N Is for Noose

pretending not to notice me. Margaret's husband, Hatch.
    "You know what you want?" Rafer asked. "I do the works myself. I keep trying to reform, but I can't resist."
    "I'm with you," I said. "Your daughter's name is Barrett?"
    "That was Vick's idea. I'm not sure where she got it, but it seems to fit. The job is temporary, by the way. She's applied to med school. She wants to be a shrink. This allows her to live at home and save her money 'til she goes."
    "Where'd she do her undergraduate work? U.C.L.A.
    "Where else?" he said, smiling. "What about you?"
    "I hated school," I said. "I made it through high school by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin, but that's as far as I went. Well, I guess I did three semesters of junior college, but I hated that, too."
    "How so? You seem smart."
    "I'm too rebellious," I said. "I graduated from police academy, but that was more like boot camp than academia."
    "You're a cop?"
    "I was. I was rebellious about that, too."
    Nancy appeared with a coffee pot in hand. She was in her forties, hair pulled back in a smooth chignon over which she wore a net. She had large brown eyes, a beauty mark high on her right cheek, and the sort of body men seem to have trouble keeping their hands off. She wore a T-shirt, generously cut slacks, and brown oxfords with an inch-thick crepe sole. "You're out early," she remarked to Rafer. We both pushed our mugs in her direction and she filled them.
    "You met Kinsey?"
    "Not formally, but I know who she is. I'm Nancy. You talked to Alice about me."
    "How are you," I said. "I'd shake hands if I could."
    "Yeah, I heard about that. Cecilia stopped by when we were opening the place. She says you took quite a hit. I can see your jaw turning blue."
    I put a hand to the place. "I keep forgetting about that. It must look terrific."
    "Gives you character," she said. She glanced at Rafer. "What's for breakfast?"
    He looked back at the menu. "Well, let's see. I'm trying to keep my cholesterol up so I think I'll have the blueberry pancakes, sausage, couple of scrambled eggs, and coffee."
    "Make that two," I said.
    "You want orange juice?"
    "Oh sure. What the heck?" he said.
    "Back in a flash," she said.
    I saw Rafer's gaze flicker to the window. "Excuse me. I see Alex. I'll take him on back to the cabin and get him started."
    I had to use two hands to hold my coffee mug, given that three fingers on my right hand were taped together like an oven mitt. The doctor had told me I could remove the tape after a day or two, as long as it felt comfortable. He'd given me four painkillers, neatly sealed in a small white envelope. I remembered a similar envelope from my childhood church-going days, when my nickel or dime offering was placed in the collection plate. The plate itself was wood, passed from hand to hand until it reached an usher at,the end of the pew. I'd been kicked out of any number of Sunday school classes for reasons I've repressed, but my Aunt Gin, feeling huffy on my behalf, decided I was entitled to go to proper church services. I suppose her intention was to expose me to spiritual admonition. Mostly what I learned was how hard it is to do an accurate visual count of organ pipes.
    I glanced out the window, watching Rafer cross the parking pad, heading toward the cabin in the company of a young man carrying a black case, like a doctor's bag. I took a physical inventory, noting the sore ribs on my right side. I didn't think my jaw was swollen, but it was clearly bruised. No teeth missing or loose. I could feel a knot on my butt the size of a silver dollar and I knew from experience it would itch like a son of a bitch for weeks on end.
    "Miss Millhone, can I talk to you?"
    I looked up. James Tennyson was standing at the table in his tan CHP uniform, complete with all its creaking paraphernalia: nightstick, flashlight, keys, holster, gun, bullets.
    "Sure. Have a seat."
    He put a hand against his holster, securing his gun as he slid into the booth. I thought he was ill at ease, but I didn't know him well enough to be certain. "I saw Rafer step away from the table and figured you might have a few minutes."
    "This is fine. Nice to see you. You got your flashlight back?"
    "Yes ma'am. I appreciate your returning it. Jo found it inside the storm door when she went out to get the paper." He pointed at my hand. "I just heard about the fellow coming after you last night. You all right?"
    "More or less."
    "He meant business."
    "I'll survive," I said.
    "The reason I came over… I