“No,” Jenn said. “I never know.”
As they walked, Sunny watched the men they passed. A number of them looked at Jenn, and some of them looked at her. It meant little. Jenn was recognizable, and both of them looked good enough for men to glance at them anyway. In the Parker House they sat at a window in the restaurant. When they had ordered, Jenn leaned forward.
“We need to talk about Jesse and us,” Jenn said. Sunny nodded.
“Do you love Jesse?” Jenn said.
Sunny sat back in her chair with her hands in her lap. She was quiet for a little while. Jenn waited, still leaning forward.
“When I’m with him,” Sunny said.
“And when you’re not?”
“I don’t miss him as much as I would expect to.”
“How much would you expect to?” Jenn said.
Surprise, surprise, Sunny thought. She’s not dumb.
“As much, I guess, as I miss my ex-husband,” Sunny said.
“Do you see him much?” Jenn said.
“He’s remarried.”
8 1
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“Doesn’t mean you can’t see him,” Jenn said.
“We share a dog,” Sunny said. “I see him when he picks her up or drops her off.”
“Why did you get divorced?” Jenn said.
“I’m not sure, I’m working on it.”
“No, I meant your idea or his?” Jenn said.
“I guess it was mine.”
Through the window Sunny could see a man standing outside King’s Chapel with his hands in his pockets. He was looking toward the hotel. Sunny didn’t know if he could see them through the window. It depended on how the glass was reflecting.
“Could that be our stalker?” she said to Jenn.
Jenn flinched momentarily, then turned to look at the man.
“No,” she said, “that’s not him.”
“You’re sure?” Sunny said.
Jenn nodded slowly.
“If it was him, I’d have that awful feeling.”
The waitress brought their salads. Jenn picked up a scrap of red lettuce from hers and ate it.
“I guess it was my idea, too,” Jenn said.
“To leave Jesse?”
“I left him.”
“Why?”
“I always say it was his drinking, but it wasn’t. His drinking got worse after I left.”
“So what was it?”
Jenn shrugged.
8 2
H I G H P R O F I L E
“I was an actress,” she said. “I had an affair with a producer.”
“Was he going to make you a star?” Sunny said.
Jenn made a face.
“Something like that,” she said. “When Jesse found out, he said he could forgive anything once.”
“You promised never to do it again,” Sunny said.
“Yes.”
“But you did it again.”
“Jesse couldn’t really forgive it. He didn’t rant and rave or anything. But . . . his drinking got away from him, I guess.”
“So you divorced him.”
“Actually, he divorced me. But it was my fault. By the time we divorced, he had no other choice.”
“Do you know why you continued to cheat on him?”
“Yes, I’ve talked with shrinks about it until my tongue hurts. It’s too boring to try and explain.”
“I don’t need to know,” Sunny said. “You still using the same techniques?”
Jenn smiled.
“Fucking my way to the top?” she said.
Sunny shrugged. Jenn ate a crouton.
“It’s worked great,” Jenn said. “I just recently got promoted from weather girl.”
Sunny smiled.
“Show-business opportunities are not unlimited in this market,” she said.
“For sure,” Jenn said.
“Did you come here because Jesse was here?” she said. 8 3
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“Yes.”
“You still love him?”
“I think so.”
“But you still . . .”
“I’m still trying to fuck my way to the top,” Jenn said.
“But . . .” Sunny said.
“Jesse is like your ex-husband, you know? I can’t imagine life without him in it.”
“But . . .”
“Almost anything I know that matters, I learned from him,” Jenn said.
Sunny waited.
“I always needed to be somebody, and I always thought that what I had to offer was that I looked good and I could fuck,” Jenn said.
Sunny smiled.
“Most of us can,” Sunny said.
“But I do,” Jenn said. “Jesse was always somebody, you know? He was always so self-sufficient and complete and . . . somebody. ”
“Except for you and drinking,” Sunny said.
“Yes,” Jenn said. “I think I kind of liked the drinking. It was a weakness, made him more human, sort of.”
“And you?”
Jenn smiled and nodded.
“I thought that was a weakness, too,” Jenn said. “You’ve had some therapy.”
“Yes.”
8 4
H I G H P R O F I L E
“One of my shrinks said if it weren’t for his weaknesses,”
Jenn said, “me and booze, he would have been too complete, too . . . Jesse. If it weren’t for those weaknesses . . .”
“Of which you were one,” Sunny said.
Jenn nodded.
“Of which I was one,” she said. “Without those weak nesses, I probably couldn’t have loved him.”
Jenn moved her salad around with her fork, without eating any of it.
“How about you?” Jenn said to Sunny.
Sunny didn’t answer right away. She was looking out the window at the corner by King’s Chapel. The man was gone. She smiled without very much pleasure.
“Richie didn’t have any weaknesses,” she said.
8 5
21
Being out of uniform,” Suit said. “Does this mean I’m a detective?”
“No,” Jesse said.
“If I was out of uniform and got a significant raise?” Suit said.
“Might,” Jesse said.
They were in New York, walking up West 57th Street.
“We’re going to see Walton Weeks’s manager,” Suit said.
“Tom Nolan,” Jesse said.
“In hopes of detecting who killed Walton,” Suit said.
“Yes.”
H I G H P R O F I L E
“So how come, if I’m detecting, I’m not a detective?”
They crossed Sixth Avenue with the light.
“Department’s not big enough to have detectives,” Jesse said.
“So I do detective work for patrolman’s pay,” Suit said.
“Exactly,” Jesse said.
They passed the back entrance to the Parker Meridien hotel across 57th Street.
“Who’s going to be there?” Suit said.
“With Nolan? The widow, and as much of the staff as he can get together.”
“Current widow.”
“Yes.”
“We going to talk about the broad being pregnant?”
Suit said.
“We won’t introduce the topic.”
“You think they know?” Suit said.
“I mentioned it to the governor’s man, Kennfield,” Jesse said.
“And you figure he blabbed.”
“Yes.”
They turned into a narrow building on West 57th Street.
“And you kind of want to see if he blabbed to them,”
Suit said.
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Always nice,” Suit said. “If you think a guy’s a jerk, and he confirms your suspicion.”
“Always,” Jesse said.
8 7
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
They rode the elevator to the penthouse and buzzed at the office door. A voice asked who they were.
“Chief Stone,” Jesse said, “and Detective Simpson, from Paradise, Massachusetts.”
Suit grinned.
“Detective Simpson,” he murmured.
After a moment the door clicked open and they went in. A well-groomed young woman showed them through a short reception area and into Tom Nolan’s office. It was a narrow room that stretched across the front of the building. A window wall looked out over a part of the West Side. With seven people in the room, it was crowded. Nolan sat behind a semicircular desk on the left wall, facing the windows. Four people sat in chairs in front of the desk, with the windows at their backs. At the far end of the office was a small white piano. In between were too many small tables, extra chairs, hassocks, and floor lamps. Suit went and stood beside the windows. Jesse stood near Nolan’s desk. Introductions were made: Lorrie Weeks, the current wife; Stephanie Weeks, the previous wife; Alan Hendricks, Weeks’s researcher; Sam Gates, Weeks’s lawyer.