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  “You look like shit, Jessica Clarke.”

  “Flattery, flattery. It’s just this grim suit.” She looked around, wondering if she should change into something from the shop’s fall line just to pick up her sagging spirits. But it was late, and she was tired, and she didn’t have the energy to get into or out of anything. It would only be another ten or fifteen minutes before Zina locked the doors for the night.

  Jessica stood up, stretched, and was aware of the ache in her back and neck from the long crazy night she’d spent on the floor. Not to mention the tension of the day. She was arching her back gingerly, trying to ease out the kinks, when a woman walked into the boutique. Jessie, Kat, and Zina quickly glanced at each other, deciding who would stand up and be helpful, but it was Jessie who turned toward the woman with a smile. The woman looked pleasant, and it did Jessie good to deal with the clients. It kept her mind off herself.

  “May I help you?”

  “Do you mind if I browse? I heard about the boutique from a friend, and you have some lovely things in the window.”

  “Thank you. Let me know if you need any help.”

  Jessica and the woman exchanged an easy smile, and the customer began to look through the sportswear. She was elegant, somewhere in her mid- to late thirties, maybe even forty, but it was hard to tell. She wore a trim, simple black pantsuit, a cream linen blouse, a small bright scarf at her neck, and a healthy amount of obviously expensive gold jewelry—a handsome bracelet, a nice chain, several very solid-looking rings—and a striking pair of onyx-diamond earrings that had caught Jessie’s attention when she’d walked into the shop. The woman spelled money. But her face showed warmth, and something else—as though she enjoyed the pretty things she was wearing, but understood that there were other things in her life that mattered more.

  Jessie watched her as she moved from rack to rack. She looked content, happy. And she had a kind of grace that made her easy to watch. The face was young, the hair ash blond streaked with gray. In an odd way she reminded Jessie of a Siamese cat, particularly the pale china blue of her eyes. Something about her made you want to know more.

  “Did you have anything special in mind? We have some new things in the back.” The woman smiled at Jessie and shrugged.

  “I should be shot for this, but what about that suede coat over there? Have you got it in an eight?” She looked guilty, like a small child buying more bubble gum than she was supposed to, but she also looked as though she were having a good time. And as though she could afford one hell of a lot of bubble gum, or anything else.

  “I’ll take a look.” Jessica disappeared into the stockroom, wondering if they did have the coat in a smaller size.

  They didn’t. But they had a similar one that sold for forty dollars more. Jessica removed the price tag and took the coat out to the woman. It was a warm cinnamon color with a soft clinging shape. It was actually a better-looking coat than the first one, and the woman noticed that instantly.

  “Damn. I was hoping I’d hate it.”

  “It’s a hard coat to hate. And it looks well on you.”

  They watched the woman swirling gracefully in the brown suede coat. It suited her marvelously, and she knew it. It was a pleasure to see clothes on someone like that. But then, she could have worn the rug and looked fabulous.

  “How much is it?”

  “Three hundred and ten.” Zina and Kat exchanged a quizzical glance, but they knew enough not to question the price aloud. Jessie always had a method to her madness, and she was usually right. Maybe this was someone special Jessie had been hoping to lure into the shop. She certainly looked like someone one ought to recognize. And the woman did not look overwhelmed by the price of the coat.

  “Does it have matching pants?”

  “It did, but they’re gone.”

  “That’s too bad.” But she managed to casually collect three sweaters, a blouse, and a suede skirt to go with the coat before she decided that she’d done enough damage for one day. It was a beautiful sale for the shop, and an easy one. She pulled out her checkbook, encased in emerald green suede, and looked up at Jessie with a smile. “And if you see me back here in less than a week, throw me out the door.”

  “Do I have to?” Jessie looked mock-regretful.

  “That’s an order, not a request!”

  “What a pity.” The two women laughed and the shopper filled out her check. It was for well over five hundred dollars. But she hardly looked worried. Her name was Astrid Bonner, and her address was on Vallejo, only a block from Jessie’s home.

  “We’re almost neighbors, Mrs. Bonner.” Jessie told her her address, and Astrid Bonner looked up with a smile.

  “I know that house! It’s the little blue and white one, I’ll bet, with all those fabulous bright flowers out front!”

  “You can see us for miles!”

  “Don’t apologize; you do wonders for the area! And you have a little red sports car?” Jessie pointed out the window.

  “That’s me.” They laughed together and Zina quietly locked the doors. It was a quarter to six. “Would you like a drink?” They kept a bottle of Johnnie Walker in the back. Some of their customers stayed late to chat. It was another nice touch.

  “I’d love to, but I won’t. You probably want to get home.” Jessie smiled and Katsuko put Mrs. Bonner’s purchases in two large shiny brown boxes filled with yellow and orange tissue paper and tied them with plaid ribbons.

  “Do you own the shop?”

  Jessie nodded.

  “You have some beautiful things. And I needed that coat like another hole in my head. But … no will power. It’s my worst problem.”

  “Sometimes a splurge is good for the soul.”

  Astrid Bonner nodded quietly at the remark and the two women exchanged a long glance. Jessie felt very comfortable with her. She was sorry Astrid Bonner wouldn’t stay for the drink; Jessie had nothing to rush home for, and she would have liked to talk to her. She wondered which of the houses on the next block was hers. And then she had an idea.

  “Can I give you a lift home, by the way? I’m leaving now.” It would also spare her the questions that Zina and Kat might have saved to hurl at her after hours. She couldn’t face that yet. And Astrid Bonner would give her safe passage. She still hadn’t told them she wouldn’t be in the following morning, while she went to the arraignment.

  “A lift would be terrific. Thank you. I usually walk when I’m this close to home, but with these two boxes … delightful.” She smiled and looked even younger. Jessie wondered how old she really was.

  Jessica picked up her coat, grabbed her bag, and waved at the other two. “Good night, ladies. See you sometime tomorrow. I won’t be in in the morning.” The four smiled at one another, Jessie unlocked the door for Astrid, Zina locked it again behind them, and they were on their way. No questions, no answers, no lies. Jessie was enormously relieved. She hadn’t realized how she had been dreading that all afternoon.

  She unlocked the car and Astrid slid in, the boxes tall on her lap, and they headed for home.

  “The shop must keep you busy.”

  “It does, but I love it. And I’m Jessica Clarke, by the way. I just realized that I haven’t introduced myself. I’m sorry.” They exchanged another smile, and the evening breeze rustled through Astrid Bonner’s freshly done hair. “Would you like me to put the top up?”

  “Of course not.” She laughed suddenly and looked at Jessie. “I’m not that old and stuffy, for God’s sake. And I must say, I envy you that shop. I used to work on a magazine in New York. That was ten years ago, and I still miss fashion, in any form.”

  “We came out from New York too. Six years ago. What brought you here?”

  “My husband. Well, no actually it was a business trip. Then I met my husband out here—and never went back.” She looked pleased at the memory.

  “Never? Are they still expecting you back?” The two women laughed in the soft twilight.

  “No, I returned for all of three
weeks. Gave them notice and that was that. I was the career-woman sort, never going to marry, all of that … and then I met Tom. And bingo, end of the career.”

  “Did you ever regret it?” It was an outrageously personal thing to ask, but she seemed to invite one to feel at ease with her. And Jessie did.

  “No. Never. Tom changed everything.” Jessica found herself wanting to say “how awful” and then wondering why. After all, Ian had changed things for her too, but not like that; he hadn’t cost her a career, hadn’t forced her to leave New York. She had wanted to move to San Francisco, but she couldn’t conceive of giving up Lady J.

  “No, I never regretted it for a moment. Tom was a remarkable man. He died last year.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Do you have children?”

  Astrid laughed and shook her head. “No, Tom was fifty-eight when I married him. We had a splendid ten years—alone. It was like a honeymoon.” Jessie was reminded of her life with Ian, and smiled.

  “We feel sort of the same way. Children might interfere with so much.”

  “Not if that’s what you want. But we both thought we were too old. I was thirty-two when I married him, and I just wasn’t the motherly type. We never regretted it. Except that life is awfully quiet now.”

  So Astrid was forty-two. Jessie was surprised.

  “Why don’t you take a job?” she said.

  “What could I possibly get a job doing? I worked for Vogue, but there’s nothing like that out here. And even Vogue wouldn’t want me anymore, not after ten years. You get rusty, and I’ve gotten about as rusty as you can get. And besides, I have no intention of moving back to New York. Ever.

  “Get something in a field related to fashion.”

  “Like what?”

  “A boutique.”

  “Which brings us back to where we started, my dear. I’m green with envy over yours.”

  “Don’t be too envious. It has its problems.”

  “And its rewards, I’ll bet. Do you go back to New York often?”

  “I came back two days ago.” And yesterday my husband got arrested for rape. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it, but Astrid would have been horrified. Anyone would have been. She sighed deeply, forgetting for a moment that she was not alone.

  “Was the trip as bad as all that?” Astrid asked, smiling.

  “What trip?”

  “The trip to New York. You said you just got back from New York two days ago, and then you sighed as though your best friend had died.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” She tried to smile, but suddenly everything felt heavy again; the nightmare had rushed back to overwhelm her. There was a moment’s pause, and then Astrid looked at her over the brown boxes on her lap.

  “Is anything wrong?” It was a deep, searching look, and hard to meet it with a lie.

  “Nothing that won’t be smoothed out soon.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” What a nice woman, they were total strangers and she was asking Jessie about her problems. Jessie smiled and slowed at the corner.

  “No, everything’s okay really. And you already did help. You finished my day with a nice dollop of sunshine. Now, which house is it?”

  Astrid smiled and pointed. “That one. And you were an angel to drive me home.”

  It was a somber brick mansion with black shutters and white trim and politely carved hedges around it. Jessie wanted to whistle. She and Ian had noticed the house often and had wondered who lived there. They had suspected the owners traveled a lot, because the house often looked closed.

  “Mrs. Bonner, I’d like to return the compliment on the house. We’ve envied you this one for years.”

  “I’m flattered. And call me Astrid. But your house looks like so much more fun, Jessica. This one is awfully … well …” She giggled. “Grown-up, I suppose is the right word. Tom already had it when we married, and he had some beautiful things. You’ll have to come over for coffee sometime. Or a drink.”

  “I’d love it.”

  “Then how about right now?”

  “I … I’d love to, but to tell you the truth, I’m just beat. It’s been a very hectic couple of days since I got back, and I ran myself ragged for three weeks in New York. Would a rain check be possible?”

  “With pleasure. Thanks again for the ride.” She let herself out of the car, and waved as she climbed the steps to her house. Jessie waved back. That was some house! And she was pleased with having met Astrid Bonner. A delightful woman.

  Jessica drove into her own driveway, thinking of Astrid and what she had said. It sounded as though she had given up a lot for her husband. And she looked happy about it.

  Jessie walked into the dark house, kicked off her shoes, and sat down on the couch without turning on the lights. She was reviewing the day. It had been unbelievable. Everything from the meeting with Martin Schwartz, to emptying her savings into his pockets, to seeing Ian in jail, to the civilized exchanges with Astrid Bonner … when would life become real again?

  She thought about making herself a drink, but she couldn’t get up the energy to move. Her mind raced, but her body had turned to stone. The machinery just wouldn’t move anymore. But her mind … her mind … she kept thinking about the visit to Ian. She was home again now. Alone, where he had always waited for her at night. The house was so unbearably quiet … the way Jake’s apartment had been when she’d gone back to it … after he died … why did she keep thinking of Jake now? Why did she keep comparing him to Ian? Ian wasn’t dead. And he would be home tomorrow—wouldn’t he? He would. But what if … she just couldn’t stop. The doorbell rang and she didn’t even hear it until finally the insistent buzzer yanked her attention off the merry-go-round of her thoughts. It required her last ounce of energy to get up and answer the door.

  She stood in her stocking feet in the darkness of the front hall and spoke through the door. She was too tired even to try to guess who it was.

  “Who is it?” Her voice barely penetrated through to the opposite side. But he heard her. He looked over his shoulder at his companion and nodded. The second man walked slowly back toward the green car.

  “Police.”

  Jessie’s heart flew into trip-hammer action at the sound of the word, and she leaned trembling against the wall. Now what?

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Inspector Houghton. I want to speak to Mrs. Clarke.” But he already knew it was she. And on the other side of the door, Jessica was tempted to tell him that Mrs. Clarke was not at home. But her car was plainly visible out front, and he’d just hang around waiting. There was no escaping them anymore. They owned her life, and Ian’s.

  Jessie slowly unlocked the door and stood silently in the dark hall. Even without shoes, she stood about an inch taller than the inspector. Their eyes held for a long moment. All the hatred she could not feel for Ian’s betrayal she lavished on Inspector Houghton. He was easy to hate.

  “Good evening. May I come in?” Jessie stood to one side, flicked on the lights, and then preceded him into the living room. She stood in the center of the room, facing him, and did not invite him to sit down.

  “Well, Inspector? What now?” Her tone hid nothing.

  “I thought we could have a little chat.”

  “Oh? Is that usual?” She was frightened, but she was even more afraid to show it. What if he wanted to rape her? A real rape this time. What if … oh God … where was Ian?

  “This is perfectly usual, Mrs. Clarke.”

  They seemed to circle each other with their eyes, enemies from birth. A python and his prey. She didn’t like her role. She feared him, but would not show it. He found her beautiful, but he didn’t let that show either. He hated Ian for a number of reasons. That showed.

  “Mind if I sit down?” Yes. Very much.

  “Not at all.” She waved him to the couch and sat down in her usual chair.

  “Lovely house you have, Mrs. Clarke. Have you lived here long?” He glanced around, seeming to take in all the details
, while she fantasized about telling him to go fuck himself and scratching his eyes out. But now she knew that wasn’t real. You might hate cops, but you didn’t let your hostilities show. She was innocent, Ian was innocent, but she was terrified.

  “Inspector, is this a formal interrogation or a social call? Our attorney told me today that I don’t have to speak to anyone unless he’s present.” She was watching the brown double-knit leg and the maroon sock, wondering if he was going to try to rape her. He was wearing a shiny mustard-colored tie. She was beginning to feel nauseated, and suddenly panicked, wondering if she had taken the pill that morning. And then suddenly she looked at him and knew she’d kill him if he tried. She’d have to.

  “No, you don’t have to speak to anyone unless your attorney is present, Mrs. Clarke, but I have a few questions, and I thought it would be more pleasant for you to answer them here.” Big favor.

  “I think I’d rather answer them in court.” But they both knew she didn’t have to answer anything in court. She was the defendant’s wife. Legally, she didn’t have to testify.

  “Suit yourself.” He stood up to leave and then stopped at the bar. “You a drinker, too?” The question infuriated her.

  “No, and neither is my husband.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. He claims he was ripped when he took the victim to the hotel. I figured he was lying, though. He doesn’t look like a drinker.” Jessie’s heart sank and her eyes filled with hatred. This sonofabitch was trying to trap her.

  “Inspector, I’m asking you to leave. Now.”

  Houghton turned to her then and searched her eyes with a look of feigned kindness. But his own eyes returned the anger of Jessie’s. His voice was barely audible as he stood a foot away from her.

  “What are you doing with a weak-kneed punk like him?”

  “Get out of my house!” Her voice was as low as his and her whole body was trembling.

  “What’ll you do when he goes to the joint? Find another gigolo sweetheart like him? Believe me, sister, don’t sweat it. They’re a dime a dozen.”

  “Get out!” The words were like two fists in his face, and he turned on his heel and walked to the door. He paused for a moment and looked back at her.