She thought about that. “Not without some kind of clear and present danger—documentation of a threat.”
“There was nothing like that in Gavin’s chart. And if she was threatened by anyone, she didn’t let on to me or Milo. We’ve got a meeting with her partners tomorrow.”
“Gull and Larsen.”
“Know them?” I said.
“I’ve said hi to both of them but nothing more.”
“Any impressions?”
“Gull comes across very smooth—very much the Beverly Hills shrink. Larsen’s more the academic type.”
“Gull was Gavin’s initial therapist,” I said. “It didn’t work out, and Gavin was transferred to Koppel. Now that Gavin’s dead, maybe he can tell us why.”
“What a troubled kid,” she said. “The stalking, putting the make on his aunt.”
“If the aunt’s to be believed, the family’s beyond dysfunctional.”
She drank more coffee, took my hand and held it. “At least you and I will never be out of work.”
“Neither will Milo.”
Spike rolled on his back and began pumping his stumpy legs.
“He looks like an upended turtle,” she said. “What are you doing, cutie? Practicing for the upside-down bike race?”
“That’s the signal to scratch his belly,” I said.
She grinned and complied. “Thanks for decoding, I’m not fluent in dog.”
She stopped scratching and made a move for her coffee mug. Spike protested, and she bent down again.
I said, “One-trial learning. Consider yourself conditioned.”
She laughed, took the mug, managed to sip and rub. Spike burped, then purred like a cat. Allison cracked up. “He’s a sound effects machine.”
“He’s got all sorts of talents.”
“How long’s he staying?”
“Couple of days.” I told her about Robin’s call.
“That was very nice of you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I said. “It was supposed to be joint custody, but he voted against it.”
“Well, that was foolish on his part. I’m sure you were a great father.” She sat up and touched my face and ran a finger over my lips.
Spike sprang to his feet and barked.
“Here we go,” I said. To Spike: “Cool it, clown.”
“Ooh, stern,” said Allison. “You do stern pretty well, my love. I’ve never seen it before.”
“He brings it out in me.”
“I always wanted a dog,” she said. “You know my mother. Way too neat for hair on the carpet. And Dad was always away on business. I did have a salamander once. It crawled out of its tank and hid under my bed and dried up. When I found it, it looked like a piece of beef jerky.”
“Poor neglected child,” I said.
“Yes, it was a tragic childhood—though, to be honest, I wasn’t very attached to Sally. Wet and slimy discourages bonding, don’t you think? But something like this.” She rubbed Spike’s head. “This I could see.”
“It gets complicated,” I said.
“How so?”
“I’ll show you.”
I got up, stood behind her, rubbed her neck and kissed it. Waited for Spike to go bonkers.
He stared. Defiant. Did nothing.
Her top was V-necked and I slipped my hand under it. She said, “Umm. As long as I’m here . . .”
“So you didn’t just come to talk about Mary Lou.”
“I did, but so what?” she said. I pinched her nipple lightly, and she leaned back in her chair and sucked in her breath and let it out in a soft laugh. She reached behind and ran her hand along my flank. “You have time?”
I glanced over at Spike. Impassive.
I took Allison by the hand, walked her to the bedroom. Spike trotted ten steps behind us. I closed the door. Silence. Back when it was Robin and me, he’d complained incessantly.
I drew the drapes, undressed Allison, got out of my own clothes. We stood belly to belly, blood rushing, cool flesh warming. I cupped Allison’s rear. Her hands were all over me.
Still no complaints from the other side of the door as I carried her to the bed.
We embraced and touched and kissed and I forgot about anything but Allison.
It wasn’t till I entered her that the scratching and mewling began.
Allison heard it right away. Lying there, her hands on my arms, her legs propped high on my back, she opened her blue eyes wide.