Free Cold Night (Jack Paine Mysteries) by Al Sarrantonio Page B

they were. He studied the curve of her nose, the artistic sculpture of her cheek leading to the firmer flesh of her chin and down into the valley of her throat. He thought about how few times in a man's life he was able to study a woman without her knowledge or consent, as merely a work of art.
    He watched the coming light through the window play across the landscape of her face, until some relay switched within her and she stirred. She opened her eyes at him, still in her dream or just coming through its portal back into life, and for the tiniest of moments he felt on the verge of revelation. It was like the time Ginny had come into the room as he cocked the gun to his head, the frozen second of time that had forever colored her for him and opened her secret heart to him. It was like that, only it was different, and for the briefest measure of time he was on the edge of knowing what made him feel the way he did about her, and then it was lost to him. It was in his consciousness and then it was gone before he could grasp and know it.
    Then her eyes really saw him, and without moving her head she smiled, and then she stretched beneath the covers. "What time is it?" she asked.
    "About seven."
    Keeping her smile, she reached her hand to lay it on his arm. "I have to be at the house at nine. Lawyer business."
    He brought his own arm out of her light grip. "Did your father ever mention anyone named Lucas Druckman?"
    He reached over to the floor and picked up his jacket, taking the slip of paper he'd found in Paterna's office and handing it to her. "Did he ever mention someone named Izzy?"
    She shook her head.
    "Did your father have any business in California?"
    "Nothing that I know of."
    Paine reached back into the jacket pocket and retrieved the photo of the older couple with the horse. "Those are eucalyptus trees," he said, pointing to the stand of California conifers bordering the pasture in the photo. "And the phone number on that slip of paper is a Los Angeles number." He took out the picture of the head shot in sideburns. "And that's Lucas Druckman."
    She looked at him. "I don't understand."
    "All this has something to do with California. Does your sister Gloria have any dealings on the West Coast?"
    "I don't think so. Her husband might. He's a budding politician, you know." She gave a slight smile. "He wants to be President."
    Again she laid her hand on his arm, squeezing it. "If I want to see you again, do I wait outside your door?"
    Paine laughed. "If you want. If you can't find me, there's a fellow named Bob Petty who might know where I am." He gave her Petty's number.
    "I've got to go," she whispered.
    She slipped silently out of bed and went to the bathroom. When she came out, she was dressed.
    He lay in bed, looking at her. The angle of morning sun made a partial shadow of her face.
    "How did your mother die?" he asked quietly.
    Her face went deeper into shadow. "The death certificate my father bought said cardiac arrest. But she took an overdose of sleeping pills. She killed herself."
    The shadow receded; a cloud outside the window moved away from the sun. Occluded light leapt back into her face. "I have to go," she said.

FOURTEEN
     
    M argie said, "Henry Kopiak is in your office."
    "Shit," said Paine. On his way down the hall, Jimmy Carnaseca called to him from his office, and Paine went in.
    "How you doing, Jack?" Jimmy smiled. He had the box of little wooden girders out, and he was fitting one of them precisely into the growing structure on his desk.
    "Any guesses?" Jimmy asked. "You should be able to figure it out by now."
    There was an Italian architect who designed things like this, all angles. It looked a little like a temple Paine had seen once in National Geographic. It looked a little like a lot of things.
    "It's an office building," Paine said.
    "Not even close," Jimmy answered, grinning. He fit another tiny girder into its slot. "You know, Jack," he said, "you still look like shit. Worse,