Inherit the Dead

young and beautiful,” she told him.
    “Did you hear me? I’m afraid she may be a victim, that she may be in trouble, that . . . ”
    She paused for a minute, drawing back. A look of real concern tugged at her features.
    “Dead?” she whispered.
    “I don’t know and won’t—not until I’ve searched everywhere.” Perry tried not to think it. He tightened his grip on Lilith’s thin waist.
    “Young and beautiful means men,” Lilith told him.
    “A particular man?” he asked.
    Spinning in his arms, Lilith came to a dramatic pause with her back against him. His chin rested on her head. She inhaled, waiting for the next count of music, and when it came seemed to move again with regret.
    “She could have her pick of men,” Lilith said.
    “But was there one special man?” he asked. To his amazement, he was getting the hang of it. They weren’t going to be calling from Dancing with the Stars anytime too soon, but he could at least move as she wanted and concentrate on his questions at the same time.
    “So, she was seeing many men?”
    “She went through men with total disdain and absolute ease,” Lilith said. She moved her head close to his in a calculated dance movement. “In fact, quite bluntly, she went through men like toilet paper.”
    “Then, she might have angered someone?” he asked.
    Again, Lilith spun around, stopping right in front of him. “No, not really. They would always drool after her, hoping that she would come back.”
    “What kind of men?” he asked.
    She grinned. “Oh, the very rich kind. Some, mere boys. Most, high-powered. Stockbrokers, doctors, lawyers, an actor or two.” She moved against him, looking up at him. “Most,” she said in a silken whisper, “were a lot like you. Tall, well built . . . muscular.” Her fingers trailed down his arm.
    “Can you give me some names?” he asked, fighting an involuntary chill.
    She stopped moving. The music seemed to go on, out of sync.
    She looked at him hard and seemed to tire of her game. But she was judging him again. And he was grateful to see, she seemed to judge him well.
    “What about you, Perry?” she asked.
    “Pardon?”
    “Let’s see . . . a man like you. Well . . . ”
    “Did Norman Loki call you about me?”
    “No. After you called me, well, forgive me but I googled you and skimmed a few articles. Is that such a bad thing?” She smiled. “I see you made some mistakes in your misspent youth. You lost the woman you loved, did you not? You probably didn’t appreciate her when you had her and now . . . You have a child, yes? You look back at the past, and you believe if you run hard enough, you’ll find a future.”
    “I’ve been bad places,” he told her. “I don’t know where I’m running to now.”
    “You’re honest. I like that.”
    “Will you help me? Is Angel really your friend?”
    She turned away from him and walked back to the table, elegantly picking up her champagne glass and studying its contents, as if it would give her answers.
    “Yes, I really consider Angel a friend,” she said after a moment. She looked his way again. The music ended.
    Outside, the winter wind suddenly seemed to buffet against the glass of the studio windows; a skeletal branch slapped against the wall.
    “Winter,” she said. “So cold and bitter. I like summer much better, you know. Of course, I could spend winter in the city. Or Barbados,” she mused.
    At the moment, Perry wished to hell he was in Barbados, too.
    “Maybe Angel has opted for a warmer climate,” she said.
    “Tell me about Angel’s men, Lilith.”
    “There’s one,” she said.
    “Yes?”
    “I always warned her to be careful,” Lilith said, walking to the window to look out at the cold gray day. “I told her to be careful aboutwhom she was meeting, and that, even if she was just going to be amused and then toss them away, she should make sure others knew about them. Oh, I loved to hear her talk! She would tell me about this one or that one . . . ” She paused, looked at him, and flashed a smile. “It sounded sometimes like we were in a men’s gym room, her language could be so graphic. ‘He has huge feet . . . but never go by that old wives’ tale!’ she told me about Larry, the yacht broker. And ‘Big things come in small packages—sometimes!’ That was in reference to James, the cyber heir her father wanted her to date. Sadly, she said he had the stamina of a dead dog. I warned her . . . so often . . . you must understand.