Act of God

part?”
    I looked back at her. “Specifically, you mean?”
    “Yes.”
    Watching her, I said, “I had to go out to a fire-base with one of my men, pick up an artillery lieutenant for some things he did to a bar girl in Saigon. The MPs liked to send an officer to bring back an officer.”
    “Go on.”
    “We had to stay over, wait for a chopper the next day. The Vietcong decided to hit the base that night. The first few rounds of mortar fire came in before the flares, guys running around, grabbing weapons, and trying to put on their boots. The mortars were behind a hill, and somebody called in a fire mission—artillery from another base—to knock them out. As I’m hunkered down, the flares are breaking over our heads, everything spotlit, like the lights panning a crowd at a rock concert.”
    “Like tonight’s crowd on the river,” she said quietly. “Like that. Only back then most of us weren’t watching. I couldn’t help it, though, Nance. The flares and the mortar rounds—I mean, guys were being killed and wounded all around me, and I was scared, but in its own way, it was... so beautiful.”
    Nancy searched my eyes for a moment. “That’s the first time you’ve ever told me anything about your time over there. Really told me.”
    “ Like you said, it was the first time I was asked.”
    She brought her hands up around my neck, mine going around her waist.
    Nancy said, “Eugenia.”
    “What?"
    “Eugenia. My mother was reading a Russian novel the week I was born and convinced my dad that ‘Eugenia’ was the most beautiful middle name an Irish lass could have.”
    I leaned into her, a hug rather than a kiss. “Your mom was right.”

22

    “Mr. Proft.”
    With the perpetual grin, he looked away from locking a nondescript two-door Ford Escort at the curb in front of the pharmacy. Looking back to the keys, Proft pocketed them under the white lab coat.
    “Mr. Cuddy. You’re certainly the early bird, aren’t you?” I’d been parked on the street for maybe twenty minutes. “I was hoping to catch you before things got too busy.”
    “Is this about that Rush Teagle person?”
    “Partly. I thought as my client you might also be interested to hear what I found out in Jersey .”
    “Yes.” Proft frowned. “Yes, I should have led with that, shouldn’t I?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    He swung his head around. “Our bench, then?”
    “That would do fine.”
    The long legs carried him across the street like a spider Moving to the corner of its web. Sprawling over the bench, he said, “Well, I guess you tell me, eh?”
    I sat on the other end. “Just after I spoke to you last, I 8ot a call from Traci Wickmire.”
    " So did I.”
    “You did.”
    “Yes. Well, I imagine it was after you saw her. And Darbra’s somewhat... reordered apartment? I understand it was quite a mess.”
    “You haven’t been over there.”
    “No. But from what Traci told me, you went through it rather thoroughly.”
    “You have any idea what someone might have been looking for?”
    “None,” said Proft.
    “It appeared that the somebody had a key to the place.”
    “Perhaps it was Darbra herself, raging.”
    “Over what?”
    “Over whatever it is that’s made her vanish on us.”
    I stopped. “What else did Wickmire tell you?”
    Heels on the ground, Proft rotated the toe end of his Hush Puppies in the air, as though he were limbering up his ankles. “She seemed rather put out about the cat.”
    “More like his litter.”
    “Yes.” The grin curled some. “She even asked if I were interested in coming over and cleaning it up.”
    “I take it you declined.”
    “Perhaps we are getting to know each other, Mr. Cuddy.”
    “How did you know about Teagle?”
    “Various ways. One, my Escort was on the fritz, so I had to take it into the shop on Friday and was without transportation over the long weekend. I just picked up the car this morning, in fact.”
    “What was wrong with it?”
    “The mechanic said he couldn’t find a thing. Just a gremlin, I suppose.”
    The curled grin.
    I said, “So you had no way to get around the last few days.” Jj I
    “Correct. Accordingly, I was pretty much housebound, and therefore heard about the Teagle incident via radio and television. I also received a call from a friend of yours.”
    “From Homicide?”
    “Yes. A rather gruff woman, from her telephone manner. Do you suppose she doesn’t enjoy her work?”
    “What did you tell her?”
    “Just what I’ve told