K Is for Killer

some flowers'f I knew. Someone told me her jaw's broke. Probably some coked-up lunatic."
    "Skip the flowers. We're not giving out information. Doctor's orders," Cheney said.
    "Pretty smart. I was going to suggest that myself. Keeps her safe from the wrong types."
    I said, "Too late for that," but the irony escaped him.
    Once we reached the street in front of St. Terry's, we did a parting round of handshakes as though we'd just had a business meeting. The minute Lester's back was turned, I wiped my hand on my jeans. Cheney and I waited on the sidewalk until we saw him drive away.

Chapter 17
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    It was close to four in the morning as Cheney's little red Mazda droned through the darkened streets. With the top down, the wind whipped across my face. I leaned my head back and watched the sky race by. On the mountain side of the city, the shadowy foothills were strung with necklaces of streetlights as twinkling as bulbs on a Christmas tree. In the houses we passed, I could see an occasional house light wink on as early morning workers plugged in the coffee and staggered to the shower.
    "Too cold for you?"
    "This is fine," I said. "Lester seemed to know a lot about Danielle's beating. You think he did it?"
    "Not if he wanted her to work," Cheney said.
    The sky at that hour is a plain, unbroken gray shading down to the black of trees. Dew saturates the grass. Sometimes you can hear the spritzing of the rainbirds, computers programmed to water lawns before the sun has fully risen. If the cycle of low rainfall persisted as it had in the past, water usage would be restricted and all the lush grass would die. During the last drought, many home owners had been reduced to spraying their yards with dense green paint.
    On Cabana Boulevard, a kid on a skateboard careened along the darkened sidewalk. It occurred to me that I'd been waiting to see the Juggler, the man on the bike, with his taillight and pumping feet. He was beginning to represent some capricious force at work, elfin and evil, some figment of my imagination dancing along ahead of me like the answer to a riddle. Wherever I went, he'd eventually appear, always headed somewhere in a hurry, never quite arriving at his destination.
    Cheney had slowed, leaning forward to check the skateboarder as we passed him. Cheney raised a hand in greeting, and the kid waved back.
    "Who's that?" I asked.
    "Works night maintenance at a convalescent home. He had his driver's license pulled on a DUI. Actually, he's a good kid," he said. Moments later he turned into Danielle's alley, where my car was still parked. He pulled in behind the VW, shifting into neutral to minimize the rumble of his engine. "How's your day looking? Will you have time to sleep?"
    "I hope so. I'm really bushed," I said. "Are you going to work?"
    "I'm going home to bed. For a couple of hours, at any rate. I'll give you a call later. If you're up for it, we can get a bite to eat someplace."
    "Let me see how my day shapes up. If I'm not in, leave a number. I'll get back to you."
    "You going into the office?"
    "Actually, I thought I'd go over to Danielle's and clean. Last I saw, the place was covered with blood."
    "You don't have to do that. The landlord said he'd have a crew come in first thing next week. He can't get 'em till Monday, but it's better than you doing it."
    "I don't mind. I'd like to do something for her. Maybe pick up her robe and slippers and take 'em over to St. Terry's."
    "Up to you," he said. "I'll watch 'til you take off. Make sure your car starts and the boogeyman don't get you."
    I opened the car door and got out, reaching down for my handbag. "Thanks for the ride and for everything else. I mean that."
    "You're welcome."
    I slammed the door, moving over to my car while Cheney hovered like a guardian angel. The VW started without a murmur. I waved to demonstrate that everything was okay, but he wasn't ready to let go. He followed me home, the two of us winding up and down the darkened streets. For once, I found a parking space right in front of my place. At that point he seemed to feel I was safe. He shifted into first and took off.
    I locked the car, went through the gate, and walked around to the back, where I unlocked my front door and let myself in. I scooped up the mail that had been shoved through the slot, flipped a light on, set my bag down, and locked the front door behind me. I started peeling off my clothes as I climbed the spiral stairs, littering the floor with discarded articles of