Outside on Tremont Street, Susan put her arm through mine. It was a warm night and there were stars out.
We walked down toward the Common.
“Spenser,” she said, “you are a classic case for the feminist movement. A captive of the male mystique, and all that.
And I want to say, for God’s sake, you fool, outgrow all that Hemingwayesque nonsense. And yet…” She leaned her head against my shoulder as she spoke. “And yet I’m not sure you’re wrong. I’m not sure but what you are exactly what you ought to be. What I am sure of is I’d care for you less if killing those people didn’t bother you.”
At Park Street we crossed to the Common and walked down the long walk toward the Public Garden. The swan boats were docked for the night. We crossed Arlington onto Marlborough Street and turned in at my apartment. We went up in silence. Her arm still through mine. I opened the door and she went in ahead of me. Inside the door, with the lights still out, I put my arms around her and said, “Suze, I think I can work you into my system.”
“Enough with the love talk,” she said. “Off with the clothes.”
About the Author
ROBERT B. PARKER is the author of twenty-three books. Since his first Spenser novel, The Godwulf Manuscript, he has had numerous bestsellers, including Pale Kings and Princes, Crimson Joy, Valediction, A Catskill Eagle and Taming a SeaHorse; Poodle Springs, his best-selling collaboration with Raymond Chandler; and the more recent Stardust and Playmates. Mr. Parker currently lives in Boston with his wife, Joan.
