Sure. Where are you?
Out in Bloomington, she said. At the Megamall.
See you in a while.
HARRIET ASHLER SHOWED UP TWO MINUTES AFTER LUCAS, wearing an ankle-length wool coat and a frown, and trailed by her husband: Dick and I were going to a movie, she said.
Jeez… Is it too late to go?
She looked at her watch. If we go, we gotta be in the car in twenty minutes.
Lucas handed her the cardboard box hed used to transport the guns: A pistol and a fired shell. If theres anything on the shell, I gotta have it ASAP. If its a matter of going over the whole pistol, that could wait until morning.
Ashler took the bag and said, Ill call you in ten minutesyoull be in your office?
Yeah…
We could come back after the movie and take a look at the pistol, if youre willing to pay the OT.
Thatd be goodbut tomorrow morning, early, would be okay.
Ill do it tonight. Dick can hang around. Then I can sleep in tomorrow.
I like fingerprinting, Dick said cheerfully. He was a letter carrier and had a six handicap in golf. Id just as soon watch her fingerprint as go to a movie.
Well, were going to the movie, Ashler said.
Art movie, said Dick, as his wife started off down the dimly lit hall. Made by some Jap.
You have my sympathy, said Lucas.
Coulda been worse: coulda been a Swede, Dick said, looking after his wife. Gotta go: I guess Im just a goddamn culture dog.
LUCAS HEADEDDOWNTOHIS OFFICE, FLIPPED ON THE lights, pulled off his coat and hung it on the antique government-issue coatrack. Then he walked up and down his ten-foot length of carpet a couple of times, rubbing hishands, looking at the phone, waiting. Wanted to call someone, but there was no one to call.
Sherrill. Where in the hell was she? If shed been in Bloomington, she should be here. Or close. Hed left the door open, and he stepped out and looked up and down the hall. Nobody: he could hear a radio playing somewhere, a Leon Redbone piece. He listened for a moment, groping for the name, pulling it from the few muted notes flowing down the hall. Ah: She Aint Rose.
Despite what Sherrill had argued earlier, knowing that McDonald was the killer was a huge advantage. If they could pull together enough bits and pieces on all the killings, they could indict him on several counts of murder, let the jury throw a couple of them out, and nail him on the easiest one. All they needed was one. One first degree murder was thirty years, no parole. McDonald was unlikely to pull the full load. Hed die inside.
So one was enough.
Lucas hummed to himself, caught it: Jesus, he hadnt been humming to himself in months. And with all the shit happening, he should be. .. He listened to the back of his mind. No static. Not much going on back there. He let himself smile and took another turn around the carpet, looked at his watch.
And the phone rang.
He snatched it up, said, Davenport, and at the same time, heard footsteps in the hall.
This is Harriet Ashler. Theres nothing on the shell. It looks like it was lifted out of the box, maybe with gloves, loaded up, and fired. Its absolutely clean. Polished, almost.
Sherrill appeared in the doorway, saw him talking. He gestured for her to come in as he said, Damn it: I was hoping… Well, check the gun. I thought maybe he didnt think about the shell, just like he didnt think about the other one.
Not this time, Ashler said. Sherrill stepped into Lucass office, pulled the door shut, and took off her leatherjacket as Ashler continued: I took a look at the pistol, and I think I can see some smudges. As soon as I get back Ill start processing them. Ogram over in St. Paul sent Mc-Donalds prints over this afternoon, so I can give you a quick read.
Good, Ill be at home. Call me whenever.
Lucas hung up and said, No prints on the shell, but theres something on the pistol. Shes gonna process it tonight.
Hed have to be suicidal to leave prints on the pistol but not on the shell, Sherrill said. She tossed her coat in a corner, and the motion of the coat in the air stirred up a slight scent, something light, like Chanel No. 5. And whyd he carry the pistol back to the cabin? He couldve pitched it into the woods, and whod ever find it?
I dont know why, Lucas said. He leaned back against his desk. But why wouldanybodycarry a pistol back to the cabin? Anybody, no matter who it is?
Sherrill shrugged: Maybe they got it there, and thought if they put it back, nobody would know.
Leaving a fired shell in the chamber?
Thats a question, she admitted.
Lucas scratched his head and said, Well ask him, if we cant figure something out… So whats happening with you?
She peered at him, almost as if she were nearsighted, which she wasnt. Ive got this thing going around in my head and it wont go away.
Uh-oh, Lucas said. Ive had that problem…
No-no-no. Nothing like that. Im not depressed. But, you know that old thing about, Women dont want sex, women want love?
What? She was talking fast, and he was suddenly aware of how quiet the building was, how dark the hallway had been outside, and how the two of them were alone in a not very big office.
Yeah, well maybe Ive heard something like that.
The fact is, I always liked sex, she said. A lot. AndI havent had any for a year and a half before Mike was killed, while we were breaking up, and none since he was killed, and right now I just really dont need love, but I really would sorta…
As she spoke, she was moving to his left, and he was on his feet moving to her left, in a narrow circle, Lucas edging toward the door. Jesus, he said.
Look, you dont have to, she said. Wherere you going? Youre running for it?
She almost started to smile, a sad, tentative smile, but Lucas only saw part of it. He flipped the latch on the door and hit the light at the same time, and in the next halfsecond his hands were all over her. She gasped and went a few inches up in the air, and then they were dancing around, half struggling, mouths locked together, Sherrills blouse coming off, and five seconds after that they were on the floor.
AND TEN MINUTES LATER SHERRILL WHISPERED, WAS that loud?
Pretty loud, Lucas whispered back.
Jesus, I want to do it again. He could only see her face dimly in the light coming through the doors glass panel. And hethought: This rug smells weird. But hesaid, My place, and he reached out and pressed the warm palm of his right hand over one of her breasts.
Ill follow you, she said.
No: Come with me. We can be there in ten minutes.
Cant find my underpants, she said. Whatd you do with my underpants?
Dont know…
She pulled on her jeans and untangled her bra from around her neck, buttoned her blouse as Lucas pulled himself together, half turned away from each other, a small piece of still-necessary privacy. Neither of them wanted the lightwhen Lucas was dressed, Sherrill opened the door and Lucas found her cotton underpants hooked over the topof his wastebasket. Lucas stuck them in his pocket: Lets go.
What a fuckin terrible idea this was, she said, as they jogged down the hall. Screwing your boss. She looked at him. You cant screw your boss.
Im not your boss, Lucas said. Keep moving.
LUCAS CONCENTRATED ON DRIVING, OUT OF MINNEAPOLIS past the dome, onto I-94 across the Mississippi and off at Cretin, south to the stoplight at Marshall. The light was a long one and Sherill was suddenly on top of him again, one hand fumbling at his belt while he tore at her blouse and finally freed her breasts, his mouth on her neck and then…
Christ, were a movie, she said suddenly. He looked up, past her: a couple of St. Thomas students were walking past, and one of them flashed him the V-for-victory sign.