Four Blind Mice

laugh. “They all think we’re doing a lot worse than this, the kids, your grandmother, even that nosy cat.”
    “Thinking is different from knowing,” I said.
    “I like your family a lot,” Jamilla said as she stared into my eyes. “I even like the cat. Hiya there, Rosie. You gonna tell everybody about our kisses?”
    “I like you,” I said as I held Jamilla in my arms.
    “A lot?” she asked as she pulled away. “You better like me a lot after I came all the way here from San Francisco. God, I hate plane rides these days!”
    “Maybe I do like you a lot. I don’t see you saying too much. Not a lot of reciprocation going on here.”
    She grabbed me again and kissed me harder. She pressed into me and then Jamilla slid her tongue into my mouth. I liked that — a lot. I was starting to respond in kind, which probably wasn’t a fantastic idea in the kitchen.
    “Get a room,” said a voice behind us.
    Nana was there, but she was laughing. “Let me call in the kids. I want them to see this too,” she said. “Let me get my Instamatic camera.”
    “She’s fooling with us,” I told Jam.
    “I know,” she said.
    “Heck I am,” said Nana. “I’m rooting for Alex to get to third base.” She was cackling like a cartoon crow again.

Chapter 35
    I WOKE UP alone in bed the next morning with the sheets thrown every which way around my body. I was kind of used to the feeling, but I didn’t like it any more than I ever had, especially with Jamilla sleeping just down the hallway in the spare bedroom.
    I lay in bed for a few minutes, thinking about other people who wake up feeling alone, even though some of them share a bed with somebody else. I finally slid into some loose-fitting clothes, then tiptoed down the hall to check on Jamilla.
    I tapped lightly on the door.
    “I’m awake. Come in,” I heard her say. It was a nice sound, her voice — musical, sweet. I pushed against the door, and it opened with a soft whine.
    “Morning, Alex. I slept great,” Jamilla said. She was sitting up in bed, wearing a white T-shirt with SFPD in black printed on it. She started to laugh. “Sexy, huh?”
    “Actually, yeah. Detectives can be sexy. Samuel T. Jackson in
Shaft,
Pam Grier in
Foxy Brown
. Jamilla Hughes in the guest bedroom.”
    She whispered, “Come over here, you. Just for a minute. Come
here,
Alex. That’s an order.”
    I went forward and Jamilla reached out her arms and I slid into them as though I belonged there. Kind of nice. “Where were you when I needed you last night?” I asked her.
    “I was right here in the guest room.” She smiled and winked. “Listen, I don’t want your kids to get the wrong idea either. But . . .”
    I cocked an eyebrow. “But?” I asked. “But what?”
    “Just
but
. I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
    As we were finishing breakfast — in the kitchen, without the cloth napkins — I told Nana and the kids that Jamilla and I were going to tour Washington for the rest of the day. We needed a little time to ourselves. The kids just nodded over their cereal bowls; they’d been expecting as much.
    “I won’t expect you two home for supper, then,” Nana said. “Is that right?”
    “That’s right,” I said. “We’ll catch a meal in town.”
    “Uh-huh,” Nana said.
    “Uh-huh,” said the kids.
    I drove about four miles from the house on Fifth. I pulled up to 2020 O Street and stopped the car. Some people might have trouble finding the place, or even any information about the Mansion on O Street. There’s no sign hanging outside, no indication that it isn’t a private residence. Most guests come to the Mansion by word of mouth. I happen to know the owner through friends at Kinkead’s restaurant in Foggy Bottom.
    Jamilla and I went inside, where I registered, and then we were brought upstairs to the Log Cabin Room. Along the way, just about every surface, corner, cranny, and crevice was filled with antique puppets, lithographs, jewelry in glass cases. We took it all in. Silently.
    A strange thing happened to me on our way upstairs. I had the thought
Here I go again
. It almost caused me to stop walking and head back to the car. But something inside told me not to give up, not to shut feelings out, to put my trust in Jamilla.
    Neither of us said a word until the bellman was gone.

Chapter 36
    “WOW, I COULD get used to this in a hurry,” Jamilla whispered when we were alone in the room. “Let’s explore this place. It’s beautiful, perfect, Alex.