on the table, the cookware and the food, the sheets on the bed and the bedspread.
The dinner seemed to materialize rather than be prepared. The lobster tails and the filets mignons were broiled and the asparagus seared, the wines poured. Judy had never been interested in cooking, so while she had lived in the apartment high above the lake in Chicago she had developed a few very basic meals that she could make by simply applying heat and butter. She poured the wine liberally, and drank sparingly. When they had eaten the main courses, she produced a plate of tarts and napoleons she had bought at a downtown bakery.
Greg had experienced so few occasions when any woman had even tried to impress him that he could barely contain his delight at each part of the evening. After dinner she walked into the living room carrying cognac in small snifters, but Greg said, “If I have this, I’m not going to be able to drive home.”
She said, “Who said I wanted you to go home?” and sat on the couch to kiss him.
Later that night, she lay on her back in bed, listening to his breathing. Now and then a deep breath would end in a little snort, but she didn’t mind. She knew that when she wanted to sleep, she would. She decided that she was satisfied with her progress. She had only picked Greg out twenty-four hours ago, and she knew that by now he would do anything she wanted.
The difficult part had never been getting a man interested in her. All men seemed to be doomed to hunt for sexual partners all the time, like restless, lonely ghosts. The problem was in choosing the right man, but she was almost certain she had chosen well in Greg. He appeared to be convinced that he was in the romance of his life, the one that made all of the conventional rules and precautions seem ridiculous.
The next morning, while they were eating the breakfast she had bought yesterday with the knowledge that he was going to be here to share it, he said, “I hope you’ll take that job.”
“I’ve decided against it.”
“When?”
“Last night. At the same time when I decided you weren’t going home.”
“Why?”
“I hate complications.”
“What complications?”
“If you and I break up, I couldn’t stand to work there. If you and I don’t break up, other people couldn’t stand to work there.”
He let it drop. She had to wait a whole week before he brought up the topic she was waiting for. He was taking her home after a dinner in a dark, romantic restaurant when he said, “You never tell me about driving anywhere. Don’t you have a car?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’d like one,” she said. “I know exactly the kind I want and everything. But I can’t.”
“Why not—money?”
“No,” she said. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course. Let me tell you all of the secrets I’ve kept.”
“Seriously. Do you promise?”
“All right.”
“Well, I have a lot of tickets from when I went to school in Boston. There was never any place that was legal to park, so I have parking tickets for all three years—about seven thousand dollars’ worth. If you couldn’t make it to class, you couldn’t pass, so it seemed to be the only choice.”
“So you’re an outlaw parker?”
“Yep. I left Boston, and figured that was the end of it. But I found out that some judge had issued a warrant for my arrest. I tried to register a car in Colorado once, and my name came up on the computer. They wouldn’t let me register a car unless I paid the fines. I didn’t have that kind of money at the time, and so I didn’t do it.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” said Greg. “At least not for parking.”
“Neither had I until it happened to me. But here I am. I can buy a car. I just can’t register it or get insurance for it.”
“Not to be too obvious, but have you thought about solving the problem by paying the fine?”
“Of course. At first I didn’t take it seriously. It seemed like everyone was doing it. Then I got kind of mad, because it’s just a way for the city to make money off all these disenfranchised students from other places. Then I figured I’d better pay it. But by the time I was in Colorado it wasn’t seven thousand dollars. Those penalties had been growing for seven or eight years. It was up to about fifteen, and now that there’s a warrant, we’re talking about lawyers, and going back to court in Boston. They could put me in jail to make an example of me. Anyway, now you know why I don’t have a car.”
“It’s a bad situation,” he said. “Let me think about it.”
“I’m not asking you to solve it,” she said. “It’s my problem.”
Three days later, while they were on their way to a movie, he said, “Did I get it wrong, or did you tell me you have the money for a car?”
She shrugged. “Yes, I have the money. But big deal.”
“I’ve got an idea. You give me the money, and I’ll buy the car. I’ll add your car to my insurance, which will also make it cheaper. Second cars cost practically nothing to insure.”
“But then my car will be registered in your name. What happens if you get tired of having me around?”
“You’ll be driving a car that’s registered and insured in my name. What happens if you decide to drive it through the front wall of a nursery school?”
“I guess we have to trust each other.”
She forced tears to well in her eyes, put her hand on his knee so he turned to look at her, and then kissed him on the rough skin of his cheek. “I think this is the best thing anybody ever did for me.”
“So be nice to me forever. What kind of car do you want?”
“An Acura. Teal blue.”
42
Catherine Hobbes stood in the outer lobby of the airport, her hand on Joe Pitt’s arm. “I think this is as far as I go.”
He said, “You’re a cop. You could flash your badge at the security guys and they’d let you go to the gate with me.”
“How about if we put you in handcuffs, and I say I’m escorting you to trial in California?”
“I wish you would escort me to California.”
“Me too. But I can’t leave here now. I’ve got three cases that are heating up and one that’s getting cold, and that’s scary. It’s the one we’re both interested in.”
“The only thing about that case I’m interested in is you. My client let me go, remember? Then he replaced me with a professional psychotic.”
“I haven’t been replaced, and I’m going to do my job before I go anywhere with the likes of you. Stop stalling and go to your gate, or you’ll miss your plane.”
He held her and she put her arms around his neck and gave him a lingering kiss. “That’s not going to make things easier,” he said.
“Who said it was supposed to be easy?” she said. “Now move it.”
She watched him as he turned and hurried up the escalator, taking three steps at a time until he came up behind a lady who was stopped on a step above him, then turned and waved. A moment later, he was at the top and gone.
Catherine walked out of the terminal and headed across the street toward her car. She had delayed driving in to the police bureau on North Thompson Street by telling the captain she thought she ought to drive Joe Pitt to the airport. It had not aroused his suspicion, but it had not exactly been honest. She had not said that since their collaboration was over she had been dating him.
For the thousandth time she had the same thought, that the words for the dealings between people of the two sexes were always wrong. She wasn’t dating him. She had thought about him for a long time and then started sleeping in his hotel room with him and then rushing home every morning to get ready for work, or just spending
