"But?" Jesse said.

"But... I love you, Jesse."

"That's not a good idea, Abby."

"I know."

"I've never pretended," Jesse said.

"I've always told you the truth."

"I know. You said, "Abby, don't put all your eggs in my basket."" Jesse nodded. He drank some more beer. He wanted more lift than the beer gave him. Seated alone at a table for two across the room was Harry Smith's wife. Jesse remembered her from the Race

Regatta Cotillion where he'd seen her and Harry with Marcy Campbell. She had a nearly full glass of red wine in front of her.

"But I did," Abby said.

Jesse didn't have anything to say.

Mrs. Smith across the room was still at her table alone, her wine glass was still more full than empty. She seemed comfortable drinking alone at the table.

"Even if you were back with Jenn, somehow..." Abby said. She paused to finish her martini.

"Even if you were, we could still maybe have our little relationship on the side."

"Maybe not," Jesse said.

"It's too complicated for me to say yes and no to anything, but maybe we couldn't."

Abby with the tears running down her face, gestured at Doc for another drink. Doc looked at Jesse. Jesse nodded. Shutting her off now would not be smart, he thought. Doc brought her the drink and gave Jesse another look. Jesse shrugged. Abby drank half her drink and slid off the bar stool and put her arms around Jesse's neck and kissed him hard. He should stop this now, he thought. But he didn't. Abby finished kissing him and leaned away, her arms still around his neck.

"Tell me you didn't like that," she said.

"I won't tell you that."

"Tell me you don't want me to come home with you."

He should stop this now.

"I won't tell you that either," he said.

She pressed in close against him again and kissed him with her mouth open. Jesse always felt he was on display in the town where everyone knew he was the chief of police. Just as he would never allow himself to get drunk in public, he didn't want to be seen necking in public. He was uncomfortable and thick and intense. This must be ambivalence, he thought.

With her lips brushing his and her pelvis pressed against him, Abby whispered, "Take me home, Jesse."

"Yes," he said.

They left the Gray Gull with Abby clinging to him. He wasn't sure if it was desire or dizziness. Probably both, he decided.

When they were gone, Mrs. Smith got up and walked to the bar and spoke to Doc.

"The young woman with Chief Stone," Faye said.

"She looks so familiar to me. What is her name?"

"Abby Taylor, ma'am."

"She live here in town?"

"Yes ma'am, used to be town counsel."

"I'm sure we've met. You wouldn't know if she went to Wellesley College, would you?"

"No, ma'am."

Faye smiled at him.

"Well, no matter," she said.

"Next time I her, I'll ask her."

see

THIRTY-SIX.

Macklin sat drinking coffee with Crow in Macklin's car parked outside the Stiles Island branch of the Paradise Savings Bank.

An armored car pulled away from the bank.

"Lot of cash in that bank," Macklin said.

"You think?"

"Second armored car delivery of the [day" Macklin said.

"They are not bringing I office supplies."

Crow nodded. He was slouched in the front seat, one foot propped on the dashboard. Even relaxed, Crow carried with him an aura of force barely contained and waiting to explode.

"Another thing to notice," Macklin said, "you going to be a successful bank robber, is how many ATM's they got."

"They got four," Crow said.

"Nice eye, kemo sabe. And if you look up and down the street here, what do you see?"

"Lotta WASP pussy," Crow said.

"Besides that," Macklin said.

"Places for the WASP pussy to shop."

"Bank robber's tip number two. Find a bank near a lotta retail shops."

"Because?"

"Lotta cash required."

"Ah," Crow said.

"How about safe deposit boxes?"

"They got 'em," Macklin said.

"I checked."

"Lotta trouble getting into safe deposit vaults."

"Is if you got to bust them. Not so hard if the owners open them up for you."

"Don't you need a bank key too?"

"Sure."

Crow sipped some coffee. He watched a woman in spandex tights get out of a silver Volvo station wagon and walk away from them toward a food shop called the Island Gourmet.

"Jimmy," Crow said thoughtfully, "just how much time you plan spending during the commission of this crime?"

"Coupla days ought to do it."

"And you don't think the cops or nobody might, ah, intervene?"

"Not if they don't know nothing about it," Macklin said.

"And you think you can keep them from knowing?"

"I do."

"For how long?"

"Coupla days, maybe."

"And if they find out sooner?"

"They still got to get out here and stop us."