“You’re saying all we can do is wait for the pathologist.”
“We have to wait.” He smiled slyly as he ran his hand down my back. “But that’s not all we can do.”
“You’re a pushy guy, Flint.”
“Trust me,” he said. “Go home. Close your eyes and think about what you know, and you’ll get a whole lot closer to the truth than you ever would reading police reports.”
“If I close my eyes, I’ll go to sleep.”
Caesar, with his dog dragging behind, accosted us when we were about halfway across Hill Street.
“Evenin’ pretty lady. How’s it hangin’, officer?”
Mike started for his pocket, but I stayed his hand.
“So, Caesar,” I said. “Have you had dinner yet?”
“I was just about thinkin’ about it.”
“Why don’t you join us?” I said. If looks could kill, Mike…
Caesar seemed incredibly suspicious. He looked askance at both of us. “What is it you have in mind?”
“Dinner,” I said. “Chinese noodles of some kind. Please, be our guest.”
“You’re not thinkin’ nothin’, you know, about after dinner, the whole three of us?”
“Just dinner,” I said, smiling like Emily Post. “We’ve come to be such good friends, I’d like to show you some family photos. That’s all.”
Caesar still seemed suspicious, but he capitulated. Mike was still looking daggers.
“What are you up to?” Mike rasped in my ear.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind picking up a nice bottle of wine,” I said. “What goes with noodles?”
Caesar was finally smiling again. “I like a little wine with dinner. Up at the Center, they don’t serve nothin’.”
“We’ll see,” Mike said, sticking close to me.
The vile graffiti on Mrs. Lim’s front wall had been painted out. The heavy-cover paint wasn’t exactly the same color as the original, but it was a definite improvement. Caesar looped the dog’s clothesline leash over the rail along the front steps and ordered it to stay. The dog lay down and closed its eyes.
Once again, Mrs. Lim must have been lying in wait. As soon as I bolted the front door, she was out of her apartment. She didn’t seem very happy to see Caesar, but she said nothing about him. I knew that Emily brought people home all the time.
“New door,” she said, handing me a small brown envelope. “New key.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Send the repair bill to me.”
She waved me off, went back into her apartment and locked her own door.
The new key fit the new door smoothly.
“Caesar, Mike, make yourselves comfortable,” I said as we went inside. Everything was as it should be. And spotlessly clean.
Caesar took off his hat and looked around. “Nice place you have, pretty lady.”
“This is Emily’s apartment.”
“The doc?”
“Yes.”
“Nice-lookin’ shower in there.”
“Caesar,” I said, “would you like to take a shower while I get dinner ready?”
“There a lock on the door?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“Wait just one second,” I said. I ducked into the closet and found Em’s navy sweats. They would fit Caesar better than they had fit me. I handed them to him. “There are clean towels on the rack. We’ll be in the next room when you’ve finished.”
As Caesar locked himself in the bathroom, I took Mike by the hand and led him into the sitting room. I sat him on the sofa, straddled his lap, and kissed him. I met no resistance. “Nice,” he said. “But what are you up to?”
“Just what I said. I’d like to show Caesar the family album. You going to get us a bottle of wine?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You shouldn’t have anything if you’re on painkillers. And he shouldn’t have anything, period.”
“Whatever you say.” I kissed his cheek and got up to go heat the noodles.
There was rather more than noodles. Mrs. Lim had made a beautiful chicken chow mein, with a green salad, fried wontons and sweet rice balls. It was more than enough for three. I heated what needed heating, tossed the salad, and found three plates in the cupboard over the sink.
Emily had no kitchen table. I imagined her eating in the living room, as we had been. I set the plates, forks, paper napkins and a pitcher of water on the coffee table.
“Can I help?” Mike asked.
“Yes.” I handed him the photograph of the Honolulu airport meeting that Jaime had given me and an album I had found in the bookcase of Emily’s study. “You know the A list of suspects. See if you can find a picture of each one.”
“Maggie, what were we just talking about down there?”
“What can it hurt?”
When Caesar came out of the shower, I hardly recognized him. He was redolent of Yardley complexion bar, peach-stone shampoo, Colgate toothpaste. I don’t know what he used for a toothbrush-I had been using Emily’s-but I planned to burn whatever was in the rack. With his hair slicked back and his beard groomed, he was a fairly nice-looking man. He padded in on cleanish white socks, preening a bit.
“Caesar,” I said, “why don’t you sit on the sofa beside Mike. Mike wants to show you some pictures.”
I made three trips, bringing in food and water glasses. While I fussed, Caesar went through the photographs like polite company stuck with vacation snaps. I knelt on the floor across the table from them and began to serve the food.
“See anyone you know?” I asked.
“No’m. ‘Cept for the doc.” Caesar took a gulp of his water and shivered all over.
“Sorry,” I said. “We’re all out of wine.”
He was being the considerate guest. He smiled, but I saw that it cost him.
“You don’t recognize anyone else?” Mike asked.
“No,” Caesar said, nudging a picture of Rod Peebles with the end of his fork.” ’Cept maybe him. Take off his hair, an’ he look like this dude keep runnin’ for boss aroun’ here. Keep his picture up all over town.”
“That’s how you know him?” I asked. “From his political billboards?”
Caesar nodded as he stuffed his mouth with chow mein. “Like you say. From his signs.”
“Maggie.” Mike grinned. “Like I say, just close your eyes and think.”
“Caesar, have some more rice,” I said. I pushed a nice full-face shot of Celeste closer to his plate. He looked at her, smiled, and popped a whole rice ball into his mouth.
Mike was looking very smug. He finished his chow mein; then he leaned back on the sofa and grinned at me. “You’re quite a cook.”
I glared at him. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
“Chinese food sometime’ give me a headache, too,” Caesar said. “Pretty lady, think there might be some extra I could take down to my dog?”
“Yes.” I got up. “I’ll wrap some for you.”
“Excuse me, pal,” Mike said. He picked up his plate and followed me into the kitchen. While I picked chicken bits out of the chow mein for the dog, he leaned against the sink beside me.
“Who did you think he’d recognize?” Mike asked.
“The man with the skinny nose. The woman who walked the walk.”
“They’re old pictures. I’m surprised he knew Rod.”
“Rod cheats,” I said. “I saw one of his billboards today. He uses old pictures and has them airbrushed. As Caesar said, take off the hair and they look the same.”
A buzzer went off somewhere close by, and I jumped. First I checked the oven timer; then I looked around for an alarm clock.
“It’s me,” Mike said. He pulled off his pager and checked the readout. “Borrow the phone?”
“Try the study.” I wrapped the chicken and carried it in to Caesar.
“How was your dinner?” I asked.