Free Death of a Washington Madame by Warren Adler Page B

semen. A DNA match would confirm the perpetrator."
    "If found."
    He nodded and shrugged. His work had made him a skeptic and
sometimes cynic. From his perspective, poking around in dead humans, many of
them murder victims, he had reason for cynicism. He was in his late fifties and
had lost his wife of thirty years, the love of his life. He had lived alone in
the house they had shared. As far as she had observed, he hadn't the remotest
interest in involving himself in another relationship.
    "Logical conclusion." Fiona murmured. "It
has an air of speculation."
    "There were, indeed, signs of forced entry, signs of
trauma in the vaginal tissues. I'll skip all the technical jargon, Fi. She was
not a willing participant. Ergo rape."
    Dr. Benson leaned back again and made his trademark
cathedral, studying Fiona through the finger slats.
    "But you could have got that in one telephone call,
Fi. There's more isn't there?"
    "Don't be so smug, Doctor. I've dropped clues like
flower petals at a wedding. I called you at seven a.m. Brought in breakfast for
us both, a clear tip-off that I was here for a heart to heart. And here we are
talking about sex."
    "Rape isn't about sex, Fi," Dr. Benson said.
    "I know. I was referring to my own situation. And it
is, at least partially, about the sex."
    "I've noted the definite article, Fi."
    "That part deserves the definite article, Doctor. It's
the less physical parts of the relationship that give pause. She sighed and
shook her head. "It's Hal Perry, my new friend. I told you about
him."
    "With great enthusiasm, I recollect."
    "You've heard all this before, I know."
    "But this is different, right?"
    "Don't trivialize, Doctor. I'll grant you that all
this comes from the same root ... the need to pair. Just because you were lucky
once, doesn't mean this is the fate of all."
    Both knew that this was gentle sparring. His advice was
always on target, including the hardest part, a subtle suggestion that she
might be wise to ponder the long term effects of this or that proposed union.
He never pressed the point, only mused aloud modestly intoning that "he
was not as good with the living as he was with the dead".
    "As you know, he's a former General and he is mounting
a massive offensive to gain my hand in marriage." She waved her hand
around his office. "He wants to take me away from all this. All this blood
and violence, chicanery, hypocrisy, deception. In that role, I would be the
chatelaine of his various houses, the powerful sucked up to corporate
wife."
    "Sounds intriguing," he said, unmaking his
cathedral and sitting up. He buttered his bagel, took a bite and sipped his
coffee.
    "It is."
    "But is it love?"
    "I think so."
    "If it's love Fiona, you don't think. It's like
religion, an irrational certainty."
    "Maybe I'm too cerebral. Or do I prize my independence
beyond reason?"
    "Now there's an obvious rationalization, Fiona. In
love, you give up your independence willingly, gladly."
    "You're a pathetic romantic, Dr. Benson. Somehow it
seems incongruous with pathology."
    "Not at all. It reveals the same certainties. Bones
and tissue can't lie."
    "Are you suggesting that I'm lying to myself?"
    "Not you Fiona. I'd say you weren't, if you'll pardon
the expression from a medical examiner, dead certain."
    A protest, Fiona knew, would be irrelevant. He knew she had
come to him for honesty and wisdom. Dead certain, she mused. Yes, she wanted
Hal Perry, wanted to be in his arms, wanted him nearby, wanted to share his
life. But she also wanted him to share hers, this life, which put her between,
as they say, a rock and a hard place.
    "Have you considered split shifts?"
    "I have. He hasn't. Oddly enough, it's not the work I
do. Unlike others who caught my affection, he has bought my explanation. He
truly understands the why of it. That's not the relevant issue. If I were a
cabinet minister, a rocket scientist, a lavatory attendant or even a
pathologist. It wouldn't matter. He wants me ... there. With him."
    "Can