Jonathan Kellerman - Twisted

“Actually, I’m on my way to school, just dropped by to get Detective Connor’s number. She phoned me last night but my brother neglected to write down her number.”

“She’s home,” said Dilbeck. “You know what happened to her?”

“Yes, sir. It’s kind of important that I talk to her. She was trying to reach me about a case we’re- she’s working on.”

“Well, she’s not working on anything now, Mr. Gomez.”

“Still, I think I should return her- ”

Dilbeck clapped his shoulder and stared into his eyes. “You’re a nice young fellow, but we’re sticklers for privacy around here. How about I call Detective Connor and tell her you stopped by. Give me a number where you can be reached.”

Isaac gave him the BioStatistics office number. Now he had to return to campus. What a tangled web we weave.

He reached USC forty minutes later, took an indirect route to BioStat that circumvented Doheny, and headed straight for his mailbox. It had been days since he’d checked and the box was stuffed. Circulars, departmental memos, junk mail.

Five messages from Klara, all in the same curvy handwriting. The last three were dated yesterday. Exclamation points.

Sandwiched between those was a single slip listing Petra’s name and a number to call. A 933 prefix that had to be her home.

He asked the secretary if he could use a department phone to make a local call.

She said, “Haven’t you been a stranger.”

He shrugged. “Working on the dissertation.”

“Poor baby. Don’t tie up this one, use the extension in the Xerox room. You know the drill: eight for an outside line and no phoning Europe.”

The door to the photocopy room was open. He’d nearly made it over there when a hand landed on his upper back.

Light touch, the barest contact. He wheeled and faced Klara Distenfield. She wore a royal blue dress printed with tiny yellow fish, fresh lipstick, mascara, perfume- the same perfume. Her hand remained near the side of his neck.

She smiled and said, “Finally.”

He ushered her into the room.

“What an elusive fellow.”

“Klara, I’m sorry- ”

“You should be.” No rancor in her voice. That made him really anxious. He found himself looking her up and down, stopped, but not before the images had registered. Red hair pinned, soft hairs escaping. The blue dress, tight over round belly and meaty hips. The breasts. The perfume. Oh, shit, he was hard.

Her gold-green eyes narrowed. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to reach you?”

“I’ve been out. Family issues- ”

“Everyone’s got a family.” Her lips pursed and tiny wrinkles formed above the gloss. “Whatever the family issue was, it couldn’t be too grave. I talked to your brother and he didn’t say anything. He sounds like you, by the way.”

The prospect of constructing another lie exhausted him. He said, “Nothing grave, it just took time.”

“So you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

“Me?” She laughed. “I’m great. Why?”

“I thought you were upset.”

“About what?”

“What happened.”

“Me?” She placed a dainty hand over one commodious breast. “I was a little… thrown. But then we had coffee, remember? And I was fine. Didn’t I seem fine?”

“The next day,” he said, “you weren’t at work. Mary Zoltan said you were sick. She implied it was more than a cold.” He shook his head. “Maybe I misread the whole thing.”

“Mary’s an idiot. I wasn’t the least bit sick. I missed two days because my daughter was ill. High fever, stiff neck. We were worried about- ”

“Meningitis. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, just a virus. But I was pretty frantic.” She sidled closer to him. “You were worried I had some big old neurotic reaction to our little tumble? That’s kind of touching.” Her smile was wry. “Except that you dealt with it by avoiding me.”

“Not neurotic,” he said. “I thought I…” He shook his head.

“You thought you’d traumatized the poor sex-starved librarian and she was going to make your life miserable.” She threw back her head and laughed. Soft laugh. Sexy. Her hand moved down to his crotch. “You’re not that worried.”

“Klara, what happened- ”

“Was great. Don’t see it any other way.” She squeezed him, released him. Winked.

“Klara- ”

“Chemistry is chemistry, Isaac. One can never explain it rationally. That doesn’t mean we have to give in to our impulses.” Sly grin. “Though I can think of worse things.” She stroked his face. “You’re really a beautiful young man. I admire your brain and I adore your body, but it could never be anything more than an erotic tumble. Which isn’t half-bad, right? You’ve got the potential to be a fantastic lover and I’m a pretty good teacher.”

Another downward glance. “Don’t worry, that’s not an invitation for Episode Two. Because right now there are more important things to discuss. And that’s why I’ve been trying to reach you for days, silly lad. First of all, a cop has been nosing around, asking about you. He just left the library, as a matter of fact. Which is why I came here to leave you yet another message.”

“A cop?” he said. “What’s his name?”

“Detective Robert Lucido.”

The guy who’d been hanging near the bulletin board. “Pencil mustache?”

“That’s the one,” said Klara. “I didn’t know anyone but John Waters wore those anymore.”

“What did Lucido want?”

“He said he was carrying out a routine security investigation of LAPD volunteers because of some new September 11 regulations. Wanted to know what kind of person you are, who you hang out with. Then he got downright unconstitutional: what books you checked out. Of course, I declined.”

“How’d he get to you?”

She eyed the door. “He came to BioStat first and they told him you spent most of your time doing research in the stacks. His story- a routine investigation- is it baloney?”

“Probably.”

“What’s really going on, Isaac?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the truth. I was just over at the station and they changed the locks. Maybe it’s because their captain got murdered- ”

“I heard about that- ”

“Or it really is terrorism-related.”

“That,” said Klara, “would scare me. You know how open our campus is. Are you sad about the captain?”

“I didn’t know him well.”

“Cheating on his wife,” said Klara. “One must be careful who one fucks. And who one fucks with. ”

She dropped one hand and Isaac readied himself for another goose. Instead, she held his hand. He felt leaden. So many unanswered questions, but his erection hadn’t flagged. Down, you little bastard!

“And Lucido just left?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago,” said Klara. “I made sure he didn’t follow me when I came here.”

“Thanks,” said Isaac.

“Thank me with a kiss.”

He complied.

She said, “Yum. You’ve got serious potential, but first things first. The main reason I’ve been trying to reach you isn’t Lucido. It’s because I finally came up with something on those June murders.”

“What?”

She pressed herself against him, positioned his hands on her rear. Pressed down and made him squeeze. When she spoke, they were so close her lips grazed his.

“I do think I may have solved your mystery, Isaac.”

Klara left first, exiting the building to make sure Lucido was gone. Isaac waited in the hallway and moments later she stuck her head in and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Enjoying the adventure.