“Yes.”

Jesse rattled the ice in his glass. Sunny sipped her wine. Rosie looked out from her spot in the chair, in back of Sunny’s hip.

“What are you going to do, Jesse?” Sunny asked.

“About Jenn?”

“Yes,” Sunny said. “Of course about Jenn.”

“I’ll take Lloyd off her back,” Jesse said.

“I’m sure you will,” Sunny said. “And then?”

Jesse drank some of his scotch and tilted his head back with his eyes closed while it eased down his throat.

“If I said to you,” Jesse said, “‘Sunny, will you marry me,’ what would you say?”

“I’d say it was a lovely offer,” she said.

“And would you say yes?”

Sunny was silent for a time.

Then she said, “No.”

“Because?”

“Because I can’t quite let go of Richie.”

Jesse nodded. He drank the rest of his scotch and put the empty glass down on the little table.

“And so it goes,” Jesse said.

52

Lorrie Weeks still lived in the Village, in the condo she had shared with Walton Weeks, in a shiny new skyscraper that had gone up at the far-west end of Perry Street with a big view of the Hudson River. Jesse stood with Suit outside the building.

“We couldn’t afford to live in there,” Suit said, looking up at the glass towers.

“No,” Jesse said.

“Fits nice into the neighborhood,” Suit said.

“Like a hooker at a picnic,” Jesse said.

“What are we hoping, exactly, to see?” Suit said.

“Lorrie Pilarcik Weeks,” Jesse said.

“And when we see her?”

“We watch her,” Jesse said.

“Because she’s all we’ve got?”

“Exactly,” Jesse said.

“And we don’t know what else to do?”

“Precisely,” Jesse said.

“It’s great to train under a master,” Suit said.

“I envy you the experience,” Jesse said.

It was after five p.m. when Alan Hendricks pulled up in a cab and got out and went into Lorrie Weeks’s building. At six fifteen they came out and walked up Perry Street away from the river. Jesse and Suit followed. They went into a restaurant on Greenwich Street. Jesse and Suit waited outside. At nine o’clock they came out of the restaurant, arm in arm, and walked back to the west end of Perry Street.

“Take the picture,” Jesse said.

Suit took several.

They went in together. By midnight Hendricks had not come out. Jesse and Suit went to their hotel.

The next morning they were back outside Lorrie’s building before nine. It was after ten when Hendricks strolled out wearing the same clothes he’d had on last night and walked up Perry Street.

“Stay with him,” Jesse said to Suit. “I assume he’s looking for a cab. If he is, let him go and come back here.”

Jesse leaned on a yellow brick wall, in the sun, and looked at Lorrie’s building. In fifteen minutes, Suit was back.

“Cab uptown,” Suit said.

“Do you know uptown from downtown?” Jesse said.

“No, sir,” Suit said. “But I heard him say ‘uptown’ to the cabbie.”

Jesse nodded.

At quarter to twelve a cab stopped in front of Lorrie’s building and Conrad Lutz got out.

“Aha!” Jesse said.

“Aha?” Suit said.

“It’s chief talk,” Jesse said. “Apprentice detectives aren’t allowed to say aha!”

“Do you suppose he’s going to spend the night, too?” Suit said.

“We’ll find out,” Jesse said. “Get the pictures.”

Suit used the camera.

“Goddamn,” Suit said. “I stand around here another day, I’m going to take root.”

“I know it feels that way,” Jesse said. “But generally you don’t.”

“I suppose it would be too big a coincidence,” Suit said, “if they both came here and weren’t visiting Lorrie Weeks.”

“Yes,” Jesse said. “It would.”

Jesse and Suit stood outside, taking turns occasionally to go to a small restaurant two blocks up. Lutz stayed until late afternoon. When he came out, Suit followed him.

“Stay with him this time,” Jesse said. “Find out where he lives.”

“He gets a cab,” Suit said, “I get a cab?”

“Yep.”

“I gotta actually say ‘Follow that cab’ to a New York cabbie?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse said. “He probably won’t understand English anyway.”

Suit went after Lutz. Jesse stayed. No one came. No one went. At six p.m. Suit came back.

“Lutz is staying at a hotel on Park Avenue South,” he said.

He took his notebook out and found the page and looked at it.

“The W Union Square,” Suit said. “They told me at the front desk that he was registered for the month.”

“Lot of dough,” Jesse said.

“Maybe Lutz has saved his pennies,” Suit said.

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe he knows a rich woman.”

“Maybe,” Jesse said.

“What’s shaking here?”

“Some guy went by walking a Welsh corgi,” Jesse said.

“That’s exciting.”

“It was downhill from there,” Jesse said.

At seven in the evening Hendricks showed up carrying a bottle of wine and some French bread.

“An evening in,” Suit said.

Jesse nodded.

“Lutz in the daytime and Hendricks at night?” Suit said.

“Seems so,” Jesse said.

“Hot dog!” Suit said. “We gonna just keep standing here watching. I feel like one of those guys, you know, what do they call them, that likes to watch.”

“Voyeur,” Jesse said.

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel like a voyeur.”

“They don’t have to be having sex all this time,” Jesse said.

“They don’t?”

Jesse smiled.

“Better to think they are, I guess.”

“Absolutely,” Suit said. “Are we developing a plan?”

“We’re awaiting developments.”

“How long are we going to await?” Suit said.

“Until they occur, or we can’t stand it anymore,” Jesse said.

Suit shook his head sadly.

“That’s pathetic,” he said.

“I know,” Jesse said. “But we got some nice photos.”

53

Their third morning on Perry Street, Lutz didn’t show up. At noon Jesse said to Suit, “See if he’s still at the hotel.”

Suit spoke on his cell phone for ten minutes before he broke the connection.

“Checked out this morning,” Suit said. “Arranged with the concierge for a limo to the Delta Shuttle at LaGuardia.”

“So he’s going to Boston or Washington,” Jesse said.

“That’s what the concierge told me,” Suit said. “He said it only flies those two places.”

Jesse smiled.

“Call Molly on that thing,” he said. “Tell her to see if he’s registered at the Langham again. If he isn’t, have her check other hotels.”

Suit made the call.

When he was through he said to Jesse, “What exactly is a concierge?”

“They are to hotel guests as you are to me, Suit.”

“Invaluable?”

“Something like that. Molly going to call us back?”

“Yes.”

“You got call waiting on that thing?”

“Sure.”

“While you’re waiting for Molly, call Healy, and when you get him, gimme the phone.”

“Can I tell him I’m your concierge?” Suit said.

“Just call him,” Jesse said and rattled off the number. “I am going to need a New York City cop to help with the jurisdiction issue.”

“And you figure Healy can help?”

“Better than wandering into the local precinct and explaining that I’m the chief of police in Paradise, Massachusetts,” Jesse said.

“You don’t think that would impress them?”

“It should,” Jesse said. “But sometimes it doesn’t.”

Suit dialed Healy, and when Healy came on he said, “Hold for Chief Stone,” and handed Jesse the phone.

“Hold for Chief Stone?” Healy said.

“That’s Suitcase Simpson,” Jesse said. “He amuses hell out of himself.”

“Me too,” Healy said. “Whaddya need?”

Jesse told him.

“Yeah,” Healy said. “I’ll make a couple calls.”

Jesse handed the phone back to Suit, who broke the connection and put the phone away. The Welsh corgi went by again, walking two guys this time. Lorrie stayed in her condo.

“What do you think she’s doing in there?” Suit said. “When she’s not bopping Lutz or Hendricks.”