Книга - Getting Rid of Bradley

Getting Rid of Bradley
Jennifer Crusie


Lucy Savage is not having a good week. Her cheating husband, Bradley, lobbed the final insult when he stood her up in divorce court.A dye job gone wrong has left her hair green. And someone is trying to kill her. To top it off, sexy cop Zack Warren is certain that the very same man Lucy is trying to wash right out of her hair is the same Bradley he wants to arrest for embezzlement.When someone shoots at her and then her car blows up, Zack decides she needs twenty-four-hour police protection. Next thing Lucy knows, Zack has moved in to her big Victorian house, making them both sleepless…and not just from things that go bump in the night!









Getting Rid of Bradley

Jennifer Crusie







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Betsy Struckman, the perfect friend;

And for Steve Struckman, the perfect man;

And for Murph and Cassie, and Mollie, and

Maggie, and Rose, and Bernie, and Lucy and

Liz, and Annie, and Chuck, and Ed, and Jasper,

and Max, and Mose, and Sam.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven




One


“I’ve never known anyone who was stood up for her own divorce before,” Tina Savage told her sister. “What’s it feel like?”

“Not good.” Lucy Savage Porter tried to smooth her flowered skirt with a damp hand. “Can we go? I’m not enjoying this.” She gave up on the skirt and clutched her lumpy tapestry bag to her as she glanced around the marble hallway of the Riverbend courthouse. “Bradley signed the divorce papers. We don’t even need to be here.”

Tina shook her head. “Psychologically, we need to be here. You had a ceremony when you got married, you need one when you get divorced. I want you to feel divorced. I want you to feel free. Now sit over there on that bench while I find Benton to tell me why this is taking so long.”

I’d feel a lot freer if you’d stop ordering me around, Lucy started to say, and then blinked instead. She’d been having rebellious moments like that a lot lately, but they were hard to hold on to, especially since the only time she’d actually followed through on one, it had been a disaster. Right now she was sitting under a brassy head of curls because she’d decided to go blonde as a symbol of her freedom. Some symbol. She looked like Golden Barbie with crow’s-feet.

Maybe the problem was that she wasn’t an independent kind of person. Other than the hair fiasco, every time she’d decided to be more independent, logic stopped her cold. After all, Tina was right. She did need the closure of hearing the divorce decree. And the bench was the best place to sit. It would be illogical to disagree just for the sake of disagreeing.

No matter how good it would have felt.

She went over and sat down on the bench.

Tina was gone already, trying to find her hapless attorney in the flood of suits that washed around her. Poor Benton. He’d gone beyond the call of lawyerhood in ramming Lucy’s divorce through the courts in two weeks, but that wasn’t enough for Tina. Tina wouldn’t be satisfied until Benton brought her Bradley’s head on a platter. Lucy had a momentary image of Tina, dark and svelte and dressed in her white linen suit, standing in front of a flustered Benton who was offering her Bradley’s handsome head on a turkey plate.

She liked it. Tina always did have the best ideas.

Tina suddenly appeared before her, parting the suits before her like the Red Sea. “There’s some kind of delay. It’ll be another hour, but then we’ll go have lunch.”

Another hour. “All right. At Harvey’s Diner?”

Tina shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Lucy dug her physics textbook out of her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to teach Planck’s constant tomorrow.” Lucy paged through the book. “It’s a tough one to get across. I’m reviewing.”

“You know, the next thing I’m getting you is a new job,” Tina said, and disappeared back into the suits.

A new job?

“I like my job,” Lucy said, but Tina was already gone.

Okay, that’s the last straw.” Lucy closed her book with a thump. Nobody’s ordering me around anymore. From now on, I’m going to be independent even if it is illogical. I’m going to be a whole new me.

That’s it.

I’m changing.



“OKAY, THAT’S IT. I’M quitting,” Zack Warren said to his partner. His shaggy dark hair fell across his forehead, almost into his eyes, but he was too mad to brush it back.

“Don’t tell me, tell Jerry.” Tall, cool, and controlled, Anthony Taylor nodded toward the man who had just pulled a gun on them.

Zack turned back to the gun, wavering now in the hands of the balding, middle-aged embezzler who stood quivering in his bad suit behind his empty desk. Jerry watched them warily, as warily as a cautious man might regard two big guys he was holding a gun on.

“I’m quitting, Jerry,” Zack said. “You can let me go because I’m not going to be a cop anymore. You can have the badge.”

He started to reach into his worn black leather jacket, and Jerry squeaked, “No!”

Zack froze. “Okay. Fine. No problem.” He gauged the possibilities of taking Jerry there in his office. They weren’t good. Jerry was very nervous and the office was very small, leaving them no room to maneuver and nothing to take cover behind. It was furnished only with a metal desk, two plastic chairs, and Jerry. The furniture was marginally more interesting than Jerry, or had been until he’d reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the gun.

They deserved this. Just because the guy was pathetic, they’d gotten careless. Zack looked at the gun wobbling in Jerry’s hand with respect. A .45. The office currently had no windows, but Zack knew it could have a couple at any minute, a .45 being the kind of gun that left large holes in walls.

And people.

“Why do we do this?” Zack asked Anthony, scowling at the gun. “Life isn’t depressing enough, we have to do this, too? I’m not kidding, I’m quitting.”

“Stop complaining.” Anthony carefully picked a speck of nonexistent lint off his tailored tweed sleeve, keeping his eyes steadily on Jerry the whole time. “You’re the probable cause of this anyway. You walked in here in that black leather jacket, looking like you hadn’t shaved in a week, and Jerry probably thought you were some lowlife.” He smiled at Jerry, an oasis of perfect calm in a very sweaty situation. “I’d have pulled a gun on him, too, Jerry. I understand. Why don’t we talk about this?”

Jerry shook his head, but he kept his eyes on Anthony, listening to his even, relaxed voice. Zack moved very slowly a few inches to his right, taking care to seem as if he were only shifting on his feet.

Jerry suddenly shifted his eyes to Zack, so Zack picked up the conversation. “Oh, and if we’d both been dressed in pimp suits like you, he wouldn’t have pulled the gun. I ask you, Jerry, was it the jacket that made you pull the gun? Or the badge?”

Jerry narrowed his eyes at Zack, and Anthony moved slightly to the left.

“Just don’t move,” Jerry said as he swayed back and forth. “Keep your hands up.”

“We’re not moving, Jerry,” Anthony said soothingly. “You are. Relax. You’ll feel better.”

“Don’t get smart,” Jerry said, and the gun wavered between them again. “I’ll shoot.”

“You don’t want to shoot us, Jerry.” Zack spread his hands apart. “The hassle from shooting a cop is enormous. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jerry looked at Zack as he talked, distracted by the movement, and Anthony eased another couple of inches to the left. “And the hassle from stealing thirty thousand from your boss is nothin’.”

“Well, it’s not like shooting a cop,” Anthony said, and Jerry’s eyes darted over to him. Zack moved a little more to the right. “Shooting a cop?” Anthony shook his head slowly. “They throw the key away. We don’t want that. Put the gun down, Jerry.”

“I don’t think so.” Jerry breathed a little faster and shifted his eyes to Zack. “I don’t think so. And you guys are moving.” He closed his eyes as he aimed the gun at Zack and squeezed the trigger.

Zack dove for the floor as he fired, and Anthony yelled, “Jerry!” and Jerry swung the gun toward where he’d been. Zack threw himself over the desk as Anthony flattened himself on the floor, and Jerry put a bullet neatly through the center of the door.

Then Zack slammed Jerry down on the floor.

Anthony rolled to his feet to help. “You all right?”

“Me? Oh, I’m as good as I get,” Zack said, breathing a little heavily as he reached for his handcuffs. “Which is a hell of a lot better than Jerry is right now. How about you?”

“There were people in that hall.” Anthony went out the door to see what Jerry had hit on the other side while Zack cuffed him.

“You have the right to remain silent, you jerk,” Zack said and finished reciting Miranda sitting on top of him. Anthony came back and lounged in the doorway.

“Congratulations,” Anthony said to Jerry when Zack was finished. “You shot a water fountain.”

“Up yours,” Jerry said, but it came out more embarrassed than defiant.

Zack stood and glared down at him. “We’ve got to start hanging out with a better class of criminals.”

“Actually, this is the cream,” Anthony said, checking his jacket for damage. It was, as always, spotless. “You want to work Vice or Homicide?”

“No,” Zack said. “I want to arrest polite people who don’t point guns at me. In fact, I don’t want to arrest anybody anymore. I want to hang out with good people. Is that possible? Are there any good people anymore?”

“Well, there’s you and me,” Anthony said patiently. “We’re supposed to be the good guys. Are you sure you’re all right? You’ve been acting strangely lately.”

“Could you guys hurry this up?” Jerry whined from the floor. “I’m not real comfortable down here.”

“You know, Jerry—” Zack was suddenly soft-spoken as he looked down at him “—I could kick your brains out very easily right now.” He gently nudged Jerry’s head with his foot. “Resisting arrest. Don’t push your luck.”

Jerry shut up.

“Here’s some advice, Jerry.” Anthony reached down and hauled him to his feet with one hand. “Don’t get smart with a guy you just pointed a gun at. He’s likely to be feeling hostile. And frankly, Jerry, we didn’t like you much before you pulled the gun.”

Jerry closed his eyes.

“I was kind of hoping he’d resist arrest,” Zack said.

“No, you were not,” Anthony said. “You have plans for lunch. You’re arresting a master embezzler at Harvey’s Diner. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Zack pushed Jerry into the hall. “The weather. I hate February. And I hate office buildings.” He looked around at the smooth gray walls. “Maybe I will quit. Get a nice job out in the open someplace. No guns. You think I’d make a good forest ranger?”

“You know, you worry me,” Anthony said.

“That’s your problem.” Zack moved down the hall, prodding Jerry in front of him. “So, Jerry, what’d you do with the money?”



LUCY SAT SLUMPED across from her sister in a battered turquoise booth in Harvey’s shabby diner and tortured her salad.

Tina scowled down at her own salad. “Are you sure it’s safe to eat here? I think turquoise Formica is bad for you, and I’m positive this lettuce is. It’s white.” She tapped a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it smoothly, like a forties’ movie star.

Lucy leaned forward to put her chin in her hand so she could pretend to listen to Tina, and her brassy hair fell into her face again. Tina smoothed a dark, silky strand of her own precisely cut hair, and Lucy looked at her with envy. Maybe they weren’t sisters. Maybe Mother had lied to them. No, they had the same cat face: wide forehead, big eyes, little mouth, pointed chin. It was just that Tina looked like a purebred, and she looked like something condemned at the pound.

Stop it, Lucy told herself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re just having a bad hair day.

Well, okay, a bad hair week. And then there was the divorce.

You’re just having a bad month. Pull yourself together. Spring is coming.

“You are going to get rid of his name, aren’t you?” Tina asked. “Lucy Savage Porter always sounded like you’d married a rabid bellboy.”

Shut up, Tina. Lucy blinked. “Could we talk about something else?” She squashed her hair back to peer around the dim restaurant, hoping no one else had heard. Since the place was not only dim but small, it was a real fear, but it was also almost empty. There was only a bored waitress leaning on a chipped plastic counter beside a fly-specked case of doughnuts, and two men in a booth identical to theirs on the opposite side of the room.

Lucy was having a hard time ignoring one of the men.

One was tall, slender, and elegant, leaning calmly back in the booth, not a crease in his beautifully cut tweed suit.

The other man was his antithesis. Shorter, thicker, tense as a coiled spring in a creased black leather jacket, he leaned across the table and stabbed his index finger into the Formica. His unshaven face looked as if it were made of slabs, his hair was dark and shaggy, and his smile came and went like a broken neon sign. He was so intense, he was practically bending the table with the force of his personality. Lucy had been reluctantly aware of him ever since they’d entered the diner, kicking herself for stealing glances at him but stealing them just the same.

This was the kind of man who could leave a woman scarred for life. She wasn’t so dumb after all. She could have ended up married to somebody like him instead of Bradley.

But think how much excitement she would have had before the end.

“No, that would have been dumb,” she said aloud.

“What would be?” Tina asked.

“Nothing.” Lucy turned back to her. “That’s a beautiful suit you’re wearing.”

“It should be. It cost a fortune. You couldn’t afford it. If you had to make a bad marriage, and I suppose you did since it runs in the family, couldn’t you at least have chosen somebody with money?”

“No.” Lucy picked up her fork and jabbed at her salad, spearing a cucumber slice because it was there. “Money isn’t important.”

“Oh? And what is important? And, whatever it is, why did you think that loser Bradley Porter had it? In fact, why did you marry him at all?”

Lucy thought of several cutting things to say about her sister’s second and third husbands and then blinked instead. “I married him because of the second law of thermonuclear dynamics.”

“You married him because of a physics theory?” Tina put her cigarette out in one of her salad tomatoes, pushed the bowl away, and lit up another. “Well, at least you didn’t say ‘for lo-o-ove.”’ She blew her smoke away from Lucy. “So what’s the second law of thermodynamics?”

“It says that isolated systems move toward disorder until they reach their most probable form, and then they remain constant.”

“I don’t get it. And what does that have to do with Bradley?”

“Nothing. But it has everything to do with me.” Lucy pushed her bowl away with one hand and shoved her hair out of her eyes with the other. “I was an isolated system. I mean, there I was, living alone in that little apartment with Einstein for company, and Einstein is great company, but he’s also a dog.”

“I wondered if you’d noticed that.”

“Well, of course, I noticed. And I’d been teaching science for twelve years. Lecturing to kids all day and then going home alone to grade papers at night. The only real social contacts I had were at your weddings.”

Tina stuck her tongue out at her and pulled a pepper strip from Lucy’s salad bowl.

“And then one day in class, we got to the second law, and I thought, ‘That’s me. I’m an isolated system, and I’m just going to get more isolated until I reach my most probable form which is probably where I am now, living in an apartment with Einstein.’ So I decided to get un-isolated. And that’s when Bradley picked me up in the library and I thought, ‘This must be it. Physics has brought us together.’ I mean, his timing was so perfect. It was so logical.”

Tina shook her head. “No wonder you’re so screwed up. Life is not logical, and marriage certainly isn’t. Stop analyzing things so much. Try impulse for a change.”

“I was impulsive once. I married Bradley after I’d only known him two months.” Lucy felt a twinge of shame even as she said the words. She’d been stupid. Really stupid. “So I’m not a fan of impulse anymore. And, no offense, but I don’t see impulse doing much for you.”

Tina smiled. “I’ve got twelve and a half million dollars, darling. And what have you got? A moth-eaten house and custody of three dogs. Impulse has done more for me than logic has for you. Just look at you. Do you ever have any fun?”

“Fun?” Lucy’s eyes went to the dark-haired man across the room. “Fun.” She shifted her gaze back to Tina and picked up her fork to attack her salad again. “I don’t think I’m the fun type.”

“Well, I think you’re taking life too seriously. It’s time you cut loose. Do something wild. Something spontaneous.”

Lucy frowned at her. “I told you. I did something spontaneous once. I married Bradley. Face it, Tina, I’m not the spontaneous type.”

Tina shook her head. “Marrying Bradley was not spontaneous. You just gave me a very sensible reason why you married him. Spontaneous is when it’s not sensible but you do it anyway because you want to.”

“That’s not spontaneous, that’s irresponsible.”

“Fine, then do something irresponsible. In fact, do something spontaneous and irresponsible. Do something just because you have the urge to do it, because it feels good. Do something selfish, just for you.”

Lucy’s eyes went back to the dark-haired man across the room. “I don’t think so.” She stabbed her salad again.

“How do you know unless you’ve tried it? You’ve never done anything selfish in your life.”

“Well, you know, I did,” Lucy said slowly, her fork frozen in her hand. “Once. In fact, I think that’s the real reason why I married Bradley. I dated Bradley because of the second law, but I think I married Bradley to get my house.”

Tina looked interested. “Really? That’s so unlike you.”

Lucy nodded. “I think I just convinced myself I loved him because he offered me the house.” She poked at her salad again, averting her eyes from Tina. “I love the house more than I ever loved Bradley. I think he knew it finally, and that’s why he cheated on me.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tina put her cigarette out and leaned back in the booth. “This explains a lot. Is this what that fight you had last October was about?”

“How did you know…?”

“That’s when you moved upstairs to the attic bedroom. I never bought that story about Bradley snoring. I knew there had been a fight.”

“No.” Lucy frowned. “There wasn’t. We never fought. We just had a…disagreement. Over one of the dogs.”

Tina winced. “For anyone else that would be a minor disagreement. For you…if Bradley did something to one of those dogs, he couldn’t have known you very well. And this explains why you’re not brokenhearted over the divorce. You’re upset, but it’s not because you miss Bradley. You’re glad he’s gone, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lucy whispered. “That’s awful, but I am.”

“No, it’s not. That’s healthy. What I don’t understand is what you’re so upset about. You’re free. You can do anything you want. What’s wrong with you?”

“I feel stupid,” Lucy said.

“What?” Tina leaned forward. “You? You’ve got more brains than…”

“Not real-life brains. I have science brains. But real life?” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t even know what happened in my marriage. I know it was awful for me, but I would have sworn to you that Bradley was happy and he loved me, and then out of the blue, I come home and find him with a blonde. In my house. And she says they’ve been having an affair in my bedroom, and he flusters around, obviously guilty, and when I get upset, he leaves.” She sat back. “He just leaves.”

“Men,” Tina said.

“So I don’t have a clue where I went wrong. The only thing I’ve ever known for sure in my whole life is that I’m smart. And now I’m not even sure about that. It’s upsetting.”

“Well, if you think he was angry about the house…”

“It’s not just that he cheated on me. It’s that he won’t talk to me now. In the lawyer’s office, all he said was, ‘Is this what you want?’ And I said yes, because it was, but…” Lucy bit her lip. “He hasn’t even come by to pick up the rest of his papers and things. It’s like a chunk of my life just dropped out of sight.”

“Oh.” Tina shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I may have had something to do with that.”

Lucy froze. “What did you do?”

“Well. You know how upset you were when you called me that day and told me that Bradley and the blonde had just been there?”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I had the new locks put on….”

Lucy nodded. “What else did you do?”

“Well, when he came to the door to talk to you…”

“He came to the door to talk to me?”

“You were upstairs in your bedroom crying.” Tina paused. “I was…angry.”

“Oh, no.”

“I know, I know. I lose it when I get angry.” Tina lit another cigarette, inhaled, and blew out another stream of smoke before she went on, faster now to get it over with. “Anyway, I told him that if he ever tried to talk to you again, I would have private detectives digging up every slimy thing he’d ever done, and that I would personally see that they all made the front page of the Inquirer, and that I would also find every asset he possessed and take it from him.”

Lucy looked at her, stunned.

“I think I might also have mentioned bodily harm. I was really upset. You never cry.”

“So that’s why he hasn’t called? You are something else, Tina.”

“I’m sorry,” Tina said. “But I could just see him talking you back into that damn marriage. I couldn’t stand seeing you unhappy anymore.”

“I wouldn’t have gone back. But I would have liked to have talked to him.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I love you, Tine, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you’ve got to get out of my life. It’s my life.”

“I know, honey.” Tina fiddled with her cigarette. “But you need help. I mean, I let you pick the restaurant and look where we ended up.” She glanced around at the plastic walls and the chipped Formica. “This place is a dump.”

“I had a reason for wanting to come here,” Lucy said. “Bradley wrote to me. He said if I’d have lunch here with him, he could explain everything.” Lucy looked around the cheap diner again, perplexed. “It doesn’t seem like his kind of place.”

“Do you want him back?” Tina asked. “I’ll get him back if that’s what you want.”

“No.” Lucy pressed her lips together and stabbed her salad again. “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, what do you want? Just tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

Lucy smacked her fork down. “You can’t. Or you won’t. I want to live my own life. I want to make my own mistakes. I want you to be my sister, not my keeper. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Tina frowned. “But I want to. I want you to be happy. You never have any fun.”

“I don’t want to have fun.” Lucy took a deep breath. “Do you know what I want?”

Tina shook her head, her eyes on Lucy.

“I want to be independent. I want to take care of myself, without you racing to the rescue with money and lawyers. You always tell me what to do, and you’re always right, and most of the time I don’t mind it, but then I married Bradley, and he was worse than you are. Between you and Bradley, I haven’t made a decision on my own in almost a year because everything you told me to do was the sensible thing, and it would have been stupid for me to argue. Only I did all the sensible things, and now look at my life. It’s a mess.” Lucy stuck her chin out. “So, I’m changing. I want to make my own mistakes and mop up after them myself. I want to talk to my ex-husband without you threatening him with death. And if I want to dye my hair purple or adopt another ten dogs or…or…” Her eyes twitched to the man across the room. “Or go out with inappropriate men. I want you to stay out. It’s my life. I want it back.”

“Oh.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Just stop doing it.”

“All right.” Tina picked a cucumber slice out of Lucy’s salad. “Inappropriate men, huh?”

Lucy slid down a little in her seat. “Probably not. That was just big talk.”

“What about that guy across the room you keep looking at?”

“Oh, no.” Lucy closed her eyes. “I’m that transparent?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to have noticed.” Tina glanced across the room. “He really is attractive, though. Your instincts aren’t so bad.”

Lucy looked at the two men across the room again out of the corner of her eye. The one in the black was talking, his fingers slashing the air while he spoke.

“He’s gorgeous,” Lucy said.

“Actually, he looks a little dull. But if that’s what you want, let me see what I can do.” Tina started to get up.

“Dull?” Lucy said. “He looks insane.”

Tina stopped. “You’re talking about the one in the tweed, not the one in the black leather, right? You can’t be serious about the black leather.”

“It’s my fantasy,” Lucy said. “And sit down. You’re not going over there and embarrass me.”

Tina sat down. “The black leather would not be good for you.”

“I can’t tell you how tired I am of things that are good for me,” Lucy said.

“I know.” Tina nodded sympathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you should commit emotional hari-kari. That guy is unstable.”

Lucy’s eyes went back to the black leather. “Actually, you know, he’s just what you ordered. What I’m feeling for him is definitely spontaneous and irresponsible.”

Tina looked at him and frowned. “Maybe if you just used him for the cheap thrill and then discarded him.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Lucy tore her eyes away from him. “I could never do that. I’d better just concentrate on being independent without the inappropriate-man part.”

But she looked back at the man in black leather one more time and sighed.



“I CAN FEEL IT.” In the booth across the room, Zack tapped his fingers on the scarred table. “Bradley’s here. Or he’s been here. Or somebody he knows is here. Or…”

Anthony leaned back. “All right. He’s here. So are we. But it’s been an hour and I’m getting bored, so just point him out to me, and we’ll arrest him and go. He’s disguised as one of those two women, right?”

“Fine.” Zack glared at him. “Don’t help. I’ll do this without you. Fine.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“Zack, I want to get him as much as you do,” Anthony said patiently. “He’s thumbed his nose at every cop who’s tried to nail him in the last nine months. And the million and a half he’s traveling on is not chicken feed. But I need more than just one of your instincts to keep me in this dive any longer.”

Zack slapped the table and then drummed his fingers again. “Look, we got an honest-to-God phone tip that he’d be here, and it’s the best thing we’ve got so far. It’s not like we have anything else on this thing. It’s not like—”

“Zack,” Anthony interrupted him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“What? Oh. The fingers?” Zack stopped drumming on the table. “Sorry.”

“No, not the fingers. Although that’s got to stop, too. No, it’s the way you’ve been acting lately.” Anthony shook his head slowly. “That was a bad moment today with Jerry. I thought you were really going to kick him.”

“Me? Naw.” Zack paused. “Probably not.”

“Exactly.” Anthony nailed him with a frown. “That’s what I’m talking about. The ‘probably’ part. And all this rambling about quitting. I don’t like it. You’ve always been nuts. That’s fine. I can deal with nuts. But lately, you’ve been depressed nuts. I can’t deal with that.”

“I’m not depressed.” Zack picked up a package of sugar, tore it savagely across the middle, and dumped it in his coffee. “I’m not elated right now, but I’m not depressed.”

“You just decapitated a sugar packet. That should tell you something.”

Zack stared at the mutilated packet and then tossed it on the table. “I’ll tell you something. I was really disappointed in old Jerry today. I mean, I felt sorry for the poor sap, and then he pulled a gun on us, and I thought, damn, nobody’s decent anymore. And then he shot at us, and I was really mad.” Zack shook his head. “Sometimes I think there aren’t any decent people in the world anymore.” He tasted his coffee and frowned. “So maybe the job’s getting me down a little, but I’m not depressed.”

“You are depressed.” Anthony spoke clearly and calmly, as if he were speaking to the mentally ill. “And your depression is affecting our work. I know what’s wrong.”

Zack glared at him. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it that you were a psych minor? A minor, for cripes’ sake. With a minor, you’re not even allowed to psychoanalyze dogs.”

“It’s because you’re worried about getting older. It started when you turned thirty-six.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Zack turned his attention back to the restaurant. “Do those two women look guilty to you? There’s something strange about the blonde. I think it’s her hair. That hair is not real.”

“Ever since your birthday, you’ve been snarling at the younger men on the force. And I have shoes older than the women you’ve been dating.” Anthony shook his head. “You are really transparent on this one.”

Zack scowled at him. “It’s not age. Hell, you’re the same age I am.”

“Yes, but I’m not depressed about it.”

“Well, you should be.” Zack fiddled with his spoon, spattering the scarred tabletop with flecks of coffee. “Remember Falk, the old guy I started out on patrol with? There’s a kid on patrol with him right now…. I was in high school when he was born. He lived down the block from me.”

“Zack, you’re thirty-six. These things happen. So there are people who are younger than you are. Deal with it.”

“I’m not as fast as I used to be, either.” Zack dropped his voice. “When we play one on one? I’m slowing down. A lot.”

“This is all in your mind. I haven’t noticed you getting any slower.”

“That’s because you’re getting slower, too.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “Do you mind if we keep this your depression? Personally, I am getting better, not older.”

“You’re getting older. But you don’t care because you’ve always been the brains. Brains don’t age.”

“Oh, fine. And that makes you what? The brawn?” Anthony leaned back and folded his arms. “I can take you anytime, turkey.”

“No, I’m the instinct. Lightning-fast instinct.” Zack sent his eyes around the diner again before he turned back to Anthony. “But lately, I’m losing it. When we were chasing that guy on the fortieth floor yesterday? The one on the roof? For a minute, just for a minute, I thought, ‘This is nuts. I’m going to fall off a roof because somebody just boosted somebody else’s camcorder. It’s not worth it.’ And then today with Jerry? I kept looking at that damn desk, thinking, ‘That’s going to hurt when I have to go over it.’ I kept hoping he’d surrender so I wouldn’t have to go over that damn desk. I tell you, I’m losing it.”

“Look, lightning, you are not getting slower, you are not losing your instincts, and you are not going to die. You are just growing up. And, may I add, not a moment too soon.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I.” Anthony pointed his finger at Zack, and Zack shut up. “You have been going ninety miles an hour ever since I met you eighteen years ago. I used to watch you and think, ‘How does he do that?’ and marvel. Then I grew up, and now I watch you and think, ‘Why does he do that?’ You have nothing to prove to anybody, and you’re still acting like some hotshot TV cop.” Anthony leaned forward. “Not chasing the camcorder off the roof was good. It was a sign of maturity.”

“Don’t say that word,” Zack said. “Maturity means death.”

“It does not. What’s wrong with you?”

Zack started drumming his fingers again. “I don’t know. Sometimes…You know, my brothers are all married. They’ve got wives, they’ve got kids, they’ve got big houses, they’ve got responsibilities.” He scowled at Anthony. “It’s like they’re living death.”

“I’ve met your family. They’re happy. What are you talking about?”

“Responsibility,” Zack said. “Maturity. The minute I stopped chasing that camcorder, death said hello.”

Anthony started to laugh. “I don’t believe this. You’ve always been a flake, but this, this is new. You know what you need?”

“Nothing. I need nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to settle down. Look, you used to live for this job, but it’s not enough anymore. That’s good. But you look at your brothers, and you want what they’ve got, and it scares you, so you become depressed instead. That’s bad. Face it. Maturity is not death. It’s just the next step in life. Most people encounter it sooner than you did, but you’ll do fine.” Anthony sipped his coffee. “You will have to change the kind of women you date, though.”

“What’s wrong with the kind of women I date?”

“They’re younger than your car, they carry knives, and they ride motorcycles naked on I-75.”

“Well, they beat those plastic Yuppies you hang out with. What’s the latest one’s name? Cheryl? Please.” Zack rolled his eyes.

“Cheryl has many fine qualities,” Anthony said without much enthusiasm.

“Name one.”

“She can read. Have you ever dated anyone literate?”

“Look, I don’t want to date anybody right now.”

“You’re not dating?” Anthony frowned at him. “There are no women in your life?”

“I’m resting.” Zack leaned back in the booth and tapped his fingers on the cracked upholstery. “I’m concentrating on my career.”

“Oh, good for you. So how long has it been since you…dated?”

“New Year’s Eve.”

Anthony shook his head. “That’s two months. That alone could make you depressed.”

“I’m not that depressed.” Zack’s tapping picked up speed. “Could we get off this please?”

“All right, you’re not ready for a wife. Start small. Get a dog.”

“A dog? A dog?” Zack slapped the table. “A dog. That’s all I need is some dopey dog with big sad eyes telepathically telling me he never sees me and where have I been?”

“Zack…”

“Besides, I had a dog once. I got him when I was three.”

“Zack…”

“I went away to college and he died. Dogs are a responsibility. You can’t leave them.”

“You went away to college.” Anthony cast an imploring look at the ceiling. “I don’t believe this. Zack, if you got him when you were three, he was fifteen by the time you went to college. That’s 105 in dog years. He died because he was old, not because you went to college.”

Zack wasn’t listening. “You start taking responsibility for things, they worry you. I don’t need that. Worry slows you down. You start to second-guess everything. And then, pretty soon, the instincts go. That’s why I hang out with you. Nothing ever happens to you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said. “I think. All right, a dog is not a good idea, but maybe—”

“Look, could we get back to work here? This conversation is really depressing me.”

“Fine. But think about what I said.” Zack scowled at him and Anthony held up his hand. “All right, back to work. Now, which one of those two women over there does your sixth sense tell you is John Bradley, embezzler?” He studied them. “The hot brunette has a mean look to her, but I suppose the blonde’s a possible, too.”

“You don’t think the blonde’s hot?” Zack shook his head. “You have no taste in women. The hair’s a little weird, but the face is good, and the body is excellent.”

“How do you know? They’re sitting down.”

“She went to the counter to get another fork. I may be getting older, but I’m not dead yet. The blonde would definitely be worth some time.” Zack squinted over at her. “You know, I think she’s been looking at me.”

“Right.”

“Hey. Women look at me. It happens.”

“Well, at least you’re not depressed anymore.” Anthony checked his watch. “We’ve wasted an hour here for nothing. Would you like to arrest the blonde so you can pat her down, or shall we just leave?”

“Fine. Make fun.” Zack shoved his coffee away and tossed some coins on the table as a tip. “But I’m telling you right now, there’s something here that would have helped us break this Bradley case. And now we’ll never know.”

“I can live with that,” Anthony said.

“That’s because you have no instincts,” Zack said.



“OKAY,” TINA SAID AS Lucy finished her salad. “Let’s concentrate on the basics—getting your new life started.”

“Let’s not,” Lucy said.

“First of all, you’ve got to get rid of anything of Bradley’s that’s left. Then we’ve got to change your hair. And then I’ll fix you up with some presentable men I know. Everyone I know has money, so at least you’ll be eating in decent restaurants. Not like this dump.”

“Tina,” Lucy said. “No dating. I will fix my hair because it looks awful, but no dating.”

“What about Bradley’s papers? I think you should throw whatever he left out on the lawn. Or better yet, burn it and dance around the flames.”

“Tina, that’s ridiculous. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not. Psychologically, this is a very big deal. Get rid of his things and you’ll get rid of him.”

“I am rid of him,” Lucy protested. “I just want to talk to him so I know what happened. I don’t want him back.”

“Good. Remember that.” Tina stood and took her black silk trench coat from the rack at the end of the booth. Then she handed Lucy her bright blue quilted-cotton jacket and bag. “What have you got in that bag? It weighs a ton.”

“My physics book, remember? I brought it so if the divorce got boring, I could review. And sure enough…”

Tina closed her eyes. “I have to save you. This is too painful.” She jabbed her finger at Lucy. “You go home and start throwing Bradley out. I’ll make an appointment for your hair tomorrow.”

“Tina. No. If I want my hair done, I will do it.”

“I know this wonderful woman on Court Street….”

“No.”

Tina stopped. “All right. But at least get rid of Bradley.”

“Maybe.” Lucy took a deep breath, full of independence. “Maybe.”



“DAMN IT. I WAS SURE there’d be something about Bradley here.” Zack stood.

“Your blonde’s leaving,” Anthony said and they both turned to watch.

They were splitting up, the brunette heading for the back door to the parking lot, the blonde to the street door. Just before she got to the door, the brunette turned.

“Lucy,” she called, and it sounded like an order. “I mean it. As soon as you get home.”

“All right, all right,” the blonde said. “As soon as I get home, I will get rid of Bradley.” Then she turned and walked out the door.

“Instinct,” Zack said and took off after her.

“I hate it when you do this,” Anthony said, and moved toward the parking-lot door to stop the brunette.




Two


The february wind cut at Lucy’s face as she set off at a dead run to find her car, her purse banging heavily into her hip. She’d almost reached the alley next to the lot when somebody grabbed her arm, and she swung around and fell against the brick wall of the building behind her.

It was the black leather from the restaurant. “Excuse me?” he said. “We need to talk.” He blocked her against the wall and reached inside his beat-up leather jacket. “I’m—”

“No.” Lucy shook her head until the street blurred. “I’m very busy. Really. You probably noticed me staring at you? That was a mistake. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She tried to slip away, but he caught at her arm again.

“I have to ask you about Bradley,” he said, and Lucy stopped pulling away. “I’m—”

“Bradley? Oh, you mean with my sister back there? Getting rid of him? That was a joke.”

He smiled down at her, and Lucy lost her breath. He was too intense to be handsome and too electric to be ignored. “I love jokes,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

I’d tell you anything, Lucy thought, and then she heard a sound like a car backfiring. There was a pinging sound and a chip of the brick wall behind them struck her on the cheek and the man swore and yanked her into the alley. He shoved her behind a trash bin and pinned her to the metal with his body, so close to her that her heart thudded against his chest. He was solid and a lot stronger than she was, and she tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“What are you doing?” Lucy tried to push him off. “Let go.”

“Quiet.”

He eased himself off her slightly, reached inside his jacket, pulled out a gun, and aimed it carefully at the street.

Lucy froze, part of her mind marvelling at seeing a real gun in the hand of a real felon, the rest of her mind in meltdown. Move, she told her feet, but she stayed frozen against him. She shoved her chin up his chest to get a better look at him, trying to decide whether he was just run-of-the-mill violent or totally deranged.

He looked big and tense and concentrated. His anvil-like jaw was clenched and his crazy blue eyes swept up and down the street.

Totally deranged.

She shifted again, and he whispered without looking at her, “Would you hold still, please?”

Please? At least he was polite.

She tried to shove him off her, but he weighed a ton, so she decided to fall back on her former strong suit: brains. “You’re squashing me,” she said, trying to breath around his jacket, and he eased off her a little more, just enough to give her room to lunge for the street. He caught her by the coat before she could take another step, yanking her back and yelling, “Are you crazy?”

“Me?” Lucy yelled back, trying to jerk her coat away. “What about you? Grabbing women? Let me go.”

“Listen, lady,” He tried to push her back behind the Dumpster. “I’m…”

“Let go!” She swung her purse filled with five pounds of physics book and connected with his solar plexus.

His gasp was an inverted scream, and his grip tightened on her convulsively. She jerked away again, and her shoulder bag swung up hard into his face, catching him solidly on the mouth and neatly splitting his lip. His head jerked up, and then Lucy slugged him along the temple, this time on purpose, not even wincing as his head made a thock sound when her book-filled bag connected. After the last blow, he let go of her and lurched back a step, and she ran down the alley in the opposite direction, propelled by so much adrenaline that when she finally rushed out into the next street, she almost ran into the patrol car that was cruising by.

“Some horrible man just grabbed me and dragged me into an alley,” she said to the two patrolmen who piled out of the car. She jabbed her finger behind her. “He’s big, and he’s got dark hair and a big jaw, and he’s wearing a horrible old black leather jacket, and he needs a shave, and he’s probably a drug dealer or something!”

The two men exploded into action, the taller, younger one pounding down the alley while the older, stockier one yelled at her to wait and then followed him.

Lucy paced back and forth beside the patrol car, vibrating with energy.

Wow, this was what Tina was talking about. Spontaneity. This was great. This was wonderful. She felt good. Of course, she couldn’t go around beating up every man she met, but…oh, she felt good. She felt really good.

She checked her watch. The police had been gone forty-five seconds. Einstein’s theory of relativity. Of course. Time passed slower when you were moving. Here she’d been standing still, watching her life rush past her, and all she had to do was do something and it slowed down and became this wonderful, rich…

Oh, she felt good.

Sort of.

She slumped suddenly against the side of the patrol car, her adrenaline spent. Maybe she’d killed him. He deserved it, but maybe she really had hurt him. That physics book was heavy. What had she done? What was she doing? She looked at her watch again. A minute gone now. She couldn’t stay there. She had to go. She couldn’t…

Lucy put her hand up to her face in confusion and when she brought it down again, there was blood on it. Her cheek. She was bleeding.

She tore a piece of paper out of her address book, wrote her name, address and phone number on it, and left it under the windshield wiper of the cruiser. Then she went back to her car and drove home, still vibrating with the aftereffects of the adrenaline, stopping only once along the way, at a drugstore.



“SHE SAID YOU WERE A horrible drug dealer.” The young patrolman grinned at Zack.

“Arrest her.” Zack tried to breathe normally. He leaned on the wall by the alley, his gaze still searching the street. “Lock her in the back of the car until I can breathe again. She knows something about the Bradley job.”

The young cop snorted. “She didn’t look like she knew her own name.”

Zack looked at him with distaste. He was tall, blond, and reasonably good-looking if you liked the movie-star type, but mostly he was just young. “Look, Junior,” Zack said. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you’ll find out that it isn’t what they look like, it’s what they do.” He touched his lip, and his fingers came away bloody. “Ouch.”

“And I heard you were a tough guy.” The younger cop grinned again.

Zack stared him down until his grin faded. “You know who you remind me of? The kid cop in Lethal Weapon 3. You know, the one who says, ‘It’s my twenty-first birthday today,’ and right away you know he’s dead meat? You knew the bad guys were going to drill him.” Zack squinted at him. “Of course, in your case, it’ll be friendly fire.”

“Ha,” the young cop said.

“So where’s my suspect?” Zack said. “Do not tell me you’ve lost her. She’s the only link we’ve got to an embezzler.”

“My partner Falk went to get her.” He grinned again. “He said he knew you, and that I shouldn’t shoot you even though you were obviously a dangerous drug dealer. They’re gonna love this back at the station.”

Zack glared at him, and he swallowed and said, “Really, he’ll be back any minute.” He looked over Zack’s shoulder, suddenly relieved. “See? Here he comes now.”

Zack eased himself off the wall with great care. Then he looked in the patrol car as it pulled up and straightened quickly. “Where is she?”

“Wait.” Falk held up his hand as he got out. He slammed the car door and waved a piece of paper at Zack. “The good news is, she left her address.” He handed it over to Zack, who had slumped back against the wall. “You want Matthews and me to go pick her up?”

“‘Lucy Savage,”’ Zack read. “Well, the last name’s right. That woman’s damn near feral. No, I don’t want you to pick her up. The reason I have to go pick her up now is because the two of you couldn’t hold on to her. I’ll handle it.”

“You want us for backup? She must have been all of five-seven, maybe one thirty-five. You probably only got six inches and sixty pounds on her.”

“Very, very funny” Zack pushed himself gingerly away from the wall. “Call Forensics and get some lab people down here. There’s a bullet in this wall.”

“Your instincts tell you that?”

“No,” Zack said with obvious patience. “The chunk of wall that sliced that hellcat’s cheek told me that. Somebody was shooting at her.”

Matthews went over to the wall. “He’s right.”

“Well, of course, I’m right. Just what I need—infant cops checking my work. Will you call that in? Please?” Zack glared at the younger man, who stomped back to the car, grumbling.

“Was I ever that obnoxious?” Zack asked Falk.

“What do you mean, ‘was’? You still are. You sure they weren’t shooting at you? I’m serious,” Falk added hastily when Zack turned his glare on him. “Not everybody loves you like we do back at the station.”

“No,” Zack said. “It was her.” Zack looked back at the wall. “Helluva sloppy job, though. Broad daylight, not a chance of hitting her unless he was a lot closer. This guy is either a real amateur, or he was just trying to scare her and didn’t care if he picked off an innocent bystander. Like me.”

“You sure you don’t need backup on this?”

“Yeah.” Zack turned back to him. “I think I may just possibly be able to handle one medium-size woman by myself.”

“I don’t know. She did a nice job on you. I think you need us.”

“Oh, yeah, I need you and Junior here.” Zack jerked his head at the other cop who’d joined them again. “What was it, Falk? Nobody would work with you, so you stopped by the junior high for help?”

“Hey,” Matthews said. “I’m twenty. I got two years of college.”

“So do I,” Zack said, touching his lip again gingerly. “Fat lot of good it’s doing me here. Get on that bullet.” He turned and walked toward the parking lot and his own car.

“Hey, Warren,” Falk called after him. “Did you have one of those famous instincts of yours right before she nailed you? Or right after?”

“All great men are persecuted,” Zack said and kept on walking. He knew he was right about this Bradley thing. And Lucy Savage was very shortly going to be very sorry that she and John Bradley had ever messed with him.

As soon as he took some aspirin and got some ice on his damn lip.



LUCY UNLOCKED HER massive front door with its jewel-colored leaded glass and then crossed the vestibule to unlock the beveled-glass inner door. It immediately burst open under the pressure of the three dog bodies that were pressed against it.

“Easy,” Lucy said, still worn-out from her adrenaline surge. She dropped down onto the tiled floor to pet them, and they piled around her in the warm glow of the colored sunlight that streamed through the stained glass.

Einstein, the big sheepdog, flopped down beside her, but Heisenburg, the walking mop, and Maxwell, the little miscellaneous dog, both climbed into her lap to lick her face and burrow under her hands. She gathered them all to her, loving them and the warmth and color of her beautiful old house and, for once, herself.

“I beat up a mugger today,” she told the dogs. “He attacked me and I beat him up. I won.” The dogs looked suitably impressed. That was one of the many great things about dogs. They were easy to impress. Not like Tina.

But even Tina would be impressed with this. Carefully tipping the little dogs off her lap, Lucy stood and went inside the house.

Her house. Every time she walked into it, she felt safe. The living room was papered in huge flowers in shades of rose and edged with wide oak woodwork, and the floors gleamed in the soft sunlight that filtered through her lace curtains. The fat, worn, upholstered furniture was splashed with flowers, too, in roses and blues and golds, and the mantel and tables were crammed with pictures, and flowers in vases, and books. She sank into the big blue overstuffed chair by the wobbly piecrust phone table and looked through the archway into her dining room, warm with the glow of the stained-glass windows there.

Her house. She felt all the tension ease out of her. Her home.

Einstein barked at her for attention, and she remembered Tina. She dropped her purse and the bag from the drugstore on the floor and dialed her sister’s number, absentmindedly scratching behind Einstein’s ears while she listened to the ring.

“Tina?” she said when the ringing stopped, but it was Tina’s machine, so she left a message. “This is Lucy. I wanted you to know, I just beat up a mugger. I really did, and it was wonderful. And don’t worry, I’m okay. In fact, I’m great. You were right. I love you!”

And then she hung up and relaxed into the threadbare softness of her chair, hugging herself.

She really did feel wonderful. Sort of tired, but wonderful. Good tired.

Her gaze fell on the drugstore bag where she’d dropped it, and she stood, swooping it up as she straightened.

“Look at this,” she told the dogs. “I went to the store to get disinfectant for my cheek, and right there, in the checkout line, was a big display that said ‘On Sale! Discontinued! 1/2 Off!’ and it was this!” With a flourish, she pulled a box out of the bag. “So I bought it.”

Einstein squinted at the box, decided it wasn’t biscuits, and collapsed with disappointment. Maxwell contemplated the air. Heisenburg rolled over onto his back.

Lucy ignored them to study the photo on the box: the model’s hair was a rich cloud of midnight curls and she looked sultry and provocative. “This is the new me,” she told the dogs. “It’s time I changed. I just made a mistake with this blonde mess because I didn’t think it through. I’m not the blonde type, you know?”

Maxwell and Einstein looked at each other. Heisenburg stayed on his back.

“Oh, you may laugh. But I’m changing my hair and I’m changing my life. No more mousy, timid brown or brassy, tacky blonde. I’m going to change into a whole new Lucy. I’m going to be a brunette. Dark, fascinating, dangerous. Independent. All men will desire me. All men will fear me.”

Einstein sighed, Maxwell scratched, and Heisenburg stayed on his back.

Lucy looked back at the picture on the box. “Well, maybe not. But they won’t ignore me or stare at my hair in disbelief. And I’ll feel tougher with this hair. I’ll take chances. I’ll date exciting men.” She remembered the last exciting man she’d been attracted to, the one who had mugged her in an alley. “Well, maybe not. You know, I don’t have very good taste in men. Maybe I’ll hold off on the dating for a while.”

Like maybe forever.

She looked down at the dogs who were staring at her now with adoration. Even Maxwell’s usually glazed eyes were shining with puppy love, and Heisenburg had let his head fall back so he could worship her upside down. “I should just stick with you guys. You’re the best.”

Okay. No men for a while, no matter how lonely she felt. But she could still change. She could still be independent and control her life. She could do it.

“I’ll tell you something else,” she told the dogs. “I’m really being independent. I’m even taking back my maiden name. In fact, I already did. I just signed a note with it. And not only that, later, when I’m done, we’ve got real fun. Do you know what we’re going to do?”

Einstein and Maxwell cocked an ear at the lilt in her voice. Heisenburg lay doggedly on his back.

“All right, all right,” Lucy said to him, giving in to canine blackmail. “Dead dog?” Heisenburg jumped up, delirious at finally being noticed.

“You are spoiled rotten,” Lucy told him. “Now as I was saying, do you know what we’re going to do?”

The dogs waited.

“We’re going to get rid of Bradley!” Lucy said, flinging her arms wide.

The dogs went wild with joy.

“My sentiments, exactly,” she told them and went upstairs to start transforming herself.



AN HOUR AND A HALF later, Zack pulled up in front of the address Lucy Savage had left on the patrol-car windshield.

It was in an older neighborhood, close to the university and in the throes of gentrification. Some of the big old Victorians were completely restored, some hadn’t been touched, and some were in transition. The Savage house was one that someone had begun to make an effort with.

Zack sat in his car and checked the place out. The three-story cream brick house, like all the others around it, was on a hill bisected by the cracked concrete driveways that consumed the narrow side yards separating the houses. A small blue Civic, its windows rolled up tightly in the February cold, sat in the driveway to the left. The drive to the right was empty.

There was no one in sight.

Great. This is why he needed a partner with him so he could say, “It’s quiet…too quiet.” So where was Anthony? Chasing brunettes. You couldn’t trust anybody these days.

He got out of the car and climbed the concrete steps to the house.

He twisted the knob on the antique doorbell, and its hellish scream echoed through the big rooms of the house, followed by the barking of what seemed like a thousand dogs.

His grandmother had once had a doorbell like this one, and he remembered how wonderfully godawful it had sounded, the kind of ring that went right up your spine and out the top of your head. Then one day, his grandmother had had enough and put chimes in instead, and he hadn’t felt the same way about his grandmother’s house since.

Or his grandmother, for that matter.

And now Lucy Savage had the same godawful doorbell. It figured. Savage woman, savage doorbell.

He twisted it again. A thousand dogs barked again.

The door opened.

She was a brunette, sort of. Actually, she had the blackest hair he’d ever seen in his life on anyone. Or anything. It was the kind of dead, dull black that seemed to absorb light and air, and her face was surrounded and overwhelmed by it. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure it was the same woman, and then he recognized the pointed chin and the big eyes, now widening in startled recognition. She started to slam the massive wood door, but he put his foot in it to block her. forgetting that he was wearing canvas shoes, not leather. She slammed the heavy door into his foot and yelled, “Go away. I have vicious dogs. I’m calling the police!”

“I am the police!” Zack clenched his teeth against the pain. He shoved his badge in against the shoe-width crack in the door. “Do you know the penalty for assaulting a police officer?”

“What?” She stared at his badge and then slumped against the doorframe, letting the door fall open. “I don’t believe this. I just don’t believe this.”

“Believe it, lady. Can I come in, or do you want to beat on me some more?”

She stood back so he could go in, her eyes wide in her woebegone face, and Zack would have felt sorry for her if he hadn’t been in so much pain.

“Thank you.” He limped past her into the vestibule. She closed the door behind him and then opened the vesitbule door, and the dogs attacked.

The big sheep dog was the first to reach him. It immediately leaned heavily against his leg, shedding all over his jeans and drooling into his shoe. The little skinny brown one draped itself over Zack’s uninjured foot and stared off into space at nothing in particular. And the one that looked like a floor mop barked at him once and then rolled over onto its back with all four short legs in the air and lay there, motionless.

“These are vicious attack dogs?”

“I thought you were a mugger.” She shoved her impossible hair out of her face. “And they sound vicious.” They both looked down at the dogs. “Sort of.”

“What’s wrong with the mop?” Zack asked.

“He’s not a mop. That’s Heisenburg and…Never mind. Am I under arrest for beating you up?”

“You did not beat me up, lady. The only reason you hit me at all is that I wasn’t defending myself because I didn’t want to hurt you.” Zack looked down at Heisenburg. “Is he sick?”

“No,” she said. “It’s a dog joke. It’s the only one he knows.”

“A dog joke.”

“Yes. You feed him the setup, and then he does the punch line. Like a knock-knock joke.”

“You taught this dog a joke?”

“No.” She looked down at the mop with pride. “He thought it up on his own.”

Zack looked around the spotless vestibule and through the open door. The next room was spacious, with high ceilings and hardwood floors covered with worn Oriental rugs. It was full of sunlight and comfortable, threadbare, overstuffed furniture, and he could hear a fire crackling cheerfully somewhere close. He looked at the woebegone brunette gazing down at her three dogs, and at the two dogs gazing back adoringly. And finally he looked at the third dog, Heisenburg, waiting patiently on his back for his setup line.

If this woman was a crook, he was Queen of the May. He grinned at her so suddenly that she blinked. “You’re not a criminal, are you?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Not unless you arrest me for mugging you. I deserve it. I know I deserve it. But you scared me.” She frowned. “Why did you drag me into that alley?”

“We need to talk.” Zack held out his hand. “I’m Detective Zachery Warren.”

She took his hand and shook it. “I’m Lucy Savage, and I’m really sorry I beat you up. Your lip looks awful.”

“You didn’t beat me up. Would you feed this dog his line so we can go sit down?”

“Oh, no!” Lucy said, with so much enthusiasm that Zack looked to see what was wrong. “Dead dog?”

Heisenburg rolled over and jumped to his feet and barked.

Zack looked at Lucy. “That’s a dog joke?”

“What did you expect? ‘That was no lady, that was my wife’?”

“I don’t know,” Zack said, confused. “Can we go sit down? My foot is killing me.”



“IF YOU DON’T MIND, I’d like to ask you a few questions before I explain about the alley,” Zack began when he was finally sitting on the rose-colored love seat across from the blazing fireplace in the living room. So far, he’d turned down coffee, tea, soft drinks, aspirin, and ice for his foot from Lucy, and affectionate approaches from Heisenberg, who wanted to sit in his lap. Now he was anxious to cut to the chase and get some answers before one of the other dogs began a soft shoe or tried to sell him magazines.

“Sure,” Lucy said. “Whatever.”

She was sitting next to him in a big, ugly olive-green chair that didn’t seem to go with the rest of the house, and she looked swallowed up by it somehow, her knees higher than her waist, her shoulders bowing in a little like folded angel wings.

“Are you all right?” Zack said. “You seem…depressed.”

“I went to court to get divorced today, and my ex-husband stood me up. Then my sister decided to change my life. Then a drug dealer tried to mug me, so I beat him up, and I thought, at last, I’m doing something right, and then he turned out to be a cop. You.” She blinked. “I’m having a bad day. I’ll get over it.”

“You didn’t beat me up. I wasn’t even trying to defend myself.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Zack gave up. “Tell me about Bradley. Everything you know.”

“Bradley?” Lucy sat back, confused. “That’s what you said on the street. Why do you want to know about my ex-husband?”

“If he’s the man we’re looking for, he embezzled a million and a half in government bonds from the bank where he worked.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open and she sat up straight. “He embezzled from his bank?”

“Banks are the best places to embezzle from,” Zack said. “They usually have the most money. Now, when and where did you meet him?”

“He picked me up at the library,” Lucy said, still dazed from his announcement. “I was working on some lesson plans, and I looked up, and there he was, and he asked if he could sit down, and he talked to me and bought me a juice from the vending machines, and then he walked me to my car, and two months later we were married.”

“That fast?” Zack said, writing everything down.

“Well, I had my reasons.” Lucy sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. “They were the wrong reasons, but I didn’t know that then.”

Zack wasn’t listening. This could be it. The dates matched. He looked over at Lucy, sitting lost in an ugly green chair, and he felt a sudden protectiveness for her that was totally out of character for him. The poor helpless kid was just an innocent bystander. That rat Bradley…

Bradley.

Zack started to tap his notebook again. “And exactly when did you meet him?”

“And besides,” Lucy went on, still lost in her own train of thought, “there was the second law of thermonuclear dynamics.”

“I’m sure there was. When did you meet him?”

Lucy came back to earth. “Sorry. We got married June first. We met in the middle of March.”

“And you got divorced in February.” Zack looked up from his notebook. “Any particular reason? Did he begin acting suspiciously? Did you find more money in your checking account than you could account for? Any…”

“It was the blonde,” Lucy said.

“Oh.” Zack winced for her. “Another woman? Sorry.”

“Girl, really. Very young. Maybe twenty.”

“That could be his wife,” Zack said.

“His wife?” Lucy said faintly.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry to drop it on you like that. He was married.”

“Oh,” Lucy said.

“Bianca Bradley. Also blonde and young, twenty-four. He must have a thing for blondes.” Zack looked at Lucy’s impossible black hair and looked back as his notebook. “So…”

“That’s funny,” Lucy said. “Her maiden name was the same as his Christian name.”

“No, her maiden name is Bergman. She…”

“Where did the Bradley come from?”

“What Bradley?” Zack said.

“Her last name.”

“When she married John Bradley,” Zack said, his patience wearing thin. “The same John Bradley you married.”

“I didn’t marry John Bradley.” Lucy sat up straight. “I married Bradley Porter. I don’t believe this. You’ve been asking me questions about the wrong Bradley. What’s going on?”




Three


“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lucy said. “I mean, first you grab me in an alley—”

“Listen.” Zack fixed his eyes her. “John Talbot Bradley is six-five and weighs about two hundred pounds. He has brown hair and brown eyes, and he’s in very good physical condition. He used to be a high-school phys-ed teacher. Does he sound like your ex-husband?”

Lucy opened her mouth and Zack held up his hand. “Think about it before you answer. I know it sounds dumb, but think about it.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. Bradley’s blond and good-looking and a little out of shape. I bought him sweats once so he could run with me, and he told me that physical exertion was for people who didn’t use their minds. The height is close. But his eyes are gray.”

Zack began to slap his notebook with his pencil. “He still might be able to pull it off. You met him in March and that’s when John Bradley went missing in California.”

Lucy shook her head again. “Then definitely not. I met him in March, but he’d already been branch manager of his bank for a year.”

“Branch manager of a bank?” Zack stopped frowning. “Two Bradleys, two banks. And then the phone tip and the diner. There’s got to be a connection here. All my instincts tell me there’s a connection.”

“All my logic tells me there isn’t,” Lucy said.

“Your logic is wrong,” Zack said absently.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why were you in that diner today?”

“I told you, I was at the courthouse….”

“Were you supposed to meet Bradley at the diner?”

“Not exactly. I was supposed to meet Bradley at the courthouse. But he’d sent me a note, asking me to have lunch with him at the diner after the hearing, and then when he didn’t show up at the courthouse and my sister Tina wanted to talk, I suggested the diner, just in case he’d be there.”

“So you went to the diner to meet Bradley.”

“No,” Lucy said patiently. “I wasn’t even sure he’d be there. But Tina insisted on lunch so she could convince me to become spontaneous and irresponsible, and I picked the diner just in case he might be there. And then thanks to her, I beat up a cop.”

“You did not beat up a cop. I told you, I wasn’t fighting back.” Zack leaned forward until he was almost touching her, his blue eyes blazing into hers. “Now, listen. Concentrate.”

Lucy blinked at the heat in his gaze. “Okay,” she said, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. He was doing something to her brain, scrambling her thoughts. I bet he’s murder on cell phones, she thought, and then dragged her attention back to what he was saying.

“My partner and I were there because a woman called and told us that Bradley was going to be there,” Zack said, speaking very clearly as if he thought she was slightly backward. “That is all she said. ‘Bradley’s going to be at Harvey’s Diner on Second at one.’ Now, could that have been your sister?”

Lucy pulled back a little so she could think. “My sister would love to see Bradley arrested and shot, but even she wouldn’t call and tell you he was going to be there if there wasn’t any reason for you to arrest him. Trust me, Tina does not think that Bradley is involved in a crime. And neither do I. And neither do you. You’re just annoyed because your instincts failed you.”

“No,” Zack said. “Somebody shot at you this afternoon. Remember when I grabbed you by the alley?”

“Vividly.”

He leaned forward suddenly and touched the cut on her cheek, and she jerked back. “How did you get that?”

“A car hit a stone….”

Zack shook his head. “Somebody shot at you and missed and the bullet kicked back a piece of the brick wall. I saw it hit you. That’s why I dragged you into the alley.”

“Oh.” Lucy digested the information. “So you thought you were saving my life while I thought you were mugging me.”

“I didn’t think I was saving your life, I…”

“And then I beat you up. I’m really sorry.”

Zack closed his eyes and then looked at Lucy again. “Listen to me carefully. Somebody is trying to kill you.”

She glared at him. “Listen to me carefully. Nobody is trying to kill me, and if you looked at this logically, you would see that.”

“Wait a minute.”

“There are two people standing against the wall. One of these people is a mild-mannered high-school teacher whose students all adore her. The other is a condescending police officer who grabs innocent women and drags them into alleys and who has probably alienated everyone in the greater Riverbend area. Now, which of these two people is most likely to be shot at?”

“You,” Zack said. “My instincts tell me you.”

“Your instincts stink,” Lucy said and blinked. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not rude. I’ve had a bad day.”

“That’s all right,” Zack said. “People are rude to me all the time.”

He shoved his notebook back in his jacket and stood. “Listen, we’ll argue about this later. Right now, I’m going to look around the outside of your house. You stay inside.”

Lucy stood, too. “I beg your pardon?”

“Inside. You. And the dogs.” Zack looked down at Heisenberg. “Stay. All of you.”

Lucy put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Who do you think you are?”

“Me?” Zack said on his way out. “I’m the guy who saved your life, so you owe me. Stay put.”

He glanced back and grinned at her as he went out the door. Lucy said, “Listen, you, you didn’t…” and then he was gone.

“Who does he think he is?” she asked the dogs. “He just comes in here, out of the blue, and tells me somebody’s been shooting at me, and orders me around. Just what I needed. Somebody else ordering me around.”

Only she hadn’t let him. She’d fought back.

And it really felt good.

“I think I’m on to something with this independence thing,” she told the dogs. “I really enjoyed arguing with him.”

Of course, it hadn’t had much effect on him. He’d just glared at her and charged on ahead. And he hadn’t been all that mad, anyway. A minute after the glare, he’d been grinning at her again. She pictured him again, those bright blue eyes heating her and that crazy grin scrambling her thoughts, and she had to remind herself that she was mad at him. “This is my problem,” she told the dogs. “I’m too easygoing. I should be mad at him. I should want to kill him.” She stopped on the last thought.

He’d said somebody was trying to kill her.

Who would want to kill her? That was ridiculous. That was something that happened on TV. A car backfired and kicked up a stone. People did not go around shooting guns in downtown Riverbend.

He must be wrong.

Wrong, but gorgeous.

She pictured him again, much against her better judgment. That grin, that swagger, those blue, blue eyes that connected with hers with such impact on her breathing. “The thing is,” she told the dogs, “even though I know he’s a policeman, he doesn’t look like a policeman. He looks like a very, very sexy bad guy.”

She heard a noise in the vestibule and looked up to see Zack leaning in the doorway, and she blushed so hard she almost passed out.

“You talk to the dogs,” he said.

“Well, of course I talk to the dogs.” Lucy prayed he hadn’t heard what she’d said. “It’s not like I talk to plants or anything non-sentient.”

“What I was going to ask was why you have such expensive locks on this place. You must have dropped a small fortune on the front doors alone, and from what I can see from the front, the windows are locked, too.”

“Oh, they are,” Lucy said, eager for a change of subject. “Even the attic windows. Did they really cost a lot?”

“So they weren’t your idea.” Zack looked satisfied. Smug, even. “Bradley ordered them, right?”

“No. It was my sister.”

His satisfaction disappeared. “Your sister was afraid you’d be robbed?”

“No, my sister hates my ex-husband. She did it to annoy him. She said it was to keep him from taking anything out of the house that I might possibly be able to strip him of in the divorce. My sister plays hardball in divorce court.”

“I bet she does,” Zack said, taking out his notebook again. “And when was this?”

“Oh, she had them put on as soon as I told her about…the blonde. I mean, within the hour, the locksmith was here with a crew. That was about two weeks ago.” Lucy thought back. “The end of January.”

Zack went out to the vestibule. “Do you have burglar alarms?” he called back to her.

“No.” Lucy followed him. “Look at this place. Does it look like it needs a burglar alarm?”

Zack glanced around the high-ceilinged hall. “It’s not bad. It’ll be nice when it’s fixed up. So, for protection, you’ve got the locks and the dogs.” He looked down at the three dogs who had followed them to the vestibule and were now sitting in a row, watching him.

“Don’t make fun of my dogs,” Lucy said.

“I’m not making fun of your dogs. Dogs are a good deterrent for thieves. They make noise. Thieves hate noise. Killers aren’t crazy about it, but they’ll cope.”

Lucy folded her arms. “Nobody is trying to kill me.”

Zack spread his arms wide. “Look. Humor me, okay? Just in case somebody really is trying to get you?”

“Who would want to get me?”

He cocked his head at her. “Well, ex-husbands have been known to go after the wives who locked them out of their houses.”

“Bradley didn’t want this house. He signed the divorce papers without a fight. He didn’t want the house or me.” Lucy stopped. “Sorry about that last part. I’m not really that pathetic, it’s just that—”

“You’re not pathetic at all.” Zack flashed his grin at her. “Bradley, however, must be an idiot.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said.

“You’re welcome,” Zack said. “Now stay inside.”



ZACK WALKED AROUND the house, checking the windows and the back door. The basement door was in the back near the neighbor’s alley on the right, an old-fashioned, sloping wood door that had two metal bars across it, both with locks. The locks, like every other one he’d seen on the house, were very new, very efficient, and very expensive. Sister Tina either hated Bradley a whole lot or really worried about Lucy.

And possibly she had a reason to be worried. Zack frowned at the scratches on the basement-door lock. He was peering into the lock with his penlight when someone screamed at him, startling him so much that he dropped the light as he spun around.

“I’ve called the police so you might as well run off like all those other young punks,” she screeched. “Go on. Go on!”

“Damn it, lady, you scared the hell out of me!”

The gray and wizened woman on the back porch of the next house was hunched over the rail in a nothing-colored coat three sizes too big for her. Her clawlike hands waved at him while the pleats of skin on her face worked soundlessly for the moment in indignation. Then her voice came back.

“Get out,” she screeched. “Smart-mouthed good-for-nothing!”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Zack said, gritting his teeth. “I was startled. I’m a police officer.”

“Well, if you are, the world’s in worse trouble than I thought, and I thought it was in the toilet.” She stared at him viciously, and Zack wondered briefly about the evil eye. If such a thing was possible, this hag could deliver.

“Hello, Mrs. Dover,” Lucy called out from the back door. “It’s all right. He’s with the police.”

“I knew this neighborhood was finished when you moved in,” Mrs. Dover shouted back. “Torturing my cat. Bringing those vicious dogs in. Coming and going at all hours.”

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Lucy came out onto the porch and looked down at Zack.

“Torturing her cat?” Zack asked and Lucy shook her head.

“Phoebe hasn’t been the same since the Porters moved in,” Mrs. Dover said. “I’ve called the humane society, but they won’t do anything. Oh, no.”

“Usually the sun doesn’t come out much in February,” Lucy said brightly to no one in particular. “We’re very lucky today.”

“And now this trash.” She gestured at Zack. “Does your husband know you’re entertaining hoodlums?”

“Actually, I’m divorced now, Mrs. Dover. And Detective Warren really isn’t a hoodlum. I made the same mistake, too, but he’s really very nice.” She looked at Zack. “I think it’s your jaw and the five o’clock shadow. I know you can’t do anything about your jaw, but you would look much more reassuring if you’d shave. And get a haircut. Really.”

“Thank you,” Zack said.

A patrol car pulled up in front.

“Maybe he’s the police.” Mrs. Dover climbed down her back porch steps while she kept an eye cocked on Zack. “Maybe. But I bet he’s on the Most Wanted list. Ha! We’ll know soon.” She nodded and hobbled down her driveway to the street to meet the uniforms.

“Great,” Zack said. “This makes the second time today somebody’s called the cops on me.”

“Well, as I was saying, I think your image needs work. I realize you’re probably undercover—”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Forget it.” Zack started for the street. Then he screamed in pain.

A large dirty yellow cat had leaped on his leg, burying her claws deeply into his calf through his jeans. Zack kicked out, and the cat dropped away while Mrs. Dover screeched at him from the street.

“Meet Phoebe,” Lucy said.

“Damn!” Zack nursed his shin. “What’s wrong with that animal?”

“I think she’s psychotic. I hate her because she uses my car for a litter box so I have to keep the windows rolled up all the time, even in the summer. And because all three of my dogs are terrified of her.”

“Her, who?” Zack glared at Mrs. Dover’s back as she gestured wildly to the police in the street. “The woman or the cat?”

“Both,” Lucy said. “Do you want some iodine?”

“No,” Zack said, as a young patrolman approached him. “I want to shoot that damn cat.”

“Sir?” the patrolman began. “This lady has a complaint.”

Zack looked at him closely. “How old are you? Twelve?”

The young patrolman stiffened. “Sir…”

Zack got out his badge again. “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad day. I’m investigating an attempt on this woman’s life.” He nodded toward Lucy.

“You are not,” Lucy said. “They shot at you, not me.”

“Shut up.” Zack looked at the patrolman. “Do you ever get tired of defending the public?”

“All the time,” the patrolman said. “I’ll just have to call this in, sir…” he began, looking at Zack’s ID, and then he, too, screamed.

“Shoot the cat,” Zack said. “It’s assaulted two officers and resisted arrest. Do it.”

Mrs. Dover hissed at him, scooped up Phoebe, and disappeared into her house.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” the patrolman asked, nursing his shin.

“No. Tragically, no. Go ahead and call that in.” Zack looked up at Lucy as the patrolman made his way back to the car. “What does it mean when everyone you see is younger than you are?”

“It means you’re getting old. There’s a new teacher at my school. She asked me yesterday what it was like in the old days when I first started teaching.”

“Did you deck her?”

“No.” Lucy stuck out her chin. “But I may when I go back in to school tomorrow. I’ve gotten a lot meaner today.”

Zack laughed. She looked so funny, neat and round with all that crazy dead black hair haloing her face, calmly announcing that she was a lot meaner today. What a sweetheart.

Dumb as a rock, but sweet.

“You’re not going back to school tomorrow,” he told her. “You’re moving in with your sister until I figure out what’s going on.”

Lucy frowned. “How long will that take? Especially if you’re going to figure it out by instinct. I don’t have that much sick leave. I don’t think anybody does.”

She wasn’t that sweet. Zack glared at her, and she blinked.

“Sorry,” Lucy said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”

“Forget sick leave,” Zack said. “How much dead leave do you have? I’m not kidding here. You could be in danger.”

“I think—”

“Don’t. Trust me on this one. I know what I’m doing. Somebody’s been trying to pick your locks.”

“What?”

Zack pointed his finger to the back door behind her. “There are scratches on your back-door lock, and there’s a piece of metal broken off inside this basement-door lock. Somebody’s been trying to get in here.”

Lucy swallowed. “Bradley?”

“Well, that would be my best guess. He may just be trying to get his golf clubs back. But then again…” He shrugged. “Somebody shot at you on the street today.”

“At you,” Lucy said, but her voice held a lot less conviction.

“Just stay with your sister for a while. She’s got room, right?”

“Oh, she’s got room. But I’m not going. She can’t take the dogs, and I’m not leaving them.” Lucy stuck her chin in the air. “Besides, I don’t believe this.”

Zack lost his temper and stomped up the back porch steps. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face the door as he pointed at the lock. “See those scratches?” His face was so close to hers they were almost nose-to-nose. “Those were made by a pointed metal tool. Somebody was trying to break in.”

Lucy blinked at his closeness. “Well, they didn’t get in, did they? So I must be pretty safe.”

“Only because they’re trying to be subtle for some reason. Sooner or later, they’re just going to smash a window and climb in. Lord knows why they haven’t already. I advise you to move to your sister’s.”

“No,” Lucy said.

Zack let go of her arm and closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he looked down at her with all the patience he could muster.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting.

Oh, hell. If somebody did hit her, it’d be his fault for not taking care of her.

He forced himself to speak calmly. “Look, just do me one favor. Stay inside tonight. I’ll call you when I find out more tomorrow, okay? And I’ll have the patrol car keep an eye on you. Just until we can get a handle on your Bradley and see what he’s up to.”

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, and he overrode her again. “Just for tonight and tomorrow. That’s not much to ask. Please.”

“I’d have to leave, anyway,” Lucy said. “I’m a teacher. Even if I wasn’t going in to school tomorrow, I’d have to take in lesson plans.”

Zack looked again into Lucy’s huge brown eyes and thought again about how much she needed a keeper.

Not him, of course.

Still…

“I will take them in. Now, about this sick-leave thing. How long have you been teaching?”

“Twelve years.”

“And how many sick days have you taken?”

“None.”

“That’s what I figured. So how many do you have saved up?”

“One hundred and thirty-eight,” Lucy said.

“So if you use a couple, you could still develop a major disease and have everything covered, right?”

“Right,” Lucy said, “but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m not sick.”

Why was it he finally found an honest citizen only when it worked against him? “Look. Think of this guy who’s trying to kill you as a life-threatening illness. I do.”

“I really think—”

“I told you, don’t think. Just do what I tell you. If it will help, I’ll shave and put on a suit and come back and tell you to stay inside. I’ll do whatever it takes. Because I really do think you’re in danger.” He gestured to the basement door. “These are all good locks. Take advantage of them. Stay inside and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Well…” Her pointed face was so confused under all that dead black hair that suddenly Zack’s annoyance faded and he felt protective again. She seemed so helpless, so soft and round and absolutely clueless about reality.

“Please,” he said. “Just for tonight.”

“All right.” Lucy swallowed at his earnestness. “But I still think you’re wrong. Anyway, if you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll print out the lesson plans. This is very nice of you. Thank you, Detective Warren.”





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