Free The Night Caller by John Lutz Page B

correlating stress with cancer.”
    “I’m dealing with it as well as could be expected,” Coop said.
    “Do you need anything?”
    At first Coop didn’t understand.
    “Perhaps something to help you sleep,” Dr. Gregory said, seeing his confusion. “Or to relieve anxiety.”
    “No, I want to keep thinking clearly. Stay active.”
    “I guess you know, from your profession, that everyone deals with grief, with stress, differently.”
    “True enough,” Coop said. Some of them murder women.
    “We’ll keep an eye on things,” Dr. Gregory said, standing up. “Continue your diet, Coop, and get at least some regular exercise. Let me know immediately if you perceive any change in yourself.”
    “I will,” Coop said, also standing, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Thanks,” he said simply, as always after an appointment. Thanks for saving my life.
    “Sure,” Dr. Gregory said, almost casually. “Don’t forget to stop and see Mary on the way out, set up an appointment for your next blood workup. In these cases, the tale is in the blood.”
     
    Balancing a box and two paper sacks containing her shopping bounty, Georgianna unlocked the door and entered her apartment. Once inside, she set her burden on a small table, carefully relocked the door, then fastened the chain lock.
    She got out a peach-colored blouse from one of the paper sacks and held it up to herself, beneath her chin, checking her image in the mirror. She was pleased. The blouse’s color was right for her, as it had appeared in the harsher light of the department store. That lighting could fool you when it came to color. She hadn’t been so sure in the store.
    She lowered the blouse but kept looking at herself, at the image of an attractive and confident woman with a mischievous grin. Somebody on the way to somewhere important, if looks and grooming were any indication.
    Georgianna tossed the new blouse over the back of the sofa and started toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.
    Then she stopped and stood still, feeling chilled and as if every fine hair on her body were standing on end.
    She had heard nothing but somehow knew that someone was standing behind her.
    Close.
    She made herself turn and look, and gasped at what she saw.
    Instinctively she whirled to run.
    She managed half a stride, hearing or imagining a single, whispered word, Julia, as the mallet fell.

Chapter Eleven
    Coop met Deni Green at the Sapphire Coffee Shop after she called the next morning telling him she’d organized the material he wanted. When he walked in, he saw her seated in the same booth where they’d met the last time. She was wearing black again, a baggy dress of some sort of crinkly material. Coop wondered if she always dressed in black.
    The Sapphire was more crowded this time, with office workers taking brunches or early lunches, but Coop and Deni could still talk privately. He said hello and slid into the booth so he was seated facing her. Before Deni on the table was a plate of fried eggs, sausage, and buttered toast. Late breakfast, delayed because of Coop and his request for information.
    “It’s delicious,” Deni said. “I eat here all the time and I know. I recommend you order the same.”
    “I’ll just have coffee.”
    “Sure? It’s my treat again,” she said. “I have an expense account.”
    “I’m sure.”
    She let it drop and went back to her meal while Coop ordered a cup of coffee from the same waiter as before, the guy who looked like an anarchist poisoner. With her free hand Deni removed a fat yellow file folder from the black briefcase on the bench beside her and laid it on the table in front of Coop. “Here’sh the shtuff you ashked for,” she said around a mouthful of egg. “Photographsh an’ all.”
    He opened the folder and studied its contents, aware of Deni washing down the bite of egg with a long swig of coffee.
    The waiter had brought his coffee and glanced over Coop’s shoulder. “My God!” he said.
    “We’re