warm water. Lisa pausing nude on the stairs, like Picasso’s painting somehow unscrambled and made whole woman. Lisa watering flowers. Lisa in bed asleep and almost smiling. Lisa’s hair and eyes and flesh and lips and glance and smile…the music of her colors and her walk. Of her pain to be. Moana Lisa…
He understood that destiny and dream were one.
Detective Quinn, Lisa Ide. What I know and you don’t.
Soon-to-be-famous Lisa.
35
Quinn awoke to the scent of coffee and frying bacon.
He suddenly recalled last night-Pearl.
Now she was in his kitchen preparing breakfast. Where had this domestic Pearl come from? For that matter, the Pearl she’d displayed last night had been quite a surprise.
He climbed out of bed nude and trod heavily into the bathroom.
“Quinn?” Pearl’s voice from the kitchen stopped him. Must have heard the floor creak.
“Yeah?” His sleep-thickened voice came out as a growl. “Yes?” Better. Civilized.
“You have time to shower and shave before breakfast.”
“Uh-huh.” He continued on his way to the bathroom.
When he was clean and shaven, he slicked back his wet hair, then returned to the bedroom and rummaged through his dresser drawers until he found an old robe he hadn’t worn in over a year. The gentleman in his dressing gown. He put on the robe but couldn’t locate his slippers, so he padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Pearl was standing at the stove holding a spatula. She’d made a pass at combing her thick hair, but it was still flat where she’d slept on it. She was wearing the clothes she’d had on yesterday. They looked as if she’d been wearing them for a week. Her blouse had wrinkles that might never iron out. This was not a woman who looked as if she belonged in a kitchen, yet she had the table neatly set, crisp bacon already on plates, and eggs sizzling in a frying pan.
“I thought you might want to go out for breakfast,” he said.
The coffeemaker’s glass pot was full. Two clean cups sat nearby. He went over and poured himself a cup of the strong black brew. There was no cream in sight. How did she know I like my bacon crisp, my coffee black? She must have been observing all this time.
Pearl was smiling at him. “Eating at home’ll be better.”
Home? “What I thought,” Quinn said, “was we might have breakfast at the diner down the street, then take a walk. Maybe you could pick up some clothes at one of the shops near there.”
She raised her eyebrows, puzzled. “Why would I want to buy clothes?”
“Fedderman’ll be here sooner or later this morning. He’ll see you’re wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He’ll know you spent the night.”
Careful…don’t break what happened last night like the eggs. “Makes no difference to me. Sunny-side up?”
“Over well. It does make a difference to me.”
“If that’s how you feel about it… Break the yellow?”
“No.”
She used the spatula to slide one egg onto a plate with the bacon, then deftly flipped the egg remaining in the skillet.
“I don’t think it’s such a good idea, Pearl, advertising that we slept together.”
She motioned with her head at the egg. “Hard enough?”
“Sure.”
“Fedderman left a message on my machine at home this morning. He said since I didn’t pick up, he assumes I left and took the subway here and we can meet later. He won’t be here for another hour. I’ll go out after breakfast and find something else to wear.” She transferred his egg from skillet to plate and grinned at him. “Not that Fedderman will be fooled.”
Quinn knew she was right, but he still wanted to maintain deniability. If it was important to presidents, why not to Quinn? “It’s possible that someday he might have to testify about our relationship under oath.”
“You have a point there,” Pearl said, but she seemed amused by the idea. Toast sprang to attention from the old toaster with a sound like a sledgehammer striking a sack full of steel springs, startling Quinn. Pearl plopped each slice of hot toast on a saucer and placed the saucers on the table, then sat down to eat.
Quinn sat across from her, watching her carefully butter a piece of toast. He sprinkled salt and pepper on his egg. What the hell am I doing here? How did this happen? “Pearl-”
She passed him the butter. “You rather have jelly?”
“Butter’ll do.”
“What about last night, Quinn?” Pearl taking the offensive.
“It was fantastic,” Quinn said, and meant it. He found it wonderful watching her smile from across the table.
Easy…don’t fish for an answer you don’t want… “I need to know if it was a onetime thing.”
“I don’t see how it can be, Pearl. You’re already an addiction.”
She stood up and walked around the table, swallowing a bite of toast, then leaned down and planted a buttery kiss on his cheek.
“This…us…it won’t interfere with the job. I promise.” She sat back down.
“I won’t let it,” Quinn told her.
After breakfast he fished in his wallet and gave her a hundred-dollar bill from the money Renz had paid him.
“Quinn-”
“Jesus, Pearl, it’s for clothes! A change of clothes was my idea, so at least let me buy them for you.”
“Why should you?”
“Because I’m the one worried about Fedderman.”
She was quiet for a while, still not liking even the faintest notion that he was treating her like a hooker. Last night must not be tainted.
“I’ve got my own money,” she said.
Quinn gave up. He cleaned up the kitchen while she went shopping.
She came back half an hour later carrying a single paper sack, then went into the bedroom to change.
She emerged in the same wrinkled slacks but with a new black T-shirt lettered GIANTS across her oversize breasts.
“There aren’t any decent places to shop around here; this was all I could find. It’s a boy’s medium.”
The T-shirt fit fine everywhere other than the chest. A boy, medium, wouldn’t have put that kind of strain on the material. The dark blue blazer she’d worn yesterday had been draped over the back of a chair and wasn’t so wrinkled. When she put it on over the T-shirt, GIANTS was still visible in convex yellow lettering.
“Best I could do on short notice,” she said.
“Was that the only team they had?”
She started to answer, but the intercom interrupted her. Quinn walked over and buzzed Fedderman up.
As soon as Fedderman stepped into the apartment, he stood still and looked at Pearl, then at Quinn. “Pathetic.” Back at Pearl. “Couldn’t you find a Yankees shirt?”
“Why Yankees?”
“You know… ‘Whatever Lola wants…’”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a song from a Broadway play. Damn Yankees. ”
“I can’t afford Broadway plays on a cop’s salary.”
“I know. I’m rubbing it in.”
“You are such a prick, Fedderman.”
