Luc turned me around and pulled me in, kissing me again and again. “So much for my surprise.”

I wrapped my arms around his slim shoulders and kissed him back. “I love your surprise. I’m very happy tonight.”

“Then I’ll let you in on my schedule. On Saturday I fly to San Francisco. I’ve got meetings in Napa and Sonoma, with vintners. Then to Los Angeles, Houston, Atlanta -”

“Food tastings everywhere?”

“Poor me, right? And then I’m back here in about ten days. You think you can get away for a weekend on Martha’s Vineyard? You tend to the fireplace and I’ll keep you well fed.”

Luc didn’t want to hear that my answer depended on the progress of the investigation.

“That gives me something to dream about.”

He took me by the hand and led me back to the kitchen. “I know this isn’t your forte, but I’m going to give you this wooden spoon and have you stir for me while I check on the chicken.”

“I didn’t think you trusted me enough to let me near one of your creations.”

“I’ve got a lot riding on this dish, Alexandra. You know put-tanesca sauce?” Luc asked. “Named for the Neapolitan ladies of the night. Legend has it that when these women brought home sailors to entertain, this recipe was used as an aphrodisiac.”

“Then I’ll stir more vigorously,” I said.

Over dinner, I told Luc some of the details of the case. He had used his warmth and charm, ever since we met months earlier, to get me to open myself to him.

“You’re not drinking,” he said. “Won’t you have some wine?”

“I’m so tired after this crazy week we’ve had. Just these few sips are enough.”

“How’s my sauce working?”

I rubbed my stomach and nodded. “Those girls in Naples knew exactly what they were doing.”

Luc stood up and blew out the candles. “I think I know what I’d like for dessert.”

I led the way back to the bedroom and we undressed as though we’d been apart for weeks, making love again before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

When the telephone rang, I could see the time on the clock radio next to my bed. It was after one in the morning and I grabbed the receiver before the second ring.

“Sorry to wake you, Coop.”

“That’s all right. I fell asleep early.”

“Before we gave up the grand slam in the top of the eighth, I hope.”

“Yeah,” I said, sitting up to get my bearings, knowing that Mike wouldn’t be calling at this hour unless there was a break of some kind in the case. “I was exhausted.”

“I got worse news than the loss, kid,” Mike said. “Tina Barr is dead.”

Luc grabbed my hand and squeezed it when he heard me groan.

“They found her body wrapped up in a tarp, just off Sixth Avenue, inside Bryant Park.” That was less than a city block away from the rear door of the New York Public Library. “She’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours, Coop. Looks like a dump job.”

Crowds lined the sidewalk at the intersection of Sixth Avenue and Forty-second Street, even though it was two o’clock in the morning. The uniformed cops who had picked me up at my apartment muscled through the onlookers and lifted the yellow police tape that kept them out of the park so we could duck under it.

Huge bright floodlights were mounted on a metal catwalk that framed an enormous JumboTron screen. Below the massive structure, dozens of NYPD men and women were still scrambling to secure the perimeter of the crime scene and push back the cameramen who were trying to climb the low wall to photograph the activity.

“Over here, Alex,” Mercer called out. “Watch your step.”

The old cobblestone-and-gravel path was littered with debris, and on both sides of it there were tall stacks of folding chairs and wheeled pallets loaded with objects covered with canvas and strapped in place. Fall plantings had been trampled and expensive landscaping would have to be restored.

“Tina?”

“Body’s there,” Mercer said, pointing to the far side of the plaza beyond the metal superstructure that framed the screen. “The ME got here fifteen minutes ago. She’ll finish up soon.”

“What’s all this?” I asked, looking around at the equipment that cluttered the twin promenades of the beautifully landscaped park that ran the length of a football field.

“There was an event here last evening. One of the mayor’s goodwill gestures,” Mercer said. “Had the JumboTron put up yesterday, and bused in Scout troops-a few thousand kids-from all over the city to see the game. Free. Everybody was pretty orderly when it broke up at the end, and then the workmen started to take the place apart.”

I followed him to the edge of the walkway, staring off at the group of cops who were standing shoulder to shoulder, holding up sheets around what was obviously the body of Tina Barr.

“That’s when someone found her?”

“Yeah. Her body was wrapped in one of these tarps, just like all the other gear they were about to load up and move out of here.”

“Do you think she was-?”

“Fully clothed. Doesn’t look like a sexual assault, Alex.”

I could see the medical examiner, a short, plump woman with dark skin, emerge from behind the sheeting that had given her some privacy to examine the body. Mercer led me in her direction.

“Detective Wallace, Ms. Cooper,” the doctor greeted us as she pulled off her gloves and handed them to her assistant. “Not exactly the best conditions for what I’ve had to do, but if you’d like to step into my temporary office, you can see what the young lady looks like for yourselves.”

Mike was kneeling beside the body of Tina Barr, studying her face. He didn’t move when Mercer and I came inside the makeshift morgue.

“As you can see, Ms. Cooper, the killer slit her throat.”

Dr. Assif delivered her preliminary clinical findings in a flat monotone. The detective standing behind Tina’s head shone his flashlight on the corpse as she spoke.

“Butchered her,” Mike said, without picking up his head. “Mercer, would you tell Hal Sherman I want some more photos?”

It was almost impossible to recognize the face of the woman I had talked with after the attack in her home a few nights ago. There was a long incision across her neck, and a deep wound that exposed layers of muscle beneath the skin. Her vacant eyes were open toward the night sky, and her mouth was agape.

“He’s working on the tarp now. Crime Scene’s trying to figure a way to move it downtown without losing anything,” Mercer said. “He’ll be right back.”

Barr’s body was resting on a clean sheet that the ME’s crew had brought with them. The tarp in which she’d been wrapped would be processed for clues.

“She must have bled buckets,” I said. There were dark stains all over the front of her short-sleeved V-neck sweater.

“Clothes are a mess,” Mike said. “But there’s nothing on the tarp.”

“Probably because she was killed a day or so before she was placed inside it,” Dr. Assif offered.

“Any other signs of a struggle?” I asked.

“I’ll know more, of course, when we get her clothes off,” the doctor said. “But it doesn’t appear to be the case now. No other bruising on her arms or chest. No defensive injuries. I want you guys to bag her hands before she’s moved, but I don’t see any broken fingernails either.”

“How is that possible?”

“Let me examine the wound margins and pattern on the neck, Ms. Cooper. I’ll have a better sense of whether I think she was attacked from behind, and what kind of weapon you’re looking for.”

“Let me know if it’s a small sharp blade, like an X-Acto knife,” Mike said.

I thought of Alger Herrick as he slit through the long page of the old book.

“Wouldn’t you expect her to have time to fight her attacker, or at least to scream?” I couldn’t think of a place in Manhattan so remote that no one would hear such a commotion.