Neither of them spoke for a long time. Finally Cardinal said, “I never thought I’d see the day I’d shoot a woman.”
“Like you say,” Delorme said, “it’s not as if you had a choice.”
Another silence.
Eventually Cardinal said, “You know, I spoke to the real Donna Vaughan. She’s a freelance journalist in New York who covers fashion and has no interest whatsoever in the Russian mob. She also had no idea that Christine Rickert borrowed her identity about two weeks after she got out on parole. I’m telling you, Lise, sometimes my own idiocy takes my breath away. I can’t believe I didn’t see through her.”
“Why, John? You had no reason to suspect her of being anything other than an aggressive journalist.” Delorme placed a warm hand on Cardinal’s shoulder. “And it’s not so long ago your wife died. You were vulnerable.”
“Stupid, you mean.”
“You broke a major case. Two major cases. I don’t think that qualifies as stupid.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “You want to watch a video tonight? Do the popcorn thing?”
Cardinal shrugged. “I don’t know…”
“Come on. What do you feel like? An old classic? A comedy?”
“I really don’t mind,” Cardinal said. “Something without monsters.”
