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"Impatient? After only four days?"

"That's what I told him. He got real apologetic said he was only doing his job."

"Did he ask about me?"

"No, but I mentioned you were assisting in the investigation. He said `good'-that he'd heard about you. See, you even have political support, David, so chill out. Another murder's no reflection on you personally-or any others if they happen."

"Any others? God, help us."

"As long as we're doing what has to be done-either you or us."

"What's that mean?"

"We collaborate-no different from before. We have the legal responsibilities but you, de facto, run the show still." Kathy got up and joined David on the sofa. "Do you hear that?" she said, tweaking his cheek, "Still."

He shrunk back and shot her a conspiratorial wink. "Do you know what would relieve me even more? If, in the future, you informed people we're doing things in parallel."

"I can live with that," she said.

"How about Nick?"

"How about him?"

"Can he live with that, or does he prefer I step aside?"

"Now you're being ridiculous. You misunderstood that remark this morning," she said. "We need your help. And, what's more, he likes you more than you think."

"Be still my heat." David had been taking a sip a sentence. He pinched the back of his hand and looked up to catch Kathy's critical squint.

"Now what are you up to›" she asked.

"I can feel it fine, so I need another Manhattan."

"You’re incredible. But here, fill mine, too."

David returned from the kitchen, balancing two dripping glasses. He sniffed Kathy's Chardonnay like a connoisseur and said, "Not bad at all," and handed it to her. He took a long draw of his, assumed a judicial expression and said, "Also not bad." He spilled some of his drink on his trousers as he sunk into the couch.

"Now then," he said, "you want to hear the corker of all corkers?"

"Sure, one more drink and I won't mind anything. We should have been munching, too."

Kathy's reaction to the revelation from Belle was, "You mean Betty Tanarkle is Foster's paramour?"

"You got it."

"But what's she…?"

"I know: what's she see in him? That's the going question."

They had their usual discussion about whether to eat in or out and settled on grilled ham and cheese sandwiches which David triumphantly prepared. Afterward, he said, Instead of reviewing what's happened to date, look here-see what I've summarized." He let her to the computer in the den and they read the screen together.

"That says it all," Kathy commented. They moved into the kitchen and he saw her linger by the sink of used dishes and promised himself he would keep more current from that point on. At the table, she took one of two chairs and, while David stood flipping through pages of his notepad, she said, "Your `better guard Foster' statement? I agree with that."

"You also agree that Spritz or Tanaride could be after him?"

"You bet. Money and sex. Never fails. But I have a question." She rose abruptly. "Maybe two." She went over to the computer and scanned the screen which David had not cleared. "Yes, two."

"Shoot."

"Why would Tanarkle kill Bugles?"

"I'm not sure, except when I worked in Pathology they bounced off each other like bumper cars."

"And Bernie Bugles? I didn't get a chance to speak to him at the reception yesterday. Why's he listed?"

David sat and took his time to answer. He wrote BERNIE on his pad and underlined it three times. Then he circled it. He said slowly, "I don't know. But, then again, there aren't any explanations for intuition."

"Okay, so we watch over Foster," Kathy said. "No problem. I'll dig up a hard man."

"A hard man?"

"A bodyguard."

"Oh. But I think it should be discreet."

"I'll have him keep his distance. Should we let Foster in on it?"

"No. He'd probably scream bloody murder. He'd say if anyone found out, it might reflect badly on the hospital and the staff and all the fine people of the community and blah, blah, blah. Translation? The bottom line."

"Got it."

"Let's be clear on this, Kath. I've decided to do the guarding, myself."

"You?"

"Yeah, I think it’ll be less obvious."

"You're calling the shots." She said, with a peremptory gesture.

"Now, another thing. I'm calling Sparky tomorrow. He goes in Sundays, I assume"

Kathy emptied her coffee cup and played with his handle for a moment. "Darling," she said "do me a favor. You look tied. Take tomorrow off. Start Monday refreshed. Call him then. I'm sure he'll call you sooner if he finds anything startling."

"But Coughlin's autopsy. I should call Ted. Funny, contacting a suspect who maybe doing the post."

"Maybe an assistant will do it. But that can wait, too. What are they going to find? It's pretty obvious. There was no exit wound so the man has a bullet in his head. So Tanarkle has a bullet plus the casing you found up on that mound and, hopefully, he can pinpoint the weapon. It's got to be a rifle shot from eighty feet away-we did the measurement after you left. I'm telling you, it can wait till Monday."

David gave her a bewildered glance and said, "Tell you what. I'll do just what you say if you forget what I once asked you to do. Or did I? Wait a minute." He rubbed is decision scar. "I'd decided to beg off asking old friends the tough questions, like 'where were you when the murder took place'?"

Kathy returned the bewildered glance. "You lost me."

"I intended to ask you o do that-more as an authority, not as close as friends-you know. Did I ever discuss it with you?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Well, forget it anyway. This thing has ballooned and I'm in it for the duration, come hell or high water. And, if that's the case and it is, I'm asking any questions that need asking-of anyone-repeat-anyone who needs to be questioned."

Kathy stood and approached him from behind. She rocked on her embrace and said, "So there." Hand in hand, they walked into the bedroom.

It was the only room which reflected a flair and an attention to coordination which Kathy insisted on: terra cotta bedspread, mint green chaise lounge in jacquard fabric, celadon drapes with matching lampshades, and a blanket chest at the foot of the bed.

She pulled a quilt up tight around her while David slid off his Beretta Minx rig and placed it on the dresser next to Friday. He rolled in next to her and turned off the light. She flopped her arm over his body and, nearing sleep, whispered, "I'm so proud of you:"

Suddenly, he leaped out of bed. Kathy sprung up. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot something in the basement. Be right back."

Three minutes later, he made room on the dresser for a left ankle rig containing a Smith and Wesson snubby.

Long after Kathy had fallen asleep, David lay awake, his mind a pinball machine. He was glad, however, that he hadn't "tied one on" as Kathy had foreseen, because he might not now appreciate that, psychologically at least, he had gotten his second wind and that he was prepared for Monday morning.

Chapter 10

It was a long and arduous night and at breakfast, David's eyes had not lost their heaviness. Sunlight muscled its way through the kitchen's grainy curtains. "You look like the wrath of God," Kathy said. "Thanks. And, speaking of that, you going to church this morning?"

"Yes, I'm picking mom up at ten. Then, after I bring her back, I'll go home from there."

"Do you think He'11 mind if I don't attend today?" "Yes, She will."

"Oh, brother."

Their meal was simple: orange juice, toast and two coffees for each.

"You're relaxing today, correct?" Kathy said. She wore one of his red plaid shirts.