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The party invitation followed the junk mail into the trashcan under the desk. Partying with the rich and famous might have excited Lindsey, but Claudia couldn’t care less.

Halfway through a cup of strawberry yogurt, she remembered that Senator Heidt was on the guest list, and reconsidered. Deciding that an opportunity for some gentle interrogation of the senator was too good to pass up, she retrieved the invitation. She would ask Jovanic to be her date, and find costumes that would conceal their identities. In a party setting, Heidt wouldn’t be suspicious.

She began to imagine how she might elicit a confession from someone whose proclivities stretched to S&M, when an unexpected phone call jolted her out of her fantasy.

“Ms. Rose, this is Doctor Bostwick.”

The doctor’s tone was entirely different than it had been at their in-person visit. More formal; charm without the arrogance. “I have some information I’d like to pass along that I believe might be helpful to your investigation.”

Your investigation.
He thought she was Jovanic’s partner.

Bostwick cleared his throat. “Er, I’d like to apologize for my abruptness the other day. The confidentiality issue. Please understand, as a plastic surgeon, I get patients who aren’t entirely realistic in their expectations. They think I can make them young and beautiful and usually I can, of course, but I can only work with what I’ve got, and, well, occasionally there are lawsuits and I’ve learned to be... shall we say,
circumspect,
when it comes to legal matters.”

“Did Lindsey threaten a lawsuit, doctor?”

“Well, no; I was just explaining why I felt upset with the police showing up. I mean, surely, you have to agree that your partner was damned offensive.”

So that’s why he had called her. He thought she was a softer touch than Jovanic. She kept her voice neutral. “You said you have some information?”

“Yes, yes; I thought it might be important.” He hesitated. “I was thinking about my contacts with Ms. Alexander, and I recollected a conversation we had the week before her death. She told me she wanted the eyelid lifts done because she had someone new in her life... a younger man she was serious about. She... she wanted to impress him.”

Claudia’s interest accelerated, but she kept her tone casual. “Do you have a name for this mystery man?”

“She never mentioned him by name, but there must be phone records or some such. You can look that up, can’t you?
That’s
who you need to find.”

“Why’s that, doctor?”

“Obviously, he could be the killer.” He was sounding desperate.

Claudia rocked back in her chair, glad he couldn’t see her Cheshire Cat smile. “Lindsey’s death was ruled suicide. What makes you think there was a killer?”

Too late, Bostwick realized his error. “But... but isn’t that why you came to my office? That detective implied there was something irregular about her death.” Panic raised Bostwick’s voice to a near-squeak. “Ms. Rose, is her death suspicious or not? I can’t afford to have my name dragged through the mud.”

“Sorry, doctor,” she said. “That’s something you’ll have to take up with Detective Jovanic. I’ll give him your message. In the meantime, if you think of anything else that might be helpful, you know where to reach me.”

How
did
he know how to reach her?

She rang off without saying goodbye. And without confessing that she wasn’t officially involved in the law enforcement aspect of the case. He wouldn’t be interested in talking to her if he knew she had no clout, and it seemed a sure bet that Bostwick was doing his best to divert suspicion from himself. But was it because he really had something to do with Lindsey’s death, or because of the sexual implications? She wished she knew.

In the early evening, too restless to work, Claudia searched her closet for something to wear when she picked up Jovanic, settling on an outfit midway between sexy and businesslike: a black knit top with a deep V-neck that she hadn’t worn yet; silky slacks and jacket. A skirt would have been better, but was too dressy for a quick trip to LAX.

She hooked a pair of gold hoops in her ears, brushed on blush and mascara, applied a light lipstick, and surveyed herself critically in the cheval mirror in the corner of her room.

Not bad.

LAX was just a ten-minute drive down Valle del Mar. Claudia cruised into the Southwest terminal pickup lane just as Jovanic’s plane was scheduled for arrival, and parked at the curb to wait for him. As she watched several flights take off, she couldn’t help thinking of Destiny Cardoza and the near miss they’d had at The Grove the night before. Destiny was probably sipping piña coladas on a beach in Jamaica by now. What had happened to their assailant, Claudia wondered. He must surely have sought medical attention for the injuries they had left him with.

Jovanic was among the first group of passengers to come through the baggage claim doors, a suit bag slung over his shoulder. His slightly rumpled look was already endearingly familiar. A better-tailored, taller Columbo. He stood on the sidewalk, looking around.

When he saw Claudia’s wave, his face lit up for an instant. She might have thought she’d imagined it if she hadn’t been watching so closely for his reaction.

Just having him back made her feel safer. “How did your trip work out?” she asked.

“Pretty well.” He ran a hand through his short-cropped tawny brown hair, leaving a few tufts sticking up. “But I hate flying; you’re at the pilot’s mercy.”

“You don’t like not being in control, do you?” He flipped her a glance, brow arching. “You psychoanalyzing me, grapho lady?”

She grinned back at him. “Your handwriting is mostly block-capital printing, which suggests control issues. I’m just extrapolating that to air travel.”

“Well, I don’t like being analyzed.” The words were curt, but he didn’t sound serious and her step lightened as she went around to the passenger side and offered Jovanic the driver’s seat.

“So, you want to know about the new evidence?” she asked as he slipped behind the wheel and started the motor.

“Go ahead. I can see you’re dying to tell me.” They drove through the parking booth and Claudia filled him in on Earl Nelson’s visit and her adventures with Destiny.

“Ivan’s tape is in Palm Springs,” she finished. “The key belongs somewhere here, at LAX.”

“Where’s this key now?” Jovanic asked, making the turn into traffic and driving north on Sepulveda Boulevard.

“Locked in my safe at home.”

He threw her a sidelong glance. “I must not have been clear when I gave you the ‘tampering-with-evidence’ lecture. Now you’re
withholding
evidence, too? You don’t take the law very seriously, do you?”

“Yes I do, honest.” She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile, thinking,
God, he’s attractive
. “I’m trying to distract you so you won’t take me to jail.”

“I should,” he said, shaking his head. “I really should.”

Claudia unlocked the deadbolt and disarmed the alarm, all the while grousing about living in a fortress.

“Welcome to LA,” Jovanic said, following her into the kitchen. He came up behind her, until they were almost touching. She stood very still, catching the faint scent of his aftershave—
Eternity,
she thought. He was so close, and she was suddenly aware of how much she wanted him.

Then he stepped back and the moment was gone.

Why hadn’t he seized the opportunity to kiss her when she knew he’d wanted to? Well, she hadn’t seized it, either. She got two glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of Merlot she’d bought on the way home from Zebediah’s, giving Jovanic a questioning look. “Glass of wine?”

He accepted and she handed him the corkscrew and bottle. “You any good at this? I’m not. Do you think Earl’s tape will be enough to arrest Heidt?”

Jovanic shrugged. “We don’t know what’s on it yet. I doubt it’s proof that he had anyone killed,
or
that he sent anyone over here to break in. We don’t even have proof that Lindsey didn’t kill herself.”

Claudia thought of the note Ivan had hired her to analyze.
“It was fun while it lasted.”
Lindsey’s philosophy of life.

“I’m thinking out loud,” she said, leading him back to the living room. “Let’s assume Lindsey
was
murdered. Maybe the killer forced her to write the note.”

“Was there any evidence of coersion?”

She pondered that for a long moment. “Mmm, not really.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I’m still looking for good comparison writings. Nothing so far disputes that it
is
her handwriting.” She gestured at Lindsey’s stack of boxes in a corner of the room.

“We need to tie a suspect to Lindsey the night she died, as well as to Ivan, and to the break-in here. That takes means, motive, and opportunity. We haven’t found any hard evidence against Senator Heidt or anyone else. It’s time to go to Palm Springs.” Jovanic fiddled with unwrapping a toothpick, as if he were conflicted between the polite amenities and comfort. “Feel like taking a ride out to the desert?”

Claudia answered without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“Good. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

They sat on the couch, lamps turned low, reviewing the case and talking desultorily, drinking wine, the stereo providing mood music in the background. Rod Stewart’s
Great American Songbook
gave way to
Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits,
then a sensuous sax disc.

Finally, the music ended. The conversation ran down, too, until the only sound was the ocean sighing through the half-open balcony door. Claudia leaned her head back against the cushions, viewing Jovanic through half-closed eyes. The wine was making her drowsy and she wasn’t sure what he expected, if anything.

“Uh... we’re getting an early start, you’ve got your travel gear here...” She broke off, embarrassed in case she had completely misread him.

Jovanic sat forward, reaching for her hands and enclosing them in his. A warm tingle ran all the way up her arms. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We don’t know each other very well yet, but I think you know that I like you a lot, Claudia. I just have to warn you, my work is pretty much my life. It’s hard on a relationship.” He released her hands and sat back, staring at the floor, chewing on his lower lip. “You know that my marriage didn’t work out. Well, I walked in on my wife and found her in the shower with my best friend. How’s that for a cliché? Sleeping together while I was out protecting and defending.” Flint hardened his voice. “I was gonna kill them both... actually had the gun in my hand. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But when I saw her eyes, I couldn’t do it. She was terrified.”

His sigh weighed a ton. The weight of guilt. “It was my fault and I knew it. I left her alone too much, she got lonely. But I couldn’t forgive her, so... I got a divorce instead of twenty to life.”

Claudia felt a pang of sympathy, he looked so bereft. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. My ex played second fiddle to my work, too. He stuck it out for nearly five years, then he found someone who was happy to just cook and clean house for him. Nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t for me.” It felt like a confession.

“So, I’m gun-shy myself,” she added, reaching out to touch her fingertips to his cheek, rough with a day’s growth of beard.

Jovanic turned his face and kissed her palm. He smiled, a tiny flame of hope flickering in his eyes. “So, we’ll have to tread lightly.”

He stood up, reached down and drew her up, folded her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest and felt his accelerating heartbeat. He stroked her hair, her face, her neck, let his fingertips travel lightly over her breast, searing her skin through the fabric. Her breathing quickened, her body responding instantly as his hands reached her hips and pressed her against him.

Moonlight poured through the half-open blinds, casting long shadows across the bedroom. Claudia rolled over and squinted at the red numbers glowing on the digital clock on her nightstand.

Three-thirty.

She couldn’t have slept for more than a half-hour, but something had awakened her. Beside her, Jovanic’s breathing came deep and steady.

Unfamiliar.

Maybe that was it. She smiled to herself in the darkness. They’d made love for hours, at first tentatively exploring, leisurely acquainting themselves with each other until passion had finally consumed them; coupling wildly as if they had something to prove. Lying back on her pillow, she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his bare skin against hers.

Is getting involved so fast a mistake?

Probably.

But it felt very, very good. She resolved to just let go and enjoy the sensation. Plenty of time later for self-recrimination. She drew the blanket up over them both and closed her eyes, fending off the question of where this might lead.

Jovanic shifted in his sleep, threw his arm over her and pulled her close, spooning her against him, fitting her form to his so that his breath warmed her neck. She dozed off.

And snapped awake.

There it was again—the noise that had roused her. She sat up on her elbows, listening hard until she was able to identify the sound: the French doors, quietly rattling.

Had she armed the alarm system?

No!

Setting the burglar alarm had been the last thing on their minds when they’d climbed the stairs, leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

Real smart, Claudia, right after spending the money for a new alarm system.

She rolled out of bed and grabbed her kimono from the floor, pulling it around her as she tiptoed out to the landing.

I should wake him.

It might just be a possum or raccoon. They prowled the beach neighborhood at night, foraging for food.

Let him sleep.

Quietly descending the staircase, her toe hooked on the bra Jovanic had removed from her on the way up to the bedroom. The dark carpet rendered the black lace invisible and she stumbled. Grabbing hold of the railing in time to catch herself from tumbling down the stairs, she ended up half-sitting on a step.