JONATHAN KELLERMAN. A COLD HEART

“So we’re talking two possibilities,” said Milo. “A rescue fantasy turned on its head or pathological jealousy.”

“Or both,” I said. “Or, I’m dead wrong.”

Petra laughed. “Don’t say that up on the witness stand, Doctor.” She picked up a piece of wafer bread, cracked a corner between sharp, white teeth, chewed slowly. “Yuri Drummond went on about his zine capturing the essence of art. When he started nagging me for the gories, it could’ve been revisiting the scene—psychologically.”

“Ego trip,” said Milo. “Like arsonists standing around watching the flames.”

“Did Drummond write the story on Baby Boy?” I said.

“I think he told me a writer did,” said Petra. “All I copied down was the guy’s name. At the time it seemed irrelevant.” She placed her napkin on the table. “Time to check the guy out, earn my salary. This was good, Milo. Let me split the check with you.”

“Forget it. I run a tab here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m a rajah,” he said. “Go detect. Stay in touch.”

Petra touched Milo’s shoulder briefly, favored me with a smile, turned and headed for the door.

Stahl got up and followed her out. During the entire discussion, he hadn’t said a word.

18

The silent type. Some women thought they liked that.

Petra had thought she liked it. But working with Stahl was proving to be a trying experience.

The guy never spoke unless spoken to, and even then, he drew upon his verbal bank account one scroogy syllable at a time.

Now here they were, driving away from the meeting with Milo and Alex, when there should’ve been animated discussion. Stahl just stared out the passenger window, inert as dirt.

What? Looking for another stolen car? He’d spotted two GTAs in one week, and the second had contained a passenger with a felony manslaughter warrant, so brownie points for the two of them. But if that’s what floated Stahl’s dinghy, he should’ve asked for an assignment to Auto Theft.

Why he’d chosen Homicide puzzled her. Why he’d given up the security of an Army gig for the streets was an even bigger question mark.

She’d hazarded a few polite questions. Every attempt to crack the shell revealed a granite egg.

Not that old Eric was any big old stoic macho man with obvious dominance needs or glory lust. On the contrary, he’d made it clear, right from the beginning, that Petra was the senior partner.

And unlike most men, he knew how to apologize. Even when it wasn’t necessary.

Two days into their partnership, Petra had arrived early and found Stahl at his desk, reading a folded newspaper and sipping herbal tea—that was another thing, he didn’t drink coffee, and if anything contravened the detective code of ethics, it was caffeine phobia.

When he saw her he looked up and Petra sensed unease—the merest hint of restlessness—in his flat, brown eyes.

“Evening, Eric.”

“This wasn’t my idea,” he said, handing her the paper. A two-paragraph article toward the back had been circled in black marker.

Summary of the Armenian gang killing. Her name in print, as the investigator. Along with Stahl’s.

The case had been wrapped up well before Stahl’s arrival. Someone—maybe a departmental PR doofus, or even Schoelkopf digging at Petra intentionally—had doled out cocredit.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Petra.

“I don’t like it,” said Stahl.

“Don’t like what?”

“It was your case.”

“I don’t care, Eric.”

“I thought I’d call the Times.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Stahl stared at her. “Okay,” he said, finally. “I wanted to clarify.”

“You have.”

He returned to his tea.

A mile before the Hollywood station, Petra said, “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Dr. Delaware’s theory.”

“You know him,” said Stahl. A statement, not a question.

“If you’re asking whether he’s good, he is. I’ve worked with him and Milo before. Milo’s the best—top solve-rate in West L.A., maybe the department.”

Stahl tapped his knee.

“He’s gay,” said Petra.

No answer.

“Delaware’s smart,” she said. “Brilliant. I usually don’t have much faith in shrinks, but he’s come through.”

“Then I like his theory,” said Stahl.

“So what next? Check out comics stores for GrooveRat or try to find it with phone work?”

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