“Maybe. She’s no fool and it could be a very good defense strategy, or just self-centered and manipulative. She didn’t care who she used—or how—to get what she wanted. She starts a career of robbing people to get money for the restaurant. When Terry becomes a problem, she’s ready to get rid of him in a heartbeat.”
Sonny took another swig from the bottle. Probably not recommended for public servants sitting on a public bench. “Finally, Alex, she meets you. Everything is great. You’re great. Your family is great. Until her past starts to catch up. Once threatened, she’d kill us all. Hell, she would have poisoned the town water supply if she thought it would get her that fucking chophouse!”
I sighed. “You’re right, of course. Everything you say makes sense. It’s just that when I think of her, I kind of think of two people. I can’t believe she was both of them.”
“You know what she reminds me of, Alex? A woman who really, really wants a baby. She gets pregnant.” He grinned. “At least we can hope that part is pleasant. But then she has morning sickness, feels lousy, gets backaches, can’t sleep. She spends hours in labor. But every woman I’ve ever heard talk about it says when she sees that baby, she forgets all about pain. She’s got her baby—it was worth it.”
“Gee, Dad, I didn’t know you cared.”
“I’m right! Janet was like that with the damned restaurant. If you and she had miraculously got to Seattle, she would have put this all away and assumed you would, too. She’d have got her restaurant, been a law-abiding citizen, lived happily ever after.”
“Maybe. Unless some night she machined gunned me and a crowd of customers because we forgot to compliment the soup.”
Knowing I didn’t want to say it, knowing I would never say it, I blurted, “Good God, Sonny I’ve been sleeping with a murderer!” And I burst into tears.
“No. You have not. You were sleeping with a bright, pretty, appealing young woman. You encountered the murderer later.” He took my chin in his hand and made me look at him. “It is extremely important, Alex, that you remember that.” He sounded very serious. I wanted to believe him. One day I would.
“Yeah, I guess.” I sniffed back the tears. “What was it Bogart said in Casablanca? ‘Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine.’”
“Something like that.” He took another pull on the wine and remembered to hand it to me.
I took a sip and kept the bottle. Sgt. Peres had had enough. He would not be early to bed this night.
He stirred slightly. “Of course I know what Harmon would say.”
“Harmon? What the hell could he have to say about this mess?”
Sonny gave a credible imitation of Harmon’s high-pitched, raspy voice. “Them two Peres kids never did have no luck with women. Hell, even th’ dog’s fixed, so he can’t have no luck neither.”
Sonny giggled. I snickered. We both burst into laughter. Fargo joined his wonderful vibrant bass to our baritone and alto. And the three of us sat on a park bench and sent little white balloons rising into the cold quiet air of an early spring night.
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