Irie handed her a bag and as Frank searched her pockets for money, she pretended to drop her penknife. Irie stooped to retrieve it.

" aEy. Dat's a nice knife," he said, opening the blade.

"I never do anything with it except cut food," Frank replied. "It's not like the knives you have."

"No, dat's still a good knife dere. Sharp," he said, running a thumb along the edge.

"Think I could start carvin' wid it?"

"Sure." He laughed. "Sure you can. It's easy t'ing." He folded the knife and handed it back.

Frank dropped it in her pocket. "Call Bobby when you get the statue done, all right?"

"Sure t'ing. Like a week or so."

She nodded, swinging the bag of oranges back to her car. As she eased into the flow of traffic she pulled on a latex glove. She felt silly, extracting the knife from her pocket and dropping it into an evidence bag. Running prints on John-John Romeo was doubtlessly going to be a waste of money. But it was her money and she'd sleep well at night.

The rest of the day was followed by more meetings downtown. Late that night, more like early on Wednesday morning, the squad caught a beating death. It was a merciful slam dunk in a bar full of witnesses, but then they caught a shooting Thursday evening. Their likeliest suspect, Armando Diaz, was the dead woman's husband but he'd gone to ground.

Friday night Frank told the squad to go home and get some sleep, come back first thing in the morning. She did the same, greeting her crew at six o'clock with doughnuts and fresh coffee. After getting them organized on the Diaz murder she left to shop for dinner and clean house. It didn't need cleaning-Frank had a housekeeper-but she dusted and vacuumed anyway, glad for the distraction. She was apprehensive about dinner, worried about where she and Gail stood, concerned she might trample their tender rapprochement.

She sorted through music, selecting alb.u.ms that were romantic but not blatant, familiar but without memory. Arranging fleshy, pink roses she wondered if they were too flagrantly l.a.b.i.al. She decided she didn't care-subtleties didn't count as pushing. A good thing because she was grilling a dozen oysters along with the steaks.

The semi-tropical winter day was cool enough for her to soak in a steamy tub. She read from the AA Big Book, sinking after a while up to her chin and reflecting. She found her hand coming out of the water, groping for the gla.s.s she habitually took into the bath with her.

"Jesus," she whispered, alarmed at the treachery of corporal memory.

She dried off and rifled through her drawers until she found a tiny vial of oil. Wrinkling her nose, she daubed her temples with it. The woodsy scent reminded her of search-and-rescues deep in sweltering canyons, but Gail loved the stuff.

Naked, Frank stood in front of her closet. Casting a side glance at the mirror, she noted the loss of her alcoholic bloat and the transition of flab back into muscle. There was still a little belly and pockets of cellulite she couldn't get rid of but she looked healthy.

Not ropy and wizened like a gym rat trophy wife, but firm and fleshy. Healthy.

Patting her belly, Frank told it, "Forty-five-year-old woman should have some droops and dimples. Shouldn't be mistaken for a walking stick of jerky."

She grinned, dressing in snug jeans and a black turtleneck. Her heart sank when the phone rang and she saw Gail's number.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. Are we still on for dinner?"

"Absolutely."

"Great. I'll be over in about half an hour."

"Good," Frank breathed. "Good."

She fired up the grill and the oven, popping potatoes into the latter and tonging oysters over the former. As she worked she sipped apple juice on ice. She didn't particularly like the stuff but the gla.s.s satisfied her hand, the color tricked her eye and the rattling cubes calmed her ear.

Gail was closer to an hour getting there and Frank kicked herself for starting the oysters so soon. She knew when Gail said half an hour it meant at least three-quarters and that an hour stretched close to two. But her irritation vanished when Gail walked in.

"Good timing. I just pulled oysters off the barby."

"Oysters?" Gail arched a meaningful brow.

"They're full of iron," Frank answered over her shoulder. "And they were on sale. Plus we gotta plump you up. You're looking skinny."

"Skinny? Me? You must be looking at somebody else."

"I'm looking at you, lady. You've lost weight."

Gail fluttered her eyelashes. "I haven't had anybody to cook for me.

"We're gonna change that. Sit. Get comfortable."

Frank produced the oysters, arranged on a platter between mounds of horseradish and lemon wedges.

"Now, I know these would be great with a beer or an icy Fume but maybe I can interest you in a faux wine cooler instead?"

Gail laughed, the dry, throaty chortle that made Frank's crotch ache. "That would be lovely."

Frank mixed white grape juice with club soda and they slurped oysters as Frank grilled the steaks. The doc chatted through dinner and Frank listened happily. She missed her red wine a couple of times, but briefly and without intensity.

After they pushed their plates away Gail noted, "This is when you'd bring out the port or the brandy. How has it been going through all this sober?"

"You mean New York and all?"

"Yes."

Gail's eyes were shadowy, flecked with candlelight. Frank had an immediate glib answer, but she checked herself.

"Parts of it were difficult. But in going through all of it I'm starting to see just how numb I've been. For as long as I can remember. And truth to tell, even the pain feels good. Well, not good, but at least real. Honest. I feel like I'm coming out of the deep freeze. It hurts when limbs start defrosting but I can hear again and see and taste and feel everything. So, if that's the price ... that's the price. Something I should have done a long time ago, but you know, I just couldn't. I wasn't ready. Everybody has a bottom. I hit mine. Had to go as low as I did. And now I don't ever have to go there again. So yeah. Parts are hard, but there are more parts that are beautiful. Overwhelmingly so. Like sitting here with you." It sounded like a throwaway line but Frank was suddenly close to tears. Gail reached for her hand and Frank said with a small laugh, "That happens a lot lately. I just... I don't know. I get moved easily. It's like this ... I don't know ... this realization how sweet life is. How good. Even when it hurts. Makes me all weepy. It's f.u.c.king weird. Downside is I get angry a lot easier too."

"I think it's lovely."

Frank was wordless. Rather she was full of what she feared were the wrong words, so she concentrated on Gail's hand in hers. Before she could say something stupid she gave a little squeeze and let go. "I got some movies. Took the liberty of hoping you'd stay for one."

"What did you get?"

Frank listed them and Gail frowned. "You hate romantic comedies."

"I don't hate aem. Just don't want to spend eight bucks on aem in a theater."

Gail wagged her bob. "The oysters, the candles, the sweet music. If I didn't know bet-"

A cell phone rang and they both got up. Gail's was on the table near the door, next to Frank's. They checked their messages and Frank swore.

"Franco," she answered.

"Frank, it's Lewis."

"S'up, Sister Shaft?"

"We got word Diaz is in La Quinta. Probably at a friend's house. Me and Darcy want to go get him."

"Whoa. Slow down. Let's call La Quinta PD, see if they can find him. If they do, they can pick him up, then you can go get him."

"Naw, Frank, I got it deep that he's there. I don't want no jake bustin' my play and losin' my boy for me. I want to get him myself."

"Lewis, I can't authorize OT to go get a suspect that might or might not be there. Call the locals, let aem do their job. Then you can go."

"What if I went on my own time?"

Frank sighed. "Why you want this so bad?"

"You saw what he did to his wife? I want that m.o.-.f.o locked up and put away! You can't do s.h.i.t like that in my ahood and walk away. Nuh-uh. And I don't trust them Palm Desert cops to do the job right. I want it done right, I gotta do it myself. See it through. And it ain't no skin off the department's nose if I go off the clock. So what's the big?"

"No big," Frank admitted. "One thing though. Two. I'ma call Palm Desert and arrange backup for you. And you will use it, is that clear? You're not to go in alone."

"Yes, ma'am," Lewis replied sweetly. "And the second thing?"

"Call me. Keep me in the loop. Call me when you get him and if you don't get him call and tell me why. Clear?"

"Crystal, LT."

"A'ight. Be careful."

"I will."

Lewis banged the phone down and Frank winced. Gail was clearing the dishes and Frank called, "Hey, don't do those. I'll just be a sec."

But it took a while to get hold of someone at Palm Desert PD who could authorize Lewis's backup and by the time Frank was done Gail had finished the dishes.

"I thought I told you not to do those."

Gail leaned back against the sink, drying her hands.

Frank couldn't help but cup her hand against the doc's cheek. "You look beat. We'll save the movie for another night."

"No." Gail smiled. "I'm fine. You don't have to go in?"

"Nope. Just arranging for Lewis to pick up a suspect. She's a regular Stakhanovite." Frank grinned. "Reminds me of me when I was her age."

"What's a Stakhanovite?"

"Hey," Frank said, surprised. "Not often you ask me what something means. Stakhanovite's a hard worker, real industrious person. See, when I got my medical degree I got a linguistics degree, too."

"So I see." Gail laughed. She touched Frank's face. "I liked that. What you did with your hand."

Frank held Gail's cheek again. "That?"

"Yes."

Then it seemed that the next right thing to do was to kiss her. So Frank did. On the lips, slowly, mouths lingering.

Gail pulled back. She smiled but said, "How about that movie?"

"How about it?" Frank returned the smile.

CHAPTER 47.

Gail nodded off about forty minutes into the movie. Frank tried to stay with it, waiting for Lewis to call, but she dozed off, too. The DVD defaulting to menu woke her. Gail was still out. Frank remoted the TV off.

For a while she watched Gail sleep, lulled by the doc's breathing. She still didn't wake when Frank got up for a blanket. She draped it over the doc who muttered, twisting against the pillows. Frank smoothed Gail's hair, whispering a "shh." Instead of sending Gail into a deeper sleep it roused her. She looked at Frank, dazed.

"Hey. You fell asleep during the movie."

Gail righted herself, looking around.

Frank knelt and took her hand. "Let me put you to bed. In the guest room. You shouldn't be driving home."

Gail nodded and Frank helped her up. She kissed Gail's forehead, steering her toward the spare room.

Frank turned lights off and double-checked locks. She looked in on Gail, calling through the bathroom door, "Want a toothbrush?"

"Please."

Frank brought her a new one, and a clean T-shirt. "Thought you might like to sleep in this."

"Mm. Thanks. Sorry I flaked out on you."

"That's okay. I did too. Not the best movie in the world."

"Do I even have to ask how it ended?"

Frank shook her head. "Exactly as you'd imagine."

"Well, you were sweet to get it."

"Get some sleep. Lewis is supposed to call. I might not be here when you get up, but stay as long as you want, okay?"