Brazen Virtue

leaned against the wall, wishing he’d had the time and the energy to make love to his wife that morning. Ed sat, legs stretched out, as he dipped a tea bag into a cup of hot water.
    “The forensic report’s not in,” Harris said at length. “But I don’t think we’re going to find any surprises.”
    “The guy nicked himself coming through the window.” Ed sipped at his tea. “I think the blood’s going to match what was found at the Breezewood homicide.”
    “We kept the rape and the murder weapon out of the press,” Ben continued. “So a copycat’s a long shot. There wasn’t as much of a struggle this time. Either he was smarter, or she was too scared to resist. She wasn’t a small woman, but he managed to bind her hands without so much as upsetting the glass on the nightstand.”
    “From the papers we found, she was a stockbroker. We’re going to check that out this morning and see if we can find a link.” As he downed his tea, Ed noted that Ben was lighting his third cigarette of the morning. “A woman called the disturbance in to the desk. Didn’t leave her name.”
    “Lowenstein and Renockie can check out the neighbors.” Harris took out two grapefruit pills, scowled at them, then downed them with the tepid water on his desk. “Until information proves differently, we’re looking for one man. Let’s get this wrapped up before it gets out of hand. Paris, your wife was a lot of help last year. She have any thoughts on this?”
    “No.” Ben blew out smoke and left it at that.
    Harris drank the rest of his water as his stomach growled. The press was already salivating and he hadn’t had a decent meal in a month. “I want updated reports by four.”

    “Easy for him to say,” Ben muttered as he closed Harris’s door behind him. “You know, he was enough of a pain before he went on this diet.”
    “Despite popular belief, being fat does not make you jolly. Excess weight is a strain on the body, making a person uncomfortable and usually marking his disposition. Fad dieting accents the discomfort. Proper nutrition, exercise, and sleep make you happy.”
    “Shit.”
    “That helps too.”
    “Drinks are on me.” Lowenstein stepped between them and swung her arms around their waists.
    “You had to wait until I got married to be friendly.”
    “My husband got a raise. Three thousand a year, and baby, we’re going to Mexico the minute the kids are out of school.”
    “How about a loan until payday?” Ed asked her.
    “Not a chance. Forensic report came in. Phil and I are going to do the door-to-door. Maybe I can squeeze in some shopping on my lunch hour. I haven’t had a bikini in three years.”
    “Please, you’ll get me excited.” Ben let her go to pick up the file on his desk.
    “Eat your heart out, Paris. In six weeks, I’m going south of the border to drink margaritas and eat fajitas.”
    “Don’t forget the tetracycline.” Ed sat on the corner of Ben’s desk.
    “I’ve got a cast-iron stomach. Come on, Renockie, let’s get moving.”
    Ben flipped open the file. “How do you think Lowenstein’ll look in a bikini?”
    “Excellent. What have we got?”
    “Blood on the broken glass was A positive. And look at this. Fingerprints on the window sash.” He pulled out the Breezewood file. “What would you say?”
    “I’d say we’ve got a match.”

    “Yeah, we’ve got a match.” Ben set the files side by side. “Now all we have to do is find him.”
    G RACE TOSSED HER PURSE onto the sofa, then dropped down beside it. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired before, not after a fourteen-hour writing marathon, not after an all-night party, not after a twelve-city tour.
    From the moment she’d called her parents in Phoenix until she’d put them on the plane home, she’d used every scrap of her energy to keep them going. Thank God they had each other, because she simply had nothing left.
    She wanted to go home, back to New York, back to the noise and the frantic pace. She wanted to pack her trunk, close up the house, and catch a flight. But that would be like closing the door on Kathleen. There were still a hundred details to handle. The insurance, the landlord, the bank, all the personal items Kathleen had left behind.
    She could pack most of them up and give them to the church, but there were bound to be things she should send to Kevin or her parents. Kathleen’s things. No, she didn’t think she was quite ready to go through her sister’s clothes and