Black notice by Patricia Cornwell Read Free Book Online Page B

Monday nights, I knew the chef and his wife very well. I called them at home. He answered the phone and was as warm as always.
    "You don't come see us anymore," he said. "We say this too often."
    "I haven't been out much," I replied.
    "You work too much, Miss Kay"
    "I need a translation," I said. "And I also need you to keep-this between us. Not a word to anyone:'
    "But of course."
    "What is a loup-garou?"
    "Miss Kay, you must be dreaming bad things!" he exclaimed, amused. "I'm so glad it's not a full moon! Le loup-garou is a werewolf!"
    The doorbell rang.
    "In France, hundreds of years ago, if you were believed to be a loup-gamu you were hanged. There were many reports of them, you see."
    I looked at the clock. It was six-fifteen. Marino was early and I was unprepared.
    "Thank you," I told my friend the chef. "I'11 come see you soon, I promise."
    The doorbell sounded again.
    "Coming," I said to Marino through the intercom.
    I turned off the alarm and let him in. His uniform was clean, his hair was neatly combed and he had splashed on too much aftershave.
    "You look a little better than when I saw you last," I commented as we headed toward the kitchen. -
    "Looks like you cleaned up this joint," he said as we passed through the great room.
    "It's about time," I said.
    We walked into the kitchen and he sat in his usual spot at the table by the window. He watched me with curious eyes as I got garlic and fast-acting yeast out of the refrigerator.
    "So what are we having? Can I smoke in here?" No.
    "You do."
    "It's my house."
    "How 'bout if I open the window and blow it out."
    "Depends on which way the wind is blowing."
    "We could get the ceiling fan going and see if that helps. I smell garlic "I thought we'd have pizza on the grill."
    I pushed aside cans and jars in the pantry, looking for crushed tomatoes and high-gluten flour.
    "The coins we found are English and German;" he told me. `I'wo pounds and one deutsche mark. But this is
    where it starts getting real interesting. I hung around the port a little longer than you did, showering and whatever. And by the way, they sure as hell didn't waste any time hauling cartons out of that container and cleaning up. You watch, they'll sell that camera shit like nothing happened to it."
    I mixed half a package of yeast, warm water and honey in a bowl and stirred, then I reached for the flour.
    "I'm hungry as hell."
    His portable radio was upright on the table, blurting ten codes and unit numbers. He yanked off his tie and unbuckled his duty belt with all its gear. I began kneading dough.
    "My lower back's killing me, Doc," he complained. "You got any idea what it's like wearing twenty pounds of shit around your waist?"
    His mood seemed considerably improved as he watched me work, sprinkling flour and shaping dough on the butcher's-block.
    "A loup-garou is a werewolf," I told him.
    "Huh?"
    "As in a wolf man."
    "Shit, I fucking hate those things."
    "I wasn't aware you'd ever met one."
    "You remember seeing 1.on Chaney with all that fur growing on his face when the moon came out? Scared the hell out of me. Rocky used to watch Shock Theater, remember that?"
    Rocky was Marino's only child, a son I'd never met. I placed the dough in a bowl and covered it with a warm, wet cloth.
    "Do you ever hear from him?" I cautiously ' asked. "What about at Christmas? Will you see him then?"
    Marino nervously tapped an ash.
    "Do you even know where he lives?" I asked.
    "Yeah," he said. "Oh, hell, yeah."
    "You act as if you don't like him at all," I said.
    "Maybe I don't."
    I scanned the wine rack for a nice bottle of red. Marino sucked smoke and exhaled loudly. He had nothing more to say about Rocky than he ever had.
    "One of these days you're going to talk to me about him," I said as I poured crushed tomatoes in a pot.
    "You know as much about him as you need to," he said.
    "You love him, Marino."
    "I'm telling you, I don't love him. I wish he'd never been born. I wish I'd never met him."
    He stared out the