kisser trying to jump the fence. We were lying face-to-face on the bed, Susan's eyes wide and still a little unfocused from sleep.
"You have a bruise on your forehead," she said.
"He hit me from behind a bush," I said.
"Could you identify him?"
"No. It was dark, I only saw him from behind, and he was receding fast."
"You know it was a man."
"Yes. Pretty sure he was white, almost my height. Medium build, tending toward slender, I think."
Susan stared at me some more without moving. Her eyes were focused now, the pupils shrinking as they adjusted to the morning.
"So you came back and spent the night," she said.
"Yes."
"There are several explanations," Susan said.
"True," I said. "It could be someone of your patients, for whatever his reasons."
"It could be someone with a grudge against me," Susan said.
"It could be the Red Rose killer, which could be a variation on number one, above," I said.
"The Red Rose killer could be a patient of mine?"
"Sure. He claims to be a cop. Cops are sort of your specialty."
"Or."
Susan said, "it could be directed at you. He knows you're working on this. He must therefore know that you and I are an item."
"Or it could be someone with a grudge against me," I said.
"Or it could be a copycat acting at random," Susan said.
"Long shot," I said. "To hit you at random on a case I'm involved in."
Susan nodded, and looked past me at the alarm clock.
"My God," she said. "I've got my first appointment in an hour and a half."
"That's too soon?" I said.
She was up out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
"Much," she said. And was into the bathroom. The door closed. I heard the shower go on. I got up, put my pants on, buckled my belt, put my gun in its holster, and went to the kitchen. I washed my face and hands and torso at the kitchen sink. Then I started water for coffee.
I was drinking my second cup when Susan appeared in the kitchen, her hair in curlers and some makeup on. She poured hot water over a bag of herbal tea in her cup and let it sit for a minute, looking impatiently at it while it steeped.
I said, "I know that it is nearly impossible to talk while you are performing the morning ablutions, but we have to think about your safety."
Susan snatched the tea bag from the partially steeped tea. "I can't think about that now. I'm in my speeded-up movie mode, and you know what I'm like in that mode."
"Yes," I said.
She took her tea and went back to the bathroom. I sat at the glass brick counter in her kitchen and made two phone calls. One was to Henry Cimoli with a message for Hawk. The second one was to Martin Quirk.
"Someone broke into Susan's front hall and left a single rose in a box, with tissue paper," I said. "I chased him and couldn't catch him. I didn't get a good look at him."
"You got the box?"
"Yeah, and the rose and the paper. I'll bet there's no prints on it."
"I'll bet you're right," Quirk said. "But we'll try. Can you bring it over?"
"No," I said. "I'm not leaving her alone."
"May be just one of the fruitcakes she treats," Quirk said.
"Still not leaving her alone," I said.
"Yeah. Okay, I'll send somebody over. If it's one of her fruitcakes, there might be prints."
I hung up and sipped my second cup. Instant coffee has much less caffeine than ground coffee; two cups of instant was practically none. I put the water on to heat for a third cup.
Susan's phone rang. It was separate from the office phone. I picked it up and said, "Hello." Hawk's voice said, "Susan?" I said, "Nobody likes a minority smart-ass."
"True," Hawk said. "What you need?" I told him about the rose intruder.
Hawk said, "And he punched you in the head and you chased him and he got away? Was he a brother?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"You let a white guy run away from you?"
"What do you want from me," I said. "I'm a white guy too."
"Yeah, you so funky sometimes I forget. I'll come over in case we have to chase him again."
At two minutes to eight Susan appeared wearing a salt
"You have a bruise on your forehead," she said.
"He hit me from behind a bush," I said.
"Could you identify him?"
"No. It was dark, I only saw him from behind, and he was receding fast."
"You know it was a man."
"Yes. Pretty sure he was white, almost my height. Medium build, tending toward slender, I think."
Susan stared at me some more without moving. Her eyes were focused now, the pupils shrinking as they adjusted to the morning.
"So you came back and spent the night," she said.
"Yes."
"There are several explanations," Susan said.
"True," I said. "It could be someone of your patients, for whatever his reasons."
"It could be someone with a grudge against me," Susan said.
"It could be the Red Rose killer, which could be a variation on number one, above," I said.
"The Red Rose killer could be a patient of mine?"
"Sure. He claims to be a cop. Cops are sort of your specialty."
"Or."
Susan said, "it could be directed at you. He knows you're working on this. He must therefore know that you and I are an item."
"Or it could be someone with a grudge against me," I said.
"Or it could be a copycat acting at random," Susan said.
"Long shot," I said. "To hit you at random on a case I'm involved in."
Susan nodded, and looked past me at the alarm clock.
"My God," she said. "I've got my first appointment in an hour and a half."
"That's too soon?" I said.
She was up out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
"Much," she said. And was into the bathroom. The door closed. I heard the shower go on. I got up, put my pants on, buckled my belt, put my gun in its holster, and went to the kitchen. I washed my face and hands and torso at the kitchen sink. Then I started water for coffee.
I was drinking my second cup when Susan appeared in the kitchen, her hair in curlers and some makeup on. She poured hot water over a bag of herbal tea in her cup and let it sit for a minute, looking impatiently at it while it steeped.
I said, "I know that it is nearly impossible to talk while you are performing the morning ablutions, but we have to think about your safety."
Susan snatched the tea bag from the partially steeped tea. "I can't think about that now. I'm in my speeded-up movie mode, and you know what I'm like in that mode."
"Yes," I said.
She took her tea and went back to the bathroom. I sat at the glass brick counter in her kitchen and made two phone calls. One was to Henry Cimoli with a message for Hawk. The second one was to Martin Quirk.
"Someone broke into Susan's front hall and left a single rose in a box, with tissue paper," I said. "I chased him and couldn't catch him. I didn't get a good look at him."
"You got the box?"
"Yeah, and the rose and the paper. I'll bet there's no prints on it."
"I'll bet you're right," Quirk said. "But we'll try. Can you bring it over?"
"No," I said. "I'm not leaving her alone."
"May be just one of the fruitcakes she treats," Quirk said.
"Still not leaving her alone," I said.
"Yeah. Okay, I'll send somebody over. If it's one of her fruitcakes, there might be prints."
I hung up and sipped my second cup. Instant coffee has much less caffeine than ground coffee; two cups of instant was practically none. I put the water on to heat for a third cup.
Susan's phone rang. It was separate from the office phone. I picked it up and said, "Hello." Hawk's voice said, "Susan?" I said, "Nobody likes a minority smart-ass."
"True," Hawk said. "What you need?" I told him about the rose intruder.
Hawk said, "And he punched you in the head and you chased him and he got away? Was he a brother?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"You let a white guy run away from you?"
"What do you want from me," I said. "I'm a white guy too."
"Yeah, you so funky sometimes I forget. I'll come over in case we have to chase him again."
At two minutes to eight Susan appeared wearing a salt
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