Chapter 13
Sergeant Newkirk couldn't stop his eyes from roving as he introduced his partner and himself to Celeste Home. He had never met a more astonishingly sensual woman.
"You said on the phone that nothing was taken," he said.
"That's right," Celeste replied.
"How do you know someone broke in?" Dillon asked.
"I can feel it, Sergeant," she said patiently. "I have a sixth sense about those things." She smiled. "I don't have much a burglar would want. I'm just a poor working girl struggling to make ends meet."
"Are you psychic?" Newkirk asked.
Celeste smiled again, mysteriously this time. "All the women in my family for generations have been psychic. Clairvoyance can be a curse. We've learned to live with it."
"Uh huh," Dillon said skeptically. "Can you sense anything about whoever broke in? How many there were, for instance?"
"One person with a very strong emanation. Possibly two people with weaker auras. I'm not sure."
"Not much we can do with so little to go on," Newkirk said.
"I know, Sergeant. I read the papers. I know someone you call a cat burglar is operating in the neighborhood. I just wanted you to know that he, or she, was here."
"She?" Dillon asked. "What makes you think it was a woman?"
"I don't know one way or the other, Sergeant. I'm just throwing out the possibility. Equal opportunity and all that. Don't you believe women are capable of being burglars?"
"The thought crossed our mind," Newkirk said. "Did you have any visitors that night?"
"Yes. A gentleman friend." She smiled coyly. "We were rather tied up for a while. He left about midnight. I didn't call you the next day, because I didn't want to spoil your weekend. I just thought you would like to know."
Newkirk arched one eyebrow. "That you were tied up, or that someone broke in?"
"Which interests you the most, Sergeant?"
"We'd better move on," Dillon said. "One of your neighbors also called in to report a burglary. A real one."
"May I ask who?" Celeste said.
"A Miss Samantha Wilson," Newkirk said. "Know her?"
"Yes. We have friends in common. A burglar would find plenty in her house to take."
"Thank you for the information, Miss Home," Dillon said.
Celeste saw them to the door. She put her hand on Newkirk's arm and said softly, "Call me if you need any information. About anything."
As they walked to Samantha Wilson's house, Dillon said, "Boy, I don't know how you do it. Every woman we interview comes on to you. What's your secret?"
"Magnetic personality," Newkirk replied. "If you've got it, you've it. If you don't, you don't."
"God, how profound," Dillon said sarcastically.
Newkirk again let his eyes rove as he introduced his partner and himself to Samantha Wilson. He wondered if the neighborhood had a covenant that kept out ordinary women.
He scanned the list of stolen items she provided, then asked, "Any identifying marks on any of this?"
Sam shook her head. "No, unfortunately. Each piece of silver was a gift for one reason or another."
"I sec," Newkirk said. "You didn't happen to get a look at the burglar?"
She shook her head again. "No. I don't understand how he could have got in without me hearing him."
"Are you a heavy sleeper?" Dillon asked.
"Not usually."
"Any visitors last night?" Newkirk asked.
"No. I spent the evening alone," she said demurely. "In my bedroom, quietly reading a book."
Newkirk didn't believe she ever spent an evening alone, but that was beside the point. She had, in fact, been robbed.
"We'll do what we can," he said. "Can't promise much, I'm afraid, with no way to identify what he took. Do you have insurance?"
"Oh, yes. I just hate to lose the silver. The sentimental value is greater than the intrinsic value."
"We'll stay in touch," Dillon said. "I imagine Sergeant Newkirk will have a lot more he wants to discuss with you."
As they drove back to the station, Newkirk said, "Home told us the truth. Wilson is lying.
"I suppose you'll have to question her several more times," Dillon replied dryly.
"Never know," Newkirk laughed. "What did you think of Home?"
"She could make an old married man like me forget his vow of chastity," Dillon said mournfully. "Wilson is a real sexpot. I never saw such big tits on such a small dame. I think she simply-likes to fuck. She would trip you and beat you to the floor. Home is something else entirely. She has a distinctiveness I can't define. Talk about auras! She-likes sex, but it has to be on her terms. Any man who tackles her is taking his life into his own hands."
"Why, Ray!" Newkirk laughed. "I've never heard you say so much at one time in the all the years I've known you."
"Well, don't you agree?"
"Indubitably, my friend, indubitably. But, like the man said, he climbed the mountains because they were there. And I just might have to tackle that mountain before long."
At the station, Newkirk got a cup of coffee and stood in front of the city map mounted on the wall, studying the pins marking the pattern of burglaries.
"Different M.O., " he mused. "First time he's hit houses belonging to single women. No girls visited beforehand. Think we're dealing with the same burglar?"
"You're the one who thought those girls were involved," Dillon reminded him. "This guy is too smart to trust women. They were a coincidence. If I were a burglar, I'd change my M.O. now and then, just to muddy the waters. The lieutenant isn't going to be happy with us."
"What more can we do? We've had every pawn shop in town checked, and we came up with zilch. Whoever he is, he must be fencing the stuff somewhere else." Newkirk traced the patter of pins with the tip of one finger. "Damn it, there's a pattern here! I just can't put my finger on it."
"Look again," Office Amy Gordon said. She got up from her desk and went to the map. "Look. Every other house down one side of the street for five blocks, then across the street and repeat the sequence. One block each week.
"You're right," Newkirk said. "Brazen son of a bitch."
"Not really," Gordon said. "He knows people in affluent neighborhoods seldom even know who lives next door, let alone talk to them. What little news they get comes from the tube. The papers have carried a few short stories buried in the back pages. Crimes of violence sell air time, so TV news bureaus don't cover ordinary burglaries."
Newkirk traced the pattern of pins with the tip of his finger again. "If you're right, he'll hit this house next," he said. "Find out who lives there and arrange to stake it out for a few nights."
"I live there," Gordon said. "Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not on anyone's pad. I got the place in a divorce settlement." She turned and looked directly at Newkirk. "I don't want a bunch of street cops tramping all over the place and disrupting my life. If you want to park your carcass there for a few nights, you can use my couch. We can take turns staying awake. Be a feather in our caps if we catch the guy."
"Look out!" Dillon laughed. "He might be a sleep walker."
"I have a black belt in karate," Gordon said. "I can handle anything a man throws at me."
"You're on," Newkirk said. "Let's start tonight. I promise to be on my best behavior."
"You'd better not," Gordon muttered as she turned away and went back to her desk. Out loud, she said, "Come over about seven. We can order something sent in for dinner and watch TV until one of us gets sleepy."
Amy Gordon had long dreamed of getting Sergeant Mark Newkirk alone. Getting him alone in her house was her golden opportunity, and she meant to take full advantage of the situation.
Amy met Newkirk at the front door, with a bright smile. Her clingy summer frock molded her voluptuous figure and made it abundantly clear she was interested in more than just waiting for a cat burglar to show up.
"Come on in," she said. "I hope you like Chinese. We can't drink on duty, so I ordered lots of ginseng tea."
"The Chinese consider ginseng an aphrodisiac," Newkirk said, trying not to leer.
"You don't say," Amy replied coyly. "Well, we'll just have to drink it anyway, won't we?"
She turned and walked slowly in front of him as she led him into the living room. She swung her magnificent ass seductively, just to let him know there was a real woman under the dress. If she played her cards right, this assignment would be "under the covers" in every sense of the term.
"What would you like to watch while we eat?" she asked.
"I don't suppose you can walk back and forth in front of the couch while you eat?" he said.
"I could," she laughed. "But I might spill food on my dress. I have cable. One of the channels is carrying a swimsuit show. Would you like to watch that?"
They commented on the swimsuits as they ate and Amy pointed out a couple of suits she liked.
"Have to shave pretty close to wear those," Newkirk said.
"Well, that rules me out. My skin is very tender. I shave only the most essential places." She cleared the coffee table and returned to the living room. She turned off all but one light at the end of the couch and sat down by Newkirk.
"If the burglar comes, we want him to think we're just normal people. What do you think, should we act like a married couple?"
"You mean I should fall asleep in front of the TV and you go to bed without me?" he laughed.
"Well, we could pretend we're newlyweds," she said demurely. "The husband doesn't start falling asleep in front of the TV until the newness wears off, does he?" She leaned over close to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Unless you don't want to make out with me a little. I just thought we should make this look as real as we can."
"Always the good cop, huh?" he said as he slipped one arm around her.
She turned her mouth up for a kiss. "I guess it's in my blood," she murmured.
He kissed her tenderly. She snuggled up to him and let her tongue drift into his mouth. He tightened his arm around her and put a hand on her tit. She sighed and tried to snuggle closer. She was as close as she could get without getting in his pocket. She pulled her lips away. Then she pulled her tongue out of his mouth.