Chapter 15

In the end, Liberty decided on her simple black sheath dress, accentuated with gold tone and purple cloisonné earrings and necklace, her shoes black stilettos.

When she arrived at the restaurant, she found Byron Keats already seated at a small table for two.The ma?tre d' and waitera plump, little man with a dark halo of hair around his bald pateescorted Liberty over to her "young man."Keats wore the same clothes he had on this afternoon, but had added a black knit tie.When he saw her, he stood and offered a smile of acknowledgement and of appreciation.

"Hi," he greeted as she joined him."I'm glad you decided to come after all."

"I wouldn't dream of standing you up, sergeant.Your interrogation methods intrigue me."After Liberty took a seat, she accepted the menu the waiter handed her.

"What would you like to drink?" the little man asked after informing them that he went by the sobriquet of Miguel.

"A bottle of Tempranillo for two," Keats ordered, having settled back in his chair.

"And a glass of ice water," Liberty added as a precaution.With water on hand, she could slow down her consumption of wine.

"Excelente!"Miguel proclaimed before he left to fetch the wine and glasses.

Liberty took a moment to look around.Their table came with a red and white checked cloth, a lit candle dripping wax down a fat wine bottle, a basket filled with fried tortilla chips, and two salsas, one red and one green.Murals of Spanish scenes decorated the cream stucco walls, a splashing fountain in a plaza scene, a village marketplace, and a matador swirling a red cape before a charging black bull.

Now giving her a pointed look, Keats crossed his arms on the tabletop."I didn't think I included an interrogation in my dinner offer."

"You didn't.I'm just trying to be witty."

"Good, I like witty women.How did you get the name Liberty?"

"It's a long story and not very interesting.What about you?Byron Keats.Your parents must have been in a very poetic mood."

"Let's just say they're academically inclined."Taking a tortilla chip from the bowl, he broke it in two and placed the pieces on his bread plate."Both parents are teachers."

"And you never cared for poetry or English literature."

"Not really."

Liberty began to recite what she remembered from the poetry courses she took at the university."'I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful, a faery's child:Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.'That's from La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats."

When she finished, the detective offered a curious look."Hum, I haven't taken you for a gal who likes old-fashioned poetry.I thought you'd be more inclined to the hip-hop kind of poetic rhymes."

"You mean like: 'She's a sexy witch, and a real bad-ass bitch.Slap her around and she'll sex you to the ground.'"She threw him an indignant glare."I just made that up, but detective, your comment not only reeks of sexism but racism, too.Surely, you're more enlightened than that."

He donned a stricken expression and grabbed another tortilla chip."Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply...I mean you seem more...you know, like an urban, chic, modern person."

"I am, but I'm well-educated, too.I graduated from one of the top ten law schools in the country, and I studied more than just law. I took courses in literature and poetry with emphasis on the Age of Enlightenment and the romantic era. I'm partial to the sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the poetry of Maya Angelou."

"Again, I'm sorry," he offered, "Please forgive my ignorance and stupidity."

Liberty had to laugh, despite his blunder and bluster."I accept your apology."She added, "You are the master of your fate, and the captain of your soul."

"Now what's that from?"

"It's my version of the ending of the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat."Okay, let's start again.Call me Keats like everyone else does, just Keats.I hate Byron."

She smiled."I didn't particularly care for his poetry either."

"Huh?"

"Lord Byron, whom I assumed you were named after as well as Keats.In fact, John Keats and Lord Byron were fellow poets as well as friends."

"I guess that's good to know, but it doesn't help me one iota in this day and age."For emphasis, Keats cracked his second chip and then placed the pieces with the other broken chip."If Lord Byron and Keats were criminals in their time, they might garner my attention.Otherwise I don't bother."

The return of the waiter with their wine and her water quelledwhat Liberty considereda rather illuminating conversation with the detective.

Miguel poured the first glass of vino and offered it to Keats who took a quick sip and pronounced it delicious.

"Perfecto," the waiter agreed and poured the acceptable red wine in a long-stemmed glass for Liberty."And for your dinners, what will you like?"

Since she hadn't really glanced at the menu, Liberty did a quick perusal and decided on the paella, saffron rice with shellfish, while Keats opted for the house specialty, el bistek toreador.

Their waiter then snapped the menus from their hands."I will bring you salad and hot bread shortly."

When Miguel left, Keats raised his glass."Well, here's to a better start.By the way, you look very nice tonight.I mean, you look real good."

Stifling a grin, Liberty took up her glass."Thank you, sergeant.I appreciate your candor."

They both paused to sip their wine.Liberty found it full-bodied, almost dry with an earthy under taste.When Keats set aside his glass, he became all police business now and returned to their earlier conversation."I know you have the cell phone, Liberty, or at least I have a very good idea that you do.We have a copy of the message sent to Dr. Baumgard, as provided by Mr. Durrell who copied it after the doctor showed him the original text message."Keats leaned in."And I know the doctor showed it to you as well."

"Yes, he did."Retrieving her black spangled purse, Liberty pulled out a small plastic baggy with the late doctor's phone inside.She pushed it across the table."I never meant to be coy or stubborn, and I never set out to deliberately break the law by withholding evidence."

"Okay," Keats acknowledged with a wary look.Scooping up the bagged phone, he placed it in his jacket pocket.

"I have an employee who's very good with electronics and computers." Liberty went on to explain."I wanted to see if he could discover the origin of the message, even the sender."

"But he couldn't," the detective concluded between sips of wine."Because the sender used a pay-as-you-go, disposable phone.Mr. Durrell told us that, but we have our own experts in the department who will do their best to discover the sender or at least where the phone was purchased."

Miguel returned with their salads and a basket of hot, steamy bread slices that gave off the heady aroma of garlic and butter.Liberty picked up her fork and toyed with her salad, a mix of lettuce, tomatoes and black olives swimming in an olive oil and vinegar dressing."Now what about Dr. Baumgard's murder?Do you have any preliminary data from the coroner's office?"

"Yes," Keats acknowledged as he dunked a piece of thick garlic bread in his salad dressing."Dr. Baumgard was stabbed by a sharp instrument introduced just below the rib cage and into the heart with a downward thrust."