The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (23 page)

Paul blinked.

“She's twenty-four. She's pretty. And she's clean. On
the other hand, out here you've got a couple of used-up
broads who don't want to lose you, and we get a little
possessive sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“What does 'Oh' mean?”

“It means I don't know what else to say.” Suddenly,
Paul didn't know what to do with his hands either.

“You've been taking care of us for a long time. We're
not saying that's a life sentence but. . . .”

“We've been taking care of each other. That won't
change. Ever. I can't believe that you two of all people
have been letting this worry you.”

Zivic winced. Another snaking of the head.

“These are feelings, Paul,” Molly told him. “Who
says they have to be rational. We love you, damn it.”

Paul's mouth moved but no words came. Carla red
dened but was also silent.
Z
ivic said, in a stage whisper, “The phrase you're trying to think of is 'I love you, too.’ ”

“
Well
, that goes without say
ing.”

“Almost never,” Zivic corrected him. “Also if you
know what's good for you, you will not let this ‘used-up
broad’ designation pass unchallenged.”

“Well, that's the dumbest thing I've heard tonight.”
He looked at Carla, whose eyes were down, and at
Molly, who pretended to be studying the light fixture.
“You're by far two of the most interesting and attractive
women in Westport and you're. . . .”

“Already too many words,
'Zivic interrupted. “Try
again, please.”

“I love you both. Very much.”

“Carla,” Zivic ordered, “go hug but say nothing.
Then we go eat before I am sick.”

Amazing, Zivic thought to himself as he put on his
coat. The smartest men are always the dumbest about
women. Perhaps he would make Paul a gift of a pint or
two of his Russian blood. It couldn't hurt.

CHAPTER 8

Anton Zivic did not take it amiss that Paul chose to dine alone with Molly Farrell. It was their habit never to  congregate publicly in groups larger than three. He suggested a restaurant called Chez Pierre for himself, the doctor and Carla Benedict, also suggesting that they walk there, a passing warm front having turned the weather almost spring-like. Paul and Molly fell in behind them. There was a Szechwan restaurant en route that Molly had been wanting to try.

      Across the Post Road, in the parking lot just down from Herman’s, John Waldo watched from his car as the five dispersed. On the front seat close to his right  hand sat a bag of Grand Union groceries. In it, just under a two-pack of toilet paper, was a silenced Ingram machine pistol. He reached for a small transmitter and with his fingernail made a series of scratching sounds that meant all clear and break off.  Within seconds, another car appeared from the alley behind Paul’s office and Glenn Cook, owner of the Sundance Ski Shop, headed home for his evening meal. John Waldo started his engine. He would watch what direction they were taking and then stay with them a while longer until they were safely indoors. But he did not expect trouble now. The best time to move against them had just passed. Nor did he give much thought to the fact that this was the first time in months that he’d been asked to do sentry duty during a council meeting. Or that it was Anton Zivic, not Paul Bannerman, who had asked him.

Paul took Molly's arm as they crossed the Post Road.
‘Thank you,” he said, “for defusing that in there.”

“Carla will be okay. And I meant what I said.”

“I know. So did I.”

Molly said nothing more until they reached the far
corner and paused to wait for the light at Compo Road.
Zivic and the others had already crossed.

“Susan seems very nice,” she said then. “She's cer
tainly crazy about you.”

Paul nodded, frowning. He found that he was mildly annoyed, though he knew it was entirely his own doing,
that Molly knew so much about Susan. On the second
day, after he'd followed Susan and her friend through
Westport to the Sundance Ski Shop where he'd con
trived to have Glenn Cook introduce them had not
Susan startled him by approaching him first, he'd asked Molly to install a dropout relay device on Susan's Man
hattan phone. For three months now, Molly had re
corded every call that went in or out. During the first weeks he'd listened to the tapes himself but the act
became so distasteful to him that he soon asked Molly to
provide only verbal summaries. One such summary
forewarned him, in time to prepare an excuse, that Su
san intended to bring him and her father together on
Christmas Eve. He'd also known, before Susan told him,
that on this very night Susan and her father would be
going to a basketball game. And as of her father's Mon
day morning call to Susan, that they'd be dining after
ward at Gallagher's Steak House. The “she's crazy about
you” reference came from a Tuesday call to Allie Greg
ory during which Susan gushed over her visit to Win
dermere, and over Paul himself. She made no reference
to his encounter with Palmer Reid. It seemed to have
left no lasting impression.

“She might be good for you, Paul.”

“What?” His
m
ind had wandered.

“Susan. She might be good for you.”

A pained expression. “Am I missing something?
Weren't you just telling me that seeing
Susan was
a bad
idea?”

“That was Molly, the council member. This is Molly,
your friend.”

“That certainly explains that.” The light changed.

    
He took her arm. As they crossed, he noticed the car
that was coasting to the curb a hundred yards ahead of
them on the far side of the Post Road. John Waldo's car.
They kept on.

“Don't you think so?” Molly persisted.

“Don't I think what?”

“That it could work out.”

Paul took a breath. “She's pretty young, Molly.”

“Twenty-four's not so young. And you're not so old.”

“She's also not stupid. She's starting to wonder
what's real and what isn't about me.” Paul told her of
the Reid conversation, that Susan had overheard bits of
it, and that she'd clearly doubted his version of what was
being said. A bigger concern was that Reid had seen her as well and would certainly have identified her by now.

“So what?” Molly asked. “He won't bother her. He
wouldn't dare try to recruit her.”

“Nothing that overt,” Paul agreed. “But he'll look
for some way to use her. He'll also waste a
l
ot of time
and manpower trying to find out why I'm seeing so
much of a reporter. Which is okay,
I guess. But when he
checks Susan out he'll find out she's headed for Europe
and it won't take him long to realize we're going to
gether. I had hoped to spend those three weeks without
looking over my shoulder.”

“Do you want a couple of us to come? We'll stay in
the background.”

“I don't think so.” Paul's tone suggested that he had
considered it. But a pleasure trip wasn't a pleasure trip anymore, once bodyguards were involved. What he
wanted was to be with Susan and to enjoy her for what
ever time was left to their relationship. As it was, he'd
probably have to end it shortly after their return, or
whenever he could no longer plausibly avoid meeting
her father. Molly and Carla were right about that part.
He had to assume that her father would inevitably start
sniffing the air.

Molly the council member knew that. But Molly the
friend had, in spite of the life she'd lived, somehow
managed to remain a romantic, and was now arguing
that he and Susan might have a future after all. She'd done it before. Once, when he'd brooded aloud about
having lied to Susan since the first day they met, mostly
lies of omission, she pointed out that there was no such
thing as a totally honest relationship except among
dopes. Every man, every woman, had a few things that
were better left unmentioned. Susan, being a cop's
daughter, would know that better than most. Her father
didn't sit down at the dinner table and say “Guess who I
shot this morning?” And Susan, being her father's daughter, was probably less fragile than most, as well.

Not that Molly had a particular interest in match
making, or even in this particular match. Her point was,
being a romantic but a fairly realistic one, that since most romances tend to be short-term anyway, there's
no great danger and possibly a lot of pleasure in letting
them run their course. She'd had a few affairs herself, mostly with men she'd met at Mario's and those she'd
inevitably meet on her own vacations. She wasn't about
to set a time limit on them.

Nor was marriage out of the question, at least in
principle. Glenn Cook got married last year to a nice
girl from Darien who still thinks he's just a former ski
bum who was finally ready to settle down and open a ski
shop. And Harry Bauer is practically engaged to a
widow he met while teaching an investment course.
Janet Herzog has had a portrait artist living with her for two years now and he doesn't suspect a thing. Carla has
a rich building contractor who's nuts about her al
though her major interest in him is probably to get him to buy her that red Porsche she wants. Even Billy Mc-
Hugh, God help us, has a girlfriend.

Paul knew all that. They could afford the distrac
tions. He could not. Especially with Palmer Reid show
ing signs of getting restless again. It was one of the
reasons he had wanted Susan safe with
h
im in Westport
this week. Or maybe just with him, period.

They walked along.

“If you'd like,” Molly said, “I'm sure we can think of
ways to keep Palmer Reid busy over here for three
weeks. Then maybe you and Susan could
relax.
”

Paul shrugged and shook his head. He knew they could probably throw Reid into a panic just by letting
either Carla or Billy be seen in the vicinity of his Mary
land home. But better not to risk overreaction. Nor did
h
e want another lecture on his personal life or his lack of one.

“Listen,” he said, “if I ever did get hit by a truck,
who do you think should take my place? That's assum
ing you don't want the job.”

“I don't. And the answer's Anton.”

“You'd bet your life on him?”

“I already have. In Iran. So have you.”

“I'm going to ask him to take over while I'm away, with full authority to make all decisions. That's if he'll
accept.”

“He will.”

“When I get back, I'm thinking of asking him to keep
the job for the next year or so. After that, maybe we'll
rotate. Or have elections.”

“You're not going anywhere, are you?”

“Just easing off. You keep telling me I should.”

“You're overdue.”

“
How will Gary and Carla react? To answering to
Anton, I mean.”