“Unless you want to change your mind about my tequila sunrise. Believe me, it’s worth changing your mind for.”

Gurney stood up, pointed to his mini-recorder on the sofa cushion. “May I have that, please?”

She picked it up and jammed it into the pocket of her shorts, which were already about to burst a seam. She smiled. “I’ll mail it to you. Or … you could try to take it now.”

“Keep it.”

“Aren’t you even going to try? I bet you could take it if you really tried.”

Gurney smiled. “Klemper didn’t have a chance, did he?”

She smiled back. “I told you, he blackmailed me. Made me do things I never would have done willingly. Never. You can just imagine what kind of things.”

Gurney walked around the far side of the coffee table and out of the living room, opened the front door, and stepped out onto the broad stone steps. Alyssa followed him to the doorway and put on her pouty look.

“Most men ask me what FMAD means.”

He glanced at the big letters on the front of her tee. “I bet they do.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Okay, I’m curious. What does FMAD mean?”

She leaned toward him and whispered, “Fuck Me And Die.”

Chapter 31

Another Black Widow

The red GTO was parked at his side door, as Gurney expected it would be. He’d called Hardwick on his way home from Venus Lake and left a message suggesting they get together ASAP, including Esti if possible. He felt the need for other perspectives on his Alyssa interview.

Hardwick had called Gurney back as he was nearing Walnut Crossing and offered to come right over. When Gurney entered the house, he found the man lounging in a chair at the breakfast table with the French doors open.

“Your lovely wife let me in as she was leaving. Said she was off to therapize the local nutcases at the clinic,” he said in response to Gurney’s unvoiced question.

“I doubt she put it that way.”

“She might have put it in cuddlier words. Women love the fantasy that crazy fuckers can be de-crazed. As if the only thing Charlie Manson needed was a touch of TLC.”

“Speaking of nice women getting involved with lunatics, what’s the deal with you and Esti?”

“Hard to say.”

“You serious about her?”

“Serious? Yeah, I guess, whatever ‘serious’ means. I’ll tell you one thing. The sex is seriously good.”

“Is she the reason you finally bought some furniture?”

“Women like furniture. Turns them on. Feathered nests trigger good feelings. The biological imperatives start kicking in. Beds, couches, comfy chairs, cozy rugs—shit like that makes a difference.” He paused. “She’s on her way. Did you know that?”

“On her way here?”

“I passed your invitation along to her. I thought she might’ve called you.”