What was that? In four years Arlo Zar had never come close to using the L word.

I pulled his hands out into the open and held them there. As his mouth met mine, I said, "Did you just say you 'wuv me'?"

"I tried to stop. I tried to date other women. I tried, Maddie, but I'm not happy. I've been talking about it to my shrink and she agrees with me."

Oh, of course she did. That's why Arlo paid her for three sessions a week, on top of which he had her on retainer for sudden Arlo-emergencies. But no matter how many sessions he took, he had never seemed to change. I'd often wondered if he was capable of hearing any suggestions other than his own. But, now...

Arlo had been leaning me back against the cold marble top on my center island. Now he lifted me up and seated me on it and, without so much as spilling his drink, he jumped up beside me.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Hey. I thought we were going to talk."

"We are talking." He tried to pull my skirt up, and soon we were both laying on top of the kitchen counter on my enormous center island, with my sweater now flung somewhere, I think maybe over the toaster, and my skirt moving higher.

I laughed and pulled it down. "Talk, Arlo. More stuff."

"You are an incredible woman, Mad. I will do whatever you want me to. If you want me to prove my wuv, I'll do it. I've grown up, I tell you. Why you wouldn't know me, I've changed so damn much." I felt him unzipping my skirt, and sliding it off, felt it slip away, down onto the floor. "I'll do anything you tell me to."

"Anything?"

"I'll even eat broccoli." Arlo did not eat vegetables, so I was duly shocked.

"Tell me how you really feel about me, then."

Arlo stopped his steady progression of unzipping and unsnapping, and pulled up on one elbow to look me in the eyes. In the low glow of the refrigerator bulb, I saw how sweet he was, how sincere. He found the bottle of bourbon and refilled his glass while I lay seminude beneath him. After a fast swig, he was ready.

"I want you back. I need you. I wuv..."

I raised my hand to his mouth, touching his lips.

"I love you, Mad. I am crazy when I don't have you to...talk to...oh...and to...play with...ah...and to..."

By then, I had a pretty good idea of what exactly else he was getting at. So it was, well, reconciliation interuptus, to say the very least about what was going on on my countertop, that at that very private moment, my phone began to ring.

Chapter 23.

"Madeline, it's Honnett. Am I calling too late?"

"Uh. No. I'm always up late. You know that."

I adjusted myself by propping up on one arm. Arlo, who understood all about work calls, moved over a bit to make more room.

"I've found your African. I thought you'd like to know."

"Albert Nbutu? Where?"

"He's staying with another Zimbabwean refugee in Altadena. I was going to go over and talk to him."

"I'm shocked. I thought you were just shining me on about Nbutu."

"On the contrary. The LAPD awaits your every command."

I laughed.

"I told you I'd look into it."

"Yeah, yeah. So what gives?"

"Nbutu is in the country without documents. Perhaps he's got information on our case and forgot to come forward, seeing as how," he said with sarcasm, "he probably doesn't understand how our justice system works here."

"So you're going to question him?"

"Correct. I thought you'd probably like to ride along. You could fill me in on what you know about the guy on the way out there."

"You mean right now?"

Arlo turned and began to listen more closely. He may have heard the distant death knell to our reconciliation recreation.

"You up for it?"

"Sure. By the way, do you have dubs of the wedding videos I could take a look at?"

"That's what I mean about you," Honnett said, "I find this African, Nbutu, you've been hot about, and do I hear any thanks? No, right away you ask for more."

"Well?"

"Yeah, I've got a copy you can look at. Still don't believe Gantree has an alibi, do you?"

"We'll see. So you're coming by now?"

"On my way. I'll see you in ten."

I hung up and looked at Arlo.

"Okay," he said, "so where were we?"

"Uh, see, wait." I disentangled a bit. "I've got to get dressed and..."

"What? Are you going out with this Honnett geek?"

"It's this murder I'm involved in. Vivian Duncan. I'm right near the end, Arlo. I've almost got it. The answer is so close. I just need to concentrate for a little bit longer."

We both heard the key turn in the front door lock down the hall at the same time.

"Aw, shit!" I said, grabbing for my sweater.

"Damn!" Arlo said, zipping up, disgusted.

"This always happens!" I found my skirt.

Arlo helped me button. "Remind me to buy you a chain-bolt."

"Anybody home?" called out Holly, amid a nearing herd of feet.

"Welcome," Arlo invited the guests, "to Maddie's and my sex life. Come one, come all."

"Oh, you two." Holly turned on the full blast of the overhead lights, exposing Arlo shirtless and me just barely presentable. "Can't you ever just do it in the bedroom?"

"What did I miss?" Wesley asked, hurrying in behind her and then stopped cold. "Oh." Wes took in the little drama. "If it isn't Arlo."

"I missed you too, buddy," Arlo told Wes, only muffled since he was pulling on his shirt over his head.

"So does this mean we need to Lysol down the countertop?"

And then Paul entered the kitchen, still talking on his cell phone. He had, thankfully, missed most of the teasing and by the time he rang off his call, we were more or less straightened up.

"Last-minute stalling tactics from the other side," Paul said, referring to the call. "I can't believe these putzes. First they tell me they have a settlement in mind, and then they call back and say hold up before telling my client. That's bullshit! Oh, hello Arlo. Are you back?"

Arlo smiled. "Yep. Anyone want bourbon?"

Wesley, who'd been fairly quiet in the presence of the raw evidence that Arlo seemed to be back, just stood there giving me that funny look. Like, oh, we have to talk! But he turned to Paul and asked, "It's after midnight. Do you mean you're still negotiating with some corporate attorneys at this hour? Jesus! How much are they going to charge Five Star for this?"

"Beats me. I just wish the assholes wouldn't start jerking me around. I told them we had a firm deadline-midnight. And it's forty minutes past and they're giving me grief."

I found my bag and pulled out my lipstick just as the doorbell rang.

They all looked at me.

"That's Honnett."

Holly looked amazed. She pulled me to the side and held up three fingers, whispering "Three?"

Zelli, Arlo, and now Honnett. Yes, I was having a busy night.

"Why not?" I whispered back, and then turned to the group assembled in my kitchen.

"I think I'm onto something in that Vivian Duncan deal. I have to find out. If I'm right, this should be over soon. I just have got to go."

Wesley turned and asked, "So what about our meeting?"

"Can you stick around? Holly, you'll find some homemade ice cream in the freezer. And I just put on a fresh pot of coffee before..."

The doorbell rang again.

"She's crazy," Holly said conversationally to the room, dismissing me.

"Nutty as a jar of Skippy," Arlo agreed.

"Did someone say Maddie made some ice cream?" Paul asked.

"One scoop or two?" I heard Wes ask, ever the pleasant host, as I ran to answer the front door.

It was almost one-thirty in the morning when Honnett turned his old Mustang up the quiet street in Altadena, cutting the engine and gliding to a stop at the curb in front of a small house. The corner streetlight didn't reach this far down the block. A neighbor had left his back porch light on and a house across the street had a car parked in front of it, full of teenagers. It took off the moment our car slowed down.

"Making out, probably," I suggested.

From the backseat of the Mustang, Detective John Martinez laughed softly. "It's sex, drugs, or rock 'n roll."

Honnett, in the driver's seat, said, "John's just reciting the three reasons kids hang out in their cars. Hey, you ready to go?"

"Sure," I answered.

Honnett looked at me, amused, and he kept his voice low. "Not you, Bean. John and I will go up and check it out. This house belongs to a cousin of Nbutu. She lives here alone. Her kids are grown. If Nbutu is in there and if the place is cool, we'll bring him out to talk. If you can keep quiet, you can stand over there and listen." He gestured to the only tree in the small front yard. "If we need any information, we'll ask. Otherwise, keep yourself contained. Got it?"

"Right."

I stood by the car as Martinez and Honnett approached the front door. After a few minutes of knocking a light came on over the porch. I saw a woman tightening a blue robe around herself in the doorway and then the formalities of badges being shown amid a low rumble of voices. The next thing I knew, both men had been admitted to the home.

Then all was quiet.

I began to hear a faint sound at a distance and strained to make it out. Then louder, I could feel the pump of the rhythmic bass to some rap song as the sound filled the street, louder and louder. I turned to see the same car we'd seen earlier, roaring up the side street, windows down, music blasting.

The car slowed to a stop. The blare of the radio pierced the quiet night, a rapper screaming about "da bitch wid da attitude," as the car idled a few feet away. I saw two young girls in the back, with a boy in a tank top, his arm around them both. The driver leaned out his window, pounding the door along with the driving rhythm, and yelled to me.

"Hey, mama. You want to go for a drive with me? We'll have some fun, you sweet thing."

"You boys want to spend some time talking to cops tonight?" I jerked my hand toward the house, and smiled pleasantly.

"I told you," the boy in the back yelped.

"Hey, your loss, chica," the driver said with a smirk, and then the rap-mobile peeled off down the deserted road.

A few minutes passed and I became accustomed to the sounds of the night. The simple landscaping around the yard next door and the yard next to that became familiar shapes I could now decipher in the dark, cool night. The gentle wind rustled the shrubs, moved through the slender trees, chilled me. My eyes adjusted to the low light, filtering dark gray bushes from darker gray fence. There. What was that? I saw a strange movement near the front door of the small house. There in the thick plants. I stared at the area, watching closely.

Nothing. Then a rustling movement, again, from among the sharp, jutting leaves.

An animal, I thought, worried. A pet, perhaps. Or a rat. I looked to the house, but the door was shut tight. Honnett and Martinez were inside and I and the rats were out.