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day.
    "You'll go to Berkeley tomorrow morning, then,"
said Al. "I've been in touch with the department there,
letting them know you'll be waltzing across their turf. If you
need to make an arrest, call them for backup. I doubt that you will,
though," he added. "Erasmus sounds a peaceable sort. Better
take a departmental car, though. You do know where this Holy Hill
is?"
    "If it's the same place, it's what they call the
area above the Cal campus, where there's a bunch of seminaries
and church schools."
    "Sounds like a reasonable shot. I'll take the postmortem, and we'll talk when you get back."
    Right." It was a good time to leave, but she lingered,
enjoying the sensation of being back in her own world. The nightmare of
the last year was not about to fade under two weeks' worth of
cold reality, but she did feel she had achieved some small distance. It
was a good feeling. "Al," she said on impulse, "come
home for a drink. Or coffee, or dinner. Or even just a breath of real
air."
    "No, I can't. You haven't warned Lee."
    "Oh hell, a little surprise will do her good. Unless--do you have something planned for tonight?"
    "Not tonight."
    "Still seeing Jani?"
    "Still seeing Jani."
    "She's a fine person, Al."
    "She is. She was happy to hear you're back in harness,
sent her greeting. Invited you for dinner, as soon as Lee's up to
the drive."
    "She might enjoy that. Ask her yourself, tonight."
    "You're sure?" I'm sure.
    "Okay. One drink and a brief conversation with Lee, and if
that damned houseboy of yours is cooking a barbecue, I'll break
his neck."

    Hawkin did not stay to dinner, and as Jon was experimenting with
lentils, he escaped with his neck intact. After Hawkin left, Kate
settled Lee at the table, which was set for two, and went into the
kitchen. She peered past Jon's shoulder at the pot on the stove,
plucked a piece of sausage out, receiving a slap from the wooden spoon,
and put the meat in her mouth.
    "Are you not eating, or am I?" she asked Jon.
    "Since you're here, I'm going out."
    "You're leaving me phone numbers?"
    He turned to look at her. "Why on earth do you need phone numbers? You're not a teenaged baby-sitter."
    "Jon," she said with exaggerated patience, "I am
back on active duty. I explained to you last month what this would
mean. I am no longer shuffling papers from eight to five. I may be
called out at any time, and I do not want Lee left alone forq hours and
hours. I need all of your phone numbers."
    "But I don't know them," he cried. "I mean, what if I decide to go somewhere?"
    "Report in. Damn it Jon, you know it isn't good for her to be alone for any length of time."
    "All right, all right, all right. I'll give you phone
numbers. But don't you think it's time we entered the
twentieth century and got me a beeper?"
    "Good idea. Get one tomorrow."
    "How chic. Everyone will think I'm a doctor. I think
I'll be an obstetrician. Terribly exotic, and it'll save me
from having to look at strange growths and aches on strangers that
I'd rather not know about. Now for heaven's sake, quit
jabbering and take those plates in. I have to go do my hair."
    Kate obediently took the plates, served herself and Lee, and then
bent her head and wolfed the lentil-and-sausage cassoulet. Whatever
Jon's shortcomings (and she'd had her doubts from the very
beginning, even before the day they had passed in the hallway and he
had paused to say, "Look, dearie, it isn't every man gets
to change his shrink's diapers. I mean, what would Papa Sigmund
say? Too Freudian"), the man could cook.
    Kate helped herself to a second serving and started in more slowly.
    "Did you eat today?" Lee asked.
    "I think so. There were sandwiches at some point, but it was a
while ago. Jon, this is gorgeous," she said as he came in from
the recently converted basement apartment. "Will you marry
me?"
    "You just want me to work for nothing, I know you macho
types," he said with an exaggerated simper and held out a piece
of paper. "Here is my every possible phone number,