“What happened to Zucchini Man?”

He smiled. “He was lucky. Too many people said Winters went after him first, and Winters didn’t have too great a reputation with the cops, so Zucchini Man wasn’t charged with anything. We ran his picture in the paper; turned out his family had been looking for him. They got him on some meds that worked for him, and they make sure he stays on them. He’s still around – he helps out with a community garden program over on the west side of town.”

I DIDN’T GET a call from Hobson Devoe or from Thanatos. When I got home that evening, I took a nice, hot bubble bath. It was relaxing, but my thoughts kept returning to Stuart’s story about Zucchini Man and Billy Winters. Stuart didn’t need to tell me what had happened to Billy Winters. Everyone on the staff knew about the night when Winters got himself good and lit, drove off in a drunken rage, and died in a head-on collision. The Wildman himself might have thought of it as going out in style, if he hadn’t also killed a family of five in the other car.

I’d rather ride home with someone wearing a tinfoil hat.

AS I GOT READY for Frank’s office party, I thought that it might be good to take his mind off his troubles at work, and chose an outfit that would have made a mnemonics expert forget what he was about to say. It was a sleek little blue number that accented the color of my eyes – if anyone bothered to look that high. I was feeling devilish, and set a personal challenge for myself: to get Frank to leave the party an hour after we arrived.

He came home and gave me one of those looks that make you want to shout Vive la différence, and I had to convince him that we should go to the party in the first place. He got back at me to some extent by looking pretty spiffy himself, and I started to wonder if maybe we should stay home after all. But by now we were both enjoying the sparks that were flying, and we put on our coats and left.

The party, I soon learned, was at Bredloe’s house, which added an obstacle. Bredloe is captain of the Robbery-Homicide Division. Boss to the second power – Frank’s boss’s boss. I glanced at my watch: 7:30, and the damn party was at the captain’s house. This was going to be tough, I thought with a grin. But not too tough.

I had a drink in my hand and all the male attention I could want by 7:32. Frank stuck to me like a Siamese twin, and I started to wonder if I was going to be able to be as effective at such close range. Pete arrived, and I was happy to see that Rachel was back in town and with him that evening. She’s a real stunner, a tall Italian beauty. She ran over and gave me a big hug, and pulled me aside. Pete started yammering away at Frank, who watched us walk away with an anxious look. I loved it.

“What a terrific dress!” Rachel said, then added more softly, “Frank’s looking at us like we might disappear. I get the idea he’d like to go home and take that dress off you. Why are you looking at your watch? Am I boring you already?”

Noting that it was already 8:14, I told her my plan. We started laughing, and I saw both Pete and Frank look up in dismay. I noticed a couple of women had moved over toward them, trying to start conversations. Our boys were acting distracted but tried to be courteous.

“Well,” Rachel said, “I won’t have time to talk to you tonight, then. But Lydia tells me you’ll join us tomorrow?”

“Yes, looking forward to it. We decided to put off going up to the mountains, and we’ll see his family on the day after Christmas.”

“Bene. We’ll see you tomorrow. Now, quit wasting time.”

“Don’t worry, this hasn’t been a waste of time. This works better than standing next to him.” A glance at my watch told me it was time to go in for the kill: 8:24. Rachel crooked a finger at Pete, and he made his way over as I made my way back. Frank put a possessive arm around me, but continued to give polite attention to a redhead who was still doing her best to converse with him. I leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “Frank,” I said in my huskiest whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

We thanked Bredloe and were on our way home by 8:27.

PETE CALLED AT 10:30. I couldn’t make much of Frank’s end of the conversation, but the result was that he got out of bed and put on jeans and a sweater; not the type of clothes he wears when he’s going out on a case. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I’ve got to go over to Pete’s for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, he’s fine. Rachel’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” He was acting fidgety.

“Well, fine. I’m so glad everyone is fine. Want me to go with you?”

“No, no. I’ll be right back,” he said, scurrying out the front door.

I decided this was a perfect opportunity. The minute I heard Frank drive away, I called Jack and warned him I was coming over for the dog. I put on jeans and a sweatshirt, then closed the bedroom door on Cody. He doesn’t like being locked in rooms, but once he figured out there was a dog in the house, he’d appreciate the sanctuary.

Before Jack would part with the mutt, I had to tell him that the dog would be right next door and that he was free to come over and see it any time. The dog was easygoing about it all, walking along on the leash with the kind of manners that said someone must have taken some time to work with him. I brought him into the living room and brushed his coat. He was calm and well-behaved. He even put up with the indignity of having a ribbon tied around his collar. After all, he was a Christmas present.

I was amused to see his ears perk up when Frank’s car pulled up in the driveway. I heard Frank opening the door, and suddenly the dog bolted and went bounding down the hallway. I ran after him, heard Frank swearing, and came outside to see my intended lying flat on his ass in the front yard.

“Quick! They ran toward the beach!” he shouted as he scrambled to his feet. I wasn’t sure who “they” were, but I closed the front door and caught up with Frank as he made his way down the steps to the shore. In the moonlight I could see two large dogs cavorting and chasing each other along the beach.

“Where’d that other dog come from?” I panted.

“I don’t know, I could swear it came out of the house-” He suddenly stopped running. “Irene?”

I stopped too. “Oh, no. You got a dog for me for Christmas.”

“Yes, that’s why I went over to Pete’s. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but she was tearing up Pete’s yard.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, guess what I got you for Christmas?”

“Does it have four legs and a mean tackle?”

“He seemed well-mannered until you opened the door. Jack was keeping him until I could come over and get him tonight. Jack helped me pick him out.”

“Jack? But Jack knew I was getting a dog for you.”

Suddenly I remembered Jack’s amusement at my saying that if Frank didn’t like the dog, I would just keep the dog for myself.

“I think Jack figures he’ll take your dog if you don’t want him.”

“No way.”

We watched them run part way into the cold water and come tearing out again. Great. Two wet, sandy dogs. Remembering that Frank’s dog – that is, the one I was giving him – had such good leash behavior, I whistled as loud as I could. Sure enough, the pair came galloping toward us, tails wagging, and getting us as wet and sandy as they were when they reached us. We each grabbed a collar, and I got my first close look at my Christmas present.

She had long black fur, and seemed to be some kind of Labrador retriever mix. She had a white patch on her chest; floppy ears, and big soulful eyes. She was about the same size as Frank’s dog. She gave me a friendly nuzzle and reached out a paw for a shake. “Happy to meet you. What did you say your name was?”