Double Deuce (13 page)

“Was it the gun?” Susan said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Can they convict him with it?” Susan said.

“The gun, the tape, Major’s testimony. Sure.”

“I’m surprised that Major is willing to testify.”

“Hawk says he will.”

“Because Hawk told him to?” Susan said.

“Yeah, I imagine so. And, too, it’s a chance to be important.”

“Interesting, isn’t it. He had to know that Hawk could beat him.”

“Established the command structure,” I said. “I guess any order is better than none.”

Susan rested her chin on her upturned palm. The twilight glancing in off the harbor highlighted her huge dark eyes.

“I talked with Jackie,” Susan said.

“Too much for her?” I said.

“Yes,” Susan said. “She’s-overwhelmed, I guess, is the best way to describe it.”

“Not just the violence,” I said.

“No,” Susan said. “She saw Hawk, I suppose, for the first time.”

“He saved her life,” I said.

“She knows that,” Susan said. “But there might have been another way. He shot right past her head to do it without a moment’s hesitation.”

“It was the best way,” I said.

Susan nodded. “Yes, I’m sure it was. Maybe even Jackie is sure it was, but she can’t… do you see? She can’t be with a man who could do that.”

“I see,” I said. “Could you?”

“I am,” Susan said.

I drank some of my martini. I checked the glass. There were at least two swallows left.

“You think we’ll see her again?” I said.

With her chin still in her hand, Susan shook her head slowly. The waiter brought menus. We read them. The waiter came back. We ordered. The waiter left. The twilight softened into darkness outside the window, and the harbor water, wavering against the wharf, was very black.

“What do you think?” Susan said. “Is there a future for Major and those other kids?”

“I doubt it,” I said.

The waiter returned with food. I mastered the desire for maybe thirteen more martinis, and when Susan and I finished supper and left, I was still sober. It made me proud. We drove back to Cambridge and I parked in the driveway of her place on Linnaean Street.

“You don’t think any of them will make it?” Susan said.

“Kids in Double Deuce?” I said. “No, probably not.”

“Hawk did,” Susan said.

“Sort of,” I said.

“That’s an awfully grim view,” she said.

I shrugged.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” I said.

She leaned her head back against the seat cushion.

“Well, as you always say, `It’s never over till it’s over.‘ ”

“Yes,” I said.

I could see insects little bigger than dust motes swarming in the streetlight, an occasional moth among them.

“First night apart,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She put her hand out and I took it and we were quiet for a while. Then she spoke.

“I have to say something.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m looking forward to being alone.”

“Me too,” I said.

“God, what a relief.”

“I know,” I said.

“See you this weekend,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll pick Pearl up tomorrow night for a sleepover. Like before.”

“Yes.”

Susan leaned toward me in the dark and gave me a long, happy kiss.

“I love you,” she said and got out of the car.

I watched her until she was inside, then pulled out and drove back across the river to my place on Marlborough Street.

The apartment was stuffy and I walked through it opening windows so that the spring night could circulate. Then I went into the kitchen and took some vodka from the freezer and some vermouth from under the sink and made a large martini over ice with a twist. I put it on the bedside table to let the ice work while I showered and toweled off, and turned back the bed, and got in. I propped up the pillows and turned on the television with the remote. The Braves were still in first place, and they were playing the Giants on cable. Fifth inning, Ron Gant hitting. I sipped my martini and watched the ball game and listened to Skip Caray.

Alone.

I could feel myself smiling.

Gant spiked a double into the left-field corner. I took another sip and spoke aloud in the dark room.

“Perfect,” I said.