'Is `nap' a euphemism for something more active?' Susan said.
'The two are not mutually exclusive,' I said.
'No,' Susan. 'But its important that they don't coincide.'
Which they didn't.
7
'Here's the deal,' I said to Elmer. 'You stay with Ellen Eisen, and let me know if she meets my guy, and I'll see what I can find out about who's watching Mrs. Rowley.'
'Whadda you care who's watching Mrs. Rowley?'
'It's characterological,' I said.
'Sure it is,' Elmer said. 'I'll buy in if I get something out of it.'
'I'll owe you,' I said.
'If finding out gets you any money,' Elmer said, 'half of it's mine.'
'You bet,' I said.
'Can I trust you,' Elmor Said.
'You bet,' I said.
He looked at me for a time without saying anything. His little dark eyes were slightly oval, as if, maybe, a long way back, one of the O'Neills had been Asian. Finally he nodded to himself slowly.
'Yeah,' he said. 'Your word is good.'
'How do you know that?' I said.
'I know,' Elmer said. 'I'll keep in touch.'
He got up and went toward the door. He walked with a little swagger. He would have walked with a big swagger had he been larger. Pearl the Wonder Dog II stood up on the office sofa and stared at Elmer as he walked past. She didn't bristle, but she didn't wag her tail either.
'Fucking dog don't like me,' he said.
'She's just cautious,' I said. 'She hasn't been with us very long.'
'He some kinda Doberman?'
'She's a German shorthaired pointer,' I said.
'Same thing,' Elmer said.
I walked over and sat on the couch beside Pearl, and she stretched up her neck to give me a lap.
'Now's your chance,' I said. 'Make a break for it.'
A fter Elmer made his escape, Pearl and I sat on the couch for a while until I was sure Elmer hadn't hurt her feelings. Then I took her to Susan's house. Susan was seeing patients on the first floor. Pearl ran up the stairs to the second floor where Susan lived. When I opened the door she raced into Susan's bedroom, jumped on the bed, clamped onto one of the pillows, and subdued it ferociously. Her self-esteem seemed intact. I gave her a cookie, made sure there was water, left a note on the front hall table for Susan, and went to Manchester.
8
Set well back from the road, on a corner lot, devoid of foundation plantings, the Rowley house was as big and costly and ugly as anything north of Boston. Postmodern, the designer probably said. The look of the twenty-first century without sacrificing the values of the past, he probably insisted. I thought it looked like a house assembled by a committee. There were dormers and columns and niches, and peaks and porches and round windows and a roof line that fluctuated like my income. In the front yard there were no flowers, shrubs, or trees. Just a long dull inexpensive sweep of recently cut grass, traversed by a hot top driveway that led to a turnaround apron in front of the garage. It was as if they'd run out of money after the house was built. The place was painted an exciting white. With imaginative gray shutters.
I parked around the corner on the side street where I could see Rowley's driveway through the shade trees along the road. I played my new Gerry Mulligan/Chet Baker CD. I sang along a little with Chet. They're writing songs of love, but not for me ... Then I played Lee Wiley and Bobby Hackett. At 4:30 in the afternoon a silver Lexus SUV came down the street and pulled into the driveway. It parked at the head of the driveway and Marlene got out, carrying a pale pink garment bag. A dark maroon Chevy sedan came down the street in the same direction Marlene had come from, and turned in onto my side street. The driver looked at me carefully as he passed. I read his registration in my rearview mirror, a trick that always impressed people, and wrote it down. Maybe fifty yards up the street lie U-turned and parked behind me.
We sat. I listened to some Dean Martin. I always thought lie sounded like me. Susan has always said he didn't. Some starlings were working the lawn in front of the Rowleys' house, and two chickadees. I turned Dean down, and called Frank Belson on my car phone and got shuffled around the homioiclc division for about five minutes before I got him.
'Can you check a car registration for me,' I said.
'Of course,' he said. 'I welcome the chance to do real police work.'
'Don't let them push you around at the Registry,' I said, and gave him the number and hung up. In my
