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.By the time he left two hours later, 11her number was in his book.12But slowly that memory faded, and he was left with the picture 13on his desk.He could feel the paranoia setting in, the sense of im-14potent rage.It had to be someone who’d known her.A family 15member or friend.Someone who knew what he’d done.But even 16with the resources at his command, how could he find out who?17Secretaries, paralegals, word processors, librarians — any one of 18them could be the culprit.19If only he could figure out the motive, that would be some kind 20of start.But he still didn’t have a clue.If blackmail were the goal, 21why not approach him directly? Why leave the picture on an asso-22ciate’s desk, not even knowing that it would reach him?23Mills felt a sort of buzzing, a vibration beneath his skin.Of all 24the human feelings, powerlessness was the one he hated most.25Well, if he didn’t yet have the answer, he could at least take care of 26one thing.27From a table behind him, Mills picked up a granite ashtray.He 28set it down on his desk.Then he took a pair of scissors from a 29drawer.Neatly, methodically, he cut the photograph into long, 30thin strips.Next, he stacked the strips together and cut them cross-31wise again and again.Now, there were dozens of tiny squares.32Holding the ashtray alongside his desk, he swept the paper bits 33into its hold.When he was finished, he returned the ashtray to his ort 34desk.He pulled out a dark red book of matches with the logo of reg 359858_02_153-356_r6jm.qxd 9/28/00 3:59 PM Page 205E Q U I V O C A L D E A T H2 0 5Café des Artistes.A match scraped across the igniter strip, and a 1yellow flame leapt up.2Mills stared at the flame for an instant, then dropped it down on 3the pile.But the match just lay there, smoldering, before silently 4going out.Annoyed, he lit another match, held it to a shiny frag-5ment.Again the tiny flare, followed by a puff of smoke.In quick 6succession, he lit three more matches, tossed them into the ash-7tray.One by one they hit the paper; in seconds all went dark.8It must be something in the photographic paper, some chemical 9that wouldn’t light.Staring at the picture’s remains, he was con-10scious of a growing rage.As if these pathetic scraps had intention-11ally thwarted his will.He wanted to pick up the ashtray, to hurl it 12across the room.He could almost hear the sound, the crash of 13stone and wood.The ashtray gave up an acrid smell.He shoved it 14across the desk.Then slowly, the anger subsided, and he was able 15to think again.He found an envelope in his desk, and placed the 16paper bits inside.Nothing to get upset about.He’d dispose of them 17another way.Envelope in hand, he got up from his desk, on his way 18to the restroom down the hall.Already, he was feeling better.19Everything would be just fine.20w21“I’m sorry, Ms.Paine.Mr.Mills has a full schedule today.I don’t 22know what he was thinking.But you know —” Clara raised one 23blue-veined hand in a gesture of philosophical acceptance.24“Are you sure? ” Kate was on the verge of tears.25Clara studied Kate’s face for several seconds, then let out a re-26signed sigh.“Look, why don’t you tell me what it is? I’ll try to run 27it by him.”28Kate shook her head helplessly.“It’s sort of confidential,” she 29said.“But could you tell him it’s really important?”303132Back in her office, Kate again tried to reach Andrea.Andrea’s sec-33retary picked up the phone.34 sh35 re9858_02_153-356_r6jm.qxd 9/28/00 3:59 PM Page 2062 0 6A M Y G U T M A N1“She’s out today,” said Suzanne.Kate could hear stifled laughter 2in the background.3“All day?”4“Yeah, she’s got the flu or something.”5Kate was surprised.Except for vacations, Andrea had never 6missed a day of work.But then, except for yesterday, neither had she.7“She was out yesterday, too,” said Suzanne, as if just remember-8ing this fact.9Kate felt her spirits lift.No wonder Andrea hadn’t called her.10Here she’d been feeling bad that Andrea hadn’t checked in, while 11Andrea was home sick, too.And probably wondering why Kate 12wasn’t calling her.13“So she’s at home?”14“Yeah.I guess.” Suzanne sounded as if she couldn’t care less.15“I’ll try her there, then.Thanks, Suzanne.”16But Andrea wasn’t at home.Or maybe she was just asleep.In 17any case, she didn’t pick up.Disappointed, Kate left a message, 18then turned back to her desk.It wasn’t as though she’d planned to 19tell Andrea about Thorpe’s attack.At least not until she’d spoken 20to Mills.But just the sound of Andrea’s voice would have cheered 21her up, made her feel less alone.22So what now?23She could feel the tension in her body, running from her legs 24through her neck.She scrunched up her shoulders and let them 25drop, willing the stiffness to vanish.Then she had an idea.Why 26not go to the gym? She’d been vowing to go for days, since that 27night at the Harvard Club.Forty-five minutes of exercise would do 28wonders for her mood.Just the thought of it cheered her up.In 29minutes, she was out the door.303132The locker room was sparsely populated with a motley assortment 33of female body types.A massive woman in flowered cotton under-ort 34pants leaned over to brush wet hair, folds of flesh bulging around reg 359858_02_153-356_r6jm.qxd 9/28/00 3:59 PM Page 207E Q U I V O C A L D E A T H2 0 7her waist, pendulous brown-nippled breasts swinging back and 1forth with the movements of her arm.A girl with well-toned 2biceps rubbed cream into her legs before examining her body in a 3mirror.Turning from side to side, she frowned, as if deciding 4whether to make a purchase.5Kate dumped her gym bag on a bench and fiddled with her com-6bination lock.26-16-24.It was easy to remember.Her age now.7Her age 10 years ago.Her age the year Michael left her.She peeled 8off her office clothes, careful not to snag her stockings, and hung 9them on a hook inside a locker.Then she pulled on black spandex 10leggings and a blue-and-white Samson T-shirt.She closed the 11locker, grabbed her Sony Walkman, and headed for the workout 12floor
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