Barbara Michaels - Shattered Silk

"I'll study tonight. We can't pass up a potential source-you're the one who keeps telling me that. And the old lady doesn't sound as if she would last much longer."

"All Mrs. Mac's friends sound like that."

"So we better strike while the iron is hot. What time are you going out tonight?"

"He said he'd pick me up at seven-thirty."

Karen dressed with care, pleased by the fact that the gradual decrease in her girth had produced a corresponding increase in her wardrobe. She was no longer self-conscious about wearing her vintage clothes. They were a good deal more stylish and far better made than anything else she owned.

From one of Mrs. MacDougal's sources-not old Mrs. Ferris-she had acquired a dress she was longing to wear. It had been just a trifle too tight when she sent it to the cleaner-a pale-yellow linen A-line from the late fifties, simply and flatteringly cut, with a subtly generous flare at the hips. It was no designer model, but it had a label from Debenham and Freebody, one of the better London stores. Karen was pleased to find that the dress went on without a wrinkle. The clear, bright shade was becoming to her dark hair and her new tan. Tony wouldn't be ashamed to be seen in public with her, at any rate. Good old Tony… He did deserve something better than the condescending affection that was all Cheryl had to give. Fond as she was of Cheryl, there were times when Karen could have shaken her partner, and this was one of them.

She was thoroughly out of temper with both brother and sister. Good old Tony and good old Karen could get along very well without them.

"MY God, you're ready," Tony said. "I thought I'd have to sit in the parlor for half an hour with my toes turned out, making polite conversation with Cheryl and the dog."

"Don't tell me the ladies you date these days live with parents who put you through that old routine."

"No, I was just trying to be funny." He opened the car door for her and then turned to make a rude gesture at Cheryl, who was waving at them from the doorway and beaming in a way that made Karen want to repeat Tony's gesture more emphatically.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier," he went on apologetically.

"For heaven's sake, don't be so humble. You're out there laying your life on the line for us defenseless citizens every day; the least we can do is accommodate ourselves to your schedules."

"I'm glad you feel that way about it. Not all my- I mean, not all women do."

From his expression Karen suspected he was thinking of one woman in particular. A present lover or a former lover? Cheryl? She couldn't help saying "It needn't be selfish vanity that causes that attitude, Tony. What you do is unpleasant and dangerous. I can understand how a woman might find that fear too hard to live with."

"I won't be doing it all my life. I'm not one of your dedicated TV cops; my big ambition in life is to become a small-town sheriff, where my biggest problems are Saturday-night drunks and harvesting the yearly marijuana crop out of the cornfields."

The discussion had taken a more serious turn than Karen expected or was ready for. Tony didn't seem to expect an answer. He changed the subject. They made casual conversation until he pulled into a vacant space at the curb. "This is about as close as I can get," he said lightly. "Do you mind walking a couple of blocks?"

"No, of course not. It's a lovely evening."

"Actually, I could have found a parking lot nearer the place," Tony admitted. "But this way I get a chance to show you off. That is one pretty dress."

Karen was pleasantly conscious of the way people looked at them. We're a handsome couple, she thought, amused at the cliche. At least Tony is; he's handsome enough for two.

The restaurant was small and quiet, with a country decor. The headwaiter greeted Tony by name. "I hope you're impressed," he said, after they had been seated. "This is the only place in town where they know my name."

"I doubt that."

"I meant in a social capacity."

He smiled as he spoke, but Karen was sorry she had reminded him of that other capacity. Yet the subject was bound to come up, sooner or later; she decided it would be better to face it and get it over with.

"There's something I feel I ought to tell you, Tony. I hate to talk about it, and I hate even more to spoil your evening off-"

Tony's smiled broadened, and he reached for her hand. "That's one of the things I like about you, lady. You don't back away from unpleasantness."

"Little do you know," Karen said wryly. "But I'm trying."

The warm, firm clasp of his hand on hers made it easier for her to repeat what she had learned from Julie, and to mention some of the ideas the information had suggested to her.

"Interesting," he said, when she had finished. "Like you, I feel as if I ought to have known. I guess I never gave much thought to that stupid little book."

"I gather you've read it."

"Parts of it. Mark has a copy; I think he got it from Mrs. MacDougal. The blackmail angle is certainly an idea."

"You're just being polite," Karen said, laughing. "You don't really believe it."

"It's too complicated for my simple cop's brain- more in Mark's line; he loves unlikely theories. I wonder if that's what he was referring to…He left a cryptic message for me-something about old and new murders. I called him back, but there was no answer. Guess he'd already left town."

"You don't take it seriously, do you, Tony? Be honest; my ego isn't involved. I've no aspirations toward being a great detective."

Tony's fingers moved caressingly across the back of her hand, around her wrist. "Thank God for that. To be honest, then, I don't. The simplest solutions are usually the right ones. I only wish we could find solid proof that Rob was the joker in the bed sheet; it would be a load off your mind to be absolutely certain. That's the way these things usually work out, though. It's a rare day in court when we can produce conclusive evidence."

"I know. We won't talk about it anymore."

"I'll tell you everything I can. The press already has most of this information, I'm not violating official security by telling you-and what the hell, I'd probably do it anyway if I thought it would help you. I guess you're the kind who'd rather know the facts, however unpleasant. Not," he added quickly, "that there's much to report. We did locate his car. It had been left in the parking lot of a hamburger joint a couple of miles from the place where he was found. His suitcase was in the truck. He had a sizable stash of odds and ends-pot, coke, pills-under the seat, but I think it was his private supply. There were fingerprints all over the interior-his, Julie's, and some we can't identify. The killer's fingerprints may be among them, but unless he has a record and his prints are on file, we'll never trace him that way. This may turn out to be one of the ones we don't solve."

After that Karen was content to let him change the subject. Delicately exploring new terrain, they discovered mutual interests-jazz, Monty Python, and the Impressionist painters. Tony laughed good-naturedly when she let her surprise show. "You think we're all uncultured slobs? I'm pretty high on the fifteenth-century Tuscan painters, too. Go on, ask me something."

By the end of the meal they were talking easily. When the coffee arrived, Tony started to tighten up, and Karen wondered if there was some other ugly development he had been afraid to mention. Instead he said suddenly, "I bought a house."

"You-you what?" His sheepish grin told her the rest. "Tony! Not-"

"Yes, the one in Leesburg. Actually, I haven't bought it yet, just signed the contract. But I think the owner will accept my offer."

Karen got her breath back. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"Not when I know what I'm doing. The reason I mention it is, I wondered if you want to rent from me."