At that moment, Becker and Tovah walked around the side of the house.
"Cute," said Tovah. "Real cute."
Becker looked at the tableau with perplexity.
"I know," Tovah said. "Don't tell me. She was bitten by a snake and you're sucking out the poison."
Karen withdrew her hands from Kom. "We were talking," she said.
"Well, sure, he's good at that," said Tovah. She indicated Becker with a dismissive toss of her head. "This one should be so good."
"He is," Karen said defensively. Her tone toward Tovah crackled with scarcely disguised hostility, and Tovah's voice was similarly charged.
"Must be a hidden talent." Tovah turned abruptly and patted Becker's cheek, causing him to recoil reflexively. "I'm only teasing, don't mind me… Ooh, jumpy."
A beeper sounded and Kom withdrew an electronic pager from his pocket and glanced at the LED readout.
"Excuse me, I have to make a call," he said, vanishing quickly into the house.
"What else is new?" Tovah asked. "He's always dashing off to make calls, dashing off to the hospital. Never marry a doctor, Karen."
"I'll keep the husband I have, thanks."
Tovah eyed Becker speculatively.
"Yes, good idea," said Tovah. "He seems eminently stable.
Becker guffawed. "Stable?"
"He is-in his own way. Sane, stable, loyal, all the good things."
"Dogs are loyal," Tovah said. "Men are merely between affairs, whether they know it or not."
Kom returned to the front door holding a portable phone. "It's for you, John."
"Tracked you down," said Tee's voice in Becker's ear. "That's because of my superior sleuthing abilities. Discussing bones again, are you?"
"Playing tennis."
"With Dr. Kom? Why not spend an afternoon tripping old ladies at a crosswalk? That would be about as fair a match."
"We don't have a crosswalk in Clamden," Becker said. "We were playing doubles."
"With the lady wives? The plot thickens. How come you never ask me to play tennis?… Listen, can you spare a minute from your social life?
I've got some business to discuss." Becker glanced at the three other people who stood by pretending not to listen to his conversation. Karen and Tovah looked as if they might start pulling hair at any moment and Kom was trying so hard to appear innocent that it seemed to Becker as if he had just been caught with his dick in his hand.
"That sounds like a very good idea," Becker said into the phone. "Where should I meet you?"
"I'm in the street outside the house. I have red and blue balls on top of my car that I can make go round and round. "
"The top of your car is a funny place to keep them,"
Becker said. "What if it rains? You're sure you need Karen, too? One of us should stay here if we can."
"Did I say anything about needing Karen? She's always welcome but-"
"You're absolutely sure I can't deal with it myself?"
"What are you doing, talking for public consumption now?"
"That's right."
"Tell the Koms to eat my shorts."
Becker put his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Karen. "I'm afraid he needs both of us. Sorry."
"Oh," said Karen, feigning disappointment.
Becker looked at Kom, then Tovah. "Sorry. Work."
"Of course, of course," said Kom. "I understand, it happens all the time."
"Be right there," Becker said into the phone.
"I'm so sorry," said Karen, already moving back around the house. "We had such a good time."
"It's this business," Becker said, throwing his hands up and shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of annoyed resignation. "When you have to go…"
"I know, I know," said Kom. He wrung Becker's hand enthusiastically.
"It was terrific. It's a pleasure just to watch you play, just to watch you move around the court. You move like a panther. Doesn't he, Tovah?"
"What?"
"Doesn't he move like a panther?"
She eyed Becker again with the same speculative look, as if sizing him up. "I've never been with a panther," she said. "I don't know that much about them."
Kom took Karen's hand and held it momentarily with both of his. "And you move like a deer."
"Doesn't one of those eat the other?" Tovah asked.
Kom ignored his wife. He fixed Karen with a meaningful look. "Thank you. Thank you."
"Anytime."
"We'll have to do it again," said Kom, beaming and waving.
As they drove away, Becker slumped down in his seat and sighed.
They sat together in Tee's living room and he unfolded his suspicions about McNeil. "That's why I wanted to talk to you somewhere I know we won't be overheard. Certainly not at the station. I don't know that McNeil has any real friends there, but there are always people who'd love to spread the word. I have nothing really to go on, I know that."
Tee's wife emerged from the kitchen and offered soft drinks, returned to the kitchen, came out again with the drinks, retreated once more. After fifteen minutes she reemerged and offered cookies.
"Marge, it's business," said Tee. "We don't have social dealings with them, apparently." Karen glanced at Becker, lifting an eyebrow. To Marge, she said, "I'd love something, Marge, thank you."
"You look like you never eat cookies," Marge said.
"I could eat a box at a time."
"How do you keep that figure? Doesn't she have a lovely figure, Tee?"
"The woman is an associate deputy director of the FBI, I never look at her figure. She doesn't have a figure. To me she's a stick of wood, a shield, like any other cop."
"Isn't he a jerk?" Marge said sweetly.
"It would be an insult to view her as a hot babe, isn't that right, Karen?" Tee asked. To Marge, Karen said, "Yes, he is. But a very nice one."
Marge stood behind her husband, leaned down and put her chin on his head, her hands on his chest. "Oh, nice, sure. If you like that kind of thing in a man."
"I am not a jerk. I am the chief of police. The chief mind you."
"Chief jerk," Marge said affectionately. "How do you manage to keep looking that way, Karen?"
"Anxiety. It keeps the metabolism high."
"Living with Becker will do that to you," said Tee.
"At work I'm surrounded by men…"
"And they're all jerks. Got it. Still, there must be more to it. I have to live with Tee and I'm still putting on weight."
"You look fine," said Karen.
"Well, you won't find me running around in a tennis skirt. The chief here wouldn't allow it." She patted Tee's head with a trace of asperity, just hard enough to make him blink, then returned to the kitchen. Tee pointed his thumb in the direction of her retreat. "That must have been the wife," he said.
Ginny passed through the room, pulling her long blond hair into a ponytail. "You know Mr. and Mrs. Becker, Ginny. Say hello."
Ginny stopped and flashed a dazzling smile. "Hello," she said, managing to infuse the single word with warmth and sincerity. She paused just long enough to hear their return greetings before continuing on her way.
"She's really beautiful, Tee," Karen said.
"Yeah," he replied, glowing with pride. "And she's a good kid, too."
"The only thing wrong with her is she's too old for Jack," Becker said.
"You think you could retard her aging by a few years? Or maybe we could speed up Jack."
"Hey, please," said Karen. "I'm in no hurry for Jack to grow up-"
" 'And become a jerk,' is the end of that sentence," said Becker.
"I was going to say, 'and leave me." But now that you mention it…"
"To return to safer ground," Becker said, "you were saying you've tried to find this Kiawa?"
"Kiwasee. Tyrone Abdul Kiwasee. He's out on bail and he's done a bunk.
The Bridgeport cops are looking for him, but meanwhile, he's gone."
"You're fairly sure it was him on the telephone?" Karen asked.
"Not positive. But he was the last black I had anything to do with who also had dealings with McNeil."