I fell back asleep.

When I woke up again, it was past ten o’clock. I took a long shower, waking myself thoroughly. I called the clinic and chatted briefly with Bernie. She told me that things were basically calm, considering. Then I called Andy to ask him about printers. We talked briefly, but he couldn’t give me much information that would help me catch the letter writer. Computer printers can’t be traced the way typewriters can. I thanked him and told him to remind Torbin that my vengeance awaited him.

Perhaps, in light of the murders, the letters were unimportant, but I had been hired to look into them. Besides, I wasn’t convinced that the two weren’t linked.

I began the laborious task of trying to hunt down a possible printer. I took an expurgated excerpt from one of the letters to different computer stores. They were all willing to show me a printer, but none of them could identify the exact printer it came from. I thanked them and promised that if I ever entered the computer age, I would let them know.

When I got back to my place around four, a message from my favorite policeman was waiting on the answering machine. O’Connor wanted me to come down to the station and “talk.” I called to make an appointment for our “chat.” Right now would be fine, he said. I grunted in imitation of him and agreed.

So I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening repeating over and over again my chase of the intruder and finding the body. O’Connor kept looking for flaws in my story. Particularly the part about the body not having been there in the morning. I got tired of it before he did, but my unvarying answers finally wore him out. He gave me a statement to sign and grunted me on my way.

I headed for the clinic. Since it was Thursday they had evening hours. Cordelia should still be there, I told myself as I turned into the parking lot.

Lights were on, but there was no one in the hallway when I entered. Nurse Peterson was the only person in the waiting room. She started when she saw me.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I said.

“That’s all right. It’s just with everything…” She trailed off and finished putting some files away.

“Understandable. Did you work Friday? Last Friday?”

She nervously slammed the file drawer closed. I seemed to have an unsettling effect on her.

“Friday?” she asked. “Uh…yes…I think so.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Cordelia said, coming out of her office and seeing me in the waiting room. “You still here, Betty?” she asked as she came down the hall and caught sight of Nurse Peterson.

“Just finishing a few things. I’m leaving now.” To prove her point, she picked up her bag and left. Probably didn’t want to get stuck with a notorious lesbian and a…I wondered what she thought Cordelia was.

“You look tired,” I told her.

“Only because I am tired. Want to look at the latest mail?”

I grimaced, but nodded. She led the way back to her office.

I glanced over the letters. One to Elly, one to Millie, and one to Cordelia. The same pattern of nasty sexual innuendo with additional comments about how good they were at taking care of patients, particularly young women wanting abortions.

“Doesn’t like animals, does he?” I said. He had mentioned Elly’s and Danny’s dog and Cordelia’s kitten.

“How does he know my cat’s name?” she asked. “Does he spy on us?”

I looked again at the letter. He did mention Rook, which I gathered was the name of Cordelia’s kitten.

“I don’t know.” I looked again at the letters. “But he doesn’t know everything. You and Elly. The letter to her calls her a frigid half-breed. And you’re still too ugly to get a man.”

“So? That’s just filth.”

“These letters haven’t caught on to your sexuality.”

“Interesting. But what does that prove?”

“Idle chatter. It’s possible to stand in a grocery store line and mention your cat’s name.”

“But not being a lesbian.”

“So the letter writer doesn’t know you very well. Maybe someone who works here, or is around a fair bit.”

“A large number of people.”

“But if I hang around here enough, maybe I can flush him out,” I said.

“Or scare him off. I’d settle for that.”

“So you’ll be seeing a lot of me in the future. Think you can survive?”

“It’ll be hard, but I’ll manage,” she said. “Seriously, it’s been…difficult the last few days. It’s good to have my friends around.”

She looked across her desk at me, a gentle smile on her face. I suddenly felt shy, at a loss for words. I glanced down at my feet, then quickly back at her, but her gaze had shifted. Oh, God, I’m sleeping with Joanne, slammed through my head.

“Let me pack up and we can get out of here,” Cordelia said.

“Good idea.”

She started arranging the papers on her desk, putting a number of them in her briefcase.

“Do you know what’s going on with Joanne and Alex?” she asked abruptly.

“Uh…no…Is something…?” I groped.

“They seemed…at odds last night. And they didn’t leave together.”

“Maybe they met later.” I didn’t like lying, but there didn’t seem much way around it.

“No, they didn’t. Alex came back to my place for tea and sympathy. She said Joanne was going somewhere else last night.”

Cordelia was still packing things into her briefcase. I went over to the window, looking out, keeping my back to her. I was getting an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Joanne’s hard to understand,” I commented.

“Sometimes,” Cordelia replied. Then, “Alex thinks she’s having an affair. Is she?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I quickly lied, hoping to end this conversation.

I felt Cordelia’s stillness behind me.

“You’re lying,” she caught me. “She is, isn’t she?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Is it serious?” she probed.

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know.

“Come on, Micky,” Cordelia said, standing beside me. “You see Joanne all the time. If anyone would know, you would. If…”

Then Cordelia stopped and looked at me. Just looked.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she finally said. She abruptly turned from me and went back to her desk, slamming her briefcase shut. “It’s none of my business,” she said tightly. “I’m really tired. I need to go home and get some sleep.”

“It’s not like that.” I spun to face her.

“Then what is it like?” she demanded, confronting me. “Are you sleeping with Joanne?”

“Well…yes…but…” I stumbled.

“Don’t tell me,” she silenced me. She picked up her briefcase and started for the door. “Alex is one of my closest friends. I can’t be objective…don’t tell me anything you don’t want me to know.”

She stood at the door, her hand on the light switch, waiting for me to precede her down the hallway.

“Will you tell Alex?” I asked as I passed her.

She turned off the light and followed me into the waiting room. She didn’t say anything until she had finished locking the clinic and we were in the hallway.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I need time to think,” she said as we walked out of the building. “I wish I didn’t know this.” She turned her back to me and locked the main door.

“So do I,” I answered.

“Danny was right,” she said as she went past me to the parking lot.

“Right about what?” I demanded, following her.

“How…reckless you are. Inconsiderate.”

“Goddamn Danny!” I burst out, angry, using her as a target.

Cordelia turned back, facing me.

“Don’t say that. Not in front of me. Danny’s my friend. I held Alex last night while she cried. But I don’t suppose you give a damn,” she spoke angrily. “While you and Joanne were…”

“Of course, it’s all my fault,” I retorted. “I threw Joanne down and said, ‘come on, babe, let’s fuck.’ I’m sure Danny’s told you that’s how I seduced her.”

She started to say something, then stopped and spun away.

“Good night, Micky,” she said as she unlocked her car, not even bothering to look at me.

“You lied to me,” I yelled at her. “You said you would tell me what you decided…when you walked out of my life last March.”

“When I know,” she overrode me.

“When’s that going to be? When hell freezes over?” I demanded.

“No. Tonight. Good-bye, Micky.” Still not looking at me, she got in her car and started it. She drove past me and pulled out into the street without even looking back.

I hit my car, pounding the hood with my fists, then just leaned against the metal, sobbing.

I finally got in and drove back to my place. Joanne was there waiting for me.

“What happened?” she asked when she saw me.

I told her.

“I don’t want Cordelia to tell Alex,” she said when I finished. “I’ll do it. Please ask her not to tell Alex until I get a chance to.”

“Cordelia’s not speaking to me. You’ll have to do it.”

“All right,” Joanne replied shortly. “Give me your phone.”

I picked up my phone and started to hand it to her, then stopped. This was my fault. I dialed Cordelia’s number.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Don’t tell Alex,” I said. I figured she’d know who it was. “Joanne wants to talk to her first.”

“Is she there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t tell Alex. I’d rather not.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she replied. A pause, then she finally said, “Good night, Micky.” She hung up.

I put the receiver down.

“She won’t tell Alex.”

“Thanks,” Joanne said, pacing the room.

“Don’t…” But I didn’t want to repeat Cordelia’s words. “I’m sorry, Joanne.”

“Can’t you lie any better than that?” she asked.

“I tried. Don’t worry, everyone will know it’s my fault. What chance did you have against the all-time dyke slut champion of the Southeast?”

She sat down next to me.

“It’s not that black and white.”

“Sure it is. Ask Danny. Or Cordelia,” I said.

“Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Hadn’t you better leave?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No, but I’m a slut.”

“Stop it,” she said angrily. “You’re not a slut.”

“Sure I am. Ask Danny. Ask Cordelia. Ask Alex. Ask any number of women whose names I can’t remember,” I answered bitterly. “Go back to Alex.”

Joanne got up. “Come to bed when you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she said, then went into my bedroom.

“Joanne…” I started, following her. I remained in the doorway, watching as she calmly undressed and got into my bed. “Joanne,” I said. “I’m not worth it. Go home to Alex. Please.”

“Lie beside me. Talk to me,” she replied.