Purify (The Ivory Solution, Vol. 3)

By Etienne

Reporter Clint Buchalla has been tasked by his editor with delving into the activities of a sitting Senator, who is rumored to have been caught in bed with a dead girl and a live boy. Clint begins what he suspects will be a months’ long investigation. Instead, things quickly come to a head, and he and his partner, Lucien, find themselves in mortal danger.

The search for the rent boy leads to dinner with an older couple, one of whom worked as a rent boy in DC for twenty years, until he was paid two million dollars by the Senator’s aide and ordered to disappear. The rent boy wants something in return for his testimony, though. He wants Clint to help him get his memoirs published.

In the midst of everything else, new information comes to light regarding Clint’s previous investigations into the activities of people who seem determined to lower the birth rates of certain groups. It might take an attempt on their lives before all the pieces start falling into place.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Etienne
• Release date: Sep 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370232918

Etienne

Etienne lives in central Florida, very near the hamlet in which he grew up. He always wanted to write but didn't find his muse until a few years ago, when he started posting stories online. These days he spends most of his time battling with her, as she is a capricious bitch who, when she isn't hiding from him, often rides him mercilessly, digging her spurs into his sides and forcing the flow of words from a trickle to a flood.

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Copyright © 2013, 2016, 2020 by Etienne

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Wherever possible, the syntax and spelling in this book follows guidelines set forth in The Chicago Manual of Style, 14th Edition, and in the Merriam-Webster online dictionary.

Cover Art © 2016, 2020 by Gerald Lopez

Acknowledgments

To my long-suffering editor Jim Kennedy, Thank you.

To my partner of twenty plus years, for his support and encouragement.

To the several beta readers: Murphy, Brandi, Joyce, Johanna, Tempe, and others whose names have momentarily slipped my mind. Thank you for your many helpful suggestions.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the many journalists who actually investigate things, as opposed to merely parroting what others before them have said. Long may they wave.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Epilogue

About the author

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Purify

(The Ivory Solution, Vol. 3)

Revised edition

Etienne

Chapter 1

Alexandria, VA

March

HURRY UP, CHER, you don’t want to be late. Lucien stood impatiently in the doorway of the master bedroom, clearly eager to go.

Just a minute, Cien, I can’t seem to get this damn bow tie tied correctly.

Let me help you. Lucien walked over to the dresser where Clint struggled with his neckwear and said, Stand facing the mirror.

Clint stood as instructed, and Lucien stepped up behind him and tied the bow tie as if he were tying his own.

Good job, Cien. It looks great.

You’re the one who taught me how to tie a bow tie, cher.

Yeah. I don’t know why, but I seem to be all thumbs this evening.

Are you nervous? After all, this is the second time you’ve been nominated for the Davenport Award for Investigative Journalism, and you won it last time.

I’m just tired, Cien. I didn’t sleep very well last night, and it seems to have caught up with me.

In that case, it’s a good thing you ordered a limo, isn’t it?

Yeah… just like last time. It’s been a busy year, hasn’t it?

Seems like yesterday to me, Lucien said.

That’s true. Are you going to tell our tablemates your news?

No, I’m not. This evening is about you, cher, and that‘s the way it should be.

Okay, then, I’ll tell them, Clint said.

Why spoil your evening?

Think about it, Cien—I’m sure it’ll come to you.

Lucien was silent for a moment, then he got it. You don’t much care for the limelight, right?

That’s my boy. Cute as a button and sharp as a tack. Clint looked at the mirror. Damn, we make a good-looking couple, don’t we, Cien?

How could we not do so, cher? We’re both young, fit, and more or less athletic looking. Your blond hair and light complexion contrasts with my black hair and darker features. Need I go on?

Young? Did you say young? Clint said. You may be young, but I’ll never see thirty again. In fact, I‘ll technically be middle-aged in a couple of years.

That’s nonsense, cher, total nonsense. In fact, nobody considers thirty-five middle-aged these days. Besides, age is a state of mind, and our brains are as young and fit as our bodies. Lucien spun Clint around so they were face-to-face, then grabbed him and began to kiss him with growing passion. They kissed for quite a while, until Clint raised one arm above Lucien’s shoulder so he could see his watch.

This is great, Cien, he said, but it’s past time to go sit in the living room and wait for the limo.

Right behind you, cher. Right behind you.

They settled in the living room to wait, and Clint looked at his watch yet again. That was pretty good timing—the limo should be here any minute now.

Is the event at the same place that it was last year? Lucien said.

No. This year it’s being held in the Crystal Room at the Willard InterContinental Hotel.

Great. I’ve heard good things about the famous Willard Room. Didn’t you tell me about it?

I’ve had lunch there a couple of times with my publisher, and it was quite an experience. That being said, I‘m glad I wasn’t paying for it—their prices are over-the-top.

That bad, huh?

Definitely. You could easily drop over a hundred bucks on lunch for two—a lot more if you weren’t careful.

Too rich for my blood, cher.

Mine, too.

The doorbell rang, and Clint said, Right on time.

Minutes later, they were seated in the backseat of a limo and on their way to downtown Washington, DC. When the limo pulled under the marquee of the Willard, Lucien settled back in his seat. He leaned toward Clint, and said, in a whisper, I remembered to wait for the driver to open the door this time.

I’ve got you trained, haven’t I?

Shh.

The driver opened the door, and they exited the limo then made their way into the hotel. Wow! This is grand, isn’t it? Lucien said as they walked through the lobby of the hotel.

Was that a rhetorical question?

Yeah. Is the Crystal Room on top of the building, like the Top of the Hay was last year at the Hay-Adams Hotel?

Not at all. It’s located off of a section of the hotel called Peacock Alley, where they serve tea every afternoon.

Have you had tea there?

No, but I’ve done my research, Clint said.

And we all know how good you are at research, don’t we? They had no trouble locating the Crystal Room, and once inside, they were directed to the Washington Ledger’s table. Present at the round table with their wives were the publisher, the managing editor, and the front-page editor. The other two couples at the table, which seated ten, were Clint’s editor, Reggie Buckman, and his partner, Tyler Meriwether, and Clint and Lucien. With ten people present, even when they all knew each other, it took a while to complete the usual rituals of handshaking and greetings. After that, they settled down in their chairs.

Clint glanced briefly at the people around the table. The Ledger’s publisher Claude Ratcliffe was a distinguished-looking man of sixty. His wife, Amelia Upchurch, was a tall full-figured woman in her fifties with platinum-blonde hair. She was also CEO of the small publishing house that had published Clint’s second book and was about to publish his third. He didn’t know the managing editor and his wife very well, but he occasionally had contact with the front-page editor of the Ledger, although he didn’t really know the man’s wife. Reggie, Clint’s editor and immediate superior, was in his mid thirties and was sitting next to his partner, Tyler, a somewhat lean blond in his late twenties.

Here we all are once again, Clint said.

It seems like yesterday, Reggie said, but it was actually just last year.

Tyler, who was seated next to Lucien, said, So, what’s new in your lives, Lucien?

Same old, same old, Lucien said.

Don’t be modest, Cien, Clint said.

Cher! As I told you earlier, this evening is about you.

Lucien is just a few months away from achieving his dream, Clint said.

You mean his Cajun restaurant is going to be a reality? Tyler said. That’s great! Congratulations, Lucien. I can’t wait to eat there.

Thanks, Lucien said. "It’s all because of my grand-mère."

Sorry. I don’t understand, Tyler said.

When Lucien was born, his grandparents set up a trust for his education, Clint said. He wasn’t aware of this, but there was a provision to the effect that if he used the money wisely, he’d receive an even larger amount on his twenty-fifth birthday. The trustee was very impressed with the fact that Lucien managed to get not only a BS degree, but a Master’s and a Doctorate without even coming close to totally depleting the funds.

That’s fantastic, Tyler said. Is the restaurant going to be in Old Town?

No, Lucien said. I looked at locations in Old Town, Georgetown, and the Dupont Circle area, and finally decided on the latter. I signed a lease with option to purchase a building last week. The restaurant will be on one of the side streets a block from the Dupont Circle Metro Station.

Sounds good. There are a bunch of restaurants in that neighborhood. Will that be a problem?

No. The nearest Cajun restaurant is nowhere near the circle.

When will it open, and do you have a name for it yet? Tyler said.

As we all know, Tyler is a huge fan of Cajun food, Reggie said. Especially yours.

We’re a long way from opening, Lucien said. And the restaurant will be called ‘Lucien’.

I wanted him to call it ‘Chez Lucien’, Clint said, but he thought that was too corny.

Lucien and Tyler began to seriously discuss Cajun food, so Clint turned his attention to the rest of the table.

When those two start talking about food, the rest of us might as well ignore them, Reggie said.

More power to them, Clint said. After all, Lucien is a superb cook, and Tyler’s no slouch.

That’s for sure, Reggie said. And by the way, win, lose, or draw this evening, I have something for you. He removed an envelope from a breast pocket and handed it to Clint.

What’s this?

A contract, Reggie said. Don’t worry about it now, just stick it in your pocket and study it when you get home. Have a lawyer look at it, if you like.

I’ve never been under contract before, Clint said.

"That’s true. You’ve been with the Ledger for quite a few years now, and we want to ensure that you’ll stay with us for a lot longer. I think you’ll like what the contract says."

Thanks, Reggie. I’ll look at it tomorrow—I’ll probably be too tired by the time I get home tonight. Clint slipped the envelope into a breast pocket in his tuxedo.

Take your time.

"I’ve never even considered leaving the Ledger. Not even when Lying Lyons was doing his best to run me off."

And we appreciate that, Reggie said. On the other hand, we do know that one of our competitors has propositioned you a number of times.

That’s true, Clint said. They’ve openly hinted several times that they have a place for me. However, I like it where I am, and more importantly, I don’t like their blatantly left-liberal politics, so I’ve always refused their overtures.

And we thank you for your loyalty, Reggie said.

Servers began to distribute plates of salad, and conversation at the table ceased for a while.

Chapter 2

Washington, DC

Friday

THEIR MOSTLY EMPTY salad plates had been replaced by the main course, and everyone was dealing with their entrées and side dishes. Conversation at the table became more general and primarily centered around the food in front of them.

This is the best piece of prime rib I’ve had in a very long time, Tyler said.

I agree, Lucien said. It’s done perfectly—not overcooked and not undercooked.

I can’t imagine how a kitchen can produce two or three hundred dishes at the same time, Amelia said.

It takes a talented chef overseeing a well-trained staff, Lucien said. I worked in hotel kitchens several years while I was in college, and I’ve seen them at their best and at their worst.

All of which will be good experience for your own restaurant, won’t it? Tyler said.

You can say that again, Lucien said.

"I hope you’ll give the Ledger’s food critic first crack at reviewing the restaurant when the time comes," the managing editor said.

Count on it, Sir, Lucien said.

Who taught you to cook? Amelia Upchurch said.

"My grand-mère. Her parents were the first generation of my family to leave the bayous and move to New Orleans. She not only knew all the old recipes, she had them written down, or rather, her mother had written them down and left them to her. I was the only one in the family who was interested, so she gave them to me."

And the rest, as they say, is history, Clint said. Or will be just as soon as the restaurant is open.

And I’ve got a lot of work to do before that happens, Lucien said.

Doesn’t one of the kids who was molested by that priest live next door to you guys, Clint? Tyler said, changing the subject.

Yes, he does, Clint said.

How’s he doing?

He’s getting better all the time, Clint said.

And his hero worship of Clint hasn’t stopped, Lucien said.

Whatever do you mean? Amelia Upchurch said.

The boys and their mother were at our house when the priest broke in, Lucien said. Clint took a bullet that was meant for the boy, and he’ll probably never forget it.

I should think not, she said.

Well I, for one, would just as soon forget the whole thing, Clint said. Hopefully the boy’s memory of it will fade over time.

I think that’s already happening, cher, Lucien said. We go bike riding with both of the boys next door regularly, and I think eventually Wally will begin to look on you more as a father figure than a hero.

At least, he doesn’t have the haunted look he had when we first met him, Clint said. All of the victims had that same look about them, and they’re all getting professional help.

Their conversation was interrupted by a clinking sound, and when Clint looked around, he saw a man standing at the podium holding an empty glass in one hand and a knife in the other.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? the man said, and when the room had finally quieted, he continued, As president of The National Press Club, I’m delighted that we’re hosting this year’s Davenport Awards banquet, and on behalf of my organization I’d like to welcome all of you and thank you for coming. He went on to talk about journalism in general, then segued into remarks about the Davenport Awards in particular. Finally, he introduced the head of the Davenport Foundation, and turned the microphone over to him.

The head of the Davenport Foundation rose and after a few welcoming remarks, began the process of introducing nominees for the various awards, of which there were four categories. This took quite a while, until finally, the CEO said, And now for the event many of you have been waiting for, the presentation of the annual Davenport Award for Investigative Journalism. He read a list of the names of the nominees, which included Clint and four other journalists. Each nominee was required to stand and be acknowledged, before the CEO finally opened an envelope with a little flourish and removed a piece of paper.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this year’s Davenport Award for Investigative Journalism is Clint Buchalla of the Washington Ledger, for his series of stories exposing a pedophile priest whose crimes were too horrible to mention in polite company. Mr. Buchalla is also the first journalist to have won the award two years in a row."

Clint stood to be acknowledged. The publisher of the Ledger led him up to the dais and presented him to the group, but not without making a number of flattering comments about Clint. By the time he’d finished, Clint was beginning to blush but managed to get his emotions under control long enough to make a brief acceptance speech, in which he thanked his superiors at the Ledger for giving him the leeway to conduct his investigation.

Without their support and encouragement, he said in conclusion, "I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish what I did. When I went to my editor and asked him if the Ledger was willing to take on the Roman Catholic Church, all he said was ‘All of it?’ and when I gave him the details, he gave me free rein to proceed with my investigation and backed me up every step of the way."

Clint was smiling broadly when he returned to the table carrying his plaque and the prize check. He acknowledged the congratulations of the others at the table. When he was seated, he handed the check to Lucien and said, Add this to the restaurant fund, Cien.

That’s sweet of you, cher, Lucien said, but you should use the money to do something for yourself.

Nothing pleases me more than making you happy, Cien, Clint said. Besides, I have everything I need.

We’ll talk about it when we get home, Lucien said. Meanwhile, your boss and his partner are on their way to the dance floor, so why are we sitting here?

Why, indeed? Clint stood, extended a hand to Lucien, and said, Shall we?

When they returned to the table, they found their wineglasses had been refilled, so they sat and sipped while they visited with the others at the table—at least, the ones who weren’t dancing. A few minutes later, they returned to the dance floor, where they stayed until the affair began to wind down.

Later, when the limo delivered them to their doorstep, Clint unlocked their front door, and once they were inside, they headed straight for the master bedroom. They stood side by side at the wide dresser, removing cufflinks and pocket contents. When Clint placed first the check and then the envelope Reggie had given him on top of the dresser, Lucien looked at the items.

What’s in the envelope, cher? he said.

Reggie says it’s a contract.

A contract?

He says the paper wants to be assured of my continued services, so they’re willing to do what it takes to make it happen, Clint said.

When did he do that?

While you and Tyler were talking about food.

What does it say?

I have no idea, and I’m not going to look at it now—not after all the wine I drank this evening. It’ll still be there in the morning.

What about that check, cher?

What about it?

I think you should spend it on yourself, Lucien said.

No way, Cien. If you won’t take it for the restaurant, then I’ll use it to pay down our mortgage.

That’s no fun, no fun at all.

Perhaps, but it’ll make me feel more secure. You know how I feel about getting out of debt.

Well, I think you should at least think about trading cars.

Why would I want to do that? My SUV is good for many more miles of service.

Cher, Lucien said, there’s such a thing as being too careful, don’t you think?

Not when we’re living under the most anti-business administration this country has ever seen, Cien. Which is why I worry about your new restaurant.

Are you saying I shouldn’t open it?

Not at all. Not even close, in fact. All I’m saying is I think you need to be very careful, at least in terms of cash outlay and long-term commitments on contracts and things.

Oh, I’m with you there, cher. Definitely with you, there. I have a set amount budgeted for the restaurant, and I intend to squeeze every dollar till it says ‘uncle’.

And I know how good you are at doing that, Clint said. Meanwhile, now that we’ve finished undressing, why don’t we spend a few minutes in the Jacuzzi before we go to bed?

That works for me. Is it turned on?

Did you forget the timer we had installed a few months ago? I set it for when I thought we’d be getting home.

Oops. You got me there, cher.

Chapter 3

Alexandria, VA

Saturday morning

THE NEXT MORNING Clint awoke first, as usual, and as he always did on weekends, lay in bed for a while, looking at his sleeping partner. For the thousandth time, he reflected on what a lucky man he was. He’s smart, he’s gorgeous, and he’s all mine, Clint thought. Clint’s musings were eventually overridden by the call of nature, so he slipped carefully out of the bed and padded naked into the bathroom.

Later, he dressed quietly, and headed for his car—they’d made a weekend tradition of picking up breakfast from a nearby McDonald’s. When he returned to the house, he left the food on the kitchen island, and returned to the bedroom, where he quickly undressed and crawled back in bed with Lucien. Once there, he proceeded to wake Lucien in the most pleasant way possible.

Afterward, Lucien stretched languidly and said, That was nice, cher. Really nice. You always do the nicest wake-up calls.

Clint rolled over on top of Lucien. Want me to wake you up again?

Hold that thought, cher. Right now, I have a more urgent need. He extricated himself from Clint’s arms, and headed for the bathroom.

I’ll go warm up our breakfast, Clint said.

I’d rather you warmed me up, Lucien said before the bathroom door closed behind him.

I’ll be right here.

Clint was lying spread-eagled on the bed when Lucien returned to the master bedroom.

Ooh, Lucien said, noting Clint ‘s aroused state. You are ready for more, aren’t you, cher?

For you, Cien, always. Clint started to move to one side, but Lucien stopped him.

Stay right where you are, cher.

Lucien climbed onto the bed, straddled Clint ‘s body, and smiled. I’ve got you right where I want you, now, cher.

When they were finally sated, they took a long soapy shower together, dressed, and went to the kitchen.

I’ll warm up our breakfast, Lucien said.

I’ll go check our messages, Clint said. I didn’t think to do it when we got home last night.

That’s probably because we were both feeling all that wine.

Yeah. When Clint returned from the den a few minutes later and settled down at the kitchen island to eat his breakfast, he was grinning.

What brought that grin to your face, cher? Lucien said.

There was something I never expected to hear in one of the messages.

What are you talking about? Don’t keep me guessing, please.

I’m glad we didn’t have any definite plans for the weekend, Clint said.

You’re speaking in tongues.

Sorry, but I never thought I’d see the day.

Cher! Lucien was getting exasperated. What are you talking about?

Guess who’s coming to dinner?

Enough with the games, already. Just spit it out.

Rod will be arriving at Reagan National Airport this afternoon, and he’s bringing a friend with him.

Rod! A friend? Lucien said. What kind of friend?

I have no idea, but from the tone of his voice, it sounds like our Rod, the dedicated and determined bachelor, might have been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

Are you sure?

Go listen to the message and decide for yourself. I didn’t erase it.

Clint ate his breakfast while Lucien hurried to the den. When he returned, he too, was grinning, which prompted Clint to say, Well?

I think you were right, cher. I think you were right.

Shall we take them out to dinner tonight, Cien?

Not tonight, Lucien said. I already know what I want to cook, and when I do my weekly grocery shopping, I’ll get the necessary ingredients. In fact, Dean & Deluca will have just what I need.

You’re going all the way to Georgetown to buy groceries?

Not groceries, cher. Just the meat.

Want some company? We can have lunch in Georgetown.

When have I ever turned down an offer like that, cher? Especially from you.

Great. I’m going to get that envelope Reggie gave me and take it out to the swing.

Want some company?

Was that a rhetorical question, Cien?

You know it was.

Clint retrieved the envelope from the dresser in their bedroom, carried it out to the back porch, and settled down in the swing. Lucien, as usual, snuggled up next to him, while Clint read the contract.

Finally, Lucien couldn’t stand it any longer. Well?

Well, what? Clint said.

What does it say?

Patience. Give me a minute or two to digest everything. Finally, Clint handed the document to Lucien. See for yourself.

Can’t you summarize it for me?

It’s a little more complicated than that. Give it a quick read first.

Okay. Lucien took the document and read through it. I don’t understand all the legal mumbo jumbo, he said, but it sounds good.

It’s better than good, Cien. Scheduled pay increases and bonuses. I’m guaranteed a free hand to pick the stories I want to write, and most importantly, I’ll have access to a company car.

You already have a free hand, Lucien said, so what’s the point?

True, but if something happened to Reggie—

A new guy might be more like your old boss, right?

You got it, Clint said. And the car means I’ll be able to take the Metro to work.

You lost me there.

You know what a pain driving to and from work is, right?

Sure. You bitch about it all the time.

So I can take the Metro to work and draw a car from the company car pool as needed. In a way, it’s better than having a car to drive home.

Because you won’t actually have to drive home, right?

Good-looking and smart. What a combination.

Sarcasm noted.

It isn’t sarcasm if it’s a fact, Cien, Clint said.

Point taken. Are we going to the Y this morning?

After all we ate and drank last night? I think we should.

I’m ready when you are, cher.

What about your gym bag, Cien?

It’s where it always is—in the closet with yours. I’ll go get both of them, and we can be on our way.

At the Y, they swam laps for an hour, then spent some time with the exercise equipment. After that, they went into the for once empty steam room and settled down on the tiled benches. Clint sighed and leaned back against the tiled wall.

Tired? Lucien said.

Not really. In fact, that was a sigh of contentment. We more than made up for the culinary excesses of last night, don’t you think?

Oh yeah. And then some.

Good, because I was thinking about that little restaurant we discovered in Georgetown last month. We’ve had dinner there, but not lunch.

It’ll be a bit of a late lunch, if you don’t mind. I have to go to two stores here in Old Town first.

Not too late, I hope.

Why? Lucien said. Are you hungry?

No, but if we’re going to have a big dinner this evening—

It won’t be that big, just special. You, of all people, know my cooking.

No problem. While you’re in the kitchen I’ll spend the time working on ideas for my new column.

New column? Lucien said. You didn’t tell me about that.

"Reggie and I have been talking about it—bouncing ideas around. My regular column is oriented toward happenings in the District. This one is going to have a more general appeal, and the Ledger is going to make it available for national syndication."

Cher! You had all that going on, and you didn’t tell me because?

One, you’ve been wrapped up in your search for a building; two, I thought it was just talk; and three, I didn’t know it had gone beyond that until I read my new contract.

I was sitting in the swing when you read it, and you didn’t say anything.

Didn’t I? Sorry. Guess I was worn out from all the se… Clint broke off the sentence when the door to the steam room opened and three guys entered. Lucien gave him a look that told him he’d have more to say on the subject.

Clint glanced at his watch. We’ve been in here long enough, Cien. Time to hit the showers.

Right behind you.

Chapter 4

Alexandria, VA

Saturday

THEY RETURNED HOME from the Y, and Lucien went straight to the kitchen to prepare his shopping list. Clint followed Lucien into the kitchen, where he took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He carried the bottle to the den, and settled down at his desk, glad that Lucien hadn’t chosen to fuss over not having