Let's just be safe and say I own nothing in the following pages. Not even the words, I think. Webster does, or whoever writes the Dictionary.

2

Rose reminded Goren for all the world of that Batman comic-book villainess Poison Ivy. She was petite, feminine, and red-headed with earthy green eyes and a soft, low voice that could seduce anyone into anything. She opened the door for them wearing a pretty pink sundress and pearls, an absolutely stunning woman.

"Rose Buhler?" asked Eames, flashing her badge.

Rose blinked in surprise. "Yes."

"I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Goren, could we come in, please?"

Rose nodded and let them in, her eyes lingering a moment too long on Goren. In the parlor a tall, elegant black woman dressed in tan and khaki sent the detectives a dubious look. She set down the watering can she was using on the plants by the window and came to Rose's side.

"Blessing, these are detectives here to—uh," she creased her forehead and looked at them. "Here to what?"

"We're here to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," said Eames, glancing in Blessing's direction.

"Anything you say to her you can say in front of me," said Blessing with a Sudanese accent.

"That's all right, darling," said Rose. "I'll be fine." She gave her partner a quick, passionate kiss and let her go.

Blessing passed the detectives on her way to the kitchen, eyeing Goren in a way that made his temperature rise. He cleared his throat and passed his notebook into his other hand.

"When was the last time you saw Monica North?" asked Eames.

Rose twisted her face in confusion. "I don't know… About a week ago, why?"

Eames took a deep breath. "She was murdered last night."

Rose's lack of reaction was far from suspicious. Her small body stiffened as shock settled in. "Oh my god. That's impossible. I just saw her last week." She ran her hands through her hair. "Things happen so quickly, don't they?"

"What's going on?" asked Blessing from the doorway.

Before the detectives could say anything Rose blurted out, "Monica is dead."

Blessing quickly found her way to Rose's side and held her hand as they sat on the couch.

"Miss North," continued Eames, "we have to ask you where you were last night at nine pm."

"Right," said Rose, composing herself. "At nine I was… I was at Macy's. Shopping for a friend's birthday."

"Did you use cash?"

Rose shook her head. "Credit card."

Goren focused his attention on Blessing. "And, while we're here, where were you?"

"The children had a play last night at seven. I was at the school until ten."

He flipped open his notebook. "You're a teacher? Where?"

"I'm the music teacher at Faithful Heritage." She turned to Rose. "If you don't feel like going to the party, we can stay home."

"No, Blessing, it's all right." Rose shook herself. "It was just a surprise. I'm feeling better now."

Goren watched them interact for a moment, sensing Eames next to him growing ever more disgusted. "We're going to need to know who Cynthia's father is."

Rose nodded. "Sam St. Claire. He was my karate instructor."

Goren's head jerked up. "Did you get your black belt?"

Rose shook her head. "I only got up to brown. Then Cynthia was born and other things became more important."

"Better than me," said Goren. "Blue. What's the name of his class?"

"St. Claire's Martial Arts. It's on Eleventh."

As Goren took down the address, Rose and Blessing watched him almost hungrily. Eames didn't know whether to laugh or puke.

"It might also help if we had your ex-husbands names and phone numbers. Just so we know."

"He's moved to California, I don't know where exactly," said Rose. "Jeff Gillenwater. I don't remember Monica's husband's name. It didn't seem important. She awakened me to my bisexuality." She squeezed Blessing's hand. "For that I'll always be thankful."

"Don't you ever miss men?" Eames couldn't help but ask. Goren's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes," Blessing and Rose answered in unison. Blessing smiled and continued. "Things are better here for women than in Sudan. Sometimes, if we see a man we both like, we bring him into our bed."

"Blessing!" exclaimed Rose, giggling. "She can be very candid, after all those years of speaking when spoken to." Goren and Eames grinned appreciatively, uncomfortably. Again the women's eyes violated the specimen before them. Goren wasn't sure how to behave.

"Um—has Sam ever had any contact with Cynthia?"

Rose shook her head. "He didn't seem interested. He was there for the birth, and he sends her birthday presents and Christmas cards. Oh, where are my manners? Would either of you like a glass of water or something to eat?"

"No, thank you," said Eames.

"Water, please," said Goren, fiddling with the knot of his tie. Rose got to her feet with a smile and went to the kitchen. "Are we keeping you from something?" he asked Blessing.

"Our friend is having a garden party at three."

"What kind of plants do they grow? It's a little early for a garden, isn't it?" asked Eames.

"He has a greenhouse full of beautiful flowers year-round. This week the jasmine has bloomed and he's as proud as punch."

"Jasmine blooming in March," said Goren. "That's extraordinary."

"Do you like flowers, Detective?" asked Rose, handing him his water.

He nodded. "I guess so, yeah. I don't have a garden, but then again I don't own any dirt."

The women giggled just as Eames's cell phone rang. She took the call by the door, giving the three still in the living room a sense of privacy. "So, Detective, what did you say your name was?"

"Goren. Robert Goren."

"That's what I thought, but I wanted to make sure. How was Monica killed?"

He hesitated. "Stabbed."

She closed her eyes and crossed herself. "She's happier now. She's at peace."

Goren grunted. "That's a lovely rug," he said, noticing the old mat at his feet.

"Thank you," said Blessing. "It was quite a find."

"Yeah, I like a good bargain. Do you buy many antiques?"

"I like old furniture, yes. You have an appreciation for beautiful things."

He grinned. "Always have had." The ladies smiled at the remark. "Did you buy this at the same place you bought those?" he asked, indicating a pair of swords over the hearth.

"No, there is a street a few blocks from here full of novelty shops. I believe I bought the rug at Simmons Pawn and the swords at Shannon River Shop."

"She knows how to make a house a home," said Rose affectionately. She watched Goren for a moment as he finished his water and set the glass down on a coaster. "I'll get that in a moment."

"Thank you."

"Such manners," whispered Rose to Blessing, almost too low to hear. He would've missed it if not for his sharper than average hearing. Their lips barely moved.

"Very considerate," said the other. "And strong, see?"

"Detective, we'd love it if you'd come to dinner some time." Rose grinned—very Poison Ivy.

Unable to help it, his belly burned with an impolite heat for a brief moment as he looked at these two gorgeous women and thought about what they would have done to him. "Well, you--"

"That was Deakins," interrupted Alex. "He wanted to know where we were."

Goren nodded. "Guess that means we'd better get back to work."

"You have our number," said Eames to the other women. "Call us if you think of anything."

"We will," said Rose, showing them to the door.

Once outside, Goren pulled himself back into real life and out of the fantastic little coma he'd probably just fallen into. "There was more estrogen in that room than I've been exposed to since birth."

"Add those numbers to your little black book, Bobby," said Alex getting behind the wheel. "It could be fun."

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