Free The Seventh Commandment by Lawrence Sanders Page B

little pantry and poured herself a glass of white wine. She brought it back into the sitting room and curled up in a deep armchair. She sipped her wine, stared at her notebook, and wondered what Mario was doing. Finally she put the empty glass aside and read through her notebook again, searching for inspiration. Zilch.
    She went downstairs for an early dinner in the hotel, and had a miserable meal of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and peas. At that moment, she mournfully imagined, Mario was dining on veal scaloppine sauteed with marsala and lemon juice. Life was unfair; everyone knew that.
    She returned to her suite and, fearing Wenden might have called during her absence, phoned him again. But he had not yet returned to his office or called in for messages. So she settled down with her notebook again, convinced those scribbled pages held the key to what actually happened to Lewis Starrett-and why.
    When her phone rang, she rushed to pick it up, crossing her fingers for luck.
    "Hiya," Wenden said hoarsely. "Quite a surprise hearing from you."
    "How so?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
    "The way I came on to you the other night; I thought you'd be miffed."
    "Nah," she said. "It's good for a girl's ego. When the passes stop, it's time to start worrying. My God, John, you sound terrible."
    "Ah, shit," he said, "I think I got the flu. I have it all: sneezing, runny nose, headache, cough."
    "Are you dosing yourself?"
    "Yeah. Aspirin mostly. I get these things every year. Nothing to do but wait for them to go away."
    "Why didn't you call in sick, stay home, and doctor yourself?"
    "Because three other guys beat me to it, and the boss got down on his knees and cried. You feeling okay?"
    "Oh sure. I'm healthy as a horse. John, I was hoping to see you tonight, but I guess you want to get home."
    "Not especially. I feel so lousy I don't even want to think about driving to Queens."
    "That's where you live?"
    "If you can call it that. What's up?"
    "A couple of interesting things. Listen, if you can make it over here, I'll fix you a cup of hot tea with a slug of brandy. It won't cure the flu but might help you forget it."
    "On my way," he said. "Shouldn't take more than twenty minutes or so."
    She put a kettle on to boil, set out a cup and saucer for him, and then went into the bathroom to brush her hair and add a little lip gloss, wondering what the hell she was doing.
    When Wenden arrived, carrying an open box of Kleenex, he looked like death warmed over: bleary eyes, unshaven jaw, his nose red and swollen. And, as usual, his clothes could have been a scarecrow's castoffs.
    She got him seated on the couch, poured him a steaming cup of tea, and added a shot of brandy to it. He held the cup with both hands, took a noisy sip, closed his eyes and sighed.
    "Plasma," he said. "Thank you, Florence Nightingale."
    "You should be in bed," she said.
    "Best offer I've had today," he said, then sneezed and grabbed for a tissue.
    "Now I know you're not terminal," she said, smiling. "Anything new on the Starrett case?"
    "Nothing from our snitches. We've checked the whole neighborhood for three blocks around. No one saw anything or heard anything. We searched every sewer basin and trash can. No knife. We've got fliers out in every taxi garage in the city. The official line is still homicide by a stranger, maybe after an argument, maybe by some nut who objected to Starrett's cigar smoke-who the hell knows."
    "Uh-huh. John, did you see the medical examiner's report?"
    "Sure, I saw it. I love reading those things. They really make you want to resign from the human race. The things people do to people…"
    "Did the report describe the wound that killed Starrett?"
    "Of course."
    "How deep did it go-do you remember?"
    He thought a moment. "About seven and a half inches. Around there. They can never be precise. Tissue fills in. The outside puncture was a slit about two inches long."
    Dora nodded. "I think you need another brandy," she said.
    "I'll take it gladly,"