possibility made his spirit expand. But, it would mean the end of whatever was left of Jesse and Jenn. Even if he got away with it, she could never get past it. He could feel himself contract again.
The muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a long drag of winter air.
Bob said, “You’re the
ex-husband.”
Jesse nodded.
“Are you all right?” Jenn said to him.
Jesse nodded again.
“You’re some sort of police
chief,” Bob said. “Somewhere on the
North Shore.”
Jesse realized that he was so close to Bob now that their sleeves touched. He nodded.
“Well,” Bob said.
“It’s been good talking to you, but we’re already late for our reservation at 9 Park, and you know how hard they are to get.”
Jesse neither moved nor spoke. He could feel Jenn watching him.
“Jesse,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
“Jesse,” Jenn said again.
“We’ve done a lot of work since I came here from Los Angeles.”
Jesse’s shoulders moved, as if he were trying to loosen
them.
“Don’t ruin it,” Jenn said.
Bob was two or three inches taller than Jesse. His skin had the
smooth blue tone of a man who shaved twice a day. As close as he was, Jesse could break Bob’s nose with the first punch.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jenn
said.
Bob nodded at Jesse, and the two of them walked toward Bob’s
car. Jesse watched them until they drove away. Then he walked slowly to his own car and opened the door and got in. He sat in his car with the door open and one foot still outside, and put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.
29
She was driving the Saab through the narrow downtown of Paradise. He sat beside her in the front seat with a Canon digital camera, which was small enough to sit comfortably in the palm of his hand.
“Her,” she said.
He photographed a copper-haired woman pushing a stroller.
“We doing a woman next?” he said.
“Even it up,” she said.
“We’ve two men and a
woman.”
He sang, “A boy for you and a girl for me.”
She joined him.
“Can’t you see how happy we will
be.”
They both laughed.
“How about that good-looking black woman?”
he
said.
“Certainly,” she said.
“We’re not racists.”
Again they laughed together. He snapped a picture of the black woman.
“Don’t see many black people in
Paradise,” he
said.
She giggled.
“If we decide on her, you’ll see one less,” she
said.
He nodded, his eyes scanning the sidewalks.
“I want this one to be a knockout,” he said.
“Your choice,” she said.
He photographed a tall woman in a lavender warm-up suit.
“This is fun,” he said.
She turned the car right onto a street leading to the waterfront.
“I suppose it shouldn’t be fun,”
she said.
“You mean other people would think it was awful?”
“Yes.”
He put the camera on his lap and leaned back against the seat.
“When I was in college,” he said,
“we had to read something in
English class by some old-time guy called the Venerable Bede. I don’t remember it much, but I always remember one scene.
There’s
this big banquet hall and it’s brightly lit and there’s a big warm
fire. Outside it’s cold and dark. But inside everybody’s eating and
drinking and having a hell of a time. A sparrow flies into one end of the hall, out of the cold darkness, and flies through the bright warm hall and out the other end into the cold darkness again.”
She glanced at him as she drove. He loved to pontificate.
“So?” she said.
“So human life is like the flight of the sparrow. Or maybe it
was a swallow. I can’t remember, but the point’s the
same.”
She pulled into the little parking lot by the town landing and parked in front of the restaurant.
“We’re only here for a little
while,” she said, “and we have the
right to make the most of it.”
“Some people collect postage stamps,” he said. “We like to kill
people.”
“Is it really the same?” she said.
“After we’ve done it, and we’re
making love, and the sex is like
nothing else either one of us has ever known … the feeling
… wouldn’t you kill for that?”
She breathed in deeply for a moment and reached over and put her
hand on the inside of his thigh.
“Yes,” she said.
“Me too,” he said.
They sat silently for a while watching the people. A dark-haired
woman in a tailored suit came out of the Gray Gull. She was carrying a briefcase and talking on a cell phone. He raised his camera and aimed.
“Her,” he said.
30
“I don’t know why I
went there,” Jesse
said.
“Why did you think you were going?” Dix said.
“She wasn’t returning my calls. I thought maybe I could catch
her coming out and we could have a drink or something.”
“Catch her,” Dix said.
“You think I was trying to catch her with a guy?”
“Do you?”
Dix was wearing a black turtleneck sweater today. And gray slacks. His bald head and clean-shaven face were shiny clean. His thick hands were motionless on the arms of his swivel chair, which he had tipped back while he listened to Jesse. His fingernails looked manicured.
“I want to kill anyone she’s
with,” Jesse said. “I feel like
I’ll explode if I don’t.”
“Because …?” Dix said.
“Because I love her.”
“But,” Dix said, “you
don’t kill anyone.”
Jess shrugged and smiled a little.
“Because I love her,” Jesse said.
“You win, you lose,” Dix said.
“You lose, you
lose.”
“Exactly. Ain’t love grand.”
“It might not be love,” Dix said.
Jesse straightened a little in his chair.
“Do shrinks believe in love?” Jesse said.
“I do,” Dix said, “loosely
speaking.”
“I love her,” he said. “If I
know nothing else, I know
that.”
Dix nodded.
“You accept that?” Jesse said.
“Sure,” Dix said. “But almost
everything human operates at more
than one level.”
“You think there’s something else at work?”
“Don’t you?”
Jesse sat for a moment, looking at the palm of his right hand, flexing the fingers.
“I imagine her with them,” Jesse said.
“Having
sex.”
“She ever tell you about it?” Dix said.
“God no,” Jesse said.
“So you don’t know what she’s
doing in fact.”
“I can imagine,” Jesse said.
His voice was hoarse. He cleared it. Dix was entirely still in his chair. Jesse saw that he was wearing black loafers with tassels, and no socks.
“Knowledge is power,” Dix said.
Jesse stared at him. Dix’s face never showed anything. Jesse
folded his hands and sat back in his chair with his elbows resting on the chair arms. The room was quiet. He heard his chair squeak as he shifted in it.
“But I don’t know what she’s
doing,” Jesse said.
“So you invent it,” Dix said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “I guess I
do.”
“How long have you been inventing her life?” Dix
said.
“Always,” Jesse said.
31
Suitcase Simpson sat very straight in the chair across from Jesse’s desk. He was always serious when he reported. Like a kid,
Jesse thought, giving a school report on Denmark.
“Bo Marino,” he said, “is around
school bragging about how he
spent a night in jail. Troy Drake is staying clear of Bo, and Kevin Feeney hasn’t been in school for the past three days.”
“You try his house?” Jesse said.
“Not yet, I wanted to check with you first.”
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Go get
him.”
“What about Drake?”
“We don’t know that Drake was
involved,” Jesse
said.
“Candy said …”
“Candace,” Jesse said. “And we
didn’t get any of this from her,
remember?”
Simpson nodded.
“And take Molly with you,” Jesse said.
“You think I can’t handle this
alone?”
“I’ve seen you handle worse than this alone, Suit. Molly has a
calming effect on parents.”
Simpson looked pleased for a moment, and left. Jesse picked up the phone and called Abby Taylor.
“You still representing Bo Marino?” he said when she
answered.