She looked back at him as she replied. ‘Same as you — Kilchoman, 2010.’
This time Hunter couldn’t hide the frown. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘No.’ She pushed her glass in his direction. ‘There, have a sip.’
Hunter regarded her for a second before reaching for the glass. He first brought it to his nose. As he inhaled the fumes the curious look on his face deepened.
Tracy waited.
Hunter had a small sip and his eyes shot in her direction. Tracy had a whole new smile on her lips. ‘I had you there for a second, didn’t I? With over three hundred different types of whisky served here, it would’ve been an amazing coincidence.’
Hunter returned her glass to the table and pushed it back towards her. ‘Yes, it would’ve been. And yes, you did have me for a second. So what is it, Balvenie?’ Hunter shrugged. ‘Maybe Caribbean Cask or Doublewood?’
The impressed look was back on Tracy’s face. ‘That’s very good,’ she confirmed. ‘Fourteen, Caribbean Cask. You’re talking about me? You sound like a connoisseur yourself.’
Hunter chuckled. ‘Not quite. I have a bottle at home, so its palate is a little familiar to me.’
A tall waiter, carrying a round silver tray, approached Hunter’s table. ‘Here we go: cheeseburger and fries?’
‘That would be mine. Thank you.’ Hunter said.
The waiter placed the plate on the table in front of him. ‘Could I get you anything else — ketchup, mustard, another drink...?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you. This will do.’
The waiter looked at Tracy.
‘I’m still going here.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Thank you.’
‘Enjoy.’ He addressed Hunter again. ‘If you need anything else just give me a shout. My name is Max.’
As the waiter walked away, Hunter looked at Tracy. ‘Please help yourself to some fries. There’s enough here to feed about four people.’
‘That is a lot of fries,’ Tracy agreed. ‘But thank you, I’ve eaten already.’
‘Please, have at least a couple.’
Tracy studied Hunter for an instant. He hadn’t touched his food yet. Her next question came out cautiously. ‘Are you fearful of eating in front of others?’
Hunter studied her in return. ‘No,’ he finally said. ‘Not at all.’ He reached for the salt and sprinkled some over the fries.
Tracy was still studying him. He still hadn’t touched his food.
‘It’s OK to be, you know?’ she said in a comforting tone. ‘It’s actually very OK to be. The condition is a lot more common than you’d expect. About ten to twelve percent of Americans are either fearful or embarrassed of eating in front of others. Did you know that?’
‘Well,’ Hunter said, ‘you’re the psychology professor, so I trust you’re right, but I’m really not fearful or embarrassed of eating in front of others. I just thought that it would be a waste because I certainly won’t be able to eat all these fries.’ He finally reached for his cheeseburger and took a bite.
Silence.
Hunter pretended not to notice the confused look on Tracy’s face.
‘And now we are back to our starting point,’ she said at last. ‘Which was — you owe me an explanation.’
‘Do I?’ Hunter asked, once he was done chewing.
‘Well, OK, no, you don’t owe me anything, but I’d love to understand how you knew.’
Hunter played dumb.
‘C’mon. The first time we met back at UCLA we talked for about two minutes outside the reading room. I gave you no clues, but somehow you knew that I was a professor.’
Hunter had another bite of his cheeseburger.
‘I know you didn’t figure any of that out from the books I had with me that night because none of them were on academia, or on the subject I teach. Nonetheless, just now you revealed that you also knew that I’m a psychology professor. How?’
Hunter had a few fries.
‘Obviously, from the phone call you received that night, I gathered that you were a detective with the Homicide Special Section of the LAPD.’
Hunter looked back at Tracy.
‘I had to check that online to find out what it was,’ she explained. ‘So fine, your specialty is figuring things out. At least I’m not that freaked out about you anymore.’
‘Freaked out?’
‘Well, you meet a complete stranger in the middle of the night and within a couple of minutes he’s telling you things about you that he shouldn’t really know. That could be a little unsettling, don’t you think? Especially in a city like LA. You could’ve been a secret stalker for all I knew.’
The word ‘stalker’ triggered Hunter’s brain to re-engage. He put his cheeseburger down.
‘Are you having problems with a stalker?’ Hunter’s tone was so heavy with concern it caused Tracy to do a double-take.
‘What...? No. It’s not that. I was just giving an example.’
Hunter remained quiet.
‘The truth is,’ Tracy moved on, ‘you’re right. I’m a psychology professor, and as such I’d love to be able to understand the thought process behind your deduction. What gave it away? How did you piece it together?’
Hunter had a few more fries. ‘Are you sure you don’t want any?’
Tracy sighed. ‘Will you answer my question if I have some?’
‘Sure.’
Tracy grabbed a few fries and dipped them in the tomato relish that accompanied them.
‘Like I told you before,’ Hunter finally said, ‘it’s just observation.’
‘That’s what you’ve said, yes,’ Tracy agreed. ‘And that’s also why I told you that I couldn’t see it, despite replaying everything I could remember about the episode in my mind countless times. Like I said, none of the books I had with me that night were on academia, or on any subject related to psychology. I didn’t have my badge on display, so how did you figure out that I am a psychology professor at UCLA?’
Hunter was about to reply when he felt his cellphone vibrate inside his pocket. He reached for it and checked the display screen.
‘Give me just a minute,’ he said, getting to his feet and bringing the phone to his ear. ‘Detective Hunter, Homicide Special.’ Hunter listened in silence for several seconds. ‘What?’ Disbelief filled his entire body. ‘Are you sure?’ He consulted his watch — 11:03 p.m. ‘OK. OK. I’m on my way.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Tracy’s comment came as a whisper. ‘Again?’
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Hunter said. The look on his face was somewhere between confused and incredulous. ‘I have to go.’
Tracy didn’t know what to say, so instead, she kept her surprised eyes on Hunter.
He reached for his wallet and placed a couple of bills on the table. As he took the first steps in the direction of the exit, he paused and looked back at Tracy.
‘I know that this will sound odd but... could I call you sometime?’
Tracy really wasn’t expecting that. ‘Umm... yeah, sure. I’d like that.’
Hunter winked at her before setting off again.
‘Wait,’ Tracy said, quickly jotting down her number on a paper napkin and getting to her feet. ‘It would help if you actually had my number, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, that would help,’ Hunter replied as he took the napkin. A second later he was gone.
Forty-One
Detective Webb took the keys from Dr. Barnes’ hands and unlocked the front door to her two-bedroom house in Mid-City, a very diverse and densely populated neighborhood in Central Los Angeles. The white door with a decorative beveled glass window opened with a slightly eerie creak.
At the end of their interview back at the police station, Webb had told Dr. Barnes that, given the circumstances, all he could really do was take the note and the bracelet to their forensic lab so they could be tested for fingerprints.