Silent Partner by Jonathan Kellerman Read Free Book Online

like a monk's habit. He talked non-stop and jabbed his finger a lot. The students looked glassy-eyed.
    "The Ratman himself," said Larry. "And his merry band of Ratkateers. Probably going on about something sexy like the correlation between electroshock-induced defecation and stimulation voltage following experimentally induced frustration of a partially reinforced escape response acquired under widely spaced trials. In fucking squirrels."
    I laughed. "Looks like he lost weight. Maybe he's doing weight-loss tapes, too."
    "Nope. Heart attack last year—it's why he gave up being department head and passed it along to Kruse. The
    tapes started right after that. Fucking hypocrite. Remember how he used to put down the clinical students, say we shouldn't consider our doctorates a union card for private practice?
    What an asshole. You should see the ads he's been running for his little no-smoking racket."
    "Where've they run?"
    "Trashy magazines. One square inch of black-and-white in the back along with pitches for military schools, stuff-envelopes-and-make-a-fortune schemes, and Oriental pen pals. Only reason I found out is, one of my patients sent away for it and brought the cassette in to show me.
    'Use the Behavioral Approach to Quit Smoking,' the Ratman's name right there on the plastic, along with this tacky mimeographed brochure listing his academic credentials. He actually narrates the damned thing, D., in that pompous monotone. Trying to sound compassionate, as if he'd been working with people instead of rodents all these years."
    He gave a disgusted look. "Union cards."
    '"Is he making any money?"
    "If he is, he sure ain't spending it on clothes."
    Larry's beeper went off. He pulled it off his belt, held it to his ear for a moment. "The service.
    'Scuse me, D."
    He stopped a waiter, asked for the nearest phone, and was directed to the big white house. 1
    watched him duck-walk through the formal gardens, then got up, ordered another gin and tonic, and stood there at the bar drinking it. enjoying the anonymity. I was starting to feel comfortably fuzzy when 1 heard something that set off an internal alarm.
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    Familiar tones, inflections.
    A voice from the past.
    1 told myself it was imagination. Then 1 heard the voire again and searched the crowd.
    I saw her, over several sets of shoulders.
    A time-machine jolt. I tried to look away, couldn't.
    Sharon, exquisite as ever.
    I knew her age without calculating. Thirty-four. A birthday in May. May 15—how strange to still remember.
    I stepped closer, got a better look: maturity but no diminution of beauty.
    A face out of a cameo.
    Oval, fine-boned, clean-jawed. The hair thick, wavy, black and glossy as caviar, brushed back from a high, flawless forehead, spilling over square shoulders. Milk-white complexion, unfashionably sun-shy. High cheekbones gently defined, rouged naturally with coins of dusty rose. Small, close-set ears, a single pearl in each. Black eyebrows arching above wide-set, deep-blue eyes. A thin, straight nose, gently flaring nostrils.
    I remembered the feel of her skin... pale as porcelain but warm, always warm. I craned to get a better view.
    She had on a knee-length navy-blue linen dress, short-sleeved and loose-fitting. Unsuccessful camouflage: the contours of her body fought the confines of the dress and won. Full, soft breasts, wasp waist, rich flare of hip tapering to long legs and sculpted ankles. Her arms were smooth white stalks. She wore no rings or bracelets, only the pearl studs and a matching string of opera-length pearls that rode the swell of her bosom. Blue pumps with medium heels added an inch to her five and a half feet. In one hand was a matching blue purse. The other hand caressed it.
    No wedding ring.
    So what?
    With Robin at my side, I would have taken brief notice.
    Or so I tried to convince myself.
    I couldn't keep my eyes off her.
    She had her eyes on a man—one of the swans, old enough to be her father. Big square bronze face