Hannah Bronto - Lovers in paradise

Jocelyn smiled. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. It's nice to know that I haven't lost anything over the months. Do you think you've gotten it out of your system?"

I sipped the caffnil and looked down at my limp cock. "For the time being, at least."

"No, not for the time being. For good. Thai's the last time it will ever happen between us. Is that clear? The last time."

I shook my head, confused. "I don't think I understand what you're getting at?"

"All right, then let me tell it to you very plainly." Jocelyn flipped the vita-cig into the air. It made a lazy, graceful arc, toward the plasteel floor, and just before it hit, a robocleaner zoomed from the floorboard of the far wall and caught the cig in its open funnel. Just as quickly the roboclean returned to its place in the wall. Jocelyn said: "You see, Mal, you didn't seduce me. I allowed you to seduce me."

"You mean you weren't…?"

"Drunk? Well, slightly, but that wouldn't have altered anything. When I say that's the last time you and I are going to make love, I mean that literally."

"But why?"

Something changed in her face. It grew harder, almost angry. Her eyes narrowed into tiny points, and her tone was clearly bitter and resentful.

"I'm sure by now," she said, "you're quite familiar with my so-called 'case history'. No doubt that's what Commissioner Moran called you back for. I'm not stupid, you know. And I don't want you to think that you're carrying me or anything. What happened to me in the past, Detective Malachi Browne, is quite over. I'm fully recovered. I'm as capable as you are, and I'm on this assignment for one reason, and one reason only – to solve this crime."

I stared at her, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. Her anger was barely controlled, and she was striking out at me, as if I were responsible for what had happened to her.

"This case is my last chance," she said, stabbing her finger through the air at me, making her point emphatic. "You know that as well as I do. My last chance, and I'm not about to let anything stand in my way."

"I'm not going to stand in your way. I'm your partner. I'm on your side."

"If I can beat you at your own game – and, admittedly, the great Malachi Browne is the best man on the force – and discover the rapist's identity before you do, then I'll have my career back. But if I fail, I'm out. It's as simple as that."

"You make it sound as though we were in competition. We're not, you know. We're both after the same thing: we both want to solve, this case."

Jocelyn shook her head. "No, now, no tricks," she said softly, slyly. "I'm not about to compete with you – not officially, at least. I'm willing to work with you. But I want you to remember one thing – I'm in this for myself. I have a personal stake in this case. So, from now on, our relationship is one of strict professionalism. We work together, but that's all we do together."

Now, here is a cold-blooded bitch. I thought my ego wincing with the realization that she had indeed tricked me by permitting me to seduce her. Still, I had to admire her courage and professionalism. She was quite determined, even if it is for the wrong reasons.

I took a stab back at her. "Allowing your personal feelings to influence your behavior in this case, in any case, for that matter, is a dangerous thing. You should know that by now."

She laughed cynically. "Oh, no, you're not going to get me thrown off this case that easily. I know you didn't want me as a partner, but you're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. I'm too much of a professional for any one to believe that kind of accusation."

"Jesus, you're really paranoid about my intentions. Pr not your enemy."

"And I'm not emotionally involved in this case." She smiled, softening somewhat. "How I feel about my exhusband, or my father, or you, or just men in genera will not influence my performance as a professional policewoman. But, as for my prejudices about rape an rapists… well, I can't help those. I'm a woman, and if women who've been raped. As a man, I can't expect you to understand that."

My God, I thought, shaking my head. She's almost fanatical about this case. Too enthusiastic… pressing much too hard. Is it just her background or could it be something else?

"I hope I've made things clear for you now," she said smiling sweetly, sardonically at me.

"Well, there is one more thing," I said, trying to lighten the hostile mood which was settling heavily upon us. "Who is Auggie? You never answered me."

"Well, if you really must know, he was my psychiatrist…"

I changed the subject quickly. I didn't want to go down that path again. Once was quite enough for me.

Diana Chan lived all the way across Bos-Wash, in the area still known as Harvard, but we made excellent time with our top-priority clearance. Our on-board computer stopped us directly in front of her building, a tall, rambling structure that was on its last legs. Built before plasteel had been developed, it stood almost anachronistically on the edge of the city, a tall chrome and glass tower stretching some fifty-odd floors into the smoggy artificial sunlight. We put on the flashing lights in our car, to indicate we were on official business, and we entered the lobby of her building.

There was no doorman or any roboserv, but we managed to find the building directory in an alcove just to the left of the entrance door. Miss Chan's apartment was listed simply D. Chan, which made me immediately suspect that the rapist, whoever he was, must have known her by sight, for certainly he hadn't gotten any clue from the directory. There were buttons next to each name, and a speaker in which to talk, but no wall screen.

"It's an old building," I said, waiting for Miss Chan to respond to my ringing of her bell. We knew she was at home, and expecting us, for we'd spoken to her before we had left my office.

"Hum…" Jocelyn said, non-committally.

"Yes?" The voice through the speaker sounded metallic, but not enough to disguise its feminine origin.

"Miss Diana Chan?"

"Yes, it is. Who am I speaking to?"

"This is plain-clothes Detective Browne. I spoke to you a little while ago from my office."

"How do I know you're the same man?" she questioned.

I smiled at Jocelyn and shrugged. "Can't you tell from my voice?"

"Well… you sound like the same man, but how do I know for sure?"

"Policewoman Wolfe is here with me. You remember her, don't you? She spoke to you also. See if you recognize her voice." Then, to Jocelyn, I said: "Say something to her."

Jocelyn leaned into the speaker. "Hello, Miss Chan. This is Policewoman Wolfe. You remember me, don't you? We spoke over the wall screen. I'm the blonde who was sitting next to Detective Browne."

"Well… I guess it's all right. You both sound like the people I spoke to. I guess it's safe for you to come up. I'm apartment 33-J."

"Thank you, Miss Chan," I said. "We'll be right up."

The antigrav shaft was out of order, so we were forced to take a rickety elevator up to her floor. It was the second time in as many days that I'd been on an elevator. Probably I wouldn't ride another for another few months. Sometimes things went like that.

"She seemed very suspicious," I observed.

"Wouldn't you?" asked Jocelyn. "Especially after what she went through."

Apartment 33-J was the last door at the end of a long, winding corridor. It was a large metallic door with the number painted on. I knocked loudly.

"Who's there?" Miss Chan called from behind the door.

"Detective Browne and…"

The door opened a crack, and Miss Chan peered out at us. "Show me your identification."

With a patient sigh, I passed my I.D. card to her. It slipped behind the door, and then a moment later, it reappeared in her hand. "Policewoman Wolfe's identification, too."