On my way home, I called Heather. I had to stop her from giving me a data dump over the phone. I told her she could hold it until Monday.
It was nearly six when I arrived at the farm house I own off River Road west of Potomac Village in Montgomery County, Maryland. I’d lived alone for the first few years after I bought the place at an estate sale, but for the past four years Sandra Winter, a teacher at Carter High School in the District who I’d met when I was investigating the murder of one of her students had been living with me. She had a house in the District, in Takoma Park, which she’d finally moved her stuff out of and rented out.
Ours was a mutually convenient relationship. We were fond of each other – one could go so far as to say that we loved each other – but, we were content to let the relationship develop at its own pace.
Sandra had beaten me home by several hours. We’d agreed that morning to make an evening of it, so when I walked in, she was sitting on the sofa already dressed and ready to roll.
“Sorry I’m late, babe,” I said. “Give me a few minutes to wash the sweat off and change.”
She stood up, leaned forward, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You get a proper kiss when you’ve cleaned up,” she said.
I didn’t argue. Sandra is a couple inches shorter than my six-one, as athletic as hell, and I’ve been teaching her taekwondo for a couple of years, and she’s about ready to take me down. Besides, the weather had been warm for September, and I sweat a lot, so if I’d been in her place I would have treated me the same way.
It took me about thirty minutes to shower, run a razor over my five o’clock shadow, and pull on a pair of blue dress pants, a blue cotton dress shirt, and a dark blue dress jacket over that. I buffed my best black dress shoes with an old rag I keep in the back of the closet, spritzed myself with a mist of Aqua Velva, and went back to the living room.
“Do I pass inspection?” I asked, doing a little pirouette in front of the sofa.
She cupped my face in her hands and kissed me full on the lips, pressing her body against mine. I slipped my arms around her waist, pulling her in even closer. After what felt like it was far too short a time, she pulled back. “We’d better stop this, or we’ll never get dinner.”
I made a growling sound deep in my throat. “Okay,” I said. “But, you owe me.”
We took my car, leaving her little Honda parked in the front yard. As we drove away, I made a mental note to cut the grass which was getting a bit shaggy. I drove down River Road and took a right onto Seven Locks Road near the Beltway. Seven Locks ends at MacArthur Boulevard, and we went left on MacArthur into the District, turned onto Reservoir Road and drove down past the Georgetown University campus to M Street. Just past the old locomotive garage that now serves as ROTC headquarters at Georgetown I crossed Key Bridge into Rosslyn on Fort Myer Boulevard. In the heart of Rosslyn, we turned right onto Wilson Boulevard and drove about three miles southwest to a small shopping mall on the right that contained a pawn shop, a video rental shop, and three restaurants – Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Thai. We decided to try Loy Krathong, the Thai restaurant.
The place was small and dimly lit. Most of the patrons were Asian, with a few white couples scattered about. A diminutive Thai waitress greeted us at the door and led us to a table for two in the back near the bar. We ordered two Singha beers, and she left the menus for us to peruse while she went to get out drinks.
