Free Remains Silent by Michael Baden, Linda Kenney Page A

coming with you.
     
     
Impossible.
     
     
Really? Try to get rid of me.
     
     
He thought for some moments. She waited for his answer, surprised by her own anxiousness. Okay.
     
     
Is he humoring me or does he actually want me with him? No matter. Good. Well take my car.
     
     
    * * *
A Porsche! For a woman who lost the Carramia case, isnt it a bit extravagant? They were in the parking garage near the restaurant. She didnt tell him the car was previously owned.
     
     
I bought it before Carramia. I do win, and sometimes win big, from time to time, she said. And besides, clothes and cars arent extravagances. She decided not to explain her mothers philosophy.
     
     
He held out his hand for the keys. She looked at it. Youve got to be kidding.
     
     
I should drive.
     
     
You may have failed to notice, she said, but this is my car. Besides, youre in no condition to drive. You had two glasses of wine.
     
     
He rubbed his temple; she was giving him a headache. Two hours ago. Im a male weighing a hundred and ninety-five pounds who just ate a full meal. Would you like me to explain the metabolism rate of alcohol in the human body?
     
     
God, no!
     
     
Fine. Then give me the keys. Weve got to drive up there, do the post, then come back to the city. Theres no sticking to the speed limit.
     
     
She gave him the keys. He slid into the drivers seat. Wheres the damn ignition?
     
     
She held back a laugh. To the left of the steering wheel, exactly where it belongs in a Porsche Cabriolet, in homage to its racing-car roots.
     
     
He looked down. Shit. Its got three pedals.
     
     
The laugh exploded. Of course. Its a Porsche.

 
     
He got out of the car and handed her the keys. I dont drive a stick, he said.
     
     
She thought of a dozen nasty comebacks but didnt share them. What man under eighty can only drive an automatic?
     
     
They zoomed out of the garage, crosstown, then stopped in front of a building. Whats the matter? he asked. Dont know how to drive a stick?
     
     
She glared at him. I cant leave my baby alone all night. Watch the car.
     
     
Baby? he yelled after her, but she was already gone.
     
     
He waited in the car while she went up to her apartment. Had she ever mentioned a baby? He pictured himself trying to help a crazy woman buckle a childs car seat into the Porsche. Was she seriously intending to bring an infant to a postmortem? Why did I agree to let her come? he asked himself, but he did not attempt an analysis.
     
     
She returned, carrying a bundle and a tote bag. What took you so long? he asked.
     
     
Mycroft needed a walk around the block. She took her place at the wheel and deposited the bundle in his lap.
     
     
It moved. A poodle! Shes certifiable.
     
     
Just one year old. I cant leave him for most of the night. He likes to be held.
     
     
Youve got to be
     
     
And could you roll down your window? Mycroft likes fresh air.
     
     
She passed him the tote Prada filled to bursting. He tried to find space on the floor for both it and his feet, knowing which shed insist had preference.
     
     
What the hell have you got in here?
     
     
Some catch-up reading to do while you hack up the body. Most of it is for Mycroft: his security blanket, toys, bowl, Evian, and bully stick; his fleece, in case it gets cold; his favorite little red pillow. You know the basics.
     
     
You carry a bottle of spring water for your dog? Jake and Mycroft eyed each other. The animals coat was shiny and neatly clipped, but his lower jaw jutted out oddly, a tooth skewing to one side. Hell of an underbite, he said. And the hair around his mouth makes him look like he just ate a doughnut.
     
     
Hes too young for an orthodontist. But Ill have you know Mycrofts an entrepreneur. His groomer named a perfume after him: Mycroft Millefleurs, Parfum for the Precious Pooch. She looked directly at him. All men should be so lucky.
     
     

They reached Baxter Community Hospital in under two hours, which Jake