who else.”

Delorme stood awkwardly and opened the briefcase, tilting it toward him. “No microphone.”

“Could you open your shirt as well, please?”

Delorme sat down and placed the briefcase on the seat beside her.

“It’s open to the third button already, I notice. Freckles, I see-very nice.”

“How did you meet Laura Lacroix?”

“Come on, then. Just one more button.”

“How did you meet Laura Lacroix?”

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, and the wide nostrils flared. Then the vivid blue eyes opened, taking her in once more. “Incredible,” he said softly. “You actually use Ivory soap.”

This was true, as it happened.

“Should I come back another day?”

“I’ll tell you how I met Laura Lacroix. But I have to be sure you’re not wearing a wire between those tastefully freckled tits. Are you going to show me or not?”

“No.”

“We appear to be at a standoff, then, don’t we.”

Delorme reached for her briefcase. “I’ll just come back another-”

“Wait.” Priest grabbed her forearm and squeezed.

Delorme froze, looking at his hand until he let her go.

“I’ve thought of a way. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but first you have to ask if you can suck my cock.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She got up and went across the room for her coat.

“You won’t leave,” Priest said after her. “Laura’s been missing-what? — three days now? And you’re afraid of words? So repressed you’d screw up a case rather than say a few little words Sister Mary Tightarse wouldn’t approve of?”

Delorme took her coat from the hook and struggled into the sleeves.

“She could be tied up somewhere. Or lost in the bush. Freezing to death. But you can’t bring yourself to say a few little-”

Delorme came back, coat and all, and sat down opposite him, banging his knee hard. She grabbed hold of his turtleneck and pulled him closer and looked into those gleaming blue eyes. “Oh, please master, please master, please, mister British rock star master, won’t you please let me suck that huge cock of yours? Please? Please? Won’t you, huh? Huh? Oh my God, it’s so big. It’s so huge. How do you even get around? Really, something that size, you ought to get it fitted for a shoe. Maybe build it its own garage.” She pushed him away and sat back.

Priest frowned at her and half stood, twisting a little to see himself in the mirror. He fussed with the material of his turtleneck for a minute, then slid back down to his seat.

“Are you really that pathetic?” Delorme said. “Is that really what you need to hear?”

“As a matter of fact,” Priest said, “I think this is going very well.”

He signalled for more drinks, and when they arrived he began to talk.

Eleven months earlier. He said he remembered because he had just returned from Christmas vacation with the aged ones in London-Hampstead Garden Suburb, to be exact. Then to Algonquin Bay to get in a little skiing and northern solitude before venturing back into the belly of the monster in Ottawa and Toronto.

“I was invited to dinner at a friend’s place. Fella named Brian I met at the squash club. I forget why Laura was there-they weren’t trying to set me up. I think she works with Brian’s wife up at the hospital. Pleasant evening, blah blah. Anyway, few days later I head back to Ottawa and-”

“Where do you live, exactly? Here? Ottawa? Toronto?”

“Ottawa. I’ve got my Swiss cottage here and a loft in Toronto, but the Toronto club runs itself at this point. It’s Ottawa I got to keep an eye on-thanks to your colleagues. Believe it or not, police investigations do tend to have a negative effect on the libido, as well as everything else.”

“Doesn’t seem to have affected you.”

“Yeah, but I’m exceptional.” He took a sip of his Guinness and contemplated the glass. “So I’m back in Ottawa a couple of weeks and I get a call from Laura. In town for some kind of conference. Wonders if I have time for a drink. Not dinner. Not coffee. Drink. I know what that means, and so do you. So, fine. We meet at the Shadow and we have a drink.”

“I’m sorry-the Shadow?”

“Yeah, the hotel. Shadow Laurier. Oh Christ, you’re not taking the piss about my accent, are you?”

“I thought you said Shadow. I thought it might be another club.”

“Non, c’est une plaisanterie. Que tu es snob! Tu penses que t’es tellement superieure? La petite Pepsi avec son accent qui donne l’impression d’une chatte en chaleurs? C’est insupportable.” His French was infuriatingly good.

“First point,” Delorme said, “you’ve never heard my accent. Second point, did you actually call me a Pepsi?” It was an age-old put-down of uncertain derivation for French Canadians, especially dizzy young girls.

“I did. And I notice you’re sticking to English. Bit self-conscious, are we? Let me give you some advice, darling-never get between an Englishman and his accent. We grow up with a hundred of ’em buzzing in our ears, each with its own little class marker-and believe me, every one of us learns to negotiate that minefield very quickly indeed. That’s why we produce the best fucking actors in the universe.”

“So why do you sound the way you do?”

“If I felt like it, I could sound like Bertie Fuckin Russell, but I prefer to sound like someone with a dick between his legs. Awright, sistah?”

“So you met for a drink.”

He nodded. “Laura’d already had a couple. She was fun in a small-town kind of way. Very innocent. Marriage was in trouble, told me that straight off. And she pretended to be concerned that she was feeling sexually restless. Sexually restless-I’d never heard it put quite that way before.

“So I take her back to the Lord Elgin, where the conference was, and I know this will shock you, Sister Delorme, but, well, I’m afraid we went to bed together. I cannot tell a lie. Would you like the details?”

“No.”

“I had the impression her nipples had been shamefully ignored. Very responsive, she was, in that area-quite electrified, really. And apparently no one of even average sexual IQ had addressed themselves to her clitoris. Amazing what women have to put up with. Men are terrible lovers, as I’m sure your own researches will confirm.”

“How can you make the comparison?”

Priest laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You’re saying you’ve been in bed with lots of men?”

“Correct!” He touched her hand, a brief pressure, then gone. “You are truly amazing. Have you ever even seen a penis?”

“Could you just stick to the story?”

“Week or so later, she looks me up here. Right here, same as you. Took the same seat at the bar, waiting for me to notice. So subtle. We have a bit of a chinwag and she casually mentions some married git she’s shagging. Didn’t stop her from coming on to me again. Only this time I wasn’t having any.”

“Why not?”

“Because I look at someone like Laura Lacroix, I see tears and phone calls and overdoses and lots of just plain not-worth-it. Very attractive woman, Laura-looked a bit like you, frankly-but unfortunately a bit clingy.”

“Did you see her again?”

“Yeah, I told you. Ottawa. When she showed up at Risque and got fucked silly. You ought to try it sometime.”

“You’ve said in the past you like sex games. Tying people up. Role playing.”

“It’s called fun, sister. It’s not my sole occupation.”

“And you also like sex outdoors.”

“You’re taking a suspiciously deep interest.”

“So let’s say you were going to abduct a woman for sexual purposes. You’d-what? — take her to someone’s

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