Free Fall

'I peeked in Mr. Beale's reference file. He thinks highly of you.'

'You don't say.'

'They don't know that I'm here and I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything.'

I nodded. 'On the phone you said something about your boyfriend.'

'My fiance. I think that he's mixed up in some kind of criminal thing. I've asked him, and he denies it, but I know that something's going on. I think he's scared, and that worries me. My fiance is not scared of very much.'

I nodded again and tucked that away. Fearless Fiance. 'Okay. What kind of crime are we talking about?'

'I don't know.'

'Is he stealing cars?'

'I don't think so.'

'Is he embezzling?'

'No. It wouldn't be that.'

'How about fraud?'

She shook her head.

'We're running out of choices, Ms. Sheridan.'

She glanced into the big purse as if there were something inside it that she was hoping she wouldn't have to show me, as if the purse were somehow a point of no return, and if she opened it and let out whatever was inside, she would never be able to close it again or return the elements of her life to a comfortable or familiar order. Pandora's Purse. Maybe if I had a purse like that, I'd be careful of it, too.

I said, 'I know if s hard, Ms. Sheridan. If it was easy, you wouldn't need me. But if you don't tell me about him, or what you think he is up to, I can't help you. Do you see that?'

She nodded and held the purse tighter.

I took out a yellow legal pad, a black SenseMatic pencil, and made as if I were poised to copy the rush of information she was about to provide. I drew a couple of practice marks on the page. Subliminal prompting. 'I'm ready. Fire away.'

She swallowed.

'Anytime.'

She stared at the floor.

I put the pad on the desk and the pencil on the pad. I put my fingertips together and looked at Jennifer Sheridan through the steeple, and then I looked at the Pinocchio clock that I've got on my wall. It has eyes that swing from side to side as it tocks, and if s always smiling. Happiness is contagious. It was twelve twenty-two, and if I could get down to the deli fast enough, the turkey would still be moist and the baguette would still be edible. I said, 'Maybe you should go to the police, Ms. Sheridan. I don't think I can help you.'

She clutched the purse even tighter and gave miserable. 'I can't do that.'

I spread my hands and stood up. 'If your fiance is in danger, it is better to get in trouble with the police than it is to be hurt or killed.' Twelve twenty-three. 'Try the police, Ms. Sheridan. The police can help you.'

'I can't do that, Mr. Cole.' The misery turned into fear. 'My fiance is the police.'

'Oh.' Now it was my turn. I sat down.

Jennifer Sheridan opened the purse and took out a 3x5 color snapshot of herself and a tall good-looking kid in a navy blue LAPD summer-weight uniform leaning against a squad car. They were smiling. 'His name is Mark Thurman. He doesn't work uniform anymore. Last year he was chosen for a plainclothes position at the Seventy- seventh Division in South Central Los Angeles.'

'What kind of plainclothes?'

'They call it a REACT team. They monitor career criminals and try to stop them before they hurt people. If s an elite unit, and he was the youngest man chosen. He was very proud of that.' She seemed proud of it, too. 'Everything was fine for the first few months, but then he changed. It happened almost overnight.'

'What kind of change?' I was thinking Kevin McCarthy. Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

'He became anxious and scared and secretive. We never keep secrets from each other and now there are things that he won't talk about with me.'

I looked closer at the picture. Thurman had long forearms and a ropey neck and a country boy's smile. He must've been fourteen inches taller than Jennifer Sheridan. I said, 'I know a lot of police officers, Ms. Sheridan. Some of them are even my friends. It can be a hard job with unusual hours and you see too much of what's wrong with people. You don't want to go home and chat about it.'

She shook her head, telling me that I didn't get it. 'It isn't just him not talking about the job. He was in uniform for three years and I know to expect that. It's the way he acts. We used to talk about getting married, and having children, but we don't anymore. I ask him what's wrong, he says nothing. I say tell me about your day, he says that there's nothing to say. He was never like that before. He's become irritable and snappish.'

'Irritable.'

'That's right.'

'He's irritable, and that's why you think he's involved in crime?'

She gave me exasperated. 'Well, it isn't just that.'