Robert Parker - Death in Paradise

"You don't see that Abby person anymore, do you?" Jenn said.

She was wearing a short red-and-blue flowered dress with thin shoulder straps. When he had arrived at her condo, Jesse had noticed the amount of leg showing between the hem of the dress and the top of her high black boots.

"No," Jesse said. "Not socially."

"How about Marcy Campbell?"

On the table between them was a bottle of Riesling, a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of sparkling water. Jesse poured her some Riesling and himself some sparkling water.

"I see Marcy sometimes," Jesse said. "We're friends."

"Sex?" Jenn said.

"Do I ask you about your sex life?"

"Yes," Jenn said. "You do."

"And do you tell me about it?" Jesse said.

"I admit to one."

"Me, too," Jesse said.

The table was set with linen napkins and good china. Jenn always liked a nice table. On a board between them she had set out an assortment of cheeses. There was French bread on a cutting board. There were apples and black grapes in a bowl.

"You don't want to walk into the sunset with Marcy," Jenn said.

"No. We're friends. We sleep together sometimes. Neither of us wants to marry the other one."

"She came to see me after Stiles Island," Jenn said. "We talked about you."

Jesse sliced some bread, took a piece, and ate it with some blue cheese. He sipped some sparkling water. With the good bread and the strong cheese, the sparkling water tasted thin.

"She likes you," Jenn said. "She wondered what the future was for you and me."

"What did you tell her?" Jesse said.

"That I didn't know."

"At least you're consistent," Jesse said.

"Anyone else in your life?" Jenn said.

"Woman who's a school principal in Swampscott."

"And of course you're sleeping with her, too."

Jesse nodded.

He felt the hot feeling he always felt with Jenn when they talked about sex: anger, and desperation, and excitement, and confusion. About her, about himself.

"I like her," he said.

"Because you can fuck her?" Jenn said.

"No. The other way," Jesse said. "I can fuck her because I like her."

Jenn turned her wineglass by the stem. Jesse drank some more sparkling water. He hated the insufficiency of the water. It was like breathing at a high altitude.

"And you like her why?"

"She's smart," Jesse said. "She's good-looking, she seems nice, and she likes baseball."

"You know I date," Jenn said.

"Yes."

"I often sleep with my dates," Jenn said.

"I know," Jesse said.

Jenn stopped twirling her wineglass and drank from it.

"And still," Jenn said. "Here we are."

"And where is that?"

"Between a rock and a hard place," Jenn said. "I can't be with you and I can't give you up."

Jesse got up and went to the cupboard in Jenn's kitchen and found a bottle of Dewar's scotch. He put a lot of ice in a big glass, and poured a lot of the Dewar's over it. He brought the glass back to the table.

"So much for sparkling water," Jenn said.

"So much."

Jesse took a large swallow. He could feel it spread through him. His breathing seemed deeper. He could handle this.

"I meet men I like," Jenn said. "I find them attractive. I think I could, if not marry them, maybe, at least live with them. And I can't."

Jesse took another drink. Usually he had it with soda.

"Because?"

"On the surface it's because they turn out to be badly flawed. Drink too much, or selfish, or womanizers, or dishonest, or emotional cripples, or people for whom sex is entirely about them… something. And I have to break up with them."

Jesse waited.

"My shrink says maybe their flaws are their appeal."

Jesse was quiet. Jenn finished the wine in her glass and Jesse poured her some more.

"He says maybe I find this kind of man because it's what I deserve for leaving you," Jenn said. "And maybe it ensures that I won't marry them and leave you for good."

The scotch was working. The hard weight in his center was less.

"And all this is unconscious?" Jesse said.

"Mostly," Jenn said. "But it's right. I know it is. It resonates the way something does when it's right."

"So you don't want to leave me for good."

"I can't," Jenn said. "I can't even think about a life without you in it."

"But you don't want to be my wife again."

"I don't know. God Jesus, don't you think if I knew what to do I would do it? Sometimes I get so scared of losing you I can't breathe."

"And when you think about coming back?" Jesse said.

"I get so scared I can't breathe," Jenn said.

Jesse drank the rest of his scotch. He got up and went to the kitchen and got more ice and more scotch and brought it back to the table. He sat across from her with the candlelight moving softly between them. Jenn put her hand out on the tabletop toward him.

"I'll get better," Jenn said. "I'm doing good in therapy. I'll get better."

Jesse put his hand on top of hers.

"Well," he said, "I think my best bet is to hang around and see how it comes out."

Jenn started to cry gently. Jesse patted her hand. He knew how she felt.

Jesse had a lunch scheduled with Norman Shaw on Paradise Neck at the Boat Club. He arrived a few minutes late and found Shaw at the bar, talking with someone.

"Chief Stone," Shaw said. "Michael Wasserman."

Jesse shook the man's hand.

"Wasserman's organizing an event," Shaw said. "And I'm agreeing to be honorary chair."

Jesse nodded.

"I'll get a table," Jesse said. "You can join me when you're through."

"I always sit at the same table," Shaw said. "Just tell the girl you're joining me."

The table was at the window, and from it, Jesse could see the town proper, rising up from its working waterfront, to the town hall bell tower at the top of the hill. He watched Shaw shake hands again with Michael Wasserman and come across the room toward him. Shaw had on cream-colored slacks and a raspberry-colored linen jacket over a forest green polo shirt.

"Great view, isn't it?" he said as he sat down.

"Yes."

A gray-haired motherly looking waitress appeared immediately.

"Want a drink?" Shaw said.

"Iced tea," Jesse said.

Shaw made a face as if the thought of iced tea were repellent.

"Ketel One on the rocks," he said without looking at the waitress. "Twist."

"Thank you, Mr. Shaw," the waitress said, and plodded away.

Shaw picked up a menu.

"Food's mediocre here," he said. "But the view's great and they mix you a hell of a cocktail."

Jesse thought about the mixing skill involved in putting together a vodka on the rocks. What Shaw meant is what most drinkers meant. The drinks were large.

The waitress brought their drinks, took their lunch order, and left them alone. The vodka was in a wide lowball glass. Shaw took a long pull on it, the way people drink beer.

"So, Stone," Shaw said, leaning back in his chair. "What can I do for you?"

As he spoke he didn't look at Jesse. He looked around the room.

"I'm interested in your relationship with Gino Fish."

Shaw continued to scan the room. "Why?" he said.

"His name came up in a case," Jesse said.

"What case?"

"Have you spent much time with Gino?" Jesse said.

"What's this about? You talked with my wife, didn't you? Gino's a casual friend."

Shaw spotted someone on the other side of the dining room, and smiled, and nodded and with his forefinger made a little jabbing gesture of recognition.

"Michael DeSisto," Shaw said. "Runs some kind of school out in Stockbridge."

"When did you see Gino last?" Jesse said.

Shaw nodded at someone else, near the bar. He shrugged in answer to Jesse's question.

"I see a lot of people," Shaw said. "Hard to keep track."