every day, just like theirs. When I leave in the morning, I don’t know if I’ll come back. Still, they think I’m fair game.”
“You’re on patrol, just want you wanted,” Aimee said, noticing the pin on Laure’s lapel. “I’d offer congratulations, but you know how I feel about your patrolling.”
Laure had left paperwork behind and was now assigned to active duty. Patrolling wasn’t a job Aimee thought wise for her. They’d had endless discussions over it. Laure’s need to prove herself— whether it arose from her complex over the harelip that had marred her appearance until the operation, or from her desire to match her father’s decorated service—hadn’t changed.
“Why must you put your life on the line?”
Again, that averted gaze, the hand motion brushing over her mouth.
Raucous laughter erupted from a knot of back-slapping gray-haired men, drowning Laure’s reply. The well- lubricated crowd, conversing at a roar, competed with the pinging of the 1950’s pinball machine.
“
Laure shook her head.
“Something bothering you, Laure?”
Laure jerked a thumb toward a man in his thirties with black slicked-back hair and a clipped mustache, who was crouched over the zinc counter. ”My partner, Jacques Gagnard.”
Aimee noticed Jacques’s mouth twitch as he spoke into a cell phone while lighting a Gitanes cigarette. His hands shook, shook so much it took him two tries to light his cigarette.
Aimee had seen a lot of nervous
“Just divorced?”
“
It must be nerve-racking to have a partner like that, Aimee thought. She took another sip, aware of the whispering and the pointed looks at Laure. Was there more to it?
“What’s the buzz? You’re up for promotion already?”
Laure took a deep breath and shook her head. Then she excused herself and joined Jacques.
Aimee downed her glassful, and had ordered another when she heard Laure’s voice over the din. “The last time!” She saw Laure’s flushed face. She was pounding her fist on the counter. The hush that fell over the bar was punctuated by the pinging of the pinball machine.
Aimee reached Laure’s side just as Laure grabbed Jacques’s drink. She seized Laure’s hand before she could throw it.
Jacques’s lips, which had been set in a thin line, formed a grin. “Having a partner’s like being married, you know.” He nudged Ouvrier, sitting next to him, wearing a Sunday-best pinstripe suit that Aimee knew he’d trotted out for the occasion. She’d only ever seen him in uniform until now. “Almost, eh, Ouvrier?”
Ouvrier’s nervous laughter answered him. Others quickly joined in and amidst the tinkle of glasses conversations resumed.
“Time to go.” Jacques stood up, placed a ten-franc note between the wet rings on the zinc bar, and shot Laure a look. “You coming or not?”
“She’s having a conversation with me,” Aimee said, her voice rising as she stepped closer to Jacques. “Aren’t you off duty?”
“Since when is it your business?” he asked.
Before Aimee could answer, Laure tugged at her sleeve. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” she said in Aimee’s ear. “I’m just going two blocks away.”
Laure had a certain look in her eyes, the same look she’d had once when she’d given her report card to Aimee to hide.
The cafe owner waved away any payment and wiped the counter with a none-too-clean towel. “On the house,” he said.
“Two blocks away? Jacques’s a big boy, can’t he handle it himself?” Aimee asked.
But Laure was already grabbing her coat from the rack. With her gloved hand she flashed five fingers at Aimee and followed Jacques through the door. Aimee watched them from the window as they talked. The next time she looked they’d crossed the street.
THE RED LIGHT FLICKERED on Jacques’s grinning face, giving him a devilish look. He stood by the dirty snowdrift, buttoning his jacket.
“It’s not funny, Jacques!” Laure said.
He shrugged and his expression changed to one he bestowed on puppies or assumed when he’d surrendered a seat to an old lady on the bus. “A shame to make such a scene, Laure.”
“You know why!”
“Sweet, you’re sweet, Laure. Quit worrying about my prescriptions. The clinic prescribes these pills to keep my back from tensing up.”
His nervous twitches had grown more pronounced. And the cocktail of pills he’d just swallowed with his drink hadn’t stopped them.
“Look, Jacques, it’s my career, too. And this is my first patrol assignment.”
“Who helped you, eh? Who talked the commissaire into overlooking your test results?”
She’d had low scores, it was true. She ignored the flashing neon Sexodrome sign that was casting red flashes onto his face as well as the large photos of semiclad women advertising the fading allure of Pigalle.
He flicked his cigarette into the gutter. Its orange tip sputtered and died in the gray slush. “I wanted you along, partner,” he said. “In case.”
“In case?” Surprise and a quick ripple of pride coursed through her. Yet nothing was simple with Jacques.
“Why do I feel you’re going to do something stupid?”
“But I won’t if you’re with me. I’m meeting an informer. I’ll play it right.”
Like he’d played it right into divorce and pills?
The falling snow that had carpeted the street turned to slush under the buses but frosted the LE SEX LIVE 24/7 billboard above them like confectioner’s sugar.
As he’d just reminded her, not only had Jacques recommended her, he’d taken her as a partner when no one else volunteered. He’d invited her for drinks after work and made her talk about her day; gotten her to laugh and bolstered her confidence. She
“Who’s this informer and why is meeting him tonight so important?” Laure asked.
“No questions. Trust me.”
The new Citroen he made payments on and the hip flask he sipped from when he thought she wasn’t looking bothered her. Jacques had a stellar record, but . . . his divorce had hit him hard.
“I know you’re under pressure,” she said. “You worry me. Before we go to the meet, let’s talk it over.”
Jacques beamed a smile at her. “I haven’t asked you for anything, Laure. I need this.”
“Like you need . . . ?”
“It’s personal,” Jacques said.
The rising wind gusted snow over their feet. “This informer’s complicated.”
“Doesn’t vice handle informers these days?” Laure asked.
“Building trust and gaining an informer’s confidence takes time. Little by little, laying the groundwork. I’m teaching you, remember? You with me, partner?”
Her reluctance wavered.
Jacques winked. “Like I said, five minutes and then we’ll go back to L’Oiseau, OK?”
She ignored her misgivings as she pulled a wool cap over her thick brown hair, determined to discover what had made Jacques’s upper lip glisten with perspiration, what had made him twitch.
