BLACK NOTICE. PATRICIA CORNWELL

When he first realized she didn’t fall in love with men, he had been the consummate bigot, probably because he feared his influence had fallen short of what, by his standard, mattered most. He may even have wondered if he were somehow to blame. That was many years ago. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a narrowminded comment about her sexual orientation.

“But you work around death every day,” Jo gently persisted. “Aren’t you reminded . . . of what happened, when you see it happen to someone else? I don’t mean to, well, I just don’t want to be so afraid of death.”

“I don’t have a magic formula,” I said, getting up. “Except you learn not to think too much.”

The pizza was bubbling and I worked a big spatula under it.

“That smells good,” Marino said with a worried ‘look. “You think it’s gonna be enough?”

I made a second, then a third one, and I built a fire and we sat before it with the lights out in the great groom. Marino stuck with beer. Lucy, Jo and I sipped a white burgundy that was crisp and clean.

“Maybe you should. find somebody,” Lucy said, the light and shadow of flames dancing on her face.

“Shit!” Marino erupted. “What is this all of a sudden? The Dating Game? Maybe if she wants to tell you personal stuff like that, she will. You shouldn’t be asking. It ain’t nice.”

“Life isn’t nice,” Lucy said. “And why should ;you care if she plays The Dating Game?”

Jo silently stared into the fire. I was getting fed up. I was beginning to wonder if I might have been better off staying alone tonight. Even Benton hadn’t always been right.

“Remember when Doris left you?” Lucy went on.

“What if people hadn’t asked you about it? What if no one had cared what you did next or if you were holding yourself together? You sure wouldn’t have volunteered anything. Same goes for the idiots you’ve gone out with since. Every time one of them didn’t work out, your friends had to jump in again and pry things out of you.”

Marino set the empty beer bottle on the hearth so hard I thought he might break the slate.

“Maybe you ought to think about growing up one of these days,” he said. “You gonna wait until you’re thirty before you stop being such a goddamn, stuck-up brat? I’m getting another beer.”

He stalked out of the room.

“And let me tell you another thing,” Marino threw back at her, “just because you fly helicopters and program computers and bodybuild and do all the other friggin’ shit you do doesn’t mean you’re better than me!”

“I’ve never said I was better than you!” Lucy yelled after him.

“The hell you haven’t!” His voice carried from the` kitchen.

“The difference between you and me is I do what I want in life,” she called out. “I don’t accept limitations.”

“You’re so full of shit, Agent Asshole.”

“Ah, now we’re getting to the root of the matter,” Lucy said as he reappeared, gulping beer. “I’m a federal agent fighting big bad crime on big bad streets of the world. And you’re in uniform riding around baby-sitting cops at all hours of the night.”

“And you like guns because you wish you had a dick!”

“So I can be what? A tripod?”

“That’s it,” I exclaimed. “Enough! The two of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Doing this . . . of all times . . .”

My voice splintered and tears stung my eyes. I was determined I wouldn’t lose control again, and I was horrified that I no longer seemed able to help it. I looked away

from them. Silence was heavy, the fire popping. Marino got up and opened the screen. He stirred embers with the poker and tossed on another log.

“I hate Christmas,” Lucy said.

9

he next morning, Lucy and Jo had an early flight and I could not bear the emptiness that would return with the shutting door. So I went out with them, briefcase in hand. I knew this day was going to be awful.

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