She wondered if it would fight her for Crow as well.
"So who gets Emmie?" she asked Rick. "The courts or the hospital?"
"Her competency hearing won't be held for another few weeks. She seems determined to prove she's sane, which may be the best evidence that she's insane."
"And Gus?"
"He's been charged, and I'm sure he'll be indicted. I'm not so sure he'll be convicted. I hear that the city's most influential residents are lining up to be character witnesses. But Clay will testify against him. In the end, it's Gus's confession to his own son that will be the most damning evidence. With Darden, Weeks, and Steve Villanueve dead, everything else is hearsay, or strictly circumstantial. It's not a slam dunk by any means. Still, I'm glad I'm not Gus Sterne's lawyer."
"There was a time," Kristina put in gently, "when you would have salivated for a case like this."
"That was before I had to devote all my energies to getting my fiancé acquitted on charges of theft and criminal mischief. Not to mention assault."
"Assault?" asked Crow, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, picking at his food with no real appetite.
"Ketchup counts," Rick said, and kissed Kristina's hand, the left one, the one with the diamond ring on it, the one he never seemed to let go of. Crow started to laugh, then winced. Tess's heart went out to him. There was nothing worse than having laughter remind you of how fragile you were, how thin the membrane was between life and death. It had happened to her last spring, and her injury had been nothing more than a bruised rib. For Crow, the memories would last much longer.
"Are you coming back for our wedding?" Kristina asked.
"Are we both invited, or just Crow?"
"Both." She paused. "Although you'll probably be seated on the groom's side."
"We'll see," Tess said. "It's still a year off. A lot can happen in a year."
"Yes. I'm sure Kris and I will break up at least six or seven times before then," Rick said. Then very casually, too casually, he asked: "So what are you guys going to do?"
"First I have to break it to Mrs. Nguyen that Esskay is relinquishing her role as La Casita's mascot. That's going to be hard on both of them. But we've got to drive Crow back to Charlottesville, where he can reunite with his parents."
"Then what?"
"Yes, Tess?" Crow looked up. His face was so thin, his color so pale. How Felicia would love putting twenty pounds back on him. "Then what?"
"My business is in Baltimore, I have to go back there. My place is in Baltimore. But I thought you might want to come back, too. Eventually. Charm City could use some avant-garde polka music, too, you know."
"Give up all this"-he waved a hand at the beautiful day, at their food, at the slyly seductive city that surrounded them-"for Baltimore?"
"You'd also get me in the deal. If that's what you want."
"Is it what you want?"
"Yes."
"And we'll live together?"
"No." She couldn't help smiling at the shocked look on his face. "Life at Bond and Shakespeare streets is much too complicated these days, what with Tyner having a toothbrush on the premises-although not for long, I hope. Besides, living together, even unofficially, was what tripped us up the last time. We were playing house, which allowed me to play at our relationship. If I ever decide to live with you, I'll go whole hog. I'll get down on one knee and ask you to marry me."
Crow's mouth was a tight line. "I would like to point out that, traditionally, it's the man who gets down on one knee and does the asking. Even these days."
"I'd like to point out that, traditionally, it's the man who rides to the damsel's rescue," Tess said. "Even these days."
Kristina and Rick laughed, but Tess had never been more serious. Neither had Crow, it seemed. He sipped his iced tea-the others were drinking Tecates, but his antibiotics couldn't be mixed with alcohol-and cut his quesedilla into careful fourths, then eighths, still not eating any of it.
"Okay, your terms," he said. "But I have a condition, too. One day, I get to save you."
"Oh Crow-" She reached out and took his hand. The world was almost unbearably vivid. She was aware not only of the blue sky above them, but the coolness of his hand in hers, the peppers in the thin brown salsa, the lime in her beer, the prisms of light refracted by Kristina's diamond. It was enough. It was too much. Plentitude. She finally got it.
"Oh Crow," she repeated. "I think you just did."
About the Author
LAURA LIPPMAN was a newspaper reporter at the Baltimore Sun for fifteen years. Her Tess Monaghan novels-Baltimore Blues, Charm City, Butchers Hill, In Big Trouble, The Sugar House, and The Last Place-have won the Edgar, Agatha, Shamus, Anthony and Nero Wolfe awards, and her novel, In a Strange City, was named a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Her latest standalone crime novel, Every Secret Thing, was published by William Morrow in September 2003.
