C. Lawrence - Silent victim

"What about race?" Lee asked. "You said they were both white."

"Yeah, sure, but that's not much to go on. We're still lookin' into their backgrounds, but so far we got bubkes."

"So what are the details?" Kathy said, gulping down a swallow of beer. It was delicious-cold, a little sweet but with a nice bitter edge.

Butts told her the puzzling particulars. Two men, both dead, one electrocuted and the other drowned-both clumsily staged suicides, "phony as a tuxedo on a rooster," as he put it. Kathy had no idea where he got his sayings-he had a gift for odd metaphors.

"Chuck Morton hasn't called you yet?" she asked Lee.

"Nope," he replied.

"That's odd," she said. "It's right up your alley."

"That's what I'm sayin'," Butts agreed. "Hey, I'm starvin'-you wanna order?"

They did. Butts ordered a steak, and Kathy got the same thing she always did-the Moroccan chicken. It was terrific as ever-tangy, spicy, and a little sweet, but the real winner was the spinach fettuccine in lemon caper sauce that Lee ordered. After trying one bite Kathy kept looking at it so longingly that Lee finally threw his hands up and pushed the plate toward her.

"Go ahead-have the rest. I can tell you want it." He turned to Butts and laughed. "She always does this. No matter what she orders, she always wants what I have."

"I do not!" Kathy protested, but she gobbled up the rest of the fettuccine greedily.

"Hmm," Butts remarked, chewing on his steak. "I guess you suffer from pasta envy."

"Touche," Lee said, poking Kathy in the ribs.

Butts smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself. Kathy pretended to be irritated with both of them, but in truth she was feeling good-a little tipsy, full of excellent food, sitting in this charming restaurant with a man she loved. Happiness filled her like helium; she was buoyant as rising dough. She wished she could always feel the way she felt right now. Later, she would think back to that evening and wish she could have stopped the hands of the clock right then and there.

As soon as Lee unlocked the dead bolt to his apartment door, the phone rang. He rushed through the living room to answer it, but he wasn't quick enough-by the time he reached it, the phone had stopped ringing.

"Damn," he muttered, throwing his coat on the couch. He looked at the caller ID, which read UNAVAILABLE. That meant someone was calling from a blocked number-or that they had dialed*69 before calling him to hide their identity. Either way, he wouldn't be able find out who it was and call them back.

Kathy trailed in behind him, closing the door after her.

"Just missed it?" she said, sinking down on the couch.

"Yeah," he said. "They blocked caller ID, too, so I don't know who it was."

"Who would be calling you at this hour?"

"My first thought would be my mother," he replied, "but she doesn't even know what caller ID is, let alone how to block it."

"Maybe they'll leave a message." She rubbed her stomach and grimaced. "Oh, I am so full. I can't believe I finished the rest of your fettuccine. I'm terrible, aren't I?"

Lee laughed. "One of these days I'm going to order something you really hate, like liver, so I can eat the whole thing myself."

She threw a couch pillow at him. "Sadist."

He dodged out of the way, then picked it up and threw it back. "Glutton."

She hurled it back at him. "Poseur."

He aimed at her head, then, as she ducked, threw it at her torso. "Nympho."

"Oof!" she said as the pillow hit her stomach. "Got me right where it hurts." She bent down to pick it up off the floor, then stopped. "What's that smell?"

"What smell?"

"Like lilacs," she said, sniffing their air. "It smells like lilac perfume."

"Oh, that," he said, feeling guilty, though he had done nothing wrong.

She threw the pillow back at him. "Do you have a mistress?"

He threw his hands up in surrender, letting it hit him. "Okay, you caught me."

"I knew it! What's her name?"

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

He sat down next to her and whispered in her ear. She hurled another pillow at him at close range.

"Ow!" he said. "That hurt!"

"Serves you right," she said. "Leading a girl on like that."

"Well, you are my mistress," he said. "Or my girlfriend, or whatever you want to call it."

"Seriously, though, was someone here wearing lilac perfume?"

"Yes," he said.

"Who was it?"

"Well, I guess since she wasn't here as a patient, it's all right to tell you."

He had known two things about Kathy Azarian soon after meeting her: that she was courageous and that she was willful, someone you would want nearby in a crisis. But it was as impossible for him to put a finger on what exactly he was drawn to as it was to pluck a single drop of water from a running stream. Her slim androgyny hid a femininity so profound that he felt in touching her, he was touching all women. It was as though his atoms had been perfectly formulated to resonate with hers.

He told her the story of Ana's visit, including her past as his patient-though he neglected to mention her attempt to seduce him years ago. Kathy didn't seem to be the jealous type, but he had no desire to test that theory.

Kathy listened, frowning. "Do you think she's telling the truth?"

"I don't know what to think. I was thinking that might be her calling when we came in."

"Maybe it was a wrong number. Why don't you see if they left a message?"

Lee went over to the phone, but as he reached for it, it rang again. He picked it up immediately.

"Hello?"

"Lee, it's Chuck." "Hi, Chuck."

When she heard that, Kathy began waving vigorously from the couch.

"Kathy says hi," Lee said.

"Yeah, thanks-uh, listen, have you got a minute?"

His friend sounded disturbed, preoccupied-from the tightness in his voice, Lee could tell this call was all business.

"Sure, go ahead," he said.

"Okay. We got a really strange situation here, and if you're free, I'd like to have your input on it." "Go ahead-shoot."

Chuck Morton proceeded to tell him about exactly the same case Butts had laid out before him over dinner, and Lee pretended to listen. Or rather, he pretended he had never heard any of this before, which was hard, since Butts had covered it quite thoroughly. Still, he managed to ask some leading questions, and thought he pulled it off pretty well. The last thing he wanted was to get Butts in trouble for spilling the beans about a case-even if it was to Lee, Butts could still catch hell for it, and even more since Kathy was there, too.

Strictly speaking, case details were to be spoken of only with the officers directly involved, lest something should leak out that would compromise the investigation. Of course, things were leaked all the time, and Lee suspected there was a fair amount of pillow talk that went unreported. He couldn't imagine a marriage of any substance without a few slips here and there. He thought of Chuck and Susan Morton in bed together. He had once shared a bed with her, and now… he forced the image out of his head.

"Okay," he said when Chuck had finished. "You're right-it does sound intriguing."

"It's damn perplexing, that's what it is," Chuck grumbled. "And that's why we need you on board. If you have time, that is."

"Sure," said Lee. "You clear it with brass, and I'll be in your office Monday morning."

"Great," said Chuck, sounding relieved. Lee could hear a woman's voice in the background, and Chuck called to her, "Just a second, all right? Okay, I will." Then, into the receiver, he said, "Susan sends her love."

"Thanks," Lee said, feeling his throat tighten. Whatever

Susan Morton was sending, it wasn't her love. Her lust, perhaps-maybe her desire, her need, which was bottomless-but hardly her love.