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"Yeah, well, I'm trying to buy up every deck of Old Maid in the toy stores
around town. You're wearing that logo like it's embedded in your forehead. You
don't even look upset about it."
"I actually feel kind of relieved," I said, as Adolfo replaced the empty soup
bowl with our entrées. My relationship with television newsman Jake Tyler had
ended abruptly last October, after a long period during which I could feel our
emotions unraveling and tangling both of us in their debris.
"First-class jerk if you ask me. Shit, I would have married you just for the
house on the Vineyard."
"You still can," I said, reaching to refill my wineglass.
"Too much angst, Coop. You and me? You'd probably cut off my balls the first
time I rolled over in bed and closed my eyes. It's bad enough you're always
telling me what to do on the job. Think what would happen the first time you
tried that between the sheets. Talk about murder."
I had grown up in a loving family, too, but came to public service from a
completely different direction. My two older brothers and I were young kids
when my father, Benjamin Cooper, revolutionized the field of cardiology with
an invention that he and his partner created for use in surgical procedures.
The small piece of plastic tubing known as the Cooper-Hoffman valve remained
an essential component in every operation done in this country for the fifteen
years thereafter.
The trust fund that my father established for each of us was a cushion while
he encouraged us to find ways to give back to society by working in the public
sector. My schooling in Westchester was followed by a degree from Wellesley
College, and then law school at the University of Virginia. It was in
Charlottesville that I fell in love with Adam Nyman, the young physician who
was killed in an automobile accident as he drove to the Vineyard to be married
at the beautiful old farmhouse we had bought together.
"It's odd sometimes. So many of my pals saw that it wasn't going to work with
Jake before I did."
Nina Baum, my college roommate and closest friend, had been the first to tell
me to step back. There had been a point early on when I was certain enough of
my love for Jake that I had moved into his apartment so we could try living
together.
"Hard to miss the clues, kid. He just wasn't there when you needed him."
"Or when you thought I needed him."
Mike was devouring the chop while I pushed the risotto around my plate. "Eat
up before I start on your meal," he said, pointing his fork at my food.
"Mercer and I have it all figured out. What you need is a nice brainiac kind
of guy who has a solid nine-to-five job, with no emergencies, no summit
meetings in Asia to cover."
Jake had been a reporter for network news. He spent more time on airplanes
than I did at crime scenes. "It's not just the travel-"
"Whoa, I'm not done. He's got to have a lot of self-confidence and-"
"I can wait till you stop eating."
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"See what I mean? What you really wanted to say right now was to tell me not
to talk until I'm finished chewing, right? You just can't help yourself, can
you? Most important, this guy should be mute."
"'Cause you think I don't let him get to say what he wants?"
"No, 'cause I think the urge to tell you to shut up would be powerful."
"What to know something interesting?" I asked.
"Don't change the subject. You don't think that's going to stop me from
starting a search committee to find a mate for you? Otherwise you'll take out
all your frustration on Mercer and me."
"I'm not the least bit frustrated at the moment. I've just been thinking
about this. Tonight was the second time I've actually been in a room that
Edgar Allan Poe lived in."
"Body or no body?"
"Guess we have to go back and check under the floorboards. He spent a year at
the University of Virginia, 1826. I think it was only the second year
Jefferson's school had been open. Poe lived on the west range of the Lawn. The
room's been restored to look like it did when he was there: fireplace, small
bed, chair, and desk. Number thirteen."
"Superstitious? Wouldn't have worked for me to live there."
Giuliano came over to the table and pulled out a chair to sit with us. "I was
just in my office, watching the late news. So this guy, this Silk Stocking
guy. This is your case, Alexandra?"
"Yes, he is. Again."
"I know you're going to think this is crazy, but I swear to you: that sketch
they just showed on television? That man was in here a couple nights ago. He
was right over there at the bar, drinking with a group of guys for an hour or
two. I swear it was your rapist."
7
"That's just a sketch they showed on the news, Giuliano. It's not a
photograph."
"I know that. But he's got an unusual face, no?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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