Death of a Blue Movie Star

college. Get her into this shack and made the film. I thought it was pretty good. But the customer was pissed. Know why? She wasn’t a natural redhead. Her pussy hair was black. I only got five thousand. And what’m I gonna do? Sue?”
    He finished the elaborate knotting, then rummaged through his bag. He found a whip, a leather handle with a dozen leather strips hanging from it. He took a long pull of vodka from the bottle. He checked the time. The customer was paying for a two-hour tape. Tommy’d make it last for two hours. He believed in the adage that the customer is always right.

 
    CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
     

    Sam Healy and Rune lay in bed, watching the lights on the ceiling, reflecting off the Hudson River.
    Healy was feeling pretty good. He wanted to say, Not bad for an old guy. Or something like that. But he was remembering about times like this—and that was one thing he remembered clearly: You didn’t talk about yourself.
    Now, for this moment, maybe
only
for this moment, there were two of them and that was all that mattered. He could talk about her or about both of them…. But then he remembered something else: Sometimes it’s best not to say anything at all.
    Rune was curled against him, twirling his chest hair into piggy tails.
    “Ouch,” he said.
    “Do you think people live happily ever after?”
    “No.”
    She didn’t react to that and he continued. “I think it’s like a cycle. You know, happy sometimes, unhappy others.”
    She said, “I think they can.” A tug went by. Healy pulled the sheet over him.
    “They can’t see in….” She pulled the sheet down and kept twisting hair. “Why do you disarm bombs?”
    “I’m good at it.”
    She grinned and rubbed her head against his chest. “You’re good at other things too but I hope not professionally.”
    There.
She
was talking about
him
. That was okay.
    “It sets you apart. Not many people want to disarm bombs.”
    “IEDs,” Rune corrected. “Why’d you become a cop in the first place?”
    “Gotta make a living doing something.”
    Rune disappeared for a moment and came back with two beers. The icy condensation dripped on him.
    “Hey.”
    She kissed him.
    He said, “You want a present?”
    “I like Herkimer crystals and blue topaz. Gold is always good. Silver if it’s thick.”
    “How about information?”
    Rune sat up. “You found a suspect in a red wind-breaker?”
    “Nope.”
    “You found fingerprints on one of the Angel letters?”
    “Nope. But I did find out something about the explosives in the second bombing.”
    “And you’re going to tell me?”
    “Yep.”
    “Why?” she asked, smiling.
    He didn’t know. But at least this was something
he
was saying about
her
. And it seemed to make her happy.
    “Because.”
    “What about them?” she asked.
    “They were stolen from a military base. A place called Fort Ord in Monterey. Whoever did it got away with—”
    “California?” Rune asked, sitting up, pulling the sheet off Healy and around herself.
    “Right.”
    She was frowning. “Monterey is where Shelly and Tommy used to live.”
    “Who?”
    “Tommy Savorne. Her old boyfriend. He still lives there.”
    Healy tugged back more of the covers. “So?”
    “Well, it’s just kind of a coincidence, doesn’t it seem?”
    “The explosives were stolen over a year ago.”
    “I guess.” Rune lay back down. A moment later, she said, “He’s in town, you know.”
    “Tommy?”
    She nodded. “He’s been in town since before the first bombing.”
    A tug hooted.
    One of the Trump helicopters cruised low, making its run from Atlantic City.
    Rune and Healy looked at each other.

     
    Healy stood at the pay phone across from the dock while Rune tugged at his arm.
    “He might have been in Nam. He’s about that age. He’d know how to—”
    “Shhh.” Healy motioned at Rune, then began speaking into the phone, “Officer Two-five-five on a landline. Patch me into ops coordinator at the Sixth.”
    “Roger, Two-five-five. He’s in the field. Give me your number we’ll have him call back on landline.”
    “Negative, Central. This is urgent. I need that coordinator now.”
    A long pause, then static, then a voice saying, “Hey, Sam. It’s Brad. Whasshappenin?”
    “I may have a suspect in the porn bombings. Check CATCH, National Crime Database and Army CID. Tell me what you got on a Thomas or Tommy Savorne. I’ll wait.”
    “Spelled?”
    Healy looked at Rune. “Spelled?”
    She