"My God," said Vince. "What happened to your eye?"

Bram could tell she'd tried to cover the bruising with makeup, but she hadn't done a very good job.

She touched her face hesitantly. "Oh, you know me. Ms. Super Klutz. I was out jogging last night and I, ah . . . I tripped. Fell flat on my face. My eye clipped a rock."

Vince stared at her. "You telling me the truth?"

Chris glanced at Bram. "Sure."

Bram didn't believe a word of it. Chris had probably gone home yesterday demanding to know why Phil had been with another woman. His answer had been the black eye.

"Did Banks hit you?" asked Vince.

"No, of course not."

"Like hell."

She stepped farther into the room. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"That bastard," sputtered Vince. He looked around. "Am I the only one here who sees what he's doing?" He turned back to Chris. "You're his alibi for Bob's murder. You told me you were with him all night."

"I was."

"If you're married to him, you can't be forced to testify against him."

"I'd never do that," she said indignantly. "Married or not."

"Don't you see? That's why he insisted on doing it right away. Tell me the truth, Chris. He hit you. Didn't he!"

"No," she said. "And I'm not going to stay here and listen to you bad-mouth him." She backed out of the doorway and took off.

Bram stood and followed her. Just as she reached the front door, he called, "Chris, wait up."

She stopped and turned around. "If you're going to bitch me out for marrying Phil-"

"I'm not," said Bram. "Come on, just talk to me for a second."

He could see that her emotions were at war. Finally relenting, they walked into the Wackenhut room and sat down at a table. The bar didn't open until eleven, so the room was empty.

"Just tell me you're really okay," said Bram.

"I'm fine." She lowered her eyes. "Did you get my note yesterday? I'm sorry I couldn't stay and meet Victoria Svensvold."

"It's okay. I talked to her about it and she's very interested. She wants to meet you."

Chris's face lit up. "Really? I talked to Phil about the idea last night and he's fine with the whole thing. Really, I'm so psyched about this."

Bram hesitated. He didn't want to push her, but he agreed with Vince's assessment of Phil Banks. The guy was a lowlife. And if Chris was hedging at all about Phil's whereabouts on the night Bob Fabian and Ken Loy were murdered, she could be in way over her head and not even know it. "Did Phil explain about the woman he was with yesterday?"

Chris nodded, chewing her lower lip. "She was an old girlfriend. He wanted to tell her in person that we'd gotten married."

The explanation sounded totally self-serving to Bram. It didn't even begin to cover what he'd seen, but he let it pass. "When can you meet with Victoria?"

She pressed a finger to the skin around her eye. "Well, I've got stuff I need to do today. Maybe I should wait a few days. Let this bruise heal up a little more."

"She's eager to get started."

"Oh. Okay. Well, how about tomorrow, then? I'll give you a call this evening. We can figure out a time."

"Sounds good." Bram could tell she was getting antsy, that she wanted to take off, but he was concerned about her. He didn't want to let her go. Not just yet. "Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"If there's anything-ever-that you need to confide in someone about, I'm your man."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Oh, I forgot." He reached into his pocket and took out the napkin Chris had been doodling on yesterday. "You left this at the restaurant. I thought the part about Old Mill Road might be important."

She looked down at it. "Nah, that's nothing. You can throw it away. Phil rents a garage at a mini storage place over there." As an afterthought, she added, "Del was the guy who set it up for him."

Bram nodded. "Okay." She was lying and he knew it. The hard part was, Chris knew he knew, but she lied anyway. "You're going to be okay, right?"

"Fine." She touched his hand. "I'll call you tonight. Promise."

24.

Anika stood inside the garage at the rear of Bob Fabian's property. She was inspecting the boxes the movers had piled under an overhanging storage ledge in the back. The move from the apartment had taken all of the morning and part of the afternoon, but the worst of it was over now, and for that, Anika was grateful. She still had to run back to the old apartment and make sure the cleaners had finished their job, but that could wait until tomorrow. Today was for digging out. Tomorrow she'd organize the new kitchen and go grocery shopping, all in preparation for Rick Lostine's arrival on Friday.

Anika intended to prepare all of Rick's favorites- standing rib roast with all the trimmings. Roasted potatoes, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. Yorkshire pudding. She was a little rusty when it came to cooking. She'd pretty much given up preparing dinner because she never knew when Andy would be home from the paper. In the early days of their marriage, they always ate dinner together, no matter what was going on. It was their time to relax, to reconnect after a hard day, and to share their small triumphs and tragedies. Their time in Marquette now felt like a lifetime ago.

Tears welled up behind Anika's eyes. After Rick left, she would finally ask Andy for a divorce. She'd come to the conclusion that there was no use waiting. Putting it off only made things harder on both of them. Andy seemed oblivious to what was happening between them, and Anika had to admit that she was curious how he'd take it. Was she hoping her decision would change him, that he'd agree to go to couples counseling, that he'd really try to work out the troubles in their marriage? Or would he crawl back into himself, as he did so often these days, blame himself for what was wrong between them, but do nothing. In the last year, Andy had truly perfected an emotional disappearing act.

Behind her, Anika heard footsteps approach. As she turned around, she expected to find a neighbor coming to check on who was moving in. She'd seen an elderly woman across the street watching from her front window. But instead of the old woman, Rick walked into the garage, a big grin on his face.

"What-" It was all she could get out before he crushed her in his arms, whirled her around.

"Surprised?" he asked. He looked wonderful. Gone were his wire-rimmed glasses. His long sandy blond hair had been cut and styled, and his beard was trimmed to a goatee. His overcoat was Gucci, and the clothes he wore under it were expensive and trendy. He looked nothing like the old, scruffy, jeans-clad Rick.

"What happened to you? I hardly recognize you!"

"If you're going to live in New York, you gotta dress the part."

"You look fabulous."

"Well, it's not just the clothes."

"Your new job?"

"Jobs come and go. I've got something better. I met a guy. Anika, I think he's the one. I've never felt this way before."

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you. But . . . you weren't supposed to be here until Friday."

"I found out this morning that I have an important meeting on Friday. One I can't miss. But, hell, I couldn't cancel the trip. I had John drive me out to LaGuardia and I hopped on the first plane. I can only stay tonight. My flight leaves tomorrow at noon. So, we've got to make the best of it." He looked around. "This place is incredible! God, our lives sure have changed."

She couldn't stop herself. Tears leaked out her eyes, down her cheeks.

"Oh, honey. I'm glad to see you, too." He put his arms around her, more tenderly this time. "Let's go inside and call Andy. Tell him to get his butt back here. I bought three bottles of champagne on my way in from the airport. One for each of us." He squeezed her tight. "We've got a lot to talk about."

She felt so silly, but it was great to see him. It made her think of those years in her life when she and Andy had been happy. "I've missed you." She missed so much of what she'd lost.

"I've missed you, too," said Rick. "I know this has been a hard time for you guys. But hey, you'll get through it. Come on. It's chilly out here. You got heat in that castle, don't you?"

Once back in the house, Anika led Rick into the kitchen. After a moment of dickering, they decided that he should be the one to call Andy. She sat down at a sleek glass table. Bob's kitchen was huge. All that Anika had brought from the apartment kitchen fit into three boxes, which had been pushed up next to the sink. It struck her that her world was too small for such a large house.

"Andy Gladstone, please." Rick listened. "My name? Tell him-" He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. "What's the name of your governor?"

"Pawlenty."

He nodded. Removing his hand, he said, "Tell him it's Governor Pawlenty on the line. Make it quick. I'm an important man." He winked at Anika. "Yes that's right. The governor. Fergus Pawlenty."

Anika laughed.

Rick put his hand over the mouthpiece again. "Fergus isn't his first name?"

She shook her head.

"Too bad. It has a certain ring to it." Removing his hand, he listened a moment, then said, "Hey, you old reprobate. It's Rick." He grinned. "No, I'm here. In town. As a matter of fact, I'm standing in your new kitchen with your gorgeous wife." More grinning. "Hell, yes. I brought champagne. When can you get here?" He glanced at his watch. "Well, get out of it. Cancel the meeting. Send someone else. It's not every day a representative from a prestigious New York publishing house comes to visit you." He laughed. "Okay, Anika and I can manage for a few hours. But I gotta leave tomorrow. Change of plans. Sorry, buddy. But that means we've got to make the most of the time we have." He listened a moment more. "Okay. We'll be here waiting. The longer it takes you, the drunker we'll be, so hurry up." Another wink. "Right. See you soon. Bye."

"You really want to start drinking now?" Anika looked at the clock on the wall. It was going on two.

"Well," said Rick, hanging up the phone, "we could pop one bottle. Have a small drink, just to celebrate my arrival. What do you say?"

It sounded great to her. "Deal."

"What you got around here for munchies?"

"Not sure." She opened up a couple cupboards, finding an unopened box of Breton crackers and a jar of Kalamata olives.

Rick stood in front of the open refrigerator. "Looks like you have a great piece of cheese in here." He unwrapped it and took a sniff. "Gorgonzola, I think. You like stinky cheese?"

"Love it."

"Well then, looks like we've got ourselves a small feast."

They carried everything into the living room and set it on the stone-and-glass coffee table in front of the sectional. Anika flipped the switch on the gas fireplace, then sat down next to Rick, waiting for him to pop the cork on the champagne.

"This feels decadent," said Anika, as he poured her a glass. "What should we talk about?"

"Well," said Rick, clicking his glass to hers, then taking a sip, "we better not discuss my job or the new love of my life until Andy gets here. Why don't we talk about you. You look tired, honey. I'm sorry about what happened to Andy's brother. That must have been so hard for you two. Have they found his murderer?"

Anika shook her head. "Did you ever meet Bob?"

"Oh, sure. He was a lot older than Andy and me. He was off to West Point as soon as he graduated from high school. Andy and I were in second grade his senior year. I thought Bob was a god. Really. It must have been the strong jawline. I'm still a sucker for a great jaw. And you know how little kids look up to bigger ones. But Bob really was special. He was president of his class, class valedictorian, and he was a star on the football team. He used to throw balls to Andy and me, and he'd talk to us about West Point, about how important it was for him to serve his country. He was one of those great guys who love life, and have tons of energy and talent. He could have done anything. And then, he ends up in Viet Nam, comes home with shrapnel in his back that ends his military career. He probably would have been a general before he retired. But, hell, he landed on his feet. People say that a West Point ring can open any door. It sure did for him." Rick looked over at the fire. "The sad thing is, he grew up in such a different home from the one Andy grew up in."

"Andy never talks about his childhood."

"Doesn't surprise me. It was a bad time."

"In what way?"

Rick studied Anika over the rim of his wineglass. "You mean he's never told you anything?"

"Just that his father was an alcoholic, that Bob's father, David Fabian, died when Bob was nine. His mother remarried, and then she died when Bob was twenty; Andy was eight. So it was mostly just Andy and his dad when he was growing up."

"Yeah, that's right."

"So . . . did his dad drink a lot?"

"Wow, I had no idea you knew so little."

Anika felt ashamed that she'd never pushed Andy harder to talk about his childhood. But the truth was, every time she had, he'd changed the subject so quickly that it didn't take her long to get the point. The subject was off-limits. "Tell me about it, Rick. Maybe it would help me understand him better."

He poured them more champagne.

"Well," he said, setting the bottle down, "Andy and I were buddies in grade school, but we were better friends in junior high. That was a tough time for both of us. For different reasons, we both felt like outsiders and that drew us together."

"You already knew you were gay?"

"Yeah, I did, although I was trying to hide it as hard from myself as I was from others."

"And Andy? Did you hide it from him?"

Rick shrugged. "If he knew, we never talked about it."

"What made Andy feel like an outsider?"

"God, his home life was from hell. After we moved into high school, we got pulled into different groups, so we weren't together as much. What I know is based mostly on his earlier years." He leaned forward and set his champagne glass down, then crossed his legs and leaned back against the couch cushions, ready to remember. "Once-we were in fifth grade at the time-Andy didn't show up for school. It was just before Christmas and we were all supposed to bring cookies or something for a party. It was more of a play day than a regular school day, so I couldn't understand why he wasn't there. I assumed he was sick. I decided to save some of my cookies to bring him after school. I'd never been in his house, but I knew where he lived."

"You'd never been in his house?"

"I was too young to realize the significance. We always played at my place or at one of our other friends'. Andy said his dad worked at home and that he didn't like to be disturbed."