“When I know how it happened,” I said. “I still don’t really believe it.”
She snorted. “I don’t either.” She stood up. “Come on. I’ll take you back to work. Then you can go wait with your fiancée,” she said. I left some money on the table and followed meekly.
Vince Masuoka was passing by in the hall when Deborah and I got off the elevator. “Shalom, boy-chick,” he said.
“How’s by you?”
“He’s engaged,” Deborah said before I could speak. Vince looked at her like she had said I was pregnant.
“He’s what?” he said.
“Engaged. About to be married,” she said.
“Married? Dexter?” His face seemed to struggle with finding the right expression, which was not an easy task since he always seemed to be faking it, one of the reasons I got along with him; two artificial humans, like plastic peas in a real pod.
He finally settled on what looked like delighted surprise—not very convincing, but still a sound choice. “Mazel tov!” he said, and gave me an awkward hug.
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“Thank you,” I said, still feeling completely baffled by the whole thing and wondering if I would actually have to go through with it.
“Well then,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “we can’t let this go unpunished. Tomorrow night at my house?”
“For what?” I asked.
He gave me his very best phony smile. “Ancient Japanese ritual, dating back to the Tokugawa shogunate. We get smashed and watch dirty movies,” he said, and then he turned to leer at Deborah. “We can get your sister to jump out of a cake.”
“How about if you jump up your ass instead?” Debs said.
“That’s very nice, Vince, but I don’t think—” I said, trying to avoid anything that made my engagement more official, and also trying to stop the two of them from trading their clever put-downs before I got a headache. But Vince wouldn’t let me finish.
“No, no,” he said, “this is highly necessary. A matter of honor, no escape. Tomorrow night, eight o’clock,” he said, and, looking at Deborah as he walked away, he added, “and you only have twenty-four hours to practice twirling your tassels.”
“Go twirl your own tassel,” she said.
“Ha! Ha!” he said with his terrible fake laugh, and he disappeared down the hall.
“Little freak,” Deborah muttered, and she turned to go in the other direction. “Stick with your fiancée after work. I’ll call you when I hear from Doakes.”
There wasn’t a great deal left of the workday. I filed a few things, ordered a case of Luminol from our supplier, and acknowledged receiving half a dozen memos that had piled up D E A R LY D E V O T E D D E X T E R
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in my e-mail in-box. And with a feeling of real accomplishment, I headed down to my car and drove through the soothing carnage of rush hour. I stopped at my apartment for a change of clothes; Debs was nowhere to be seen, but the bed was unmade so I knew she had been here. I stuffed my things into a carry-on bag and headed for Rita’s.
It was fully dark by the time I got to Rita’s house. I didn’t really want to go there, but was not quite sure what else to do.
Deborah expected me to be there if she needed to find me, and she was using my apartment. So I parked in Rita’s driveway and got out of my car. Purely from reflex, I glanced across the street to Sergeant Doakes’s parking spot. It was empty, of course. He was occupied talking with Oscar, his old army buddy. And the sudden realization grew on me that I was free, away from the unfriendly bloodhound eyes that had for so long now kept me from being me. A slow, swelling hymn of pure dark joy rose up inside me and the counterpoint thumped down from a sudden moon oozing out from a low cloud bank, a lurid, guttering three-quarter moon still low and huge in the dark sky. And the music blared from the loud-speakers and climbed into the upper decks of Dexter’s Dark Arena, where the sly whispers grew into a roaring cheer to match the moon music, a rousing chant of Do it, do it, do it, and my body quivered from the inside out as I came up on point and thought, Why not?
Why not indeed? I could slip away for a few happy hours—taking my cell phone with me, of course, I wouldn’t want to be irresponsible about it. But why not take advantage of the Doakes-less moony night and slide away into the dark breeze? The thought of those red boots pulled at me like a spring tide. Reiker lived just a few miles from here. I could be 1 6 4
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there in ten minutes. I could slip in and find the proof I needed, and then—I suppose I would have to improvise, but the voice just under the edge of sound was full of ideas tonight and we could certainly come up with something to lead to the sweet release we both needed so much. Oh, do it, Dexter, the voices howled and as I paused on tiptoe to listen and think again Why not? and came up with no reasonable answer . . .
. . . the front door of Rita’s house swung wide and Astor peered out. “It’s him!” she called back into the house. “He’s here!”