Kiss the Girls

had been abducted. She had on a black silky blouse, tight black leather slacks, black shoes. She was carrying a briefcase loaded with books and papers.
    “She doesn’t seem to fit his mold, his pattern,” I said to Kate. “She looks in her late thirties.”
    “I know her. I know who she is, Alex,” Kate whispered.
    I looked at her. “Who, for God’s sake, Kate?”
    “She’s a professor in the English Department. Her name is Suzanne Wellsley. Some of the students call her ‘Runaround Sue.’ There’s a joke about Suzanne Wellsley throwing her underwear against the wall, and it sticks.”
    “They could tell the same joke about Dr. Sachs,” I said. He had a nasty reputation as a rake on campus. He’d had the bad rep for years, but no disciplinary action was ever taken. More perfect crimes?
    He and Ms. Suzanne Wellsley kissed in front of the “hunger” billboard. A tongue kiss, I could see as I watched through the binoculars. A very hot embrace, too, with no apparent concern about the public venue.
    I had second thoughts about the “message.” Maybe it was just a coincidence, only I didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. Maybe Suzanne Wellsley was involved with the “house” that Sachs kept. There could be others, too. Maybe this whole thing involved some kind of adult sex cult. I knew they existed; even in our nation’s capital they existed and flourished.
    The two of them walked casually a short way down crowded Franklin Street. In no apparent hurry. They were headed in our direction. Then they at the Varsity Theatre ticket booth. They were holding hands. Cute as could be.
    “Damn him. He
knows
he’s being watched,” I said. “What is his game?”
    “She’s looking this way. Maybe she knows, too. Hello, Suzanne. What the hell are you up to, dragon lady?”
    They bought movie tickets, like any normal couple, and went inside. The theatre marquee advertised “
Roberto Benigni is Johnny Stecchino—riotous comedy.
” I wondered how Sachs could be in the mood for an Italian comedy. Was Casanova that cool? Yes, he probably was. Especially if this was all part of some plan of his.
    “Is the movie marquee a message, too? What is he telling us, Alex?”
    “That this is all a ‘riotous comedy’ for him? It just might be,” I said.
    “He does have a sense of humor, Alex. I can vouch for that. He was capable of laughing at his own bad jokes.”
    I called Kyle Craig from a pay phone in a nearby Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. I told him about the
woman and children are starving
poster. He allowed that it could be a message for us. Anything was possible with Casanova.
    When I came out of the store, Sachs and Suzanne Wellsley were still inside the Varsity Theatre, presumably laughing riotously at the Italian actor Roberto Benigni. Or perhaps Sachs was laughing at us?
Women and children are starving.
    Just past two-thirty, Sachs and Dr. Wellsley came out of the Varsity Theatre. They strolled back to the corner of Franklin and Columbus. The half-block walk seemed to take ten minutes. They ducked inside the ever-popular Spanky’s, where they had a late lunch.
    “Isn’t this sweet. Young love,” Kate said with a hiss in her voice. “Damn him. And damn her, too. Damn Spanky’s for giving them food and grog.”
    They sat near the front window inside the restaurant. On purpose? They held hands at their table and kissed a few times. Casanova the Lover? A lunchtime tryst with another professor? None of it made any sense yet.
    At three-thirty they left Spanky’s restaurant and walked the half-block back to the message board. They kissed again, but this time with more restraint, and finally parted. Sachs drove back to his house in Hope Valley. Wick Sachs was definitely playing with us. His own game, for his own private pleasure.
    Rat and cat.

Chapter 84

    K ATE AND I decided to have a late supper at a place called Frog and the Redneck in downtown Durham. She said we had to have a couple of hours’ break from the action. I knew she was right.
    Kate wanted to go home first, and asked me to call for her in a couple of hours. I wasn’t prepared for the Kate who opened the door of her apartment. It wasn’t Kate’s usual
bas couture
look. She had on a beige linen sheath with a flowered blouse worn as a jacket. Her long brown hair was tied back with a bright yellow scarf.
    “My Sunday-go-to-eatin’ clothes,” Kate said with a conspiratorial wink. “Except I can never afford to go out to eat on my