Laura looked longingly at Rick’s Champagne flute. The first sip of her martini had almost gagged her. Like straight gin. Awful. She’d never had one before and never would again. How did they ever become popular?
But she’d be damned if she’d let Paulette know.
Sophisticated palate, my gold-plated patootie.
She choked down another sip and said, “So tell me about Keith.”
Paulette sighed. “My dear, beautiful, brilliant boy. A mother’s dream. Never an ounce of trouble.” She cocked her head at Rick. “Unlike this one, who was nothing but trouble.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Tell the truth: In your search for this medication, did he make any indecent proposals?”
Was she really asking this? Right in front of Rick? She wanted to say, I wish, but she’d only just met the woman.
“Never. He has always been a perfect gentleman.”
Unfazed, Rick waved his empty Champagne flute. “The CIA had mandatory etiquette classes. I got all A’s.”
Paulette kept her gaze trained on Laura as Lena appeared and refilled his glass from a bottle painted with flowers.
“The reason I ask is because before he left to join that gang of thugs, he ran through a slew of girlfriends. Their fathers hated him. No respect for their rules. He’d keep them out till all hours and bring them home any damn time he pleased. The complaints I heard!”
Laura wanted to drive her point home. “Perfect. Gentleman. At least in my experience. In fact, he even saved my life at one point.”
Paulette straightened in her chair. “Really? How—?”
Rick jumped in. “I believe the subject is Keith?”
Laura knew he hated to be the topic of conversation. Not one of those people who went on about themselves. Apparently he liked it even less when someone else was talking about him.
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Paulette. “My dear Keith. Did you discover anything at his apartment?”
Rick pulled the folded photo from his jacket pocket. “We found this on his printer’s hard drive. That’s Mozi, I suppose?”
Paulette took a quick glance, then handed it back. “Yes, that’s the horrid little creature.”
Laura asked, “Did he ever say how it died?”
She shook her head. “No. He seemed barely capable of speech when he arrived with its ashes.”
“Laura also found some DVDs,” Rick said. “Recordings of TV shows.”
Paulette was nodding. “His publisher arranged a lot of interviews when the book was released. I caught most of them. Did you happen to notice one from The Anthony Akins Show?”
Laura pictured the array of disks … “I believe I did.”
“I missed that one. Would you mind terribly if we played it?”
“Of course not.” Laura was planning to watch them anyway. Why not start here? “They’re in Rick’s truck…”
“I’ll get it,” he said, hopping out of his seat.
When he was gone, Laura found herself again under the scrutiny of Paulette’s hazel gaze.
“You appear to be an intelligent, accomplished woman. How you must have struggled to get where you are.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always had good study habits.”
“I meant all the gender prejudice.”
“You mean glass ceilings and all that?”
“Yes. No matter what they say and what laws they pass, it’s still a man’s world.”
No argument there, but … “Well, my boss, Doctor Henniger, the chief medical examiner, is a woman.”
And can be a real bitch at times. The sociologists didn’t realize that certain women could be worse than men in keeping their own gender down. Once someone like Susan Henniger reached the upper echelons, she didn’t want competition from anyone.
“But you must have encountered … prejudice.”
She means because of my Hispanic coloring and features?
“Nothing overt. I mean, half my fellow students at Stritch were female, with a lot of minorities. But what gets to you are the unconscious attitudes—like being constantly underestimated.”
Being underestimated … that was the most insidious. During her training she tolerated the older docs calling her “dear” and “honey,” but being underestimated was the hardest to fight.
“Well, be that as it may, why on Earth is someone like you involved with Garrick?”
“We’re not ‘involved.’ We’re … we’re coworkers who’ve become friends.”
“That’s all? I sense a bond between you.”
A bond? Laura thought. Yes, she supposed there was.
“Well, we shared some stressful experiences.”
“Stressful” barely touched it. They’d walked through fire together and made it to the other side. Two people couldn’t do that without forging some kind of bond.
“You’re sure there’s nothing more?”
Well, there was that time in the Orkney Islands when we were on the verge of tumbling into bed.
“Absolutely.”
Though sometimes I wish …
“Well, there will be.”
Laura shook her head, baffled. “Why are you so insistent—?”
“I see the way he looks at you. I don’t recall ever seeing him look at a woman that way before.”
Did this woman ever hold anything back?
Rick returned then, holding up a disk. “Got it.”
But Paulette’s words stuck with her: I don’t recall ever seeing him look at a woman that way before … Laura wasn’t sure what that meant, but she liked the sound of it.
“Before we watch,” Paulette said, “I’ve had Lena set out a selection of cheeses along with some Château d’Yquem.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Laura said, and meant it.
“It’s for my benefit as well. I rarely eat full meals these days. I prefer to graze. And besides, I have a charity function I must attend later.”
“What’s the cause?” Laura said, just to be polite.
Paulette waved her hand. “Some -itis or dystrophy. I’ve forgotten.”
“Probably ‘Save the Beluga Caviar Sturgeon,’” Rick muttered as he surveyed the table.
Laura realized she was hungry and was impressed with the variety: Brie, Camembert, Gouda, Dorblu, Edam, Gruyère, Roquefort.
But apparently Rick couldn’t resist a dig.
“What? No pâté?”
Paulette gave him an icy look. “You know very well the barbaric torture ducks and geese must suffer to make their livers suitable for pâté.”
“You used to serve it all the time when we were kids. That’s how I acquired a taste for it.”
She looked embarrassed. “I’ve evolved.”
“Guess you have.” He made a show of inspecting the table. “So, no veal then?”
She walked away, saying, “You are insufferable.”
Laura gave him a reproving look. “Maybe you should lighten up. Just a little?”
He sighed. “You’re right. It’s just that her outrage buttons are so big and fat and tempting.”
“Which means she’s too easy. You need a worthier opponent.”
“You’re on her side?”
“I always tend to side with the underdog, and you definitely outgun her.”
“Oh, I don’t know about—”
She leaned closer. “Look, what can she say that’ll penetrate your defenses? Nothing. While she’s basically a collection of trendy outrages waiting to be triggered.”
His expression said he knew she was right.
She nudged him. “Let’s grab some cheese and go watch your brother.”