Chapter 22

Harper stared at the sheet of paper the postal employee had handed him. It was like that sometimes. You tried one thing, then another, and just when you were sure it wasn't going to pan out, you got the piece of information you were looking for. The forwarding address was for someplace called Pembroke, Connecticut.

The landlord hadn't known where he'd gone. There had been an old credit card statement on Farmingham's desk, which had his account number on it, but the credit card company hadn't helped. They would tell him almost nothing without a warrant and he had nothing to get a warrant with. They had verified Farmingham was apparently still alive and using the card, but refused to say where it had been used. Jim thought it was passing odd that the man hadn't told his own girlfriend where he was going.

He went back to his office, even though it was late. He'd make the call tonight. He didn't want to wait. He needed to make sure.

Mitch happened to be on duty, and happened to be in the station, when the phone call came in. It was on the admin line, rather than the 911 link, but he wasn't doing anything, so he answered, rather than let the machine pick it up.

"Pembroke Police, is this an emergency?"

He heard the static on the line that said it was a long distance call. Sound quality had gotten hugely better in the last ten years, but he could still tell when it was long distance.

"This is detective Harper, NYPD. I need a little assistance, if possible," came a deep bass voice on the phone.

"Mitch Connel. Be happy to help any way I can. What's a big city detective need from a little town like us?" Mitch smiled, even though he knew the man on the other end of the phone couldn't see it.

"I'm looking for a man," said Harper. "Does the name Kristoff Farmingham mean anything to you?"

Mitch was speechless. He'd known there was something about Kris that was odd ... something he was hiding. But so much time had gone by that it had faded to a spark. Now suspicion flamed to life again.

"As a matter of fact it does," said Mitch. "What's he wanted for?" His voice was hard.

"Well, his apartment was burglarized," said Harper. "We caught the burglar, but the DA won't press charges unless we can get a statement of complaint from the victim. I've been playing hell finding him, so I'm really glad you're familiar with him."

"Burglarized?" Mitch's voice sounded hollow. "He's a victim?"

"You sound surprised," said Harper. "Has this character caused you some trouble?"

"No. Well, not exactly. He showed up under very strange circumstances and claims to have memory loss. He's actually living here under a different name."

"Different name? Now that's interesting," said Harper. "The burglar turned out to be his girlfriend ... or at least she claims to be his girlfriend, and she claims he didn't tell her where he was going when he left town."

"Well I'll be," said Mitch. If all this was just about trying to dump a girlfriend, Mitch was going to have a piece of his ass. It occurred to him that crashing one's car into a river ... on purpose ... in the middle of a cold snap, when he didn't know whether any help would come along or not, just didn't seem like the kind of plan a man like Kris would come up with. Not just to dump a girl. Again he wondered whether or not Kris' memory loss was real. He was hiding something, but it just didn't add up.

"Yeah, well, this guy is a Caucasian male, forty-seven, five-eleven, one eighty, light brown hair and brown eyes. Does that match the guy you've got? Oh yeah, he's supposedly an author, too." Harper waited for an answer.

"Yeah," said Mitch. "That's him all right. One of the local women found him frozen half to death on a road by the river, all banged up. I took a look at the spot and I think his car went into the river. It was killer cold, though, and the ice froze over. We haven't recovered the car yet. He couldn't remember who he was when he woke up in the hospital. Had one name on his driver's license and another on a rental agreement in his pocket. Farmingham is the name on his license."

"Well, that would explain why he hasn't gotten in touch with his girlfriend," said Harper. "I'm going to need to come up there and get a statement. How do I find you?"

Mitch gave him directions and they agreed on a time and date that Mitch would have Kris at the police station to give a statement.

It wasn't until after they'd disconnected that Mitch realized he hadn't told the detective about the gunshot wound.

And ... he hadn't gotten Harper's number either.

Lulu rolled over and molded her body to Kris' side. Both were still breathing hard from a two hour bout of lovemaking. It was Lulu's day off again and she had used it for what she thought of as catching up a little on what she'd been missing for years.

"Well, I know it turns you on when I wear slinky underwear," she sighed. She didn't usually wear stuff like that, but, just this once, she had decided to try it. She'd borrowed a teddy from Jessica, along with a garter belt, and she'd bought a pair of dark thigh-high nylons. She was glad she had, because his reaction had been all she could have hoped for. He was always crazy to get her naked, but she took special glee in hearing him saying how sorry he was when he spurted within a minute of entering her. She didn't care that she didn't get to cum on those occasions. She knew he'd make it up to her later. She just loved it that she could drive a man that crazy.

"So ... what else turns you on?" she asked, kissing his left peck.

"Anything you do," he sighed.

"Come on," she chided, trying to pinch the skin on his stomach. There wasn't much to pinch.

"OK," he said, turning his face to her. "You already know I love a shaved pussy. I've always been an ass man and yours drives me nuts. I want to lick it and suck it, bite it, fuck it and spank it." He took a breath and the hand on the arm under her found her butt cheeks and squeezed.

"You want to fuck ... my ass?" She sounded doubtful.

"Maybe," he said. "I don't know if I've ever done that or not, but the idea of it sure is appealing."

"We'll see," she said. "Go on."

"I'd like to get you naked and then paint with our bodies as we make love."

"What?" She laughed.

"You know, create art while we're creating love. Get all covered in paint and then roll around on a big sheet of paper or something. I think that would be a blast."

"Mmmm, I like that idea," she purred. "Please, go on."

"I love it that you're willing to try different things ... like different positions and stuff," he said. "It turns me on that you're intelligent too."

"Why thank you," she said, reaching for his prick. It was soft, so she just played with it.

"I get off when you tease me and I like to tease you too. Anticipation is something that really gets me going."

"Hard to believe that," she said, squeezing his penis. "Every time you come over here, you have me in bed within ten minutes. That's not very much anticipation time." She grinned.

"It's not always like that," he complained. "Sometimes Ambrose is awake."

"I know, silly," she said. "I was just teasing you."

"I love it when you tease me," he said promptly.

"Is there anything you love that we haven't already done?"

"Dozens of things," he said. "I just haven't thought of them yet."

"Well think of them," she said.

"I think I'm a bit of an exhibitionist," he said. "Either that or I like women who are. I know I like women who show lots of their body in public. It makes me want to fondle them."

"You'd better not!" she warned, gripping his balls.

"What I mean is that if you and I were in public, and you were showing off a little, I'd want to touch you ... where people could maybe see it. You know, be a little naughty in public?"

"Hmmm," she said. "We'll see about that too. What else?"

"I can't think of anything else right now. I'll let you know when something turns me on. Now, it's my turn to ask questions."

He rolled sideways and, instead of letting him ask his questions, she kissed him for a long time. Their tongues dueled gently with each other and she pressed her breasts to his chest. Her hand was still on his penis, which she rubbed against her vulva. Finally she pulled back.

"Now you can ask me things."

"What's your middle name?"

She blinked. It was obvious she hadn't expected that kind of question.

"It's Anne, you goob," she said. Her voice sounded careful, like she thought he might be playing a joke on her.

He frowned and then his face relaxed.

"Oh. I thought Lou Anne was one word."

"Nope. My father wanted a boy. His name was Louis and he wanted a junior. Then I came along and he couldn't resist calling me Lou. My mother insisted on a feminine sounding middle name."

"Fascinating," he said. "Tell me about your tattoos."

"The one on my shoulder is the first one I got. I got it when I was fifteen. It was a Christmas present from my dad. He tried to psyche me out beforehand. He had tattoos and said it was going to hurt soooooooo much. I was so nervous I had to go to the bathroom when we got there because I thought I was going to throw up."

"So, did it hurt?"

"That one didn't hurt at all. It's based on some Brian Froud artwork. It's a fairy that looks like a flaming girl, bent at the waist, holding a globe behind her back."

"She's naked," said Kris. "I can't believe your dad let you get a naked girl put on your arm when you were fifteen."

"I knew I'd be running into you some day," said Lulu seriously. "I knew you'd like me naked."

He grinned. "How about the one on your back?"

"That one hurt like blazes. It was supposed to be colored in, but it was almost as bad as giving birth, so I stopped with just the outline. It's Mother Nature, and I got her when I was sixteen. That was another Christmas present from my dad."

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