'Nothing's impossible for us.'
I looked at the familiar form of the crown molding along the edge of Susan's bedroom ceiling. On the dresser was a big color photograph of Susan and me, taken fifteen years ago on a balcony in Paris, not long after she had come back from wherever the hell she had been. We looked pretty happy.
'We were pretty happy in that picture,' I said.
'We had reason to be.'
'Yes.'
'We still do.'
'Yes.'
'Would you be happier now if Mr. Clive hadn't been killed in Georgia?'
'Yes.'
'Even though you were not responsible for him getting killed, nor could you have been expected to prevent it?'
'Yes.'
'Send not therefore asking for whom the bell tolls,' Susan said.
'Well, sometimes,' I said, 'it actually does toll for thee.'
'I know.'
'On the other hand,' I said, 'we do what we can, not what we ought to.'
'I know.'
'And you can't win 'em all,' I said.
'True.'
'And all that glitters is not gold,' I said.
'And a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,' Susan said.
'I always thought that saying was sort of backwards,' I said.
I couldn't see her face: it was too close to my neck. But I could feel her smile.
'Well-bred Jewesses from Swampscott, Massachusetts,' she said, 'do not lie naked in bed and talk about bushes.'
'Where did you go wrong?' I said.
'I don't know, but isn't it good that I did?'
At the foot of the bed, Pearl lapped one of her forepaws noisily. Susan rubbed my chest lightly with her right hand.
'Is there anything you can do to clean that up in Georgia?' she said.
'No one wants me to,' I said.
'When has that ever made a difference to you?' Susan said.
'I have no client,' I said. 'No standing in the case.'
'You think it was the person shooting the horses?'
'Reasonable guess,' I said. 'I had no clue who was doing that, and no clue really about where to go next.'
'And?'
'And,' I said, 'I've been away from you about as long as I can stand.'
'Good.'
'So I'm going to put this one in the loss column and start thinking about the next game.'
'Wise,' Susan said.
'After all,' I said, 'a bush in the hand…'
'Never mind,' Susan said.
TWENTY-TWO
IT WAS MONDAY morning, bright, still early June and not very hot. I was in my office, drinking coffee and reading the paper while I waited for business. I'd drunk my allotment of coffee, and read the paper, and put it away before any showed up, but when it came it was interesting. A woman came into my office, briskly, as if offices were designed for her to walk into. I began to stand up. She indicated there was no need to, but by that time I was on my feet anyway.
'I'm Valerie Hatch,' she said, and put out her hand. 'You're Spenser.'
'Right on both counts,' I said, and shook her hand.
