“And…?” Marie-Justine said. “Dr. Kimba?” She touched his shoulder.
“What? I’m sorry, my dear. What were we talking about?”
“You were listing the reasons why the university board should approve Dean Hawkins’ proposal to establish a criminology degree within his department. Then you started to say something about the role of psychology, and you just stopped midsentence and slowed the car to a crawl.”
“I must call Mr. Nicoletti in the morning.” He pulled the Volvo to the curb in front of the yellow-and-white cottage and turned off the engine.
“You said that earlier, and I told you I am taking him on a hike early tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course you did. When do you think you will be back?”
“Early afternoon. We could stop at your house on our way back to his hotel.”
“No.” His voice was forceful. Then softer, with more control, he continued, “No. I will leave a message for him, and he can call me whenever you get back. If not, I will speak to him after his lecture Monday morning.” He smiled, trying to remove any hint of urgency in his voice. “Didn’t you turn on the porch light when we left?”
“It must have burned out.”
“I’ll walk you in.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I insist, my dear.” He tried to keep his voice as calm and natural as he could. He waited a moment after Marie-Justine closed the car door and the dome light went out. He reached into the glove compartment, removed a two-shot derringer, and slid it into his jacket pocket.
Once inside, Marie-Justine tried to relax her muscles that had tensed as she approached the darkened porch of the house. Everything appeared to be as she had left it.
“Would you like something to drink? Maybe some coffee?” She took the scarf from her neck and laid it on the back of the desk chair.
Dr. Kimba did not answer. He walked ahead of her into the kitchen, keeping his right hand in his jacket pocket. “May I use your bathroom?”
“Of course, but you’ll have to excuse any mess you find.” She turned on the kitchen faucet and filled a glass with water. “Would you like something to drink?”
Again he did not answer. She walked into the bedroom and turned on the light. She took a long sip of the cool water, then placed the glass on the nightstand. The folding door to her closet was partially opened. She reached out to close it but quickly withdrew her arm as if recoiling from the sudden snarl of an animal once thought to be harmless. She felt someone standing behind her. She froze, afraid to turn and look.
“No, nothing for me, my dear. I think I have consumed all the liquid refreshment I can stand for one evening,” Dr. Kimba said from the doorway. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. I just don’t like coming home in the dark.”
“Well, there are few of us who do. It is perfectly natural. When you get to a point where you are afraid to go out of your house, call me for an appointment.” He chuckled.
“Would you think me silly if I asked you to stay for a moment while I look around a bit?” She kept her eye on the closet door.
“I’ll stand right here. It has been a long time since I’ve been called upon to protect a damsel in distress.” He puffed out his chest in a comical gesture but never took his right hand from his pocket.
Rooms and closets checked, she resisted the urge to check them a second time. She held Dr. Kimba’s arm as they walked to the front door.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” She kissed him on the white stubble of his bearded cheek. “And thank you for walking me in.”
“My pleasure. If you remember, mention to Mr. Nicoletti that I will try to reach him tomorrow,” he said as he crossed the brick walk. “And replace that porch light.”
She closed the door. “It would be nice to have Mr. Nicoletti standing guard at my front door,” she said as she headed for the shower.
Dr. Kimba locked the doors to the Volvo and retraced the route he had driven. Two blocks from the yellow-and-white cottage, he pulled to the curb, turned off the headlights, but kept the engine running. He checked again to be sure the doors were locked. He was in the place where he had seen the gray Suburban.
He looked up and down the street. “Where are you, Charles? What are you up to?” he said to the dark interior of the Volvo, After a few minutes he turned on the headlights and drove home slowly, looking at the cars parked along every street.
Dr. Kimba was relieved to see his own porch light burning brightly as he pulled into the driveway. He turned off the engine and looked at his house. The parlor light was on, as was the light in the upstairs hall. He got out of the car, locked the door, and went inside, holding the derringer firmly in his hand, no longer concealed in his pocket but at his side.
• • •
Hidden from the moonlight, Charles Durbin watched the doctor’s shadow move from room to room. As he flexed the muscles in his arms and across his back, he felt the power of the night surge through his body.
“You were supposed to help me, not become my enemy,” Durbin whispered. “Do you think you can really stop me, old man?” He started to approach the house, then stopped and returned to the shadows. “You will pay for your stupidity, for your failure, but not tonight.” He looked at the silhouette in the upstairs window. “Tonight and the next few days will be my gift to you. If you behave yourself.”