Public Secrets

living. He never looked like her image of a detective. Even now when she could see the weapon snug against his USC T-shirt, she couldn’t quite believe he would ever use it.
“You look tired, Michael.”

“Rough night.” She smiled a little. He could see that she thought he was speaking of a heavy date. There was no use telling her he’d spent most of it dealing with four young bodies. “Emma, have you read the paper today?”
“No.” She had deliberately avoided newspapers and television. The troubles of the world, like the people in it, were on the other side of her glass wall. But she knew he was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. “What is it?” When he took her hand, the anxiety quickened. “Is it Da?”
“No.” He cursed himself for not coming straight out with it. Her hand had turned to ice in his. “It’s Jane Palmer. She’s dead, Emma.”
She stared at him as though he were speaking in a language she had to translate. “Dead? How?”
“It looks like she overdosed.”
“I see.” She withdrew her hand from his, then stared out to sea. The water was pale green near the shore, deepening and changing as it stretched toward the horizon. There it gleamed a deep, gemlike blue. She wondered what it would be like to be that far from everything. To float, completely alone.
“Am I supposed to feel anything?” she murmured.
He knew she wasn’t asking him so much as herself. Still he answered. “You can’t feel what isn’t there.”
“No, you can’t. I never loved her, not even as a child. I used to be ashamed of that. I’m sorry she’d dead, but it’s a vague, impersonal kind of sorrow, the kind you feel when you read in the paper that someone’s died in a car wreck or a fire.”
“Then that’s enough.” He took her braid, a habit he’d developed, and ran his hand up and down it. “Listen, I’ve got to get back, but I should have things wrapped by around seven. Why don’t we take a drive up the coast? You and me and Conroy.”
“I’d like that.” When he stood she reached out a hand for his. The contact was fleeting. Then she turned and looked back out to sea.

D REW ARRIVED AT the Beverly Wilshire just after three. It was the first hotel he checked. It both pleased and disgusted him that Emma was so predictable. It was the Connaught in London, the Ritz in Paris, Little Dix Bay in the Virgin Islands, and always the Wilshire in L.A.

He strolled in, an easy, personable smile on his face. He knew his luck was in when the desk clerk was young, female, and attractive. “Hi.” He flashed the smile at her and watched her polite expression turn to recognition, then delight.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Latimer.”
He put a hand over hers, and lifted the other to place a finger to his lips. “Let’s keep that between us, shall we? I’m joining my wife here, but I’m afraid I’ve been careless and forgotten what room she’s taken.”
“Mrs. Latimer’s staying with us?” The clerk lifted a brow.
“Yes, I had some business to take care of before I joined her. You’ll find her for me, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Her fingers skipped over the keyboard. “I have no Latimer registered.”
“No? Perhaps she checked in under McAvoy.” He held back his impatience while the computer clicked.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Latimer, we have no McAvoys.”
He wanted to grab the clerk by her slender throat and squeeze. With an effort, he fixed a puzzled frown on his face. “That’s odd. I’m almost sure I haven’t mixed the hotels. Emma wouldn’t stay anywhere but the Wilshire.” His mind jumped from possibility to possibility. Then he smiled. “Ah, of course. I don’t know how I could be so addle-brained. She stayed here with a friend for a bit, probably kept the room in her name. You know how it is when you’re trying to slip away for a few days. Try Marianne Carter. It’s more than likely on the third floor. Emma’s twitchy about heights.”
“Yes, here it is. Suite 305.”
“That’s a relief.” Behind his smile, his teeth ground together. “I’d hate to think I’d lose my wife.” He waited for the key, struggling to keep his breathing calm and steady. “You’ve been a big help, luv.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Latimer.”
Oh no, he thought as he headed for the elevators, it was going to be his pleasure. His great pleasure.
He wasn’t disappointed that the suite was empty. In fact, he decided it was that much better. From his bag, he took a small tape