Night Victims

54

Eighteen months later, Paula was eating dinner with Harry and some of their friends on the West Side, when she thought she spotted Horn sitting alone on the other side of the restaurant. She had to look twice, being patient until a waiter had moved, to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

She excused herself and wove through the crowded restaurant toward his table.

When she got closer, she saw that he looked slightly grayer but not a year older. He was wearing a tan tweed sport coat over a black turtleneck sweater. A wrapped cigar stuck out of the coat’s breast pocket. She was pleased to note that he hadn’t diminished even slightly with age; his bulk made the table look like a miniature.

She noticed something else. Though he was sipping a glass of white wine and sitting alone, the table was set for two.

He looked up at her and gave her his slow and genuine smile. The one he sometimes gives to suspects.

“Paula Ramboquette. You look wonderful!” He stood and grasped her in a firm hug. “Sit down, please.”

“No, I have to get back. And you’re waiting for someone.”

“Sit, Paula.”

She grinned. “That sounded like a command.” She sat down across the table from him.

“You’re plainclothes now,” he said. “Lead detective, with a recent commendation. A rising NYPD star.” He winked. “The one to watch.”

Paula was surprised and pleased that he’d followed her career. “You seem to be doing very nicely yourself. You look terrific.”

“Just another old cop, Paula. Heard anything from Bicker-staff?”

Paula nodded. “He phoned last Christmas Day. He had a bad cold, but he was going ice fishing anyway.” She could imagine a heavily bundled Bickerstaff sitting and sniffling, hunched over a hole in the ice, maybe a dead fish or two next to him. Fun. Really fun.

“Paula?”

“Sorry. Thinking about Bickerstaff.” She suddenly felt ill at ease. “How is-” Remembering the impending divorce of last year, she bit off her words.

“Anne? She’s fine. Still working at Kincaid Memorial. She’s engaged to a corporate attorney.”

Paula sensed someone beside her and looked up to see Marla Winger. Marla looking glamorous and sophisticated in a simple navy blue dress with a pearl necklace.

“Paula,” Horn said, “you remember Dr. Winger. .”

“Damn it, Horn, you know I do!” Grinning widely, Paula stood up and she and Marla hugged. Paula caught the scent of expensive perfume.

“It’s wonderful to see you both,” Paula said. “Really!” She couldn’t stop grinning and was beginning to feel awkward about it. Like Frankenstein’s bride with the giggles. “Listen, I’m interrupting. . I’d better get back to my table.”

She muttered a few more polite inanities and turned away, wishing like crazy that Bickerstaff were there. She was unable to control what she was thinking: Corn muffins!