said. “Different flowers symbolize different things.” He grinned. “You learn this stuff when you’ve been married
five times.”
A flower named “Centerfold” symbolizing chastity.
“Interesting,” Archie said.
Archie noticed Flannigan looking at him strangely from across the table. “Are you okay?” Flannigan asked.
“Yeah,” Archie said. “Why?”
Flannigan hesitated.
“You’re bleeding,” Claire said.
Archie looked down at his chest. Spots of red stained his white shirt.
His scars were bleeding again.
“Jesus, Archie,” Henry said.
“It’s nothing,” Archie said quickly, covering the blood with his hand. “It’s the heat.” He pushed his chair out and stood up. “Keep working.”
CHAPTER
19
A rchie pulled into a no-parking zone in front of his building and put his official police vehicle tag on the dash. His
office was only a half dozen blocks from his apartment and he could have walked, if it hadn’t been a hundred degrees, if he hadn’t been expecting Susan, if he didn’t have
bloodstains on his shirt.
He got out of his city-issued Taurus and climbed the old loading dock stairs up to the entry door to his building. The hallway was stuffy and dark and Archie pushed the elevator button six
times, even though he knew it wouldn’t make the elevator go faster.
Beads of sweat ran down the inside of his shirt, mingling with the blood.
The doors to the old freight elevator opened and Archie stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor. It was a slow, creaky ride up. The elevator’s metal walls were coated with a
lifetime of grime. Archie could taste the dirt in the air. But it was still preferable to the stairs.
The elevator came to a stop with its usual cervical-snapping jerk.
And when the doors opened Archie found himself face-to-face with his downstairs neighbor. She was wearing a tangerine-colored bikini. Nothing else. Even her feet were bare.
Archie shrank back into the elevator. “This isn’t my floor,” he said.
The bikini left little to the imagination. Her breasts pressed against the orange triangles, revealing the outlines of her nipples. Her stomach was tan and flat.
Archie swallowed hard and looked at the floor, trying to find something, anything, to distract him from her young, tan body.
“Hi,” she said.
Her toenails were painted light blue. She wore a small silver ring around the pinkie toe of her left foot.
She stepped into the elevator beside him. The doors creaked shut. She didn’t press a button.
“Want me to hit a floor for you?” Archie asked her feet.
“You already did,” she said. “I’m getting off on six.”
His floor.
The elevator groaned and started moving.
He glanced up at her. She was carrying a towel and a pink plastic spray bottle.
“Did a tanning salon open on my floor?” he asked.
“Roof access,” she said. Her eyes traveled down his shirt. Her brows jumped as she registered the blood. “That’s a pretty ferocious cat,” she said.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Archie allowed her to step out first, trying to avoid letting his attention drift to her almost bare backside.
The door that led to the roof was down the hall to the left, but she didn’t head off that way. She waited for him, and then turned and said, “Will you tie this for me?”
She was holding the triangles of her top to her chest and she turned around to show him that the orange straps that tied together at her midback had come loose. There was no avoiding looking
now. Her back was the color of butterscotch, and the bottom part of the swimsuit hugged the firmness of her, a slight shadow marking the cleft of her rear. Above the cleft, over her tailbone, was a
tattoo, about the size of a sugar cube. Drawn in simple black ink, an outline of a heart.
Archie felt heat surge in his groin. He looked away, around her, down the dim hallway, his apartment doorway just ten yards away.
“I better not,” he said.
She turned around
five times.”
A flower named “Centerfold” symbolizing chastity.
“Interesting,” Archie said.
Archie noticed Flannigan looking at him strangely from across the table. “Are you okay?” Flannigan asked.
“Yeah,” Archie said. “Why?”
Flannigan hesitated.
“You’re bleeding,” Claire said.
Archie looked down at his chest. Spots of red stained his white shirt.
His scars were bleeding again.
“Jesus, Archie,” Henry said.
“It’s nothing,” Archie said quickly, covering the blood with his hand. “It’s the heat.” He pushed his chair out and stood up. “Keep working.”
CHAPTER
19
A rchie pulled into a no-parking zone in front of his building and put his official police vehicle tag on the dash. His
office was only a half dozen blocks from his apartment and he could have walked, if it hadn’t been a hundred degrees, if he hadn’t been expecting Susan, if he didn’t have
bloodstains on his shirt.
He got out of his city-issued Taurus and climbed the old loading dock stairs up to the entry door to his building. The hallway was stuffy and dark and Archie pushed the elevator button six
times, even though he knew it wouldn’t make the elevator go faster.
Beads of sweat ran down the inside of his shirt, mingling with the blood.
The doors to the old freight elevator opened and Archie stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor. It was a slow, creaky ride up. The elevator’s metal walls were coated with a
lifetime of grime. Archie could taste the dirt in the air. But it was still preferable to the stairs.
The elevator came to a stop with its usual cervical-snapping jerk.
And when the doors opened Archie found himself face-to-face with his downstairs neighbor. She was wearing a tangerine-colored bikini. Nothing else. Even her feet were bare.
Archie shrank back into the elevator. “This isn’t my floor,” he said.
The bikini left little to the imagination. Her breasts pressed against the orange triangles, revealing the outlines of her nipples. Her stomach was tan and flat.
Archie swallowed hard and looked at the floor, trying to find something, anything, to distract him from her young, tan body.
“Hi,” she said.
Her toenails were painted light blue. She wore a small silver ring around the pinkie toe of her left foot.
She stepped into the elevator beside him. The doors creaked shut. She didn’t press a button.
“Want me to hit a floor for you?” Archie asked her feet.
“You already did,” she said. “I’m getting off on six.”
His floor.
The elevator groaned and started moving.
He glanced up at her. She was carrying a towel and a pink plastic spray bottle.
“Did a tanning salon open on my floor?” he asked.
“Roof access,” she said. Her eyes traveled down his shirt. Her brows jumped as she registered the blood. “That’s a pretty ferocious cat,” she said.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Archie allowed her to step out first, trying to avoid letting his attention drift to her almost bare backside.
The door that led to the roof was down the hall to the left, but she didn’t head off that way. She waited for him, and then turned and said, “Will you tie this for me?”
She was holding the triangles of her top to her chest and she turned around to show him that the orange straps that tied together at her midback had come loose. There was no avoiding looking
now. Her back was the color of butterscotch, and the bottom part of the swimsuit hugged the firmness of her, a slight shadow marking the cleft of her rear. Above the cleft, over her tailbone, was a
tattoo, about the size of a sugar cube. Drawn in simple black ink, an outline of a heart.
Archie felt heat surge in his groin. He looked away, around her, down the dim hallway, his apartment doorway just ten yards away.
“I better not,” he said.
She turned around
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