I was lying in wait in my parlor, like the spider for the fly. It was a hot, sultry day, but the breeze off the river was gently cooling the house as day faded to evening. I had been waiting all day; no, all week for Special Agent Pendergast to wander into my trap. The wait was so exquisitely painful for me, I was beginning to hope he’d never come. But, alas, the hour came when I heard the discreet rumble of his Rolls. Not the flashy one he drove up North, but the nice black one he kept for his infrequent visits home.

Home. Not entirely home, as he came from the city and the house he kept now was out Metarie way. It was the family’s summer home, the one they would retreat to every summer to escape the heat and poor air in New Orleans proper. Granted, it’s really no cooler out on Grand Tanton Bayou than in the city, but at least there are the breezes from across the water, and fewer people to press on you as you try to get from one place to the other.

I had grown up here, and had known Aloysius since he’d been in short pants. Never was there an odder, more serious child to wander the bayous, but we were all drawn to him, I, my brother Davey, Helen, Troya, Jericho. There was a sadness to him—of course, even deeper sadness after the passing of his parents. And the scandal with his brother; but that one we don’t speak of. You don’t call the devil unless you must, and this Pendergast was devil enough. But, as I said, we were all drawn to him, and for years we were the wild, young, town gentry. The six of us rode roughshod over the other poor citizens of the sleepy bayou town we lived in summers. Until that all changed. Helen, Troya and Davey were all dead. I had retired to the town year round, and God only knew where Jericho was.

The measured tread of his handmade shoes against the tabby floor of my portico beat the time of my heart as he approached my front door. I was playing a dangerous game. A very dangerous game, and only he and I knew about it, and how unpleasant the consequences of that game could be if played badly.

“Do come in,” I called out, not even rising from my chair. There was only a moment’s hesitation before the knob turned, and the door opened. A ghost from my past walked in, tall and pale, with eyes the color of the bleached-out sky on a hot summer’s day. His face was still measured, still, even, but more still and cold than before. It was as if the life had been burned out of him, one stick of kindling at a time. I began to wonder if my little gamble would work.

“Madame Balfour, how are you this evening?” His tones were just as soft, just as warm as I had recalled. He bowed, a gentle inclination from the waist. “I trust I find you well.” If possible, his voice had become softer in the intervening years, more gentle. I wondered what had happened to the boy I’d known, what he’d seen, to make such a change in him.

“Such formality, Aloysius,” I said as I rose from my rocking chair in front of the windows. I crossed to the bar, which was next to the door he’d entered through. As I got close enough to see the very few lines that had grown in the corners of his eyes, I breathed in to catch a hint of his scent. Nothing. “We’ve known each other for years. I know you recall my name.”

He paused, turning slightly to keep me in his sight at all times. I’m not sure what he’d thought I would have done to him, but I was pretty certain he didn’t know what my true intentions were. “Miriam.”

I smiled at him. “That’s better. How have you been keeping yourself?” I inquired casually, beginning to mix Kahlua and cream.

“Quite well, thank you. And you seem to have done... well. Miriam.” His eyes roved over the spacious salon in which I stood and back over his shoulder into the formal foyer. I could see him silently tallying up the value of the paintings I and Davey had acquired, estimating the prices of the antique furniture set, the Aubusson carpet on the floor. “Apparently you and... your husband made some excellent investments.”

I paused as I was preparing to pour the White Russian I’d been mixing over the ice in the tumbler on the bar in front of me and gave him an incredulous look.

“Dear God in heaven, Aloysius, are you trying to play coy with me?” I finished pouring my drink and kept my eyes down as I continued. “You of all people know how Davey made his money. And it had nothing to do with stocks or bonds or compound interest.” I finished off my own drink with a touch of Hot Damn, just enough to give it a kick, before turning to the wine rack behind me. I selected a rather fine red—good, but not the best; he was, after all, only Aloysius—and poured him a glass. I set it on the bar in front of him and caught his silver gaze with my own. “For the sake of the past, for all that might have been, don’t.”

We stood like that, gazing into each other’s eyes and re-taking each other’s measure before he gave the tiniest of nods. His slim, pale hand caught up the glass from the bar and carried it to his nose. He swirled it, inhaling the bouquet for a moment before saying, “I was sorry to hear about Davey. Of our little group, I was always rather fond of the two of you. I had hoped things might have gone better for you.” He took a sip and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “A rather fine wine.” A small smile played about his thin, expressive lips. “But not your best, I’d wager.”

I smiled back. “Oh, no, the best is reserved for guests. Friends,” I emphasized the word slightly, “and family get second best.” I came back around the bar and gestured lightly toward the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. Aloysius sat as I took my own seat in the matching wingback.

“Miriam,” Aloysius said as he rested his wineglass on a glass table between his seat and mine. “Fine as your wine no doubt is, I highly doubt that it is the reason you invited me down.” Casually, he tossed one leg over the other and rested his fine chin on one hand, leaning on the arm of the sofa. His other hand was draped over his knee, dangling with a casual grace. “There was mention of a diskette.”

I sipped my drink, lapping up a stray drop left behind by my lips, and enjoyed watching Aloysius follow my actions. Poor boy, it had been too long for him if he was going to be pulled in by that ploy. “Why yes, I do believe I did say something about that. Names or something or other.” I made a casual gesture with my free hand. Aloysius followed that gesture and lithely rose to fetch down the diskette from the mantel.

He gazed at it for a few moments before tucking it carefully into a pocket in his suit jacket. “The United States Government thanks you.” He strode back to the sofa, picked up his glass and took another sip. He stood there pensively for a moment before softly allowing, “And I thank you, Miriam. This couldn’t have been easy for you.”

I snorted derisively, quite unladylike I must admit, but there you have it. “Marrying Davey wasn’t easy. This, this was simple.”

He looked down at me, a rather vague but still curious expression on his face. His long fingers cupped the bowl of the wine glass, bringing all manner of thoughts to my head as he asked, “I thought you and Davey were happy, Miriam. At least you seemed to be—was it all show?”

I sighed and plucked a piece of ice out of my drink. “I was only happy for as many years as I could ignore what Davey had become. And only as happy as I could have been with my second choice.” I put the ice cube to my lips and delicately sucked the cream and liquor from it before pulling the entire cube into my mouth to melt. I closed my eyes. “I never really wanted to marry Davey. Do you remember what happened the year before I married Davey?” I leaned my head back against the chair, not wanting to see his face as he recalled his own wedding. The only wedding I was a part of where my tears were not of joy but sorrow.

I heard the faint clink as he abruptly put his glass back down on the table. “I must be leaving.” You could have chilled Chianti with his tone. I waited until he was almost out of the room before I said, casually, “The diskette is password protected.”

He paused. “There are ways around that, Miriam.” But he didn’t move from his position near the door.

“Yes, that is so.” I casually put my drink back down on the table and curled my legs up underneath myself. “But you know me, always tinkering, tinkering, tinkering.” I smiled slightly and tented my fingers up under my chin. “This file is protected so that the first incorrect entry will scramble and partially reformat the diskette. You’ll never get the information from the diskette without the password.”

There was a pause, and I wondered if I had gone too far. Then I felt more than heard him re-enter the room to stand behind my chair. Two long, black-clad arms came down to rest on the arms of my chair, and he was so close I could feel his breath stir the hair on top of my head. All the gentility was gone from his voice when he said, from right next to my ear, “What is the password, then, Miriam?” I don’t believe I had ever heard his voice go so cold and menacing—at least, not so cold and menacing when he was talking to me. I got a chill down my spine, but managed to preserve my calm. This was, after all, Aloysius. He wouldn’t harm me.

“Well, now,” I drawled. “What makes you think I’m just going to tell you the password?” I stood and slowly turned to face him. His eyes were as sharp as fresh-broken glass, and his face had finally taken on an emotion, but one so tightly controlled as to be unrecognizable. “After 10 years in a very unhappy marriage to a son of a bitch that thought I was merely an accessory; ten years, Aloysius, that did not have to happen had you merely kept your promise to me. You knew what Davey was. And you lied to me.” I drew myself up and glared right back at him. “I think you owe me something, Aloysius.” I strolled over to the bar to put my glass in the sink. “I think you owe me a lot, considering the risk I’m taking by giving you those names. Names,” I said as I turned around to retrieve his own glass and take it to the bar as well, “that only I or Davey could have gathered. Names of people that are still alive, Aloysius.” I drew his name out as I stretched my arms out on either side of me along the front of the bar. “People who won’t be very happy with me for giving their names, phone numbers and private Swiss account numbers to you.” I saw him start, and realized he hadn’t known how much I’d put on the disk.

He straightened up and adjusted his coat and tie. He gazed over at the sofa for a moment before saying, “You will, of course, be protected.”

“No, Aloysius. You are thinking of far different things than I am.” I glided across the room, and stepped behind him, laying my hands gently on his upper arms. I slid my body along his as I rose up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Protection I have. What I want is a little... personal appreciation from you.” I stroked my hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “Do you remember, two, no three summers before you met Helen? The night of the Renois ball? When we went out to the gazebo to ‘look for alligators’?” I ran my hands down his back as I stepped lightly to the other side of him. His earlobes were tinted with the faintest pink, and I’m certain he recalled the evening in question as clearly as I. My hands lingered along his lines, finally coming to rest on the delicate, long fingers that were tightly gripping the wings of my chair. “Before I vanish, I want a new memory.” I smiled lazily. “One to keep me warm through my long, lonely exile.”

He was not looking at me but instead focusing so intently on the pattern of the rug I almost expected it to burst into flames. “I no longer... I am not the same man... ” his lulling tones had fled as confusion filled him.

Immediately, I began to ache with sorrow for my friend. I reached up to stroke the side of his face with the back of my hand, and he started away, pulling to the side. I held my hand there, waiting for him to still and when he had, continued with my motion. “Oh, but you are, Aloysius. You are the same boy I met all those years ago. You’ve buried him, I can see that, but I know he’s still in there.” I framed his face with my hands. “I’ve watched you. Secretly.” His eyes widened in surprise. “Davey wasn’t the only one who kept secrets in our house.” I smiled slightly. “Not all the time, but sometimes, when I knew you were in town or if I was in New York. I’d just pass by, trying to catch a glimpse.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb. “I know you miss her.” He started to pull back, but I tightened my grip and he stilled. Those inscrutable eyes watched me, silently. “But the guilt you feel is silly. She chose her path, and you couldn’t have stopped her if you’d wanted to. Why are you locking yourself away?” I slid my hands down his face, allowing myself the pleasure of lightly grazing his lips with my fingertips. “I’m not asking for forever; I’m not even asking for all night. Please?”

He kept looking down at me with an unreadable look on his face, and then he turned. I stood up and followed him. When he was clear of the table edge, I tripped him. He hit the floor rolling, but before he could roll to his feet, I had fallen on top of him, pinning him to the floor. I made certain my weight was on his upper torso, and grabbed his wrists. Locking my elbows, and thoroughly enjoying myself at his outraged expression, I swayed my back low, low enough that he could see the upper swells of my breasts pressing out of my low-cut sundress. I flattened myself out along his body as far as I could. He couldn’t move his arms—with my elbows locked, any attempt to break my grip would have caused major injury, and with my weight on his upper body, he couldn’t roll over to use his legs to dislodge me. I felt his gold cufflinks cut into my palms, and for a few seconds allowed myself to enjoy the sight of his eyes dilating with anger, turning a dusky blue instead of the usual clear gray.

“Why, Aloysius,” I drawled, “I had no idea you liked it rough.” I tucked my chin under and gave him a sideways look. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”

“Miriam,” he ground out, his voice low from anger or lack of oxygen and possibly both. “I’m not going to give you what you want, so kindly get off me.”

I squirmed a little to get more comfortable—my knees were hitting something very uncomfortable under the jacket, probably his service piece—and said, “Oh, now, don’t be in a hurry on my account.” Whether or not he gave me what I wanted was rapidly becoming moot. The pleasure I was slowly gaining from having him momentarily under my power was swiftly overtaking any I might garner from other... activity. “All I wanted to do was present my case. A little more,” I squirmed a little more, stretched myself out along his warmth and snuggled into him so that my lips were mere centimeters from his, “persuasively.”

He looked out over my arms, still locked, and tried to lift himself from the floor with his legs. As he rose, I slid my legs fully around his torso, gaining better grip as I did so. He lowered himself again, and I pulled my knees back around to grip the sides of his chest again—so he could be as comfortable as possible. I smiled down at him like the cat with the canary, and he returned my gaze slightly ruefully. “It appears you have my full attention, Madam.”

“Now, as I was saying,” I took in a breath, pressing my breasts against his chest, “all I want from you, is a little appreciation. Something to keep my home fires going, as it were, once I go into exile. Most likely never to see you again.” I couldn’t resist a slight brush of my lips against his. They were surprisingly warm, and I savored the tingle that shot from my lips to my navel for a second before continuing. “In point of fact, all I want,” and I paused to press my body as closely to his as possible, bringing his now-dark eyes into sharp focus, “is a kiss.”

His eyes widened slightly, in shock or disappointment I could not tell, and he said, “I believe you have already had one.”

I pulled up slightly, to give him an aggravated look. “No, Aloysius. A kiss in which you participate. That little touch of a moment ago, while pleasant, was nothing like what I personally know your lips can do.” I allowed a slightly pleading tone and look to come over me as I said, “Just one kiss—you don’t even have to make it long, or deep, just invest it with feeling.” I looked down, and now the pleading was real. “Pretend with me like Davey did. He didn’t love me either, but he made me believe it.”

Pendergast gazed up at me silently for what felt like forever. “And if I do this, you will give me the password? Just like that?”

“Yes,” I breathed lightly against his mouth. Then I carefully released his wrists, and spread my arms above my head, stretching out languorously and said, “Yes, just like that. You can even put your pretty silver handcuffs on me and arrest me for assaulting an officer. I’ll go quietly.”

He lay there for a breathless second, splayed out beneath me. Then, in an explosion of movement, he flipped me over on to my back and somehow in the same movement had actually produced handcuffs and cuffed my hands together with the chain looped around the metal leg of the bar. I was pinned to the floor by both his body and the foot-rest section of the bar—I could only lift my hands five inches from the floor. I looked up at my hands in a moment of panic, and when I brought my eyes back to his they were blazing. He was a lot heavier than I had remembered, and I couldn’t get a full breath of air. He placed his hands on either side of my head and he kissed me. I mean he kissed me, with all the pent-up passion he’d been hiding and sublimating in miniature trees and distracting with chasing serial killers since the day Helen died. His lips moved over mine with a delicacy and a strength that surprised me. The last time I had kissed him, he’d been a boy. I don’t know what I had expected; that time would stand still and he’d always be that sweet young man, that it would be the same—but he had definitely learned some things as he’d grown into a man.

When he finally deepened the kiss, parting my lips with his tongue, I whimpered in the back of my throat. I could taste the wine I had served him mingling with my own vodka and cream. It was not unpleasant, and neither was the way he took control of my mouth, turning the caress of a lover into the gentle lash I was beginning to crave. He took one of his hands from my head and slid it along my side, from hip to just under my breast. I could feel his long fingers there, holding me, measuring me as if to remember the details of my body. Finally, he allowed his thumb to lightly move over the underside of my breast, grazing my nipple lightly. My back arched off the floor, into him.

It seemed to last forever, but at long last he pulled his mouth from mine and we both lay there, panting slightly. I felt almost as spent as if he’d stripped me naked and taken me right there.

“Miriam.” I whispered, my eyes closed.

I felt him draw up slightly, and he stroked my cheek lightly. “What?”

I opened my eyes, and he was already calm and collected again, but at least he was looking gently down at me. I suppose his anger had burned away in the kiss. “The password.” I swallowed. “It’s Miriam.” I felt my face flush. “I guess I just wanted... I wanted you to think of me when you used it.”

He quickly stood up and walked out of the house, leaving me on the floor. I took a few deep breaths to compose myself, and attempted to sit up. I was abruptly reminded that this was impossible—I was still handcuffed to the bar! I twisted around so my hands were in front of me and managed to gain a seated position. Desperate, I looked over the floor around me; where was the key? I jerked my arms back and forth a few times, testing the cuffs and the bar. I inspected the cuffs as well as I could from my awkward position—they weren’t the trick cuffs Aloysius had shows us all through all those summers, not the play cuffs I’d gotten to know intimately, later. I was truly handcuffed to the bar!

Suddenly, the front door opened again. I looked up as Aloysius strode back into my parlor, this time with a rather wicked little smile on his face. He went behind the bar, and I could hear clinking and the sounds of glasses being moved around.

“What’s going on? Where’s the key? I have to catch my plane first thing tomorrow morning, you know!” I pulled on the handcuffs to catch his attention. “Hello? Down here!”

Suddenly, his head popped over the edge of the bar, still wearing that slightly boyish, mischievous grin. “Miriam, are you in such a hurry to be rid of your guest?” He gave me a chiding look down his long, long nose. “That’s not very polite, now is it?” and he vanished back behind the bar. Suddenly, I heard the pop of a cork and I knew he had found the wine I kept for special guests—the very expensive vintage. I was beginning to get a little irritated.

“That better not be my best wine!”

He re-circled the bar and came to kneel beside me. His face looked serious, but his eyes were gleaming. For the first time, I got a glimpse of who he could have been had his life been different. “Miriam, you are still in my custody.” He pulled a handcuff key out of his jacket and unlocked one of my wrists. He hauled me to my feet, and suddenly I became aware that whatever it was beneath his jacket I had kept bumping into during The Kiss was gone, along with the diskette he had slipped into his pocket. He was holding me close to him, grasping me by my upper arms, and suddenly his thumb brushed against my breast as he said lightly, “I still have to decide what to do with you—it may take... quite a while. I thought we should at least be comfortable while I ponder; don’t you agree?”

Suddenly I was quite breathless, just like the night of the Renois ball. “Why, I do suppose that is an excellent notion.”

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