him; whether his life was destined to become far more complicated than
he ever intended. He grabbed the phone and dialed.
Four rings and he heard the voice. It had an edge that he didn’t
remember, or maybe it was new. The beep came and he started to leave a
message, something funny, right out of the blue, but then right on cue
he got nervous and quickly hung up, his hands shaking, his breathing
accelerated. He shook his head. Jesus Christ! He had done five murder
one cases and he was shaking like a goddamned sixteen-year-old sucking
up the courage to call his first date.
Jack put the picture away and imagined what Kate was doing right that
very minute. Probably still in her office pondering over how many years
to take off somebody’s life.
Then Jack wondered about Luther. Was he at this very minute on the wrong
side of someone’s doorstep? or leaving with another bundle of financial
joy slung over his back?
What a family, Luther and Kate Whitney. So different and so much the
same. As focused a pair as he had ever encountered, but their respective
focuses occupied different galaxies. That last night, after Kate had
walked out of his life, he had gone around to Luther’s to say good-bye
and to drink a last beer. They had sat in the small well-tended garden,
watching the clematis and ivy cling to the fence; the scent of lilacs
and roses lay thick like a net over them, The old man had taken it all
right, asked few questions, and wished Jack well. Some things did not
work out; Luther understood that as well as anyone. But as Jack left
that night he had noticed the glistening in the old man’s eyes-and then
the door closed on that part of his life.
Jack finally put out the light and closed his eyes with the knowledge
that another tomorrow was close upon him. His pot of gold, his
once-in-a-lifetime payoff, was one day closer to reality. It did not
make for easy sleep.
CHAPTERTHREE
As LUTHER STARED THROUGH THE GLASS, THE THOUGHT struck him that the two
made a very attractive couple. It was an absurd Opinion to have under
the circumstances, but that didn’t make the conclusion any less valid.
The man was tall, handsome, a very distinguished mid-forties. The woman
could not have ventured far into her twenties; the hair was M and
golden, the face oval and lovely, with a pair of enormous deep blue eyes
that now looked up lovingly into the man’s elegant countenance. He
touched her smooth cheek; she nestled her lips against his hand.
The man had two tumblers and filled them with the contents of the bottle
he had brought with him. He handed the Woman one. After a clink of
glasses, their eyes firmly set on each other, he finished his drink in
one swallow while she only managed a small sip of hers. Glasses put
down, they embraced in the middle of the room. His hands slid down her
backside and then back up to the bare shoulders.
Her arms and shoulders were tanned and well-toned. He grasped her limbs
admiringly as he leaned down to kiss her neck.
Luther averted his eyes, embarrassed to be viewing this very personal
encounter. A strange emotion to have when he was still clearly in danger
of being caught. But he was not so old that he could not appreciate the
tenderness, -the passion that was slowly unfolding in front of him.
As he raised his eyes up, he had to smile. The couple was now engaged in
a slow dance around the room. The man was obviously well-practiced at
the endeavor; his partner was less so, but he gently led her through the
simple paces until they again ended up beside the bed.
The man paused to fill his glass again and then quickly drained it. The
bottle was now empty. As his arms encircled her once more, she leaned
into him, pulled at his coat, started to undo his tie. The man’s hands
drifted to the zipper of her dress and slowly headed south. The black
dress slid down’ and she slowly stepped out of it, revealing black