Fat Tuesday(88)

I'll rinse them out in the morning."

He motioned for her to sit down."We might just as well do this before you get dressed."

"All right."

When she was seated with her back to him, he pushed the quilt off her shoulders, exposing her back. He examined the wounds and was relieved to see that all looked closed and none showed signs of recent bleeding.

With as much detachment as possible, he dabbed each one with antiseptic, then reapplied the salve.

They didn't speak. Nor was there any white noise to fill the claustrophobic silence no radio or TV or traffic sounds. Nothing alleviated the absolute quiet except their breathing.

When he was finished, he awkwardly raised the quilt to cover her shoulders and patted it into place."Warm enough?"

"Yes."

"I, uh, brought some stuff along. Things I thought you might need while we're here. You'll find them in a totebag in the bathroom."

He'd known to pack for a few days when he left New Orleans for the tour of Jenny's House. She hadn't.

"Thank you."

"Sure."

She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Burke uncapped a bottle of water and drank nearly all of it. His arms and legs felt shaky, he was still slightly dizzy and his ears were ringing. He blamed his light-headedness on taking aspirin on an empty stomach, on the exertion of saving his hostage from drowning and a boat from sinking, on the blow to his head. He attributed it to everything except the actual cause.

When she came out of the bathroom, the towel around her head was gone, but her hair was still wet, tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a gray sweat suit. It was one he had bought for her before leaving New Orleans."I would've given you that to wear this morning," he said, "but Dredd already had you up and dressed. He wasn't in any mood for me to undo something he'd done."

She was looking directly at him, but he got the impression that his words weren't registering. At first he thought she might have lapsed into another semicatatonic state, but he understood her speechless dismay when he glanced down at her outstretched hand.

The box of body powder wasn't crystal and it didn't have a silver lid.

It wasn't nearly as fancy as the one he'd seen on her dressing table, but it was the same fragrance, the scent he'd detected on her in the French Market and in the confessional.

Reading the question in her eyes, he shrugged slightly and said, "The day Father Gregory and I came calling, I snooped around."

She set the box of powder on the table and continued to stare down at it while tracing the familiar embossed logo on the lid with the tip of her finger."How did I ever mistake you for a priest?" Was he supposed to answer that? He didn't know, so he said noth Still staring at the box, she said, "That day in the confessional ..."

"Umm?"

She made a small motion of dismissal with her shoulder."Nothing."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Go ahead. What?"

"Did you ..." She paused to take a deep breath."Did you touch my hand?"

It seemed to take a long time for her eyes to reach his. In fact, time slowed to a standstill. Her last word hung in the air for several secondss like the final vibrating note from a violin. When it finally died, the silence was palpable and sweetly oppressive.

Burke's heart was beating hard and fast. Something delicate was hanging in the balance, but he didn't dare define it. The distance between them had miraculously dwindled, although he couldn't remember stepping closer to her. Nor had she moved. Her hand was still on the lid of the powder box, while the other remained motionless at her side.

It was that hand that the back of his brushed against. Barely Withdrew. Hesitated. Touched again, and this time stayed. Hands turned simultaneously. Palms slid against each other. Held. Held, then pressed.

Fingers slowly interlaced.

Burke bent his elbow, raising his right hand, her left. Then he rotated his wrist, bringing her hand topside. He looked down at it marveling over the delicacy of her skin, the slenderness of her fingers. Her third finger in particular.

"Your wedding ring is gone," he remarked.

"It slipped off in the water."

Her wedding ring was gone. But she was still another man's wife.

Not just any man's wife, but his bitterest enemy's. If Duvall felt like kissing her neck where a vein pulsed against the slender gold chain, then he was entitled to do so. If he wanted to see and touch and f*ck her, he could do that, too. And that pissed Burke off, so he took it out on her.

"You can buy yourself another diamond. With Duvall's life insurance settlement."

"That's a horrible thing to say," she cried, jerking her hand free.

"If I really wanted to get horrible, you know what I'd do."

To her credit, she didn't recoil in fear. Rather, she tilted her chin defiantly."Am I supposed to thank you for not raping me?"

"You're not supposed to do anything. This isn't about you. It's between Duvall and me. All you are is bait to draw him out."

"You're doomed to fail, Mr. Basile." She shook her head and gave him a sad smile."I understand the reasoning behind your plan, but you've miscalculated my husband. He won't take the bait. He won't come for me.