Ceremony

Chapter 24

"Where you parked?" I said.

"Commonwealth."

"Want a snack before we part?"

She nodded and we walked up toward Newbury Street.

"How does a slob like that get to be executive nitwit, or whatever he is, in the state education system?" I said.

"Knew someone, I suppose," Susan said. "There's all sorts of hiring regulations and elaborate interviewing procedures, and one call from practically anyone circumvents it. Half the jobs in the Commonwealth are bagged before they're advertised."

"Hard to imagine Poitras has a friend," I said.

"He has girls and dirty movies," Susan said.

I looked at her in the odd light, under the high mist. "Cynical," I said. "Beautiful but hard, like a diamond."

"It would be a way to make friends," Susan said.

"True," I said. "It would also be a way to put someone in your debt if you had supplied him with things that public servants aren't supposed to want." We turned down Newbury.

"How about the police?" Susan said.

"And what happens to April and Amy?"

Susan nodded. We crossed Fairfield. The rain was misting down now, steady but very fine. The temperature had risen.

"On the other hand," Susan said, "what happens to them in any case?"

"I was hoping you'd think of something," I said.

"Maybe there isn't anything to think of. We could get them back home. But that's where they learned to be what they are."

We crossed Exeter Street and went into the Bookstore Cafe. There were books, and there was blond woodwork, and a bar and tables, and in the back a balcony as well. I liked eating in there. It made me feel intellectual.

I had a tongue sandwich on rye and Susan had a salad. We split a bottle of Norman cider. Not everybody sells Norman cider by the bottle.

"Has a European feel," Susan said.

"That sounds terrific," I said. "Can I have one?"

Susan grinned at me. "How did you ever get to be so big without growing up?" she said.

"Iron self-control," I said.

For dessert we had one Linzer torte and two forks and I walked Susan to her car. Before she got in she leaned her forehead against mine. "We really do have to think of something to do about Poitras and those girls."

"Yes. ' She kissed me lightly on the mouth and climbed into the front seat of her big Ford Bronco.

"I never figured how you do that without giving me a flash of thigh."

She grinned again at me. "Iron self-control," she said, and started up the Bronco and drove off. I stood and watched the car as long as it stayed in sight, three blocks down Commonwealth and then a left turn onto Berkeley and out of sight across the intersection. I always felt a little sad when she left, or when I left. Even if it wasn't for long. Even if I'd see her tomorrow. Probably kept it fresh. Probably drive each other wacko if we were together all the time. Sure we would. Better to both have our own place and do our own stuff and be together when we chose to.

I walked back up Commonwealth toward Fairfield. Very sensible, I thought. Stay separate and together. I crossed Commonwealth and went down Fairfield in the bright soaking mist. It's the right way… except how come I miss her whenever I leave her? My car had a ticket on it. Crime doesn't pay. Justice never sleeps.

Neither did I when I got home, or at least it didn't feel much like I slept. Except I must have, because I was having dreams that had something to do with being with Susan and not being with her and trying to find some children. I woke up and fell asleep and dreamed variations of the same dream until the phone rang and got me up at 7:15 It was Susan.

"You better come out here, right now," Susan said, and there was no laughter iri her voice.

"Trouble''"

"They've killed the dog," Susan said. "Please come quickly."

It was pre-rush hour, and what traffic there was was going the other way. I was at her house in twenty-five minutes. Susan met me at her front door. She had on her warm-up suit and sneakers. Without makeup her face looked a little simpler, like she must have as a kid.

"In the kitchen," she said. Her eyes were wet.

I went in. The black Lab was there. It had been shot in the head and the blood was stiff and dry and nearly as black as the fur it had stiffened. Some had soaked into the rug where the dog lay, on its side, between the kitchen table and the back door. I moved its leg. It was unyielding. The body had stiffened. "You find it this morning?"

"Yes."

"You come into the kitchen last night?"

Susan shook her head. "I came in the front door and went right upstairs."

"Probably shot it last night. Probably thought she was yours. Your back door wasn't locked."

"No," Susan said. "You know I don't lock the doors."

I stood up. "You may as well call the cops, and the dog officer."

"She was a lovely dog," Susan said. "What will I tell her folks?"

I didn't say anything.

"Why?" Susan looked at me. "You mentioned there had been threats, but… ?"

"I don't know. Maybe a warning. Maybe a substitute. They came and you weren't here, but'the dog was, so they brought her in and shot her instead. It won't happen again," I said. "You know who did it?"

"I know who had it done. That's better. Call the cops."