Robert B Parker - Stone 2 - Trouble in Paradise

by Trouble in Paradise(lit)

  " "How come?"

  "Well, hell, Jenn, adults fuck, you know?"

  "Yep, I know. You love her?" , "No. I like her. I like her a lot. But I don't love her or her me."

  Jenn didn't say anything. Jesse drove a quarter way around Bell Circle and headed north past the dog track.

  "You think you'll stake me out again?" Jenn said.

  "No. You have my word."

  "It's a human thing to do, Jesse."

  "But not a useful thing," Jesse said.

  "No. I have to live my life and see who I wish to see and go where I wish to go and not be trapped in a single commitment."

  "Forever?"

  "No, just until I don't have to."

  "You know when that will be?"

  "No. And pushing me on it is counterproductive."

  "I know."

  "I can't make you promises, Jesse. I can't give you any guarantees. It scares me even to talk this much about it. But you have to remember that you and I are connected in a way that I've never been connected to anyone else."

  "You love me?"

  "Yes."

  "That's a good basis," Jesse said.

  "Yes, it is. I think it is possible to love other people too. I think people can love more than one person. On the other hand, so far, I haven't."

  "That's encouraging too."

  "I want to encourage you as much as I can, Jesse. I don't want to lose you."

  "You won't lose me," Jesse said.

  TWENTY-NINE.

  Mrs. Campbell was wearing a tailored brown suit with a vertical blue stripe. It was tight on her but tight in a good way, Macklin thought. It didn't look like it was too small; it just fit her close.

  "Just wanted to be sure it would be okay to bring a couple of guys over. My contractor and maybe one of his people?"

  "Of course, Mr. Smith," Mrs. Campbell said.

  "Harry."

  Mrs. Campbell smiled.

  "People do it all the time, Harry. We realize it's a large investment, and we encourage them to take their time, make sure they're happy. Satisfied customers are our best marketing tool."

  "I'll bet most of your customers are satisfied," Macklin said.

  Mrs. Campbell met his look. Her face looked a little flushed to him. He could smell her. Soap, shampoo, perfume.

  "Most," she said.

  "May I call you Marcy?" Macklin said.

  "Please."

  "Marcy, I'd like to try the restaurant on the island, and I hate to eat alone. You free for lunch?"

  "As a bird," Marcy said.

  The restaurant was called Stiles'. They got a table by the big picture window and ordered drinks. Looking out at the ocean, Macklin could see what Freddie had meant. The sea burst in upon a random scatter of rust-colored boulders that littered the coast of the island in both directions. The water among the boulders was creamy with foam.

  Marcy had a glass of white wine. Macklin ordered a martini.

  "Be tough sailing off this side of the island," Macklin said.

  "Certainly would be," Marcy said.

  "It's why the docking facilities are on the harbor side."

  "Do any sailing?" Macklin said.

  "No." Marcy smiled.

  "I'm a dry land girl, I'm afraid."

  "Indoor sports, so to speak," Macklin said.

  Again Marcy met his look. Her face still had a lot of color to it.

  Maybe she was just naturally high colored. And maybe he was going to get her. More than maybe. Faye would understand. Marcy Campbell would be useful. He'd understand if it were the other way.

  "So to speak," Marcy said.

  They both smiled. The spray from the turmoil below them spattered up sporadically against the stained glass. The dark paneled dining room was nearly empty, and the people that were there spoke quietly.

  "What's your husband do, Marcy?" Macklin said.

  "Ex-husband," Marcy said.

  "Ah," Macklin said.

  "Ah, indeed," Marcy said.

  "How about yourself-how'd you make your money?"

  "Liquor stores, mostly," Macklin said.

  "Couple banks."

  "Always interests me," Marcy said, "how some people have a knack for making money and others don't. What's your secret?"

  "Mostly it's not caring if you do or don't," Macklin said.

  "Mostly you just got to enjoy the game. How about you-you enjoy real estate?"

  "Get to meet some interesting people," Marcy said.

  "I like interesting people."

  "And you enjoy the game?"

  "Very much," Marcy said.

  They ordered lunch. Yeah, Macklin thought, I've got her. It was business, but that didn't prevent him from getting that nice ratchety feeling he always got as he circled in on a woman he'd never slept with. Faye was always curious. How did you know? How can you tell? He watched Marcy as they ate lunch. When he told Faye about it, she'd want to know. What did you talk about? How did she act?

  After lunch they went back to the real estate office. When they went in, Macklin could feel the tension. They were alone together in a private place. Marcy turned and looked at him. He was silent, looking back at her. He knew it would happen. He could feel it spread through him.

  "What game are we playing now?" Marcy said.

  "I'm not sure," Macklin said.

  "But I'm enjoying the hell out of it. You want to go someplace?"

  Marcy walked over to the front door and turned the lock. Then she went to the little picture window and closed the Venetian blinds.

  "No need to go someplace," Marcy said and sat down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her.

  "No need at all," Macklin said.

  It had been a smart move to leave his gun in the car. He sat beside her.

  "You knew when you came in here, didn't you?" Marcy said.

  "Uh-huh."

  "How?"

  "Something about you," Macklin said, "I can always tell."

  "Me too," Marcy said.

  "With men, it's easy," Macklin said.

  "Good point."

  Naked beneath him on the couch, Marcy thought how much stronger he was than he looked with his clothes on. Like Jesse was.

  Above her, Macklin thought that she wasn't better than Faye, but she was nearly as good. Like Faye, she moved a lot and was noisy.

  Nothing beats enthusiasm in a woman, Macklin thought. He loved Faye. But this hadn't anything to do with Faye. It didn't mean anything to him, and he knew it didn't mean anything to Marcy. She was like him. She liked a good time. And then he let himself go and didn't think about much of anything for a little while.

  THIRTY.

  It was nearly 7:30 and the sun was down when they settled in at the bar in the Gray Gull.

  "I'd like a martini," Jenn said.

  "Up, extra olives."

  "You got it," Doc said.

  "Jesse?"

  "Black label and soda," Jesse said.

  "Tall."

  Doc put the drinks in front of them and put out a hand to Jenn.

  "I'm Doc," he said.

  "Oops," Jesse said.

  "Sorry, this is my, this is Jenn."

  "Hi, Doc."

  "Hello, Jenn."

  It was almost fall, and the summer crowd had mostly left. There were several empty tables and four or five stools available at the bar.

  By 9:00, the place was nearly full. Jesse was trying to nurse his scotch.

  "Do you have to get up early?" Jenn said.

  "I should be at the station by nine," Jesse said.

  "But I always get up early. Seven is sleeping in for me."

  "Why do you get up so early?" Jenn said.

  "You didn't used to."

  "Don't sleep well," Jesse said.

  "Well, I think we should go," Jenn said.

  "Okay."

  Jesse paid the bar bill, left twenty percent for Doc, and walked out behind Jenn. Several people recognized her and stared covertly.

  In the car, Jenn
said, "It's a long ride back to Boston, Jesse. I think I should stay with you."

  "Okay," Jesse said.

  What did "with" mean? He stifled the question. Let it play out, he thought.

  His condominium was only five minutes from the Gray Gull.

  Inside, Jenn went straight to the living room and opened the French doors onto the little deck over the water.

  "I love this view," she said.

  Jesse went and stood beside her on the deck. House lights were scattered brightly against the solid blackness of Paradise Neck. The salt sea smell of the harbor was strong.

  "Funny how different this ocean seems," Jenn said.

  "Maybe we're different," Jesse said.

  "That would be nice."

  Jesse felt compressed by the tension between them. He wondered if Jenn even felt it. She seemed perfectly in possession of herself. They were quiet. Jesse stood next to her, not touching her.

  Except for the sound of the ocean moving below them, the silence was crystalline. Maybe I cant stand this, Jesse thought. Maybe I need a drink. To his left, the head of the harbor was darkened by Stiles Island where barely any lights showed. Everything faces the ocean, Jesse thought. Got their back to the town. He didn't look at Jenn, though he felt her next to him the way he felt the pull of gravity.

  "Jesse," she said.

  He turned. She had turned toward him. Her face was raised to him. Subtly, beneath the heavy ocean smell, he could smell her perfume. He opened his arms, and she pressed against him. He kissed her. She opened her mouth and kissed him back. He was conscious of his breath surging in his lungs, of the blood moving through the intricate riparian patterns of his arteries and veins, the electricity tracing his nerves and muscles. They began to fumble at each other's clothes. Jenn broke away long enough to gasp, "Living room." She pressed her mouth against his again as they stumbled into the living room. They went to the carpet and made love there.

  It was all visceral. Whatever sounds they made were inarticulate. In the darkness, hours after they had begun, they paused long enough to go into Jesse's bedroom.

  Jesse woke up in bright sunshine. He was lying on his back.

  Jenn was beside him, still asleep, in the crook of his arm, with her head on his chest. He looked at his wrist. His watch wasn't there.

  He looked over at the alarm clock on the bureau. It was 10:40. He had not slept much past dawn since he'd come east. Actually, as he thought about it, he had not slept past dawn since Jenn started fucking Elliot whatsisname. Maybe he should have killed Elliott.

  He always regretted that he hadn't. He wasn't sure he could have.

  He had shot people and maybe he would again. But just walk up and shoot him? Had he done so, he would never be lying here in the mid-morning sunshine, with Jenn naked beside him. He had been right not to... but he knew, and he smiled secretly in the still room at the knowledge, that there would always be, in one small compartment of his soul, the regret that he hadn't. The seagulls were loud. The harbor smell was assertive. The French doors were still open.

  Without opening her eyes, Jenn said, "Don't make too much of this."

  "Okay," Jesse said.

  "It doesn't mean we should move in together or start dating each other exclusively or get married or any of those things."

  "Right," Jesse said.

  "It just means we are fond of each other and maybe love each other and probably want to date each other again, and we're grown-ups."

  "Correct," Jesse said.

  Jenn gave him the look. The same look he knew she'd had when she spoke of the other weather woman being on weekends.

  "And," Jenn said, "grown-ups fuck."

  "Do they ever," Jesse said.

  They lay together for a while, her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulder, then Jenn swung her feet off the bed and stood up.

  Her hair was messy, and her makeup was smeared. Naked, she walked from the bedroom, following the trail of discarded clothing to the deck.

  "Gee," she said.

  "What possibly could have gone on here?"

  "Nothing bad," Jesse said.

  "No," Jenn said, "nothing bad."

  THIRTY-ONE.

  "Harry Smith," Macklin said when he| came into Jesse's office.

  "Thanks for taking the time."

  "Happy to," Jesse said.

  He stood while they shook hands.) Macklin's grip was stronger than Jesse had expected from a guy who looked like ant amateur golfer. Macklin took a chair!

  across the desk from him.

  "Here's the deal, chief. I'm thinking about buying property on Stiles Island. I don't need to tell you that I'm looking at a good-sized investment if I do."

  "Good-sized," Jesse said.

  "So I'm trying to size up the whole town, not just the island."

  "Uh-huh."

  "You don't mind, do you, me talking to you?"

  "I don't mind," Jesse said.

  "How's the crime situation?"

  "Good," Jesse said.

  "You mean, there isn't much " Macklin said.

  "A lot of the time, there isn't any."

  Macklin smiled.

  "So what do you guys do?"

  "Write traffic tickets. Keep the kids from loitering. Had a case of arson a while ago."

  "Really?" Macklin said.

  "Jewish lightning?"

  "No, teenage kids with a grudge."

  "You catch them?"

  "Yeah."

  "Cops one, teenagers nothing," Macklin said.

  "Heard you had some trouble year or so ago."

  "Yeah, couple of murders."

  "Crimes of passion?"

  "You could say that."

  "You catch the guy?"

  "Yeah."

  Macklin smiled again.

  "Cops two," he said.

  Jesse was quiet.

  "You got a big force?" Macklin said.

  "No. Twelve officers and me."

  "Four per shift," Macklin said.

  "That's how the math works."

  "You been chief long?"

  "Long enough," Jesse said.

  "Work your way up from the ranks?"

  "No."

  "Came from another department."

  "Yes."

  "Where?"

  "Elsewhere."

  Macklin leaned back a little and studied Jesse.

  "You're a pretty quiet guy," Macklin said.

  "True."

  "Probably the right way to be," Macklin said.

  "Me, I'm a talker.

  My wife's always telling me to quiet down."

  Jesse didn't say anything. He seemed attentive. Macklin sensed no hostility in him. He was just quiet. There was no way to know what went on behind his eyes.

  "How's the security on Stiles?" Macklin said.

  "Secure," Jesse said.

  "They got their own security force, I see."

  "Um-hmm."

  "They tied in with you guys?"

  "You need to talk to them."

  Macklin nodded slowly, as if confirming a long-held assumption. He stood with a wide smile and put out his hand. Jesse shook it.

  "I'm encouraged, chief" Macklin said.

  "You can usually count on a man who doesn't say more than he has to."

  Jesse smiled. Macklin smiled back and left.

  In the car with Faye, Macklin was silent.

  "How'd it go?" Faye said as she drove up Summer Street.

  "You find out what you wanted to know?"

  "I got a read on the chief," Macklin said.