Jesse shrugged.

“That’s how the food is,” Burke said.

“Well,” Jesse said, “we’ll see about Rotary.”

A big yellow cat came silently into Jesse’s office and jumped up onto the window ledge and curled up on himself and went to sleep in the sun.

“Who’s this?” Jesse said.

“Captain Cat,” Burke said. “Wandered in here five years ago. We feed him.”

“Cop house cat,” Jesse said.

Burke nodded.

“Tell me about the town legal counsel,” Jesse said.

“Abby? She works for the firm in town. Big firm for a small town, ten, twelve lawyers. Real estate, wills, estate planning, that kind of stuff. Gives the town about ten hours a week pro bono.”

“You like her?”

“Sure.”

“What do you like best about her?”

“She’s got a nice ass,” Burke said.

“I noticed.”

“And she’s usually got a hair across it.”

Jesse grinned.

“You’re not too careful, are you?” Jesse said.

“No,” Burke said. “I ain’t.”

“Good,” Jesse said.

“You didn’t ask me about Hathaway or any of those people,” Burke said.

“Thought that might be pushing you a little hard this early in the game,” Jesse said. “I’ll find out about them myself.”

Burke nodded.

“Selectmen get elected by the town,” Burke said. “Town and the police don’t always agree on how things get done.”

“Lou,” Jesse said, “no cop counts on elected officials.”

Burke grinned.

“Well,” he said. “You ain’t as young as you look.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Jesse said.

Chapter 12

Lou Burke sat with Hasty Hathaway on the bench outside the meeting house on the town common. Hathaway had a bag of popcorn which he was feeding to some pigeons that had gathered.

“You got any pets, Lou?” Hathaway said.

“No.”

“I’d like to have some animals, but Cissy . . .” He shook his head and held out a piece of popcorn on his upturned palm. A pigeon circled it, hesitated, feinted once, then darted in and grabbed the corn. “I guess Ciss just isn’t an animal person.”

“Sure,” Burke said. “They’re not for everybody, I guess.”

“You know Ciss, used to having her house just so. God knows what she’d have been like if we’d had kids.”

“Easy to get set in your ways,” Burke said.

The common was a small green triangle at the intersection of three streets. There was a white eighteenth-century meeting house set on it, where at Christmas, the women’s auxiliary of something or other, Burke had never really known what, sold greens and fruitcake and handmade satin bows.

“So what do you think of Stone?” Hathaway said.

He took a handful of the popcorn and scattered it on the grass in front of the bench.

Burke was silent a moment, watching the pigeons hop and flutter after the popcorn.

“Well,” Burke said finally, “it’s too soon to say, I guess.”

“I realize that, but what’s your impression.”

“He might not be the answer,” Burke said.

“Really?” Hathaway seemed surprised. “Why do you say so?”

“I don’t know exactly, there’s just something . . . he’s got more iron in him than I was expecting.”

“Lou, he’s a lush,” Hathaway said. “He was fired for drinking on duty. His personnel file said he was unfit for police work.”

“Yeah, I know,” Burke said. “But he doesn’t give me that feeling. He was a homicide cop in L.A., remember.”

“And he was half gassed when we interviewed him in Chicago,” Hathaway said.

Burke shrugged.

“Well, let’s keep our eyes open,” Hathaway said. “What we don’t want is some born-again straight arrow poking his sober nose in where it shouldn’t go.”

Burke nodded.

“I still don’t see why you wouldn’t take the job, Lou,” Hathaway said. “It would have worked out so well.”

“No,” Burke said. “I’m a lot more effective if I’m not in charge. I’m the chief and things go bad, everybody lands on me. I’m just a cop following orders and no one pays me much attention. I know as much as I would being chief, and I’m a lot less visible. I do us more good where I am.”

“Things aren’t going to go bad, Lou.”

“I like to plan for what’s possible, not what’s likely,” Burke said.

“Sure, Lou, I understand, just would have been nice if we’d been clearer on this before Tom left.”

“He’d have had to leave anyway.”

“Yes, I guess so,” Hathaway said.

The pigeons still fluttered and strutted, their heads bobbing like mechanical contrivances around him, but the popcorn was gone.

“And maybe I’m wrong,” Burke said.

Hathaway nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes,” he said. “I think you probably are. He seems pretty harmless to me.”

Chapter 13

Jesse was renting a condo in a waterfront development called Colonial Landing. It was a series of contiguous town houses painted gray with white shutters. Jesse’s had a living room, kitchen with dining area, and a half bath on the first floor, two bedrooms and a full bath on the second. The living room faced the ocean and there were wall-width sliding doors that led out onto a small deck over the water. The place was new and had an unused quality to it which Jesse felt worked with his circumstances. He stood on the little deck and drank scotch on the rocks and watched the brisk chop of the Atlantic prancing in against the rust-colored stone below him. It had been a month yesterday since he’d leaned on the railing in Santa Monica late at night and watched the black Pacific and said goodbye.

His glass was empty. He went back in to add some ice and splash in some more Black Label when the phone rang. His short-nosed Smith & Wesson in its black holster lay on the table beside the phone.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah, Jenn.”

“You didn’t give me a number,” Jennifer said. “I had to call information.”

“Here I am,” Jesse said.

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“No.”

“You don’t sound glad to hear from me.”

“I guess I don’t.”

Jesse took a drink of scotch.

“You miss me?”

“Less.”

“I don’t know if I like you missing me less, Jesse.”

“I’m trying not to worry too much about that.”

“Whether I like something?”

“Yeah.”

“You all right?”

“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.

“You like the new place?”

“Too soon to say.”

“You meet anybody?”

“Met a lot of people.”

“No,” Jennifer said, “you know what I mean. You ought to get out more, Jesse, you ought to date, make friends. You met any nice girls?”

“I think they call them women here, Jenn.”

“Well did you?”

“Day at a time, Jenn.”

“What time is it there?”

“Eight-forty-five in the evening.”

“It’s quarter to six here.”

“That would have been my guess.”

“I got a nice audition tomorrow, new series on Fox. I think I’m just right for the part.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jesse said.

He twirled the small revolver aimlessly as he talked to her, the phone hunched between his left shoulder and his neck. With his right hand he swirled the ice in his glass for a moment, then drank some more scotch.

“You drinking, Jesse?”

“Couple.”

“You need to be careful of that.”

“Sure.”

“You still mad at me about Elliott?”

Jesse kept his voice flat.

“Elliott and everything else,” he said.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jesse.”

“You don’t show it much,” Jesse said.

“I know. It sounds crazy. I mean here I am with another man and we’re divorced and yet I don’t want to look at my life and think ‘No Jesse.’ I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Jesse.”

“Un huh.”

“Am I losing you, Jesse?”

“There’s some danger of it, Jenn.”

“Oh God, well I can’t talk now. I got to work out, I have to get my hair done. Can I call you again, soon?”