Gail nodded.

"There's coffee, grapefruit, eggs, cereal... help yourself."

"I will. Thank you."

Frank turned to go, but Gail touched her arm. "Why didn't you invite me to sleep with you?"

"Thought about it." Frank grinned. "Figured that would definitely const.i.tute pushing. Should I have?"

Gail blinked, debating.

Frank tried to sway her. "It's not too late."

"I'd like that. Very much."

The answer was so ingenuously vulnerable that Frank blurted, "I love you." She offered her hand. "Come on. Let's sleep."

Expecting nothing more than the pleasure of Gail's proximity, Frank offered a chaste good-night kiss. Gail returned it eagerly and Frank offered another. It too was hungrily accepted. Frank gave and received more kisses, as their hands roved the familiar terrain of each other's bodies. Their lovemaking was hot and ardent, wordless, their pa.s.sion speaking for itself.

After their desire had spent itself to a whisper, they lay in a tangle of limbs.

Frank swore, "Christ, but I've missed you."

"Mmm. Me, too."

Gail's breathing quickly evened out and Frank basked in the simple pleasure of Gail against her. She wondered why Lewis hadn't called yet, then her thoughts shifted to Irie. She'd felt absurd dropping his prints at the lab, justifying to herself that it couldn't hurt to have background on him. There was a reason Irie wouldn't register as an official CI and odds were high it was a criminal reason-probably nothing worth the price of a private print check but Bobby'd be pleased with the extra info.

Checking the night clock Frank thought about Lewis again. Until Marguerite James snaked into her thoughts. Even with her arms wrapped around her lover, Frank had to admit a potent attraction to the mambo. It wasn't an emotional pull, or even intellectual, but completely physical. The woman wore her s.e.xuality like strong cologne.

The phone rang and Gail woke but Frank told her to go back to sleep. She picked the phone out its cradle and took it into the living room.

"I got him!" Lewis crowed.

"Good. Where are you?"

"We found the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in Indio. Got him locked up in the back of the car."

"Good job. I'll meet you at the station at... six?"

"Make it six thirty." Lewis laughed. "I been up all night and I'm starving]"

"Six thirty it is."

Frank went back to bed to salvage a couple hours sleep. She half-heartedly tried rousing the doc but Gail didn't respond. Just as well, Frank decided, dropping hard into sleep.

Only a few hours later, Diaz broke in the box. Lewis was happy but tired. She headed home, leaving the booking and reports to her well-rested partner. It was Sunday morning and the squad room was empty except for Frank and Darcy. Frank c.o.c.ked her head at him. "Hey."

He grunted at his paperwork.

"You told me you had a gift and chose not to use it. But why does Marguerite think I have a gift?"

"Because you do," he answered, still not bothering to look up.

"How so? What kind of gift?"

He stopped abruptly, pinning her with cool blue eyes. "You should talk to her about this."

"Why can't I talk to you?"

"This is her area of expertise. Remember? I gave it up."

"But you know what she's talking about."

He flicked a heavy shoulder.

"That whole business with Mother Love, you finding me ... all that?"

"All that and more. That's the thing, Frank. There's always more. What you went through, what you experienced, that's not even the tip of the iceberg."

"That was plenty for me."

"It's hard," Darcy agreed. "Gifts like these aren't free."

"Is that why you walked away?"

Darcy spit tobacco juice into an empty soda can. "Partly that, partly Gabby. I considered her the greater responsibility. I couldn't see devoting myself to Marguerite's lifestyle and providing for my kid at the same time. So I took the easier route. Every now and again I take my talents off the shelf, dust them up and show them off like a parlor trick. Like telling Jill where that forty-four was, or finding you. Marguerite hates that. It drives her crazy that I don't respect what's been given me."

Frank chewed that over. "Ever regret your decision?"

Darcy swiveled back to his report. "I got a kid costing me a thousand bucks a month in medical bills. I don't have the luxury of regret."

Retreating to her office, Frank called around, reaching Gail at her apartment. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"Get some sleep?"

"Yes. Thank G.o.d. I was exhausted."

"Didn't act like it around midnight."

"That was my second wind."

"If that was your second I can't wait to see the first."

Gail laughed. "Are you working all day?"

"I'm done. Outta here. Wondering if you'd like to do something."

"We-ll," Gail stalled. "I'd love to do something outside. I've been cooped up all week. I need to get out and get some fresh air into my poor oxygen-depleted bloodstream. Are you up for a hike?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Why don't you come pick me up and we'll decide then."

" aKay. I'll pick up some lunch. Make it a picnic."

"You're spoiling me, copper."

"Indulge me."

"Consider it done."

"All right. See you around noon." Strolling through the squad room, she told Darcy, "I'm going home. Holler if you need me."

He tossed his head. "May the tutelary G.o.ds be with you."

Frank stopped. "That another voodoo thing?"

Darcy spit into his can. "The tutelary G.o.ds?"

"Yeah."

"Not quite. Tutelary is Latin. Tutelage, guardianship. The tutelary G.o.ds were lesser deities, spirits charged with protecting certain people and places. Python, he was the tutelary G.o.d of Delphi until Apollo slew him."

"I thought Apollo was Greek."

"He was. The Romans co-opted all the Greek G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, then Judaism borrowed them, turning the spirits into seventy guardian angels that watched over the seventy nations. But at some point all the angels went bad. The only one to stand uncorrupted was Michael, the guardian angel of Israel."

"Who must have been adopted by Christianity," Frank interjected, "because he's the patron saint of cops."

"Correct."

"Alrighty then. Now that I've had my Sunday school lesson, may I take my leave, Professor? Me and my tutelary G.o.ds?"

Darcy saluted.

Frank saluted back. She was almost out the squad room door, but she had to ask. "Professor. If you were me, would you call Marguerite?"

Darcy's answer was almost wistful. "In a heartbeat."

Frank pursed her lips, leaving her cop with his paperwork and his past.

CHAPTER 48.

Monday, 31 Jan 05-Work All right, all right. Got a little distracted over the weekend. Missed two days.

I'll make up for it. So here I am and what the h.e.l.l, maybe there is a G.o.d. After this weekend I'll believe just about d.a.m.n near anything.

Gail came over for dinner Sat.u.r.day. Ended up spending the night. We made love. Fireworks, earthmoving-the whole shebang. No pun intended. All praise to Allah. I had to go in Sunday for a couple hours but then we had a picnic up in the San Gabriels, went for a hike, held hands. It was magic. Felt like I was under a spell-"that old black magic that you weave so well-thank you, Marguerite James, my favorite mambo, but this is the only hoodoo Tm interested in.

Went back to her place to wash up before dinner-ended up in bed again. Sweet and slow and oh so lovely. Ate at Fox's. Took her home, left her there after a hundred kisses good night. Wanted to stay but she had work to do and has an early day this morning.

Life is good.

Talked to Mary. She warned me not to get too excited. Says it's nice that we've reconciled but sobriety has to remain my first priority. No sobriety, no Gail. Simple as that.

Agreed.

Went to the eight o'clock meeting last night. Bev led. She's an AA n.a.z.i but has a life too. Some of these people, that's all they have is AA. They go to meetings all day and sit on panels at hospitals and inst.i.tutions and that's all they do. Which is fine for them but I want a fuller life. Like Bev. She's great-gets to about five meetings a week, sponsors at least half a dozen women, works full time, has a husband and two kids...all that because she puts sobriety first. If she drinks again, sooner or later she'll lose the home, the kids, the husband, the job, everything. Even herself. So why risk it, she said.

Why indeed. I've been given a second chance. By who (whom?) I don't know, but I'm grabbing it by the horns and running with it. I know where I'll go if I drink. I don't know where I'll go if I stay sober. So far sober looks a whole lot better. Might go to the downtown meeting at lunchtime. Got to be down there anyway. Fubar had a fit about-

CHAPTER 49.

A knock came on Frank's door. She slid the journal into her drawer and answered, "Come in."

Bobby swung half his body in. "Sorry to bother you. Irie called. Said your statue's ready. And I'm going for sandwiches. Want anything?"

Frank checked her watch. "No, thanks. I'm heading out. I'll be downtown."

She signed out and drove toward Slauson. In the stop-and-go traffic she indulged her inane fantasy about Irie, hoping his prints would come back soon and put an end to her wasteful and wishful thinking.

He was hustling oranges on his usual corner and as she parked, Frank said, "That was fas', mon."

"Irie need de money." He produced an oily cloth bundle and gently unwrapped the dark Madonna inside.

Frank picked it up. The wood was slick and heavy, fragranced with a spicy polish. It was a familiar smell but Frank couldn't place it. She traced the Madonna's delicate features, the fold and drape of her gown. "Jesus, Irie. This is beautiful."

"You like aer? She wha' you want?"

"Yeah. And then some. This is great work."