Last Run (3 page)

At a little past noon, Kez Flanagan was in the main cafeteria at Trent with a couple of fellow Tornadoes – like her, using the facilities during the summer.

Her eyes were on Cathy Robbins Becket, in line at the counter, buying a salad. Cathy turned slightly, saw her and smiled. Kez lifted her right hand with its blunt, decorated nails, and smiled
back.

‘You know her?’ Jackie Lomax asked.

Kez nodded.

‘Know about her past?’ Jackie asked.

‘Sure,’ Kez said.

‘Poor kid,’ Jackie said.

‘Bit of a weirdo,’ Nita North remarked.

‘Nothing weird about Cathy,’ Kez said sharply.

She looked back at the line and saw that the younger woman had gone, and felt something that surprised her.

Empty.

While Judy had still been with them, even during her illness, they had all, when able, come on Friday evenings to the Becket home on Golden Beach, to the old house, comfortable
as old slippers and always welcoming.

They came, these days, to Grace and Sam’s place, sat at the hand-carved kitchen table, gleaming copper pots and pans steaming on the stove. They all – women and men – took it
in turns to light the Sabbath candles and say the blessings over bread and wine, and sometimes it was no more than two or three at the table, with Sam working a case or perhaps Saul or Cathy
otherwise occupied. But this Friday, with the first few rounds of intense activity in the Muller investigation having hit dead ends, and with Sam feeling especially needy of Grace’s
wonderful, essentially Italian cooking, and of his family in general, they were, as it happened, all present and correct.

An extra place laid for Terri, Saul’s girlfriend. Saul’s
love.
Teresa Suarez. Petite,
very
pretty, and tough. Terri to her friends. Teté – her Cuban
nickname – to Saul. No one else close enough to call her that.

Sam knew her, too, as Officer Teresa Suarez, an intensely ambitious rookie working in Property Crimes at the Miami Beach Police Department. To her chagrin, since Terri’s aim was to be a
homicide cop like Sam.

Her single-mindedness was a little too much, on occasion, for Sam’s liking.

‘Why shouldn’t she want what you have?’ Saul had asked his brother a few months back, after Sam had passed a mildly concerned – and, to his mind, diplomatic –
remark about Terri’s impatience.

‘She has a terrific job now,’ Sam had said. ‘And great potential.’

‘You mean that?’ Saul had been mollified.

‘Sure I mean it,’ Sam had said. ‘But Terri’s young. She can afford to take her time, hone her skills as she goes. And there’s nothing inferior about Property
Crimes, believe me.’

‘She wants to help people,’ Saul said. ‘Make a difference.’

‘Then she couldn’t be in a better section,’ Sam had pointed out. ‘You know how violated people feel when their homes are burgled.’

What Sam had felt – but had known better than to say – was that he had, for some time, had the disconcerting sense that Terri was one of those young officers with wholly unrealistic
expectations of life in a homicide squad. The reality, of course, was exposure to horror, ugliness, sordidness, deep sorrow, pain and frustration. Not forgetting the mind-numbingly tedious chores
that detectives in Violent Crimes had to constantly wade through because it
was
so vital to catch these most dangerous of criminals, and because knocking on a hundred or more doors and
filling out forms and writing endless reports was part of the process that meant a killer might ultimately be not only caught, but also brought to justice.

The homicide cop’s reason for being. The prize that made it all worthwhile. The prize that Terri wanted. And Saul was right, of course. Sam was in no position to blame her for that.

Except that the work had more than its share of risks, and no one knew that better than Sam. Saul, his gentle young adoptive brother, was one of the most important people in his universe and Sam
could not help feeling afraid that, in so adoring his spunky, bitter-chocolate-eyed girlfriend, Saul might be storing up pain for his future.

Not yet, though, thank God. Not tonight. Hopefully not ever.

‘You look happy, sweetheart,’ David commented to Cathy part way through Grace’s chilli roasted, Tuscan-rooted version of her late mother-in-law’s
traditional Friday night roast chicken.

‘She’s happy – ’ Saul got in before Cathy could answer – ‘because this Trent track star thinks she’s a hot runner.’

‘Kez never said that,’ Cathy corrected him. ‘She said I wasn’t bad.’

‘You’re better than not bad,’ Grace told her.

Cathy smiled. ‘Kez said we could run together sometime.’

‘Would this be Kez Flanagan, by any chance?’ David was interested.

‘You’ve heard of her?’ Cathy was surprised, since being a star at Trent meant little in the wider college athletics world.

‘I used to know her,’ David said.

‘Patient?’ Sam asked.

‘Until her father passed away.’ David smiled. ‘Joey, her dad, was crazy about her.’

‘How old was she when he died?’ Cathy asked.

‘Young – maybe around seven or eight.’ David wrinkled his curved nose, thinking back. ‘I remember them both so clearly because it was always her father who brought her
for check-ups, never her mom.’

Grace offered more rice and salad around the table.

‘I’ve never caught the running bug,’ she said to Terri, hoping to draw her into the conversation. ‘Do you take time out for any sports?’

‘I go to the gym,’ Terri said. ‘I like to keep in shape for work.’

‘Me, too.’ Sam grinned, looked down at his waistline, which seemed to have expanded just a little since he’d hit forty. ‘I blame Grace’s cooking for
this.’

Cathy, seated to his left at the table that was used for everything from breakfast to Christmas dinner, reached over and patted his stomach. ‘I keep telling you to come running with
me.’

‘I get exercise,’ Sam protested.

‘Walking Woody,’ Grace said, ‘doesn’t constitute exercise.’

Her greatly loved old West Highland Terrier, Harry, had passed on three years ago, after which they’d found Woody – part wire-haired dachshund, part miniature schnauzer – in a
Fort Lauderdale rescue shelter.

‘Saul’s the same,’ Terri said on the subject of exercise. ‘Except his nose is always in some book, which is even worse.’

‘What about all the sawing I do?’ Saul flexed his right arm.

‘Making bookshelves hardly makes you a lumberjack,’ Cathy teased, though she loved and admired the fruits of her adoptive uncle’s hobby that had made their way into her
bedroom.

‘Was your father into sports, Terri?’

Sam’s question sounded relaxed, though the fact was he’d never heard her talk about either of her parents – both dead in a car accident, Saul had told him – but even if
there was maybe some big reason for her reticence, he hoped this was safe territory.

‘My dad’s only real sport,’ Terri answered steadily, ‘was beating up on women.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said, dismayed, watching his brother reach for her hand.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Terri shrugged. ‘Not any more, anyway.’

‘I imagine,’ David said quietly, ‘that it still matters a good deal.’

‘Teté always says she was lucky,’ Saul said, ‘because her grandma pretty much took over bringing her up when her mom and dad died.’ He still held her hand.
‘By the sounds of it, she was an amazing lady.’

‘She must have been,’ Grace said warmly. ‘Judging by her granddaughter.’

‘Thank you,’ Terri said.

Awkward moment, come through as well as it could be. And not all bad, Grace reflected, since it represented the first truly personal piece of information they had learned about the young woman
Saul so clearly loved.

Not our business
, Grace reminded herself, wrapping the chicken carcass carefully so that Woody couldn’t get at the splintery bones. No reason on earth for Teresa Suarez to share her
deeply private affairs with any of them except, perhaps, Saul, and certainly not Saul’s place to betray her confidences.

‘Any leads in the Muller case?’ Terri asked Sam.

The next troublesome moment, while he was brewing coffee for them all: Supreme Bean Espresso Luna for himself and Terri (who shared his love of the strong stuff, though her personal preference
was for
cafecito
, the sweet Cuban coffee her grandmother had taught her to enjoy); latte for Grace and Saul, and a decaf espresso he’d found earlier in the week for Cathy and
David.

‘Good,’ Grace had said when she’d seen the pack. ‘Better for you.’

‘It’s not for me,’ Sam had assured her. ‘Half the flavour.’

‘Half the impact on your heart,’ Grace had told him.

Sam had said there was nothing wrong with his heart, and Grace had said that was the way she wanted to keep it, and then they’d gone into their usual routine where she told him he was
addicted and he claimed he could stop if he wanted, and Grace told him to prove it and Sam said he didn’t choose to.

Terri’s question now about the Muller murder case irritated him.

Don’t overreac
t
,
he told himself.

‘Nothing yet,’ he said.

‘I heard about Pompano Beach,’ she said.

‘Uh-huh.’ Sam tried to focus on the super automatic espresso maker that he’d bought himself last Christmas, and which Grace had renamed his Harley, as if it were some kind of
dangerous mid-life-crisis machine.

‘No link then?’ Terri persisted. ‘Victim was a cleaner, I heard.’

‘Did you?’ Sam turned away from the coffee machine, hoping he’d made his reply discouraging rather than downright chilly, saw right away from her expression that he’d
failed.

She looked annoyed – not angry, exactly, but her eyes held a distinct glint of hostility. And then it was gone.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Inappropriate dinner conversation.’

‘It’s me, Terri,’ Cathy said unexpectedly. ‘Sam doesn’t like talking about murders around me.’

Grace and Sam looked at her, both startled.

‘It’s true,’ Cathy said. ‘He thinks he’s shielding me.’

‘Do you blame him, sweetheart?’ David asked gently.

‘Course not.’ Cathy got up, went over to Sam, and smiled up at him. ‘I love him even more for it.’

‘Nice.’ Terri watched them hug, felt everyone’s eyes flick towards her, checking for cynicism. ‘It’s OK, guys,’ she said. ‘I mean it.’ She
shrugged. ‘I’m maybe a little jealous, but I think it’s great.’

‘If it’s love she’s after,’ Sam said to Grace later that evening in their bedroom, ‘she’s a lucky girl.’ He pulled his T-shirt up over
his head. ‘Did you see Saul’s face when she said that? He’s just so nuts about her.’

‘Why shouldn’t he be?’ Grace said.

They had covered all the reasons for Saul’s passion several times before, and Grace had grown annoyed with Sam for seeming to disparage Terri by implying that it was mostly down to her sex
appeal and, perhaps, the fact that at twenty-two, Terri was more experienced. They both knew that it was her career that disturbed Sam most.

‘Your trouble,’ Grace had told him months ago, ‘is that you’ve typecast Saul as the gentle doctor.’

‘It’s what he is,’ Sam had argued.

‘It’s only part of what he may well become,’ Grace had pointed out. ‘And whatever that is, it doesn’t dictate who Saul’s going to fall in love with, any more
than you ought to.’

‘Is that how you see me?’ Sam had been upset. ‘A dictator?’

‘You’re a protective older brother. Almost as daunting in its way.’

Sam had done his best since then to warm to Terri, hoped he made her feel welcome in their home, but he still felt generally edgy around her, and her questions this evening about the Muller case
hadn’t helped.

‘She should know better,’ he said now, sitting on the bed, ‘than to pump me for information.’

‘She didn’t exactly
pump
you.’ Grace sat down behind him, reached up to rub his neck, trying to ease out some of his tension. ‘Besides, Cathy was right,
wasn’t she?’

‘Sure she was,’ Sam admitted, shutting his eyes, loving how his wife’s hands made him feel. ‘I make no excuses for trying to protect our daughter.’

‘Nor should you.’ Grace went on gently kneading. ‘But I think it’s natural for Terri to jump at the chance to ask you questions.’ Tired and feeling the baby shift,
she stopped massaging, stood up and went across to her dressing table. ‘Not that she got any answers.’

‘She shouldn’t, by rights, have known about Pompano Beach.’

‘The cleaner?’ Grace sat down. ‘Something you were keeping under wraps?’

Sam shook his head. ‘Probably not even connected.’

Grace pulled a tissue from a box, eyed him through her mirror. ‘You’re not worried that Terri might be with Saul partly to get to you?’

‘Not for a minute.’ Sam looked shocked.

‘Only she’s told you she wants a transfer to Violent Crimes, and—’

‘And I told her first time she mentioned it there was nothing I could do for her.’ Sam’s grin was rueful. ‘Face it, if it was influential pals she was after, she picked
the wrong family.’

‘Stupid of me, anyway.’ Grace felt ashamed. ‘Terri’s with Saul because he’s a beautiful person and she’s lucky to have him.’

‘Maybe I was too rough on her.’ Sam said, remembering what Terri had told them earlier. ‘Did Saul ever tell you about her father?’

Grace shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t break her confidence that way.’

Sam thought about his younger brother and smiled. ‘Makes her luckier than ever to have found Saul, don’t you think?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Grace said.

Chapter Five

August 13

During the first three months of her potentially fragile pregnancy, Grace had cut right back on work, hardly needing, for once, to be persuaded to do so either by Sam or David
or any of her team of loving, frequently nagging supporters.

The ‘team’ reduced, in fact. Teddy Lopez, her former housekeeper and good friend, had moved to Los Angeles with a new lover eighteen months ago. Dora Rabinovitch, her part-time
office manager, had taken early retirement six months prior to that. And Claudia Brownley, her sister, had upped sticks with her family and relocated to Seattle where Daniel, her architect husband,
had chosen to set up his new practice.