“Do you know what’s in Marapisa?”
He thought for a minute. “Wesco State jam.”
“Very good. And do you know who’s in Wesco?”
“A lot of felons,” he blurted. “Will you get on with it!”
“Does Arnie Riker ring any bells in that lame brain of yours? He’s currently in residence there. And he recognized Verna Hicks when he saw the paper.”
“Damn it, stop playing twenty questions with me. Who is she?”
“Did you ever read Bones’s full report?”
“… no. Did you?”
“No, but I’m going to. Meantime…”
I gave him a quick rundown on my conversation with memory-expert Arnie Riker, my trip to Santa Monica, and the details of the X rays. I handed him the yellowed charts. “Look who the patient was.”
When he saw Wilma Thompson’s name his jaw almost hit the floor.
“You think it’s possible?” he asked.
“If Tyler and Bones agree, school’s out-and so is Riker. Our problem is, who killed Wilma Verna Hicks Wilensky Thompson? And why?”
I started out the door.
“Hey,” he said. “What’re you gonna do about Moriarity? He’s on the warpath and…”
“Handle it,” I said. “I’m busy.”
It was about seven when I got home. I was exhausted, but Rosie’s enthusiastic greeting cheered me up. I decided to clean up before calling Millie. We did the dog food-bone routine, and while he was out back gnawing on it, I took a long, hot shower. I put on a pair of slacks and a shirt and tie, and was reaching for the phone to call Millie when the doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, all I saw was Millie’s eyes and that smile.
She was holding a sterling silver champagne bucket with a bottle chilling in it. There was a large wicker picnic basket beside her. The Phaeton was parked out front.
“Hi,” she said. “I happened to be in the neighborhood…”
CHAPTER 33
I took the basket and ice bucket, and she leaned into me and kissed me. Her kisses were never desperate or hungry, they were soft and giving and inviting. We stood there locked together while Rosie circled us and whined for a little attention. Finally, I carried the picnic into the living room while she fussed over the dog.
I went into the bedroom, hurriedly gathered up my dirty clothes and towels from the floor and threw them in the hamper, got a blanket and brought it back, spreading it on the living room floor. I put a couple of pillows from the sofa on the floor, too.
She appraised the place, studying the orange-crate bookcases and the barren simplicity of the furnishings, her expression concealing any hint of either amusement or disappointment. I’m inclined to think it was exactly what she expected.
“Welcome to the Taj Mahal,” I said.
She came across the room to me, her long legs sheathed in gray slacks, a pink V-neck cashmere sweater hugging her body, her eyes never straying from mine. She sat as close as two pillows would allow and studied my face.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said. “But you’re sad.” She ran her fingertips down one of my cheeks. “I’m sorry you had such a bad time and your partner was hurt. I hope you don’t mind; I sent some flowers.”
“His wife’ll probably kill him,” I said, and we both laughed and I kissed her again. Then I opened the champagne and filled two handsome fluted wineglasses. We toasted each other.
“I’ll never intrude on your work,” she said. “But I’ll always listen if you need to talk about it.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m sure Ski’s in his element, lying to all the nurses and playing the hero.”
“Good.”
“I’ve learned some things about Verna’s murder. I’m not sure where they’re leading yet, but I think Culhane and his friends may be in for bad times.”
“You like this man,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Irish charm,” I said with a smile. “I think he deals with the law in a very expedient manner. I’ve done that a few times myself but I think this time he went over the line. I haven’t told him what I know but I feel I should.”
“Then do it.”
“It’s gonna be difficult.”
“Has that ever stopped you before?”
“Not really. Culhane dropped everything last night when Ski and I got in trouble. Left a campaign fund-raiser. And he invented a lie-not for himself, he wasn’t involved. He invented it to protect me and Ski.”
“Did you go along with it?”
“So far. But it also protects the mobster who sent four killers after us. His name is Guilfoyle. A bottom- feeder.”
“Why did Culhane do it?”
I thought about that for a while and then said, “I think he sees a lot of himself in me. If that makes any sense.”
“I can understand that. Perhaps he sees the same things in you that I do. One of the things that attracts me to you is your impulsiveness. And your integrity. I’ve never known anyone like you, Zee.”
“Integrity? I was way over my head, Mil. Way out of my territory, going where I was warned not to go in what turned out to be a blind alley, and then going along with a lie to cover up some very serious consequences.”
“It’s not over yet,” she said.
“No,” I said. “But I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Was the trip up there worthwhile?”
I decided to give her a taste of what it would be like to have a relationship with a cop.
“Yes and no,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s leading me places I hoped not to go. And now this case is turning around on me. I know who Verna was before she showed up in L.A., Mil. Verna was Wilma Thompson.”
Her eyes grew the size of serving platters. “The woman who was murdered years ago?” she gasped.
“Apparently not,” I said.
“Why did somebody do it now?” she asked, her voice filled with sadness.
“That’s the question. Who killed her and why. I don’t have all the pieces put together yet. I keep thinking I missed something along the way. Ever try to think of someone’s name, and it’s right on the tip of your tongue but you can’t remember it?”
She laughed. “All the time.”
“It’s kind of like that,” I said. “Something I saw or read or heard. But it keeps eluding me.”
“Then forget about it,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
I don’t know whether she prepared the spread or had it done but it was a meal a king would have died for. I’m sure the champagne was from some prize vintage. I’d never had fresh strawberries in champagne or squares cut from the sweetest part of fresh melons or pate from France. She had spread a dozen candles around the house and the odor was intoxicating.
While we were eating, my phone rang. I ignored it.
When we finished, we gathered up the remains and carried them to the kitchen, and gave some of the leftovers to Rosie. The phone rang again, and again I ignored it. I went into the living room and stacked several
