"Detective Sloan, of course," Reed said. She took Sloan's hand, gave him a two-hundred-watt smile. Then to Lucas: "I'm trying for an interview with Nancy Wolfe. I understand her records were subpoenaed this morning by the local Nazis."
"That was me," Lucas said.
Reed's smile widened slightly: she'd known. "Really? Well, why'd you do that?"
Lucas glanced toward the truck and then said to Reed, "Jan, Jan, Jan. You've got a sleazy unethical microphone in the truck, don't you? I mean, my golly, that's very slimy, a really tacky, disgusting, snakelike invasion of my privacy. In fact, it's very close to criminal. It may even be criminal."
Reed sighed. "Lucas…"
Lucas leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Go fuck yourself."
She leaned close to his ear and said, "I like the basic concept, but I hate flying solo."
Lucas, backing away, felt the ring in his pocket and said, "C'mon, Sloan, let's see if we can get to Mrs. Wolfe before the media does…"
"Goddamnit, Lucas," Heed said, and she stamped her foot.
Inside, Sloan asked, "Do you really think they had a mike?"
"I'm sure they did," Lucas said.
"Do you think they heard what I said? About Reed making my dick hard?"
"No question about it," Lucas said, biting back a grin. "And they'll use it, too, the treacherous assholes."
"You're giving me shit, man. Don't give me shit, I need to know."
The receptionist looked like she wanted to hide when she saw Lucas and Sloan coming down the hall. Lucas asked to see Wolfe, and she said, "Dr. Wolfe is with a patient. She should be finished"-she looked at a desk clock-"in five minutes or so. I hate to interrupt…"
"When she's done," Lucas said. "We'll be in Dr. Manette's office."
Sherrill and Black were sitting on the floor, working through a pile of manila folders.
"Anything new?" Lucas asked.
"Hey, Sloan," said Sherrill.
"These people are nuts," Black said, patting a small stack of folders. "These are neurotic"-he pointed toward another, larger stack-"and the big stack are just fucked up," he said, pointing at a third pile. "Some of the nuts are in jail or in hospitals; some of them we don't know about. When we get one, we call it downtown."
"What are we doing about the bank guy?" Sherrill asked.
"I unloaded it on the chief," Lucas said. "Did you find any more of those?"
"Maybe. There are a couple where it seems like she's getting cute… cryptic notes. References to other files, which we haven't found. There are computer Piles somewhere, but we haven't found the disks. Anderson's gonna come down and take a crack at her system." She nodded at an IBM computer on a credenza behind Manette's desk.
Wolfe walked in then, her face grim, her anger barely suppressed, and faced Lucas. Her arms were straight to her sides, her fists clenched. "What do you want?"
"We need to ask you some questions," Lucas said.
"Should I get my attorney?"
Lucas shrugged. "It's up to you. I do have to warn you: you have a right to an attorney."
Wolfe went pale as Lucas recited the Miranda warning. "You're serious."
Lucas nodded. "Yes. We're very serious, Dr. Wolfe."
Sloan broke in, his voice cheerful, placating. "We really are just asking basic stuff. I mean, you have to make the decision, but we're not gonna sweat you, Miz Wolfe, I mean, we're not gonna pull a light down over your head. We're just trying to figure out a few angles. If this wasn't done by one of her patients, why was it done? It was obviously planned, so it wasn't just some maniac picking people at random. We need to know who would benefit…"
"This man"-Wolfe, talking to Sloan, jabbed a finger at Lucas-"suggested this morning that I would benefit from Audi's death. I resent that. Andi's my dearest friend, a life-long friend. She's been my best friend since college, and if something should happen to her, it would be a personal disaster, not a benefit. And I bitterly…"
Sloan glanced at Lucas, shook his head, looked back at Wolfe and said, "Sometimes Lucas and I don't see eye-to-eye on these things…"
"Sloan," Lucas said, in a warning tone. But Sloan held up a hand.
"He's not a bad guy," Sloan said to Wolfe. "But he's a street guy. I'm sure he didn't mean to offend you, but sometimes he sort of… overstates things."
Lucas let the irritation show. "Hey, Sloan…"
But Sloan put up a warning hand. "We're really just looking for facts. Not trying to put pressure on you. We're trying to find out if anyone would benefit from Andi Manette's death or disappearance, and we don't mean you. At least, I don't."
Wolfe was shaking her head. "I don't see how anybody would benefit. I would get some key-person insurance if Andi died, but that wouldn't make up for the loss, financially or emotionally. I would imagine that George Dunn would get quite a bit-you know, she started out with all the money in her family. George would be a carpenter some place if he hadn't married Andi."
"Can we do this down in your office? We should be someplace a little more private, huh?" Sloan asked winningly.
On the way to Wolfe's office, with Wolfe several steps ahead, Sloan leaned to Lucas and muttered: "You know that Sherrill? She makes my dick hard, too. I think something's going on with my dick."
"That's not what you'd call a big change," Lucas said. He flipped the ring in the air and caught it. Sherrill. Sherrill was nice; so was Jan Reed, and he most certainly would have bundled Reed off to his cabin if it hadn't been for Weather. Lucas liked women, liked them a lot. Maybe too much. And that was another item on the long list of mental questions he had about marriage.
He was always shocked when a married friend went after another woman. That never seemed right. If you hadn't made the commitment, all right-do anything you wanted. But now, with the possibility of marriage looming… would he miss the hunt? Would he miss it enough to betray Weather? Would he even be considering this question if he should ask her to marry him? On the other hand, he really didn't want Reed. He didn't want Sherrill. He only wanted Weather.
"What's wrong?" Sloan asked quietly.
"Huh?" Lucas started.
"You looked like you'd had a stroke or something," Sloan said. They were just outside Wolfe's office, and Sloan was staring at him curiously.
"Ah, nothing. Lot of stuff going on," Lucas said.
Sloan grinned. "Yeah."
Wolfe's office was a mirror of Manette's, with furniture of the same style, and the same files-and-coffee niche in one wall. Sloan was charming and got Wolfe talking.
She did not like George Dunn. Dunn was facing imminent divorce, Wolfe said. If Andi died, not only would he inherit and collect any life insurance, he would also save half of his own fortune. "That's what she'd get-when they got married, he had the shirt on his back, and that was all. He made all of his money since they were married, and you know Minnesota divorce law."
Tower Manette wouldn't get anything from his daughter's death, Wolfe said, except at the end of a long string of unlikely circumstances. Andi and both the children would have to die, and George Dunn would have to be convicted of the crime.
"All you would get is the key-man insurance?" Lucas asked.
"That's right."
"Who'd take Dr. Manette's patients?"
Wolfe looked exasperated. "I would, Mr. Davenport. And I would make a little money on them. And as quickly as I could, I would bring somebody else in to handle them, I have a full slate right now. I simply couldn't handle her patient load, not by myself."
"So there's the insurance and the patients…"
"Goddamnit," Wolfe said. "I hate these insinuations."
"They're not insinuations. We're talking serious money and you're not being very forthcoming," Lucas rasped.
"All right, all right," said Sloan. "Take it easy, Lucas."
They talked for half an hour, but got very little more. As they were leaving, Wolfe said to Lucas, "I'm sure you've heard about the lawsuit."
"No."
"We've gone to court to repossess our records," she said.
Lucas shrugged: "That's not my problem. The lawyers can sort it out."