John Lutz - Hot

He said, “I had a look around inside the Bings’ house this evening.”

She arched a surprised eyebrow. “Millicent was there?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She nodded, understanding. “Is that legal?”

“I found the door unlocked.”

Katia smiled, knowing he was lying and an unlocked door wouldn’t make trespassing legal anyway, but she didn’t press him on it. She looked like a teenager in the soft lamplight. “I imagine Millicent cleaned out most everything but the furniture.”

“She did a good job of that,” Carver said.

“But you found something, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t exactly find anything, but I saw evidence of something. Why do you suppose Millicent left so abruptly, and in such a way that she wouldn’t have to return?”

“Well, she had to go north to her husband’s funeral, so why shouldn’t she try avoiding another trip down here to settle her affairs? Makes sense to me.”

Carver watched the light play over the flecks of ice shooting from the air conditioner, wondering if a rainbow might be possible. He said, “You touched on another reason last time we talked.”

Katia didn’t have to search her memory. “You mean when I said she seemed scared?”

“Uh-huh.” Carver waited.

“That was just a feeling I had. Nothing definite.”

Time to broach the subject. “Katia, would you have any idea if Dr. Sam and Millicent engaged in what might be called kinky sex?”

She looked surprised but not shocked. Then she laughed nervously. “Well, they sure wouldn’t tell me about it, would they?”

“Not intentionally. What I mean is, do you remember anything slipping out about the subject during conversation?”

“No, I don’t think so. Anyway, this is a conservative part of Florida, so what exactly do you mean by kinky sex? Anything other than the missionary position?”

“Sadomasochism. Chains, whips, leashes, that sort of thing. Happens even in Florida.”

An incredulous expression passed over her young face. “Dr. Sam? Millicent? You’ve got to be kidding!”

Carver gave her a minute to let the idea settle in. “People tend secret flames, Katia, and sometimes the heat consumes them. They lead private lives that are often unlike the ones they present to the world. Sort of existing on two levels. You get a little older you’ll realize that, if you don’t know it already.”

“Sure. And whatever two consenting adults do, especially if they’re married, is their own business.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I’m a little kinky myself.”

She squinted at him, unable to quite figure him.

“We’re not talking about a crime here,” he told her.

“We might be, in Florida,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter a fig to me. It’s just that with Dr. Sam and Millicent I think the idea’s way, way off the mark. He was obsessed with his work and there wasn’t room for much else. And Millicent never struck me as . . . well, the carnally adventuresome type. I don’t recall Dr. Sam ever saying anything even remotely sexual. God, this was a middle-aged couple, Mr. Carver.”

Ah, the young, he thought. He said, “Maybe their sex life had gone stale and they were experimenting.”

“Oh, sure, maybe. But how would I know, even if it was any of my business? And how would you know?”

“I don’t know,” Carver said. “Not for sure. I found some eye hooks, and some holes drilled in the wall that were spaced as if they were used to constrain somebody. There were marks on the paint that might have come from chains or manacles being scraped over the plaster. Discoloration from perspiration. I found a leather leash in the closet.”

Katia pressed her knees together tight enough to whiten the flesh. She looked thoughtful. Said, “The Bings didn’t have a dog.”

“You wouldn’t guess it by looking at the carpet where I found most of the drilled holes,” Carver told her.

She seemed confused, and passed a hand down her cheek vaguely, as if feeling for an injury, and shook her head. “Listen, even if what you found does mean anything, so what? I mean, Dr. Sam and Millicent’s sex life couldn’t be relevant to what you’re investigating: Henry Tiller’s death, whatever you think’s going on over at the Rainer place.”

“Don’t forget Dr. Sam’s suicide,” Carver said.

She frowned. “I don’t see the connection.”

“Could be there isn’t any. That’s one of the things I’m trying to determine.”

Katia stared at the dark window as if she could see out of it. Then she stood up and clutched her robe around her. “I keep getting images of Dr. Sam and Millicent,” she said, making a face as if she’d found a roach in her stew. “I don’t like what I see. If you don’t mind, I think I’ve had about enough of this conversation.”

Carver set his cane in the flowered Victorian carpet and gained his feet. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I don’t like asking you about it, but you were the one who might know.”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, neither Dr. Sam nor Millicent ever said or did anything that gave me any insight into their sex life. They simply didn’t talk about that kind of thing. Not that I was curious. I didn’t consider it any of my affair when Dr. Sam was alive, and I consider it even less my business now that he’s dead.”

“I wouldn’t argue,” Carver said. “Whatever they did in the privacy of their home, it’s most likely irrelevant.” He limped across the faded flower pattern to the door and opened it.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” she said behind him.

He braced with the cane and twisted around to face her, one foot out in the hall. The pungent scent of spicy Italian cooking wasn’t so appetizing now. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t dirty Dr. Sam’s memory by speculating with the wrong people about his sex life.”

“You have Chief Wicke in mind?”

“Yes, among others. Talking to him might make any nasty rumor sort of semiofficial and lend it credibility. I mean, the idea’s nauseating. It isn’t dignified, and Dr. Sam was a dignified scientist. Let’s leave him with that.”

“And Millicent’s still alive,” Carver said. “We wouldn’t want to drag her private life out for everyone to see.”

“Of course not.” Katia looked angry for a moment. “I wasn’t forgetting Millicent.”

“I trusted you to tell me the truth,” Carver said. “You can trust me to do what I can. But I can’t promise, because I don’t know where this’ll lead.”

“What you suspect about Dr. Sam and Millicent,” she said confidently, “won’t lead anywhere at all. It’s simply not them.”

“I expect you’re right.”

She gave him her young, naive smile, the girl who knew more about sea life than life on land.

Beth was in the kitchen eating a tuna salad sandwich and drinking beer when Carver got back to the cottage. He pulled a Budweiser from the refrigerator and sat down across the table from her. She was wearing a gray Florida State T-shirt and faded Levi’s, dressed to take her turn in the blind and keep up surveillance on the Rainer estate. He didn’t want her back in the blind, was getting worn-down from fearing for her. Obstinate, heedless woman.

A hard-shelled bug of some kind flew against the window and bounced off, sounding like a thrown pebble. Carver took a sip of beer and said, “There’s no point in watching the Rainer place any longer. We’ve seen all we’re going to see.”

She swallowed a bite of sandwich. “I wasn’t sure what you had in mind. Thought I better be ready.”