'Care to tell me?'
Susan drank some of her wine and touched her lips with a napkin.
'I can't bring a child into this kind of a life,' Susan said.
'A life where I may be off getting shot on her first day in kindergarten?'
'Or his,' Susan said. 'Yes, that kind of life.'
'I think you're right,' I said.
'You have thought that since I first mentioned the idea,' Susan said.
I shrugged. We ate together for a moment in silence. The risotto was very good. Susan put her fork down.
'And I suppose that makes me a little angry as well,' she said.
'Yeah,' I said. 'I can see where it would.'
'And I suppose I'm angry sometimes because the man I love keeps getting in harm's way and I have to be frightened that he might not come back.'
'It's the only thing I'm any good at,' I said.
'Not entirely true, but I understand. I don't want you to change. I just wish I didn't have to be scared as much as I am.'
'Me too,' I said.
Pearl, with her hunter's instinct, had come instantly awake when we started to eat and was now sitting alertly on the floor between us, watching closely.
'Life is imperfect,' Susan said.
I nodded.
'But it is not so imperfect that we cannot enjoy it,' Susan said. 'We don't have our country house, and I will probably never be a mother. But I love you, and you love me, and we are here, together.'
'Works for me,' I said. 'And what about the anger, what are you going to do with that?'
'I'm not going to do anything with it. Anger doesn't have to be expressed. It is enough to know that you're angry, and know why, and not lie to yourself about it.'
'You mean it's not repression if I keep my feelings to myself?'
'No,' she said. 'It's repression if you pretend to yourself you don't have them.'
'Does Dr. Joyce Brothers know about this?' I said.
'I doubt it,' Susan said. 'Our life together has not always been placid. You must certainly have some anger at me. What do you do with it?'
'I know that I'm angry,' I said. 'And I know why, and I don't lie to myself about it.'
'Very good,' Susan said and smiled at me. 'We'll both keep doing that.'
'Till death do us part?' I said.
'Or hell freezes over,' Susan said. 'Whichever comes first.'
'You sure adorable little Erika didn't have any influence on your decision to adopt a child?'
Susan smiled slowly.
'You are a cynical bastard,' she said.
'Of course,' I said.
Pearl put her head on my lap and looked up at me by rolling her eyes up. I gave her a spoonful of the risotto. She liked it. On the other hand she liked just about everything. Things were quite simple with Pearl.
Chapter 53
THE CHANCES OF a black man being elected DA in Suffolk County were comparable to discovering that the pope is a Buddhist. But there he was, Owen Brooks, the son of a New York City cop, a graduate of Harvard Law School, neat, well dressed, pleasant, and as easy to fool as a Lebanese rug merchant.
We were in Pemberton Square in Brooks's office: Brooks, Quirk, Donald, Dina, and Cьnt Stapleton, a guy named Frank Farantino from New York who represented Donald Stapleton, and me.
Brooks did the introductions. When he finished, Farantino said, 'Why is Spenser here?'
'Mr. Spenser is here at my request,' Brooks said. 'Since he has been both the primary investigator in this case, and one of its victims, I thought it might serve us all to listen to him, before we get into court and this thing turns into a hairball.'
'Is this a formal procedure?' Farantino said.
'Oh, of course not,' Brooks said. His smile was wide and gracious. 'Nothing's on the record here, I just thought we might get some sense of where the truth lies if we talked a little before we started grinding the gears of justice.'
Quirk sat in the back row of chairs, against the wall of the office, next to the door. Clint sat rigidly between his parents. He was stiffly upright. His face was blank. Don was regal in his bearing. Dina rested her hand on her son's forearm. Farantino was to the left of Don. I was to the right of Dina.
