The Drowning Pool by Jacqueline Seewald Page A

Uneasily, she noted Mike’s eyes narrowing.
    Don Bernard’s suave, cultured voice insinuated itself into her ear. “I dropped by the library today to do some research for an article I’m writing. When I asked for my favorite reference librarian, I was told you were on vacation. I hope I’m not phoning too late, but I was wondering if you’d care to go the theatre with me this weekend, or any evening this week, for that matter, while you’re free.”
    “I’ll have to get back to you.”
    “Of course. Bad time?” Don’s voice was knowing.
    She glanced at Mike, who definitely looked none too happy. “You could say that.”
    As she disconnected, Mike was studying her. “Professor Bernard, I presume?”
    She sometimes forgot how perceptive Mike was. She nodded her head with an almost imperceptible motion. Mike was frowning deeply. He looked formidable, too much the tough cop for her taste. Gone was the tender, teasing lover. His eyes were dark gray thunder clouds ready to burst with a dangerous electrical charge.
    “Think maybe I ought to have a talk with Bernard.”
    Kim rarely lost her cool, but this was too much. “Leave Don alone.”
    “What I ought to do is shoot him—nothing lethal, just give him a warning not to poach.”
    “Mike, don’t even joke about that.”
    “Who said I was joking?”
    She stiffened. “That’s it. Take me home or I’ll call a cab.”
    “Fine, let’s go to my car. I just can’t believe you’d consider encouraging that guy anymore.” He grabbed his car keys in an angry motion.
    “Don is a friend. A person can never have too many friends. And I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you.”
    “But not as well—or have you forgotten?”
    No, she hadn’t forgotten anything. “You don’t have any cause to be jealous.”
    “Is that right?”
    “I hate you acting this way.”
    He wasn’t even looking at her now. “I had an unfaithful wife. I don’t ever want to deal with something like that again.”
    “If and when I marry a man, I won’t cheat on him.”
    * * * *
     
    They didn’t do much talking on the drive back to her apartment. How had things gone so wrong between them? She hadn’t wanted bad feelings to exist, hated confrontations of any sort. Yet she must face the fact that they were two very different people and just might want very different things.  She admitted, at this moment, she was pretty much confused about what she did want out of life—and possibly who.
     

FIVE
     
    Bert was dreaming about Alva; there was a smile in her friend’s brown velvet eyes. Then suddenly, Alva was gone. A feeling of panic took over. Where was she! Where was Alva? Why had Alva disappeared? Bert looked everywhere but couldn’t find her friend. She was seized by the conviction that something terrible had happened.
    The dream ended where it always ended. Bert woke up that morning gulping air, and for a moment or two wasn’t certain where she was. Her breath came in short jags, the sense of grief and pain washing over her anew. Her three-year friendship with Alva had been the best thing that ever happened to her. Now her life was empty and lonely again; she was out of place and out of time.
    She envisioned Alva, wishing her friend was here, her usual smile on her face. Bert never understood how she managed it, particularly since so many of Alva’s patients were terminal. But she had a relaxed outlook on life, an optimism that was infectious.
    Life was so ironic. It made no sense at all. If anything, she should have been the one to die first, not Alva. She was in a dangerous line of work. Alva should have survived. A good woman like Alva was really needed in this screwed up world. Bert saw Alva clearly in her freshly laundered white uniform, a smell of spring lilacs perpetually about her. It should never have happened. She still couldn’t believe it; a living nightmare. Bert clenched her fists, raging at the injustice of life, desolate in the awareness of her own