Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

22

Tamara Elkin stood on the welcome mat, an unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label in her hand.

“You going to ask me in, Chief, or am I going home to drink this alone?”

“If you stop calling me Chief, I’ll consider it.”

This wasn’t the first time a woman had shown up unexpectedly at his door, but he’d never been shocked by their presence. Surprised? Sometimes. Not shocked. This was different.

“Jesse, may I please come in?” Dr. Elkin said, adding a sarcastic curtsy.

“Please.”

As she passed him, he caught a blast of her grassy, sweet perfume. Her curly hair, freed from its bonds, bounced as she walked. The way it moved and framed her face reminded Jesse of a lion’s mane. She placed the bottle at her feet and removed her parka to reveal a low-cut white sweater over tight jeans and black cowboy boots. He was staring at her again, as he had when they first met. She noticed, but just smiled that mischievous smile of hers. A smile, Jesse thought, full of promise and trouble.

“What should I do with this?” she asked, holding up her coat.

He took it from her and hung it on a standing coatrack next to his jacket.

She picked the bottle up from the floor and wiggled it. “And this?”

“Follow me.”

Tamara Elkin liked her scotch neat. Jesse decided he’d go with it that way, too, as he hadn’t had much luck with ice before her arrival. They clinked glasses and sipped. Jesse sat down in his leather recliner. The doctor made herself comfortable on the sofa. And she did seem awfully comfortable, stretching herself out, propping herself up on an elbow. She had long legs and a runner’s body, not the kind of build that usually got Jesse’s attention.

She pointed at the full highball glass on the coffee table. “I see you’ve had a head start.”

“It’s untouched, but not for lack of trying,” Jesse said. “I got distracted, then you showed up.”

“If you’d like, I can go.” Her face lost its smile.

“Don’t. I’m glad you’re here. And speaking of that...”

“I was curious,” she said.

“About?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You don’t get a job like mine and not hear about Jesse Stone. You’ve got quite a rep there, Chief — excuse me, Jesse. Almost from the day I got into the office, you seemed to be a popular topic of conversation. And your popularity seems pretty gender neutral there.” She raised her glass to him. “The guys talk about your ball playing mostly and about you and the ladies.” There was that smile again. “The women talk about your looks and your... I don’t quite know how to put it. Your self-containment, maybe? It’s like the cowboy thing down in Texas.”

“The cowboy thing?”

“I got my medical degree at the University of Texas and interned in El Paso.”

“Now the boots make sense,” Jesse said.

“Texas, as you might’ve heard, is big on mythmaking. The biggest and most enduring myth of all is the cowboy myth. You know, the lone man riding the range. The man who needs nothing more than his horse and what he came into the world with. Maybe he’s nursing a broken heart or he’s out there searching for the right gal.”

“And is that going to be you, Doc, the right gal?”

She laughed. It was a deep laugh, deeper than her voice would have suggested.

“Not likely, Jesse. I don’t think I’ve ever been anybody’s right gal for more than a few months. Usually, I’m the right gal until the sun comes up. See, I’m a lot like you.”

“Are you?”

“More than you know.”

Jesse freshened their glasses. “Really?”

“Really. I was a world-class distance runner, five and ten thousand meters, mostly. Got me a full ride at Vanderbilt. I might’ve made the Olympic team if I hadn’t tried to run a steeplechase for fun. I came over a hurdle, my foot hit the water pit, and I slipped. Broke my left femur in four places and wrecked my right knee in the process. Good-bye Olympics. Hello recreational jogging and medical school.”

“Ouch.”

“How’s that right shoulder, Jesse?”

“Gives me a lot of trouble on raw nights like this,” he said.

“Don’t I know it. I’ve got a failed marriage under my belt, too. Great guy, just not great for me. Handsome son of a bitch. He was used to a lot of attention. Guess there wasn’t enough of me to give him all the attention he needed.”

“Okay, Doc, you’re batting a thousand so far.”

“Heard you’ve got a weakness for this stuff.” She shook her glass, then took her drink in one gulp.

“Do I?”

“That’s what the cops from the surrounding towns talk about, your drinking. They tell me you got hired here because you were a drunk.”

“They’re right. Long story for some other time.”

“I’m not judging. I’ve got my issues, too, if you hadn’t figured that out. Got me in some trouble.”

“That how you wound up as ME of this corner of the world?”

She nodded. “It’d take some prodigious pretzel logic to explain how coming here from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner of the City of New York is career advancement.”

“You’ve got my attention,” he said.

“Long story for some other time.”

“So why are you here, Doc? In my living room, not in Massachusetts?”

“Not because I’m the right gal,” she said, “but because I’ve been very alone for a very long time and I could use a friend.”

She stood up from the couch, walked over to Jesse, bent over and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Jesse was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, especially not a liar to himself. He was severely tempted for lots of reasons, not the least of which was the way Tamara Elkin smelled. He liked the way her hair felt against his cheek. Her kiss was also sweet and skillful. He, too, had been alone for months, having seen Diana only once since last spring. But there had been all sorts of temptations he had learned not to give in to.

He stood up even as she kissed him. He clamped his hands around her thin but well-defined biceps and gently pushed her away.

“A friend?” he said. “I could use a friend.”

“How about a friend with perks?”

He shook his head. “Bad timing.”

She didn’t wilt or blush or run. Jesse liked that. She’d taken a risk and didn’t shrink when it failed to work out.

“There’s someone else?” she said.

He nodded. “There would have to be for me to turn you down. At least, to turn the perks part down. I’m up for the friend thing if you are.”

“Could sure use one of those,” she said.

“Then I’m your man.”

She leaned over and kissed him again, only this time it was softly on the cheek.