He pulled it shut behind him, wishing he could shake the uneasy feeling that things weren’t going to go as neatly as planned.
`Hours later he was huddled inside the Mustang, watching Tess’s building. Two kids were putting the finishing touches on an elaborate snowman. Ben wondered if their father knew they’d copped his fedora. The day had gone even slower than he’d imagined.
“Days’re getting shorter,” Ed commented. Sprawled in the passenger’s seat, he was warm as a bear in a union suit, corduroys, flannel shirt, sweater, and an L.L. Bean parka. The cold had long since numbed its way through Ben’s boots.
“There’s Pilomento.”
The detective came out of the building, paused only a heartbeat on the sidewalk, and flipped up the collar of his coat. It was the signal that Lowenstein was inside and things were tight. Ben’s muscles relaxed only fractionally.
“She’s fine, you know.” Ed stretched a bit and began isometric exercises to keep his legs from cramping. “Lowenstein’s mean enough to hold off an army.”
“He isn’t going to move until dark.” Because his face froze if he cracked the window for too long, Ben substituted a Milky Way for the cigarette he wanted.
“You know what that sugar’s doing to the enamel of your teeth?” Never one to give up the battle, Ed drew out a small plastic container. Inside was a homemade snack of raisins, dates, unsalted nuts, and wheat germ. He’d made enough for two. “You gotta start reeducating your appetite.”
Ben took a large, deliberate bite of his candy bar. “When Roderick relieves us, we’re stopping by the Burger King on the way in. I’m getting a Whopper.”
“Please, not while I’m eating. If Roderick, Bigsby, and half the station had a proper diet, they wouldn’t have been down with the flu.”
“I didn’t get sick,” Ben said over a mouthful of chocolate.
“Blind luck. By the time you hit forty, your system’s going to revolt. It won’t be pretty. What’s this?” Ed sat up straight as he watched the man across the street. His long black coat was buttoned high. He walked slowly. Too slowly, too cautiously.
Both detectives had one hand on their weapons and one on the door handles when the man suddenly broke into a run. Ben had already pushed the car door open when the man scooped up one of the little girls playing in the snow and tossed her high. She let out a quick, ringing laugh, and called out, “Daddy!”
As the breath pushed out of his body, Ben sat back down. Feeling foolish, he turned to Ed. “You’re as jumpy as I am.”
“I like her. I’m glad you decided to risk eating turkey with her granddaddy.”
“I told her about Josh.”
Ed’s brows lifted, disappearing into the seaman’s cap he’d pulled over his head. That, he knew, was more of a commitment than even he’d believed Ben could make. “And?”
“And I guess I’m glad I did. She’s the best thing that’s happened in my life. God, that sounds corny.”
“Yeah.” Content, Ed began to munch a date. “People in love tend to be corny.”
“I didn’t say I was in love.” That came out quickly, the reflex action on the trap door. “I just mean she’s special.”
“Certain people have difficulty admitting to emotional commitment because they fear failing in the long haul. The word
Ben tossed the candy wrapper on the floor. “
“No, I made it up. Maybe I should write an article.”
“Look, if I was in love with Tess, with anybody, I wouldn’t have any trouble saying it.”
“So? Are you?”
“I care about her. A lot.” Euphemism.
“She’s important to me.”
“Evasions.”
“Okay, I’m crazy about her.”
“Not quite there, Paris.”
This time he did crack the window and pull out a cigarette. “All right, so I’m in love with her. Happy now?”
“Have a date. You’ll feel better.”
He swore, then heard himself laugh. Tossing out the cigarette, he bit into the date Ed handed him. “You’re worse than my mother.”
“That’s what partners are for.”
Inside tess’s apartment time went just as slowly. At seven she and Lowenstein shared a supper of canned soup and roast beef sandwiches. For all her talk about not being worried, Tess managed to do little more than stir the chunks of beef and vegetables around in her bowl. It was a cold, miserable night. No one who didn’t have to would want to be out in it. But the fact that she couldn’t move beyond her own door left her with a feeling of being caged.
“You play canasta?” Lowenstein asked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Canasta.” Lowenstein glanced at her own watch and figured her husband would be giving their youngest a bath. Roderick would be in position out front, Ben and Ed would be sweeping the area before they returned to the station, and her oldest daughter would be complaining about being stuck with the dishes.
“I’m being lousy company.”
Lowenstein set half a sandwich back on the pale green glass plate she’d admired. “You’re not supposed to entertain me, Dr. Court.”
But Tess pushed her plate aside and made the effort. “You have a family, don’t you?”
“A mob, actually.”
“It’s not easy, is it, managing a demanding career and taking care of a family?”
“I’ve always thrived on complications.”
“I admire that. I’ve always avoided them. Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Okay, if I can ask you one afterward.”
“Fair enough.” With her elbows on the table, Tess leaned forward. “Does your husband find it difficult being married to someone whose job is not only demanding, but potentially dangerous?”
“I guess it’s not easy. I know it’s not,” Lowenstein corrected. She took a pull from the Diet Pepsi Tess had served in thin, scrolled glasses Lowenstein would have kept on display. “We’ve had to work through a lot of it. A couple of years ago we had a trial separation. It lasted thirty-four-and-a-half hours. The bottom line is, we’re nuts about each other. That usually cuts through everything else.”
“You’re lucky.”
“I know. Even when I feel like pushing his head in the toilet, I know. My turn.”
“All right.”
Lowenstein gave her a long, measuring look. “Where do you get your clothes?”
She was only too surprised to laugh for a few seconds. For the first time all day, Tess relaxed.
Outside, Roderick and a stocky black detective known as Pudge shared a thermos of coffee. A bit cranky with a head cold, Pudge shifted every few minutes and complained.
“I don’t think we’re going to see a sign of this dude. Mullendore’s got the late shift. If anyone makes the collar,
