THE COVE. Catherine Coulter

She raised her head. She wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. She was feeling just fine, thank you.

Ms. Lilly grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “There you go. Fuzz, get Sally some more of that wonderful white wine you’ve got stashed.”

“Yes, it was Beadermeyer with two goons and a needle. I think the needle’s still over there on the floor. I managed to knock it away.”

Marvin gave her an approving nod. “I knew you were skinny but not helpless. That was good, Chicky.”

“Thank you, Marvin. Thank all of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ms. Lilly said. She turned and shouted, “Okay, everyone back to their tables. Everything’s okay now. This will teach any of you who want to screw around with Marvin that it isn’t smart. They beat the shit out of the guys who were trying to mug Sally. It’s all over now.

“Quinlan, get your very nice butt back up there on the stage and play me my Dexter Gordon. What do you think I pay you for anyway?”

“My music,” James said. “Sally, I want you right next to the stage, all right?” But before he left, he picked up the needle, wrapped it in a napkin, and put it in his shirt pocket.

“I want to know what the bastard was going to give you. We’ll take this to the FBI lab tomorrow. Come on, Sally.”

“I’ll bring the wine,” Fuzz said.

He paced from one end of the living room to the other, back and forth. Dillon was sitting comfortably in a big overstuffed chair, hunched over the keyboard of his laptop, a Gateway 486SX Nomad called “MAX.”

Sally wasn’t doing anything except watching James. “I guess I’ve had enough,” she said finally.

Both men looked at her.

She smiled. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I want to get it over with tonight. Let’s go see my mother. She knows what happened that night my father was murdered. At least she knows a lot more than she’s told you or the police or me. I’d like to know the truth.”

“Better yet,” Dillon said, looking back down at his computer screen, “let’s get all three of them together- your mother, your husband, and Doctor Beadermeyer. You think the time is right, Quinlan?”

“I don’t know,” Quinlan said. “Maybe it’s too soon.” He gave Sally a worried look. “You really sure about this, Sally?”

She looked strong, her thin shoulders back, those soft blue eyes of hers hard and steady. She looked ready to take on the bear. “I’m sure.”

It was all he needed. Yeah, it was time to find out the truth. He nodded.

“Maybe they’ll be tired,” Dillon said. “Hot damn. Finally I’ve found it.” He gave them a big grin. “I’m good,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Real good.”

“What are you talking about?” Quinlan said, striding over to Dillon. He leaned down to look at the screen.

“Everything we ever wanted to know about Doctor Alfred Beadermeyer. His real name is Norman Lipsy and he’s Canadian. He did go to medical-McGill in Montreal.

“My, my, he has a specialty in plastic surgery. And there’s lots more. Sorry it took me so long. 1 just never considered that he’d be Canadian, not with a name like Beadermeyer. I wasn’t getting into the right databases.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I found him on a cosmetic surgeons roster, along with a photo. Said he graduated from McGill.”

“This is incredible,” Quinlan said. “Excellent, Dillon.”

“Bet your ass. Now, before we’re off, let me try just a couple more things on Scott Brainerd. Where’d he get his law degree, Sally?”

“Harvard.”

“Yeah, it does show him graduating Harvard in 1985 with honors. Too bad. I was hoping maybe he’d lied about that.”

Quinlan said, “You’re still sure, Sally? You ready to see Scott? Beadermeyer? After what he tried tonight? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. No more. It’s crazy. It’s got to end. If I killed my father, I want to know. If Noelle or someone else did, then let’s find out. I won’t fall apart, James. I can’t stand this fuzziness anymore, this constant mess of blurred images, the voices that are all melting together.”

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