The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (18 page)

The Subaru's tires hummed across the grating of the Saugatuck River Bridge. Mario's and the Westport sta
tion were two blocks away. “Why do you talk like it's all
Billy?” she asked sullenly.

“Who else is it?”

“You've done your share of housekeeping. So have I.”

“Yes, but not right in Westport if we could help it. We
don't foul our own nest. And we sure don't want any more people noticing that the obituary columns were getting longer than the garage-sale listings.”

Carla stared ahead. “You're talking about Paul's new
friend?”

”Yup.”

“He says that's under control. Is it?”

“Apparently.”

“She's with him now, isn't she? Down at Winder
mere. Why is he still seeing her?”

“Because he likes her, I guess. And yes, she is.” Russo
turned onto Railroad Place. He saw a parking slot a few
storefronts past the entrance to Mario's.

“Come on, Gary. If she's not a problem, why hasn't
he dumped her?”

Russo said nothing. He backed the Subaru into the
space and shut off the engine. Carla made no move to
leave the car.

“Your cheeseburger will get cold,” he said.

She looked at her hands. “I don't like Paul getting involved with an outsider.”

”A lot of us have, Carla. Paul's entitled. And he's a
careful man.”

“If he needs to get his ashes hauled, he doesn't need
some young kid. Molly Farrell would be happy to oblige
him. So would I, for that matter.”

“And let's not forget masturbation.” Russo threw up
his hands. “What the hell's eating you? You're jealous of
the Lesko girl?”

“No.”

“Of course not.” He poked her.

A tiny shrug. She looked away.

“Carla, honey,” he took her hand, “It will end soon
enough. Paul knows it can't go anywhere.”

“I hope he does.”

“Give him a break, will you? She makes him feel
good. What's the harm?”

“Are you kidding?” She turned to him. “Look . . .
granted he's got a right to a private life and I probably
wouldn't mind very much if he took up with one of the
locals. He could have his pick of all those divorced real
estate ladies. But this one's a reporter for a New York
newspaper. And her father is even bigger trouble. What
if she gets her father snooping around up here?”

“Snooping by either one of them is exactly what Paul is trying to head off. As for her father, he knows nothing
about Westport and nothing about Paul.”

“How do you know that?”

“Molly's had a wire on her for three months now.
The Lesko girl, I promise you, is absolutely not a danger
to us.” Russo reached for her shoulder and gave it an
affectionate shake. “Hey, look. I think you're getting a
case of the post-holiday blahs. What do you say, after
Paul calms down about the Gelman thing, we hit him
for a couple of first-class tickets to a quiet beach of our
own. We'll lie in the sun all day and screw our brains out
all night.”

“So you're definitely going to tell him?”

“Tell you what. We'll wait until he asks.”

“He will. And it might be the end of Billy.”

“All the more reason to have those tickets handy.
What do you say?”
             

“You might have a deal.” Carla opened her door

CHAPTER ó

The
PAN AM
flight from Nassau swung wide over Long Island to take its place in the landing sequence for John
F. Kennedy Airport. Paul was dozing. He'd slept
through the movie. Susan Lesko dreamily studied the
green route map in the rear
o
f
PAN AM
's
in-flight maga
zine. Her finger traced a line from the Bahamas to New York, then from New York to London, then from Lon
don to the southeast corner of Switzerland. Five more days. They'd be off again.

She found herself wondering whether life with Paul
would be like this all the time. Jetting to the islands.
Then, tan intact, popping off to Europe for a spot of
skiing. Where would they go when it was summer? A
cruise of the Greek Islands? A villa in the south of
France?

Some life. Not bad for a Polish Catholic cop's daugh
ter from Queens. She'd have to quit her job, of course,
but she'd still want to work somewhere. Maybe as a
stringer for the
International Herald Tribune.
Or as a
travel writer. Another possibility, she supposed, was to
work with Paul at his travel agency, but that might be
carrying togetherness a little too far. She'd much rather
do something that was her own. Separate careers are
probably better for a
…
relationship.

She
’d
almost said marriage. A number of times now
she'd fantasized about what it would be like being mar
ried to Paul. The daydreams embarrassed her. They seemed uncool, unliberated these days, even though
she suspected that almost every woman still had them.

   
And she'd thought about his age. He was thirty-nine, he
said. Fifteen years older, although you wouldn't know it
from the shape he kept himself in. If they had kids he'd
be pushing sixty by the time they were college age. Not
a big dea
l.
Better to wonder whether she could keep
him interested that long. It was a reasonable question
that had nothing to do with self-esteem. She didn't even know why he was so interested in her in the first place.
Okay, she was good-looking and fairly bright, a pretty
good athlete, enthusiastic, with a decent sense of humor and maybe not a bad lover, but so were a lot of women. And okay, he'd more or less answered the question back
at Windermere when he told her she was as fresh and clean as anyone he'd met in his whole life. Eye of the
beholder. But he seemed to mean it.

Those eyes. They looked so sad just then. What she
wouldn't give to see the things they'd seen and to know
what was going on behind them.

Strike that. There were a couple of things her own
eyes had seen that she wouldn't be crazy about him
seeing. She hadn't sprung into
existence
on the day they
met either. Better to keep some mystery in there.

Speaking of mysteries. That conversation this morn
ing with that old man at the Windermere. That man
was afraid of Paul. She saw his face after he'd grabbed Paul's arm and Paul turned on him. What it might have
been was some personal argument between them that
wasn't any of her business anyway and Paul didn't want it ruining their Windermere holiday. That would be just
like him. Susan reached toward Paul's lap and placed
her hand lightly over his.

“Hi.” He opened his eyes. A lazy smile.       

“We're almost at Kennedy,
”
she said. The flight at
tendant had begun moving through the first-class cabin
checking seatbelts and getting seats returned to their
full upright position.

“Susan,” he checked his watch. It was after eleven.
“How about coming back to Westport with me to
night?”

“I just can't.” She squeezed his hand. “I have to be at work at seven.” And the next five days were going to be
madness. The paper would wring every last moment
out of her in return for that extra week's vacation. Then

she had to get her skis sharpened and waxed and decide
what she was going to bring and start packing.

Paul was frowning. Prom his expression it was not a
romantic invitation after all. He looked the way her
father looked whenever she was going home late and
alone.

“Do you worry about me?” she asked. “Living alone
in New York, I mean?”.

“Of course I do.”

“That's nice.”

“What I'd really like is for you to stay in Westport
until we leave. And after we get back too, for that mat
ter.”

Susan's eyebrow went up. If she heard it correctly, that was an invitation to come live with him. But that invitation was even less romantic than the other. That
frown. He really did seem worried about her.

“I just have too much to do,” she raised his hand and
kissed it. “As for after we get back, let's wait and see
how things go.”

He nodded, saying nothing. More mysteries
.

“You know,” she told him, “I'm probably one of the
best-protected single women in all of Manhattan. My father's a retired policeman. I'm not supposed to know it but he gets the cops in my neighborhood to look out
for me.”

“That's good to hear. I hope they're just as tough as he is.”

She looked at him quizzically. “You know about my
father?” Paul had never mentioned him before. Or
asked about her family.

“New York's Toughest Cop? Sure. We read newspa
pers in Westport, too, you know.”

“How come you never asked about him?”

“Because you never brought him up. I thought it
might be a sensitive subject. Anyway, I was much more
interested in his daughter.”

“You'd like him, Paul.”

“I'm sure I would.”

“I have a date with him Wednesday night. A basket
ball game and then dinner. That's another reason why I
have to stay in the city.”

“I guess I won't worry about you on Wednesday.”