Brianna?”

“Certainly.”

Jesse stood and handed the rifle to Simpson.

“Thanks,” Jesse said.

“We’ll get it back to you

promptly.”

“That’ll be fine, Jesse,” Tony

said.

He and Brianna were both on their feet.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Jesse said.

“We enjoyed the company,” Brianna said.

“Good luck with the

dreadful murders.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “And if you

come up with a case of

conjunctivitis, give me a call. You too, Suitcase.”

They shook hands and Tony walked them to the elevator.

“I hope you get the sonovabitch,” he said.

“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.

The elevator door opened, Jesse and Suit got in. Jesse punched one and the door glided shut.

43

As they drove back along Atlantic Avenue, Suitcase Simpson said

to Jesse, “We are cops, are we not?”

“We are.”

“And there’s a donut shop down here on the right past the

Catholic church, is there not?”

“And you feel that in order to certify our cop-ness we have to

go in there and scarf some down?”

“Yes,” Simpson said. “I

do.”

“You’re right,” Jesse said.

“It’s been too long.”

Suit swung the car into the Dunkin‘ Donuts parking lot. Simpson

kept the car idling, while Jesse got out and went in and bought a dozen donuts and two large coffees.

“A dozen?” Suit said.

“We’re not going to eat a dozen

donuts.”

“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.

Suit put the cruiser in gear.

“Care to dine with an ocean view?” Suit said.

“Sure,” Jesse said. “The wharf

would do but make it quick. Don’t

want the donuts to spoil.”

“Donuts don’t spoil,” Suit said

and drove them to the

wharf.

They left the motor on against the chill as they ate donuts and

drank coffee and looked at the boat traffic, even on a cold day, moving about on the harbor.

“Seem like a nice couple,” Suit said.

“The Lincolns?”

“Who’d you think I meant,” Suit

said. “Us?”

“Wise guys don’t make sergeant,”

Jesse said.

Suit grinned.

“You got some problem with the Lincolns?”

he

said.

“Too nice,” Jesse said. “Too

cooperative.”

“You’d prefer they were surly?”

“Suit, you been studying up,” Jesse said.

“Surly?”

“I’m a high school grad,” Suit

said. “I know a bunch of words.

Sometimes I say enticing, or symbolic.

What’s

wrong with the Lincolns?”

“They bother me. Lot of people are a little uncomfortable when

the cops come and want to look at your gun.”

“They knew nobody got shot with their gun,” Suit

said.

“Some people would want to check with their attorney before

letting us test their weapon,” Jesse said. “People are uneasy with

cops.”

“Maybe, since they had nothing to hide they didn’t want to act

like they did.”

“Maybe,” Jesse said.

“Well, soon as we fire the thing we’ll know.”

“We’ll know the bullets that killed our people weren’t fired

from that gun,” Jesse said.

“You think they had another gun?”

“Two.”

“You think they did it?”

“Until I got a better suspect,” Jesse said,

“yes.”

“Her too?”

“Yes.”

“Even if the gun don’t match,”

Suit said.

“It won’t match,” Jesse said.

“They knew that when they gave it

to us.”

“You never said nothing to them about their car being parked up

at the Paradise Mall when Barbara Carey got killed,” Suit said.

He wiped cinnamon sugar off his chin with the back of his hand.

“No need to tell them all we know,” Jesse said.

“Because you got some kind of instinct that they’re the ones?”

Suit said.

“Because there’s something very phony about them,” Jesse

said.

“Lot of that going around in Paradise,”

Suit

said.

“But they’re the only phonies whose car was parked ten feet from

a homicide,” Jesse said.

“Well,” Suit said.

“Yeah.”

44

They sat together on the couch in the living room with their feet up on the coffee table. It was so still that they could hear the small click of the ice maker in their freezer. On the far horizon was the low profile of an oil tanker heading toward Chelsea Creek.

“Looking at the water,” he said,

“it’s like you can see

eternity.”

With her head resting against his shoulder, she said,

“You

always say that.”

“Well, it’s always so.”

“It’s always so, for you,” she

said.

“You and I are one and the same,” he said.

She was quiet. The oil tanker disappeared behind the coastline curve to the east.

“Do you think the cop will forget about us after the gun doesn’t

match?” he said.

“He was so polite,” she said. “I

thought he was

nice.”

“In an odd way, I hope he doesn’t forget about

us.”

“Makes it more exciting?” she said.

“I guess so,” he said.

“What if he catches us?”

“You think he’s going to catch us? Him and his bumpkin

buddy?”

“He didn’t seem to know very

much,” she said. “Actually I think

we sort of intimidated them.”

“I know,” he said. “Did you see

how stiff the big one was

sitting by the door?”

The ocean was empty now, stretching out from the empty beach below them. They watched its blue gray movement and the scatter of whitecaps where the wind ruffled the surface.

“They can’t find out anything from the gun,” she

said.

“Of course not,” he said. “We

haven’t even fired the damn

thing.”

“I know. I just worry sometimes.”

“Do you really think some flatfooted cop has a chance against

us? You and me?”

“He didn’t seem so stupid to

me,” she said, “more like he was

polite.”

“He was looking at your ass, for God’s sake.”

She smiled and banged her head gently against his shoulder.

“See, I told you he wasn’t

stupid.”

He put his hand inside her thigh, and she snuggled down a little

against him.

“Do that, myself,” he said.

“I know.”

Two gulls rose outside their window, effortlessly riding the air

currents. They never seemed cold in the winter, nor hot in the summer; they were just always there, circling, soaring, looking for food.

“It might be fun to kill him,” he said.

“The cop?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that asking for trouble?”

“Isn’t that what we do,” he

said. “Ask for trouble? Would it be

as thrilling doing what we do, if there were no risk of getting caught.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she

said. “I never thought of it that

way.”

“Would you have fun playing baseball if you knew you couldn’t

lose?” he said.

“I never played baseball,” she said.

“Or gambling.” He was very intense.

“The possibility of losing

is what gives it juice.”

“It would be something,” she said,

“afterwards.”

“It would,” he said, “be the

fuck of our lives.”

“Oh my,” she said.

“We should think about it,” he said.

“Yes. Even if we decide to do it, though, we shouldn’t do it

yet.”

“Let’s see how close he can get without catching us,” he

said.

“And then if we kill him,” she said,

“it will be in the nick of

time.”

She smiled up at him.

“What kind of fuck would that be?” she said.

45

Together again, Jesse thought, as he looked at Candace

Pennington sitting across his conference table from Bo Marino.