LITMIR.BIZ

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from Mrs. Feldman or anyone else. I want to know who stole my lingerie and why, beyond the obvious, the color white seems to be significant. I know.” She cut off his protest. “White denotes purity, innocence, virtue.”

      “Virginity.”

      “Uh-huh, well, he missed the boat on that one years ago. And I was never pure, innocent or especially virtuous.”

      “You were a navy brat.”

      “Base life had its moments, Grand. My mom made captain before she turned thirty-five. I thought it was pretty cool growing up with a parent who flew jets and got to order a lot of other people around.”

      “You’re a chip off the old navy block, Mel.”

      “Did you know she’s a commander now?”

      “Does she know you’re a top-notch surgeon?”

      “A noble and worthy profession, but not the one she wanted for me. Unfortunately, I’m not as fond of flying or of the navy as my mother is.”

      “How’s your nui kaikunane, Maleko?”

      “Very good,” she congratulated. “My big brother Mark’s fine. He’s doing some kind of undercover work in Honolulu. Last time I saw him he looked like a cross between a Gypsy and a pirate. Big gold earring, long hair, slick clothes.”

      “Is your mom okay with that?”

      “She wasn’t especially happy when he left the navy after only four years, but he’s a great cop.”

      “He has the right instincts. My division leader says any time Mark wants a job, it’s there for him.”

      “He’d appreciate that. Turn left here.”

      “I remember where Lightfoot lives, Mel. My brain didn’t burn out totally on that assignment.”

      But more damage had been done than could be easily repaired, Meliana thought with a pang. She changed the subject. “Charlie’s become a fixture on the South Side scene. He broke up with a woman last year because she wanted him to move away from there. He loves his apartment.”

      “And his Deadhead music and his incense. He tried to analyze Mark’s captain’s dreams at our wedding, Mel. He’s lucky the guy was so drunk he didn’t give a damn.”

      “You’re such a stickler. Charlie’s brilliant. Okay, maybe he did a few too many psychedelic drugs in the early seventies, but you like harvest gold and avocado green.”

      “I grew up with them.”

      “I grew up with a father who embezzled money from a pineapple factory, but I manage to keep my fingers out of the hospital funding pot. Honest to God, Johnny, you’re so by-the-book in some ways and so fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants in others. It’s like there’s two people living inside your head.”

      “One head, Mel, two sides to my brain.” He turned on the radio.

      Meliana studied her husband’s profile. He was gorgeous, always had been, through good times and bad. His hair, somewhere between brown and dark blond, was unkempt and far too long to be considered FBI standard. He had an incredible face, all lines, planes and angles, a devastating mouth and eyes the color of smoked charcoal. Friends used to tease them that if their kids didn’t have some form of gray eyes, it would be absolute proof that Meliana had been unfaithful.

      Never could have happened, she reflected on a wistful note. She’d loved Johnny Grand with everything she had inside her—and that had been a considerable amount. Johnny said Chris had been hitting on her at their wedding. She believed him, but hadn’t noticed. She still didn’t, even in retrospect. All she remembered about that day was being deliriously happy and grateful that her father, on parole after having served six years of his ten-year sentence, had been permitted to attend.

      “Summer’s heading south,” Johnny commented over the rain and music. “There was a bite in the air at Blue Lake, and a lot of the birds are gone.”

      She continued to study him. “Do you get bored up there?”

      “Sometimes. Then I remind myself that being there’s essential to my mental rehab, and I replace a shingle or two.”

      “Does it work?”

      “As rehab?” He moved a shoulder. “You tell me. Do I seem less stressed than before?”

      “At the moment, yes. But not when you flew into the bedroom earlier. I’m not going to get paranoid about what happened, Johnny. I’ll talk to Charlie, get Lokie back, change my alarm code and leave the rest to Julie.”

      “What about the card that came on Lokie’s collar?”

      “I have it somewhere. I’ll dig it out. Turn here.”

      She indicated a narrow street that read more like a downtown alley. Rusty fire-escape ladders hung from dilapidated brick and concrete buildings. Many of the windows were blacked out and the darkness and rain only reinforced the sinister atmosphere.

      “It’s great here,” Meliana remarked. “Like Al Capone meets West Side Story.”

      “In Dracula’s dungeon.”

      “This is an old part of the city. You should see Los Angeles after sunset.”

      “I have.”

      And New York and Miami and Cartagena and Mexico City. “I’ll call ahead.” She punched her colleague’s number on her cell. “Heads up, Lightfoot,” she warned. “We’re here.” She slid her gaze to Johnny. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him.”

      Johnny stared straight ahead. “I don’t want to know.”

      “He says for you not to use the bathroom, and no matter how suspicious the tea smells, it’s only a Chinese herb blend.”

      “You believe that?”

      “I’m due in the O.R. at 11:00 a.m. I need to believe.”

      Johnny, who’d had more than a few strange conversations with Charlie Lightfoot since the separation, cast dubious eyes over the ravaged balcony railings. “Babe, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

      “THIS IS PRETTY.” Charlie held Meliana’s black slip up by the straps and grinned like a fool. “Where’d you get it?”

      “New York City.” Meliana sat cross-legged on his sofa—at least, Johnny assumed there was a sofa under the massive Native American blanket. “Do you feel anything, Charlie?” Her eyes sparkled. “Other than hot and bothered?”

      “That’s top of the list, Mel.” He ran a ringed hand over the silky fabric. “I see you at a swanky cocktail party. Nope, sorry, wedding reception.”

      Johnny frowned. “Who got married?”

      “One of the surgical nurses, last July. That slip’s been washed half a dozen times since then. How long do vibes linger?”

      Charlie drank his tea laced with God knew what and winked at them. “Depends on the strength of the memory. Did you have fun?”

      “No.”

      “Ah, well, bad’s as weighty as good.” Eyes closed, he fingered the lace trim. “Relax, Johnny,” he advised. “This isn’t black magic. It’s just a little tap I sometimes have into a part of the brain most of us don’t use.”

      What could he say to that? Johnny watched Meliana sip her tea while she in turn watched Charlie psychoanalyze her slip.

      To be truthful, he didn’t dislike Charlie Lightfoot. He just felt a little edgy around the guy. But then, he felt edgy around most people these days. Thus his requested leave from active duty and a solo retreat to Blue Lake.

      Charlie pressed three fingers to the headband he habitually wore. If he started humming, Johnny thought he’d have to leave the room. He might have to get out anyway.

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