingertips, but then she removed her own digital timepiece and put the new watch on her wrist by herself She held it up as if it were a diamond bracelet. 'It's so sweet of you,' she said. 'You have to set the time and wind it,' he said.
'I don't want time to start,' she said. 'I want this day to last forever.'
'Come on,' he cajoled. 'We have to make sure it works, don't we?'
When he was sure that she had handled the watch enough to place her fingerprints on it, Kom had sex with her. If she noticed that he was much quicker than usual, she made no complaint, and when he took her from behind and asked permission to squeeze her neck she complied out of regard for him even when his grip became uncomfortably tight. It was the last thought she had.
Kom flushed the condom, then put on the surgical gloves that he took from the shopping bag. He dragged Denise's body to the bathroom and set the time on the wristwatch forward to 9:12, then slapped her arm against the tile floor until the watch broke and the hands of the dial froze into position. He put her old timepiece in his pocket to be disposed of later, then changed into a clean set of surgical clothes and took Denise into the shower. As always, he had two scalpels with him, but he needed only one, working very rapidly for a change, taking no pleasure from it.
It would not be a job he could be proud of as a technician, but it would suffice for his purposes. He made his signature slashes at the end of each joint, and when he was finished and Denise's body parts were stowed in the double garbage bags, he carefully inspected the shower drain.
Hairs could get caught there, including his own although he wore a surgical cap. Kom unscrewed the drain screen, carefully removed the hairs that had collected on the screen and the upper reaches of the pipe, then replaced the cover.
He felt mildly cheated by the need to wear surgical clothes this time.
He had missed the pleasure of having her naked flesh pressed against his skin as he worked, but with the cops sniffing after him, there was no point in giving them any tissue samples or hairs to work with.
Kom put the soaked and bloody surgical clothes in the shopping bag, made a final tour of the room to remove any traces of himself. This time he decided to take the sheets with him, and carefully folded them inward upon themselves so they would retain any forensic niceties before putting them in his bag.
He peeked into the hallway, then stepped out and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. Only as he was walking down the hall did he remove his gloves and add them to the shopping bag. He located Denise's car in the lot and drove it away.
In the hospital he dumped the contents of the shopping bag into the hamper destined for the incinerator. Within an hour the sheets and gloves and clothes would be consumed in flames like all the other contaminated matter. sixty-three minutes after he had started to visit his patients Dr. Kom reappeared at the desk of the floor nurse. With a display of noting how late it was, he said goodbye and hurried off with an explanation that he was going to a surprise party for a good friend.
He made a similarly conspicuous goodbye to the receptionist and the security guard, noted that the Toyota was still observing his car, and drove home. The Toyota stayed dutifully distant but in sight all the way back to his home in Clamden.
As Kom and Tovah readied themselves for the dinner party, he stood behind her while she regarded her reflection in the dressing mirror.
Their eyes met and he grinned slightly as he reached around her and allowed his hand to hover over her breast. Still ripe with lust from his truncated session with Denise, he took in his wife's long, lean body clad only in bra and panties that mimicked the emerald tint above and below her eyes.
'We have half an hour before we have to leave,' he said, his eyes returning to her face.
'I've done my hair already,' she said gently, not wishIng to discourage him.
'We won't muss your hair,' he said. With his eyes still locked on hers, he put his hand atop her bra, then watched her gasp and shiver when he teased a finger under the silk.
With his free hand he moved around and under the shiny green silk of her panties, then around her hip and forward. She leaned against him, sighing, but when she tried to face him he turned her back toward the niirror. He took her from behind and watched her face in reflection so that she finally closed her eyes to escape him as she grimaced and panted toward a kind of peace. From then on he watched only himself, his eyes never leaving his face even as he snarled and howled to the end.
27
In their own bedroom, Becker and Karen were preparing for the party rather differently. Becker had refused to go.
'You can't stay home,' Karen said.
'Sure I can. Watch.'
'Why? I told you about this party, you've had a week to gear yourself into a social mood-why now are you deciding not to go?'
'I don't feel like it.'
'Not good enough.'
'I don't think I can muster the necessary hypocrisy tonight,' Becker said. 'I don't think I can pretend to give a shit that Stanley Kom is having a birthday.'
'You don't have to do anything, just sit with me and keep me company.'
'Oh, you're going to be with me, then? I didn't realize.'
'Of course I'm going to be with you. Where else would I be?'
'I'm never quite certain these days.'
'What does that mean?' Becker stared at her angrily for a moment, then turned away, afraid that he might lose control of himself.
'John, what's the matter?' she said, alarmed. His look of anger had frightened her.
Becker sat on the edge of the bed; he turned his face away from her.
'Nothing. Just a bad mood.' She stood in front of him and took his face in her hands. 'What is it?'
He did not pull his face from her grasp but he refused to meet her eyes.
'Is it the case?' she asked. 'Is it Johnny Appleseed? You have to let go of it sometimes, you know. Let it be just a job.'
She wedged his knees apart with her leg and moved between them so that her body was touching his.
'Don't let it swallow you,' she said. 'Please, John. For yourself. For Jack. For me. Don't let the case devour you. Don't let it come between us.'
'The case isn't coming between us,' he said.
'Then what's wrong?'
When he did not answer she tipped his face so that he craned upward, looking at her. 'Tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that. We agreed to always tell each other everything, didn't we? Something has been wrong between us for weeks and I don't know what it is. I can't help you with it if I don't know what it is.'
Becker yearned to tell her, to pour out his suspicions and to have her explain them away as foolish imaginings, the fevered overreaction of a jealous man, but it was his conviction that she couldn't dismiss them that prevented him from speaking. If she told him he was making it all up, if she denied the meetings with Kom behind his back, there was nothing left for him to cling to, no last shred of hope that he was deluded in his mistrust. The words clogged in his throat and he could only emit an inarticulate groan. He buried his face against her bosom.
'John,' she cried, now genuinely worried. 'What is it, darling'? What on earth is wrong?'
He shook his head against her breasts and gripped her with both arms around her buttocks. He wanted to hug her so tightly she could never pull away, never leave him, never deceive him. 'No,'- she said. 'No, no, no.'
