Pale Kings and Princes

20

I slept until ten-thirty the next morning, and when I woke up I could smell coffee. I rolled over. I could smell Susan’s perfume on the pillow next to mine but I had no memory of her coming to bed. I sat up. The clothes I had dropped on the floor last night were gone. I got out of bed and stretched and looked out the window. The sun was bright on the thin dusting of snow that had accumulated on Marlborough Street. I went out into the living room.

Susan looked up from behind the counter that separated the kitchen.

“My God, you shameless animal,” she said. “You’re naked.”

“I’m on my way to the shower,” I said. “You just happen to be in the right place at the right time.”

“If you’re not too tired you might shave as well,” Susan said. She was mixing something but I couldn’t see what.

“I’ll try,” I said, and went into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later I was reeking of cleanliness, smooth-shaven, and smelling of Clubman cologne. I put a towel around my waist and came out of the bathroom.

“Are you squeaky clean?” Susan said.

“Yes.”

“Smooth-shaven?”

“Yes.”

“Teeth brushed?”

“Un huh.”

“Good,” Susan said. “Then I think we should make love and then have breakfast.”

“Excellent plan,” I said. “But what about your patients?”

“It’s Sunday,” Susan said. “I have no patients.”

“Sunday?”

Susan nodded. She was wearing a loose heavy white sweater over her jeans. There were two gold chains around her neck. She had on gold earrings in the shape of triangles, and a gold bracelet and a small gold chain and a gold watch on her left wrist and a very large thick white bracelet on her right.

“Complacencies of the peignoir,” I said, “and late coffee and oranges in a sunny chair.”

“Eliot?” Susan said.

“Stevens,” I said, and put my arms around her. “And the green freedom of a cockatoo upon a rug.”

“I never heard it called that,” Susan murmured, and kissed me and leaned away and jerked her head toward the bedroom and smiled the smile she had that would launch a thousand ships.

It was almost noon when we sat down for breakfast. I was wearing my maroon bathrobe with the satin lapels and Susan had on a yellow silk number with maroon trim that she kept at my place. Susan had made cornbread, and we ate it with honey and drank black coffee, at the counter. The cornbread was still warm.

I made a toasting gesture at her, with my coffee cup.

“Mingled to dissipate the holy hush of ancient sacrifice,” I said.

“Are you going to quote all of it?” Susan said.

“I don’t know all of it,” I said.

Susan smiled. “Small mercies,” she said. “What are you going to do with the three hundred kilos of cocaine in the trunk of my rental car?”

“I think we’ll leave it there for now,” I said. “We’ll drive up to Maine and get your car and I’ll take the Mustang and drive on back to Wheaton.”

“And do what,” Susan said.

“I don’t know, exactly. But I figure it’s a bargaining chip that I didn’t have before. And so is the kid.”

“The chief’s son?”

“Un huh, at worst I can squeeze him. I’ve got him for smuggling coke.”

“Have you though?” Susan said. “All he has to do is deny everything. The truck’s in Peabody and you’ve got the coke.”

“And I know that he got it at Penobscot Seafood in Belfast and I know what the guy looks like that he transacted with. If I have to I can shake it loose from that end.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“Because I was hired to find out who killed Valdez, not to break up coke smuggling. Maybe I can do both, and maybe to do one I’ll have to do the other. But Wheaton is where the killing took place and Wheaton is where I should be working if I can.”

Susan leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips.

“One of the things I like best about you,” she said, “is how earnest you are about your work. You pretend to be such a wise guy, and you are so rebellious about rules; but you are so careful to do what you say you’ll do.”

“There’s not too much else to be careful about,” I said.

“Post Christian ethics,” she said.

“I’m careful about you,” I said.

She cut a wedge of cornbread and transferred it carefully to her plate. A faint wisp of steam eased up from it.

“Yes,” she said, “about me, and about us.”

“You too,” I said.

“We’ve both learned to be careful of us,” she said.

We looked at each other. The connective force of our gaze was palpable.

“Forever,” I said finally.

Susan nodded.

I drank some coffee, looking at Susan over the rim of the cup. Then I put the cup down and cut another piece of cornbread from the round. I felt the intensity of the silence, like a cup filled too full and keeping its contents through surface tension. I took a breath and let it out.

Susan smiled.

“Are you going to confront the cocaine man?” she said.

“Esteva? Maybe. And the kid probably, and see what happens.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s like sluice mining where they wash tons of earth off a hillside with jets of water. They get all this sludge in motion and see if gold turns up.”

“Do you think Esteva will be angry?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Will you need help?” Susan said.

“Against a horde of armed killers? Surely you jest.”

“Will you do something for me,” she said. “Will you ask Hawk to go with you?”

“Maybe,” I said, “in a while, since you asked so nice.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “But you acquiesce so easily. Perhaps all is not as it appears to be?”

“Well,” I said, “maybe not.”

“You were going to ask him anyway.”

“But not for myself,” I said. “It’s best for society if Hawk is kept busy.”