Angel Food and Devil Dogs (22 page)

She hadn't turned to see who'd come in. She seemed to think I was someone else. I sat down in a leather chair in the corner of the small office. Just as I was thinking I should say something, the phone rang. She sent the email, then picked up the phone, still with her back to me.

"Kathryn Anthony," she said into the phone. "Yes, yes, Paul I sent the entire proposal at 5:30 PM and I just sent the edited letter of support from the Chancellor a second ago. No... the letter from Temple went... Paul, I've been sitting here working on this since 7:00 this morning... Yes, I am to... I think it will too."

She still faced the computer screen while she spoke. She held the phone in one hand and reached to knead tight muscles in her neck with the other.

I took a moment to look around the room. It was wall-to-wall oak bookcases with some comfortable leather easy chairs and a few framed pieces of art here and there. One was a Klimt print of two women hugging. One was a Frieda Kahlo self-portrait reproduction. One was a small landscape in Maxfield Parrish's style. It looked like a real watercolor, not a print. On a wall shelf just behind her desk was a ten inch bronze figure of a seated nude woman reaching in the air with one hand. A lyrical tilt to the bronze head made the figure seem animated. It was a nice comfortable office, sensitively decorated by someone who planned to spend a lot of time in it.

As she finished the phone conversation, Kathryn slowly swiveled her chair back toward the front of the room. Occasionally her voice ran lyrically up and down the scale when she spoke, but most of the time it was a deep low tone. She sounded wonderful and she was just talking to some guy about a grant or something. What would she sound like if she were talking about...

"OK Paul, I'm tired, I'm stiff as a board. I have an appointment with a student now and I have another call coming in." She clicked the call waiting button and said her name into the phone, then turned her chair more rapidly toward me. She raised her eyebrows when she saw me; she'd expected someone else, but that person was on the other end of the phone line. Her eyes narrowed more with interest than surprise and that excited feeling I'd felt a few minutes before increased.

She said to the caller, "Mr. Fields, your appointment was for 5:30... No, not tomorrow. Monday? All right then, Monday at 4:00 PM. Mr. Fields, next time you cancel an appointment, please do so before you're already late for it. I'm not always... flexible." She was looking right at me as she said it. I got the message. She hung up the phone and said evenly, "I'd almost given up on you."

"Oh, dear, I hope not. You said evening and," I looked at my watch, "it isn't even six," I insisted with amusement.

"I am still unhappy with you about yesterday." She leaned back in her chair. She wanted to be stern but her voice had a gentle deep undertone. At least she wasn't frowning at me.

"I need to talk to you about the people who were at the meeting..."
Oh crap, that sounded much too official.

"Ah," she said, in a formal clipped tone.

"But please... please let, me explain why I was late..." I sounded so pathetic, I surprised myself, but her formal gaze softened. Maybe she liked begging.

"Honestly?" she said raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." I'd told Kathryn about Skylar and the police. Now, she was resting her head on the high back of her chair. I was appreciating how terrific she looked.

She said, "When Max called me yesterday he was in a hurry, I guess he was just trying to alert everyone. We didn't speak long but I wish he'd told me about you being there. I'm sorry I was so angry with you. How selfish of me..." I could just barely see she was blushing.

"Forget it," I said lightly.

"Do you have any idea who killed Skylar?" she asked seriously.

"I've learned that there are a few people who couldn't have done it... I'd like to get your impressions. Do you have time now?" Her eyes were tired but that fascinating glint was back in them.

"I've been working on that grant proposal since early this morning. I'm tired of being here. Unfortunately for me, the laundry room at the Hampshire has been out of order for a week. So tonight, I have to go to the laundromat because I'm out of clean clothes. And I haven't really had anything to eat all day. I just don't think I could concentrate. I wouldn't be of any use to you. Did I mention that I hate laundromats?" she shook her head sighing.

I couldn't let her get away; my brain went into high gear... "Well then, I have a deal for you. I have a washer and dryer at my place. You can do your laundry there and we'll order some take-out food to be delivered, my treat. We can talk over dinner and you can wash your clothes without having to go to the laundromat. How about that?"

Even as I outlined my proposal she was still shaking her head no. She'd made up her mind and was too tired to change it. Unconsciously she'd put her hand on her shoulder again, kneading a place that was stiff from eleven hours of computer work.

"And... I'll give you a massage," I threw in.

She stopped shaking her head and looked up at me. The half smile was back. So was the voice tone I'd been longing to hear, a hint of a melodic humming growl before each sentence. If there was a Disney cartoon with a female panther, it would be Kathryn Anthony's voice they'd use.

"A real massage?" she asked softly, dropping her hand from her shoulder and drawing her fingers down slowly to rest at the opening of her shirt collar. She pushed herself up and walked around to the front of her desk. She leaned against it as she waited for my reply.

I nodded. The little voice in my head was singing, "Yeah baby, you found the right bait for this panther."

She lifted her chin and said with academic precision, "I'm serious, I want specific information, you are offering me: a place to wash my clothes, some dinner, and you will give me a full massage?"

"And we talk about the case over dinner," I added watching her carefully, hoping she'd give in.

She clearly didn't care what we talked about, she knew what she wanted, she pressed, "Not just a three minute shoulder rub? The real thing?"

"Yes, the real thing, as long as you want and... I'm good at it," I said confidently in a lower tone.

"Hmmm, I like a woman who's sure of her skills."

"So it's a deal?"

She crossed her arms and said, "Yes, it's a deal, but I will be very disappointed if I don't get a good massage, because I'm already looking forward to it."

"You won't be disappointed," I said casually. "Are you ready to go now?"

She got her jacket and a small leather knapsack from the closet and followed me into the hall, pulling the door shut. It locked with a click. She walked down the echoing hallway ahead of me. One of the many occupational habits of my business is sizing up people. About 5'7", the shoes are adding an inch. Probably 140 lbs, hard to tell with the sweater and jacket. Pretty trim. Wonder if the hair color is natural.

She opened the stairwell door and gracefully gestured me through first. Maybe she wanted a chance to look
me
over from the back.

"To get to your place...?" She made it a question as we went down the stairs. We both paused at the ground level door.

"It's just off the Mews. You can follow me, it's only a few blocks."

"No, I have to go to my apartment and get my laundry, but it will only take me a little while. I'm just around the corner at the Hampshire."

"I remember," I smiled. "My building is near the corner of 12th and Gordon Streets, number 1206. right across the street from Moyer and Jones lumberyard. Do you know where that is?"

"That little Thai restaurant is near there, isn't it?"

"Right. Thai Kitchen is about five buildings up the block. Mine is a converted factory. There are offices downstairs. I live on the third floor. The building is the tallest in that part of the neighborhood. You can't miss it."

"Sounds interesting." She was considering me intently, with her head tilted just a little to the side. "It's a loft? The top floor of an old factory building?"

"The two top floors, but I've only finished one of them. There are two doors in the front. The one on the left is white. That one goes to the first floor. The one on the right is red. That's my door. There are two doorbell buttons by the side of the door. The bottom one is for the law firm. Ring the top bell and I'll buzz you into the lobby. Here's my card," I said fishing one out of my pocket and putting it in her hand, "call me if you can't find it."

"Red door, top button. I think I can handle it. Is there parking?"

Good question. The whole area of Washington Mews is notorious for lack of parking, especially in the evenings and weekends.

"There are private parking places right in front, nobody will be using them at this hour so you'll have no problem. My van will be parked there. You can park right next to me."

"All right then, I'll see you in about half an hour." She gave the brass bar on the door a push.

"Wait," I said calling her back.

She turned with the door slightly open. She'd zipped up her jacket and tossed her red scarf once around her neck. Her eyes flashed with a curious energy.

"You're hungry," I went on, "how about something from Thai Kitchen. I could order it? They deliver. It should be there by the time you arrive." She was nodding her head enthusiastically. I asked, "What would you like?"

"I'm so hungry just talking about food is going to make my stomach hurt. Hmm,
pad Thai
with shrimp, papaya salad, or if they don't have that, the regular salad with peanut dressing." She sighed shaking her head and then laughed, "I'm desperate, I'll eat anything they have."

"Fine, I'll order it and see you soon." We both went out into the city wind, with our heads down, going separate ways.

I took out my phone and speed dialed Thai Kitchen. I go there so much I have an account and am on a first name basis with the family who owns it.

Kathryn Anthony had taken my breath away, literally. I'm hyperventilating, I thought, I have to control myself or I'll have to put a paper bag over my head. No, wait I should breathe into a bag. Yeah, that would be safer than trying to drive with my head
inside
a bag. I was frantic that I may have left my place in a total mess. I racked my brain to remember if I'd left a pile of dishes in the sink.

It was very dark in my small parking lot, with a few slushy snow piles here and there. I let myself in and made sure to turn on the front door light so the parking lot would be illuminated. I ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time. I'm in pretty good shape, but I was gasping when I got to the second floor entrance of Sara and Emma's offices. Slow down and get a grip, I had to tell myself again, you don't want to have a breakdown just before she gets here.

Emma Strong, bundled up in coat and hat, was just leaving the office. "Whoa, what's your hurry," she asked as I dodged crashing into her. She took a step closer peering into my eyes with the calculation of a hot dog trial lawyer, then straightened up with an in-drawn breath. "Maggie, you have a date! And it's a hot one... too. Aren't you cute when you're excited!"

"Well, I..."

"Don't bother to deny it, I see that glint in your eye," she said smiling. "Good for you honey. I have a date too, and I'm late. Oh, the list of people who were at Daria's apartment came back from the credit checking service. Nothing much, but it would be good if you could look it over." She stepped back into the office, grabbed the list, and handed it to me. "Will the criminal information be here by Monday?"

"Probably by Sunday, I rushed them. I'll check over both lists. Daria was a social worker right? These were people she worked with?"

"Mm hmm, from the office, the counseling clinic, and the homeless shelter, but don't work on this tonight Maggie, concentrate on the task at... hand." She glanced up the stairs. "Is she coming here? I'm going to want details," Emma teased as she locked the office door.

"I'll have the lists for you by Monday and I don't know if there'll be any... details."

"We can always hope!" Emma called after me as I turned and sped up the next flight.

As I reached the third floor landing, I suddenly realized it might have been a tactical error to give Kathryn my card. Now she had my number so she could call to cancel if she really felt too tired.
Damn.
I'd already begun to imagine the massage. I had to take a very deep breath to compose myself. The disappointment would be crushing if she didn't appear. On the other hand, she agreed it was
a deal
. She didn't seem like the type to bail after making a deal. In fact, if she was, I'd be less interested.

I'd gotten this building as payment from a grateful client. I'd solved the case, but almost lost my life in the process. I'd thought he was kidding about the building, but he really did it. It was scary taking on a big piece of real estate after years of renting an apartment in a high rise, but things seemed to be working out, knock-on-wood.

Before I let myself into the loft, I sent the freight elevator down to the ground floor. Once inside, I ran over to the kitchen area. I took my breakfast dishes out of the sink and put them in the dishwasher. The laundry room is through my bedroom so I straightened out the quilt and fluffed the pillows on my king-sized bed. Thinking again, I decided to change the sheets.
Be prepared.
That done I scanned the room for other telltale signs of disorganization, then proceeded to the bathroom.

There are two bathrooms in the loft. One next to the guest room that's rarely used, so I figured it was clean. But the bathroom off my bedroom, the one I use every day, needed a quick once over. Scrub, wipe, flush, arrange, done. In the laundry room next to the bathroom I checked for giant lint bunnies in the machines. Everything seemed fine in there.

Back in the bathroom again, a dozen things flashed through my mind. Could I take a shower in three minutes? Sure, my hair is short, it would dry. I speed showered, used the blow dryer and changed clothes. I put on a soft button down shirt. I think buttons are sexy.