beginning and start all over again. Glenda was in a great mood because
she had sold a Napoleon III ormolu-mounted black-lacquered cabinet with
Japanned panels and to the same customer, a 19th century Italian
polygonaf, tilt top table with elaborate marquetry inlay. They were
excellent sales-especially considering that she worked on salary against
a commission.
While Hatch looked through the day’s mail, attended to some
correspondence, and examined a pair of 18th century rosewood palace
pedestals with inlaid jade dragons that had arrived from a scout in Hong
Kong, Lindsey helped Glenda and Lew with the dusting. In her new frame
of mind, even that chore was a pleasure. It gave her a chance to
appreciate the details of the antiques-the turn of a linial on a bronze
lamp, the carving on a table leg, the delicately pierced and
hand-finished rims on a set of 18th century English porcelains.
Contemplating the history and cultural meaning of each piece as she
happily dusted it, she realized that her new attitude had a distinctly
Zen quality.
At twilight, sensing the approach of night, Vassago woke and sat up in
the approximation of a grave that was his home. He was filled with a
hunger for death and a need to kill.
The last image he remembered from his dream was of the woman from the
red car. She was not in the car any more, but in a chamber he could not
quite see, standing in front of a Chinese screen, wiping it with a white
cloth. She turned, as if he had spoken to her, and she smiled.
Her smile was so radiant, so full of life, that Vassago wanted to smash
her face in with a hammer, break out her teeth, shatter her jaw bones,
make it impossible for her to smile ever again.
He had dreamed of her two or three times over the past several weeks.
The first time she had been in a wheelchair, weeping and laughing
simultaneously.
Again, he searched his memory, but he could not recall her face among
those he had ever seen outside of dreams. He wondered who she was and
why she visited him when he slept.
Outside, night fell. He sensed it coming down. A great black drape
that gave the world a preview of death at the end of every bright and
shining day.
He dressed and left his hideaway.
By seven o’clock that early-spring night, Lindsey and Hatch were at
Zov’s, a small but busy restaurant in Tustin. The decor was mainly
black and white, with lots of big windows and mirrors. The staff,
unfailingly friendly and efficient, were dressed in black and white to
complement the long room. The food they served was such a perfect
sensual experience that the monochromatic bistro seemed ablaze with
color.
The noise level was congenial rather than annoying. They did not have
to raise their voices to hear each other, and felt as if the background
buzz provided a screen of privacy from nearby tables. Through the first
two coursealamari; black-bean southey spoke of trivial things.
But when the main course was served-swordfish for both of them-Lindsey
could no longer contain herself.
She said, “Okay, all right, we’ve had all day to brood about it. We
haven’t colored each other’s opinions. So what do you think of Regina?”
“What do you think of Regina?”
“You first.” ment were brighter and bolder than things were supposed to
be in real life.
She had hoped for just that reaction from him, but she hadn’t known what
he would say, really hadn’t had a clue, because the meeting had been …
well, one apt word would be “daunting.”
“Oh, God, I love her,” Lindsey said. “She’s so sweet.”
“She’s a tough cookie.”
“That’s an act.”
“She was putting on an act for us, yeah, but she’s tough just the same.
She’s had to be tough. Life didn’t give her a choice.”
“But it’s a good tough.”
“It’s a great tough,” he agreed. “I’m not saying it put me off. I
admired it, I loved her.”
“She’s so bright.”
“Struggling so hard to make herself unappealing,” Hatch said, “and that
only made her more appealing.”
“The poor kid. Afraid of being rejected again, so she took the