Iris Johansen - Quinn

Two Days Later

“WHAT IS THIS STUFF?” Eve asked as she tentatively tasted the salad. “Exotic. You know I’m just a simple Southern woman with down-home tastes, Joe. Are you trying to educate my palate?”

“It’s not ‘stuff.’” Joe sat down across from her. “I got the recipe from an Indian woman in Bombay. And you’re about as simple as an Einstein equation. Try it. You’ll like it.”

She took another bite. “It’s good. Where did you learn to cook?”

“When I was in the service. I was young, with a tremendous hunger, and food was only part of it. I was all over the world tasting and experiencing everything. The good things I wanted to take home with me.”

“And the bad things?”

He shrugged. “I learned from them, too, then tried to let them go.”

“Not easy.”

“No, but that’s life.” He smiled. “I’m glad you let me loose in your kitchen. Cooking relaxes me.”

“And it bores me. I had to put wholesome meals on the table for Bonnie, but I assure you that they lacked inspiration. And definitely nothing exotic.” She finished the last bite. “I doubt that I would have picked up any exotic recipes even if I’d gone to India. Which I most certainly didn’t. I’ve never been out of Georgia.”

“You’ve missed a lot. I’d like to show you some of the parts of the world I’ve visited. It would be great seeing them through your eyes.”

“I don’t feel as if I’ve missed much. I had everything I wanted or needed here. It would have been nice to take Bonnie to those places when I could afford it, but it wasn’t important to me.” Her face clouded. “But maybe it would have been important to Bonnie. She enjoyed every minute, every new experience.”

He quickly changed the subject. “I’m glad you like the salad. The main course is much more ordinary.” He got to his feet. “Steak and mushrooms. I’ll let you take the dishes into the kitchen while I serve it up. Get to work.”

“Right.” She picked up the salad plates and followed him into the kitchen. She put the dishes in the sink and stood watching him as he served up the steak and mushrooms on a plate. She said quietly, “Thank you, Joe.”

“Wait until you’re sure I’m not going to give you indigestion before you thank me.”

“No, thank you for making these days bearable for me. I would have gone crazy without you,” she added with frustration, “Where is he? I thought that he’d contact me long before this. Not one word after that second news interview came out.”

“He’s biding his time. He’s probably enjoying the hell out of thinking about you on pins and needles, waiting for him to strike.”

“But you don’t think he’s given up and gone away?” she asked anxiously.

“No.” He looked up and met her eyes. “I think that he’s close, waiting for his chance.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“Do you know how sick that sounds?”

She nodded, then asked immediately, “And that policeman outside hasn’t seen anything?”

He shook his head. “Bramwell says that there’s been no suspicious activity since he took over the duty day before yesterday.” He handed her a plate. “Now go sit down and try my steak. I made it medium well-done. Okay?”

“Fine.” She didn’t move. “I meant it, Joe. You kept me so busy painting that damn room that I had no time to think.”

“Oh, you were thinking. I just tried to keep everything troubling on the edge of your consciousness.” He headed for the dining room. “Now let’s finish dinner, and we’ll have coffee on the front porch. I made Turkish coffee with a few interesting spices.”

“Coffee with spices?” she repeated warily. “I’m not so sure about that. Coffee should be black, strong, and hot, and not subject to all your fancy exotic tinkering.”

“I realize that I’m taking a chance in fooling with your holy of holies.” He smiled as he glanced over his shoulder. “But trust me one more time. Try it, you’ll like it.”

“HERE YOU GO.” HE HANDED Eve the small demitasse cup and sat down in the cane chair next to her. “I guarantee it’s black and strong and a small enough quantity that you won’t have to sample much. I heard the phone ring when I was in the kitchen. I gather it wasn’t Zeus.”

She shook her head. “My mother. She wants to know when she can come home. Evidently, she’s bored. I thought it might be McVey again.”

“He called you this morning, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “He won’t give up. He wants to come here and become part of the action.” She made a face. “When and if there is any action. I told him that he can’t do it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t like that.”

“He’s being very persistent. I said we’d give him an exclusive as soon as the story broke.”

“That’s more than he deserves.”

“You’re still angry with him.”

“He took you to that house on the lake and let you stake yourself out for that nutcase.”

“It was my call.”

“And he grabbed at the chance to help you to do it. No trying to talk you out of it. Just set up a house in an isolated area and let the bad times roll. Anything to get his story.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Yes, I’m still angry.”

“Then I’ll try to keep you away from him. He was scared of you, but he’s so ambitious that he’ll keep pushing.” She took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t want him to-” She gasped. “Good Lord, what are you doing to me? It’s nasty. ” She made a face as she thrust the cup and saucer at him. “It’s like cinnamon-flavored tar.”

“Maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

“If you ever give me anything but the real thing when I ask for coffee, I’ll murder you.”

He chuckled. “I knew it was taking a chance.”

“You knew I’d hate it. It’s some kind of sick joke.”

“You malign me. Would I do that to you?”

“I’m beginning to think that you have a wicked sense of humor. You just haven’t let me see it before.”

“I had to wait to show that side of my personality. You weren’t ready for it.” He got to his feet. “I’ll take your cup inside.” He stood from a moment, looking out into the darkness of the quiet street, the well-kept yards, the lamplight streaming out of the windows. “So peaceful. It’s a nice neighborhood. Bramwell said that it was a hell of a lot easier watching your house than the usual neighborhoods he’s been accustomed to monitoring.” He moved toward the door. “Stay here. I’ll get you a real cup of coffee.”

“Don’t bother.” She got to her feet. “All that painting has worn me out. I think I’ll shower, then go to bed.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll do better without coffee.”

“You’re sure?” He held the door open for her. “My duty is to please.”

“Tell that to McVey.”

“There’s always an exception to prove a rule.” He turned on the light in the living room and watched her walk up the steps. She did look tired, but it had been a fair day. He had worked her at painting, making sure the physical exertion would be enough to block out the mental torment that was always with her. He checked his watch. It was near ten in the evening. He’d check in with Slindak and go to bed himself.

He hoped he could sleep. Eve wasn’t the only one who was on edge from all this waiting.

Where are you, bastard?

THE PHONE RANG IN THE middle of the night.

He reached over to the pick up the receiver of the phone on the end table beside the couch on which he was sleeping.

Eve was already on the line.