From the Heart

of. Worse, her own weariness was taking her to the point where she no longer cared.
    Jessica detested being ill. Her usual defense against a physical weakness was to ignore it and go on. It was something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—change. Now, however, she had no outlet. The quiet library and monotonous tasks Slade gave her were grating on already taut nerves. Finally she tossed her pen across the table and sprang up.
    “I can’t stand this anymore!” She gestured widely to encompass the library at large. “Slade, if I write one more word, I’ll go crazy. Isn’t there something we can do? Anything? This waiting is unbearable.”
    Slade leaned back in his chair, listening calmly to her complaints. He’d watched her fidget throughout the morning, fighting off boredom, tension, and exhaustion. The onlysurprise he felt was that she’d managed to go so long without exploding. Sitting still, he mused, was not Jess Winslow’s forte. He pushed aside a pile of books.
    “Gin,” he stated mildly.
    Jessica plunged her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “Damn it, Slade, I don’t want a drink. I need to do something.”
    “Rummy,” he finished as he rose.
    “Rummy?” For a moment she looked puzzled, then gave a gusty sigh. “ Cards? I’m ready to beat my head against the wall and you want to play cards?”
    “Yeah. Got any?”
    “I suppose.” Jessica dragged a hand through her hair, holding it back from her face a moment before she dropped her arm to her side. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
    “No.” Slade came to her to run his thumb along the shadows under her eyes. “But I think we’ve given Betsy enough shocks for today.”
    With a half length, Jessica gave in. “All right then, cards.” She went to a table and pulled open a drawer. “What stakes?” she asked as she rummaged around in the drawer.
    “Your capital’s a bit bigger than mine,” Slade said dryly. “Half a penny a point.”
    “Okay, big spender.” Jessica located a pack of cards, then flourished them. “Prepare to lose.”
    And he did—resoundingly. At Slade’s suggestion, they had settled in the parlor. His thoughts had been that the sofa and a quiet fire would relax her, and a steady, boring game might put her to sleep. He’d already concluded that asleep was the only way Jessica could handle the waiting without losing her mind.
    He hadn’t expected her to know a great deal about the game, any more than he had expected to be trounced.
    “Gin,” Jessica announced again.
    He looked down in disgust at the cards she spread. “I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of luck.”
    “Skill,” she corrected, picking up the cards to shuffle them.
    His opinion was a brief four-letter word. “I’ve worked vice,” he told her while she dealt. “I know a hustle when I see one.”
    “Vice?” Jessica poked her tongue in her cheek. “I’m sure that was very interesting.”
    “It had its moments,” he muttered, scowling at the cards she’d dealt him.
    “What department are you with now?”
    “Homicide.”
    “Oh.” She swallowed, but managed to keep her voice light. “I suppose that has its moments too.”
    He gave her a grunt that might have been agreement as he discarded. Jessica plucked it up and slipped it into her own hand. When Slade narrowed his eyes, she only smiled.
    “You must have met a lot of people in your work.” She contemplated her hand, then tossed out a card. “That’s why your characters have such depth.”
    Briefly he thought of the street people; dealers and prostitutes, petty thieves and victims. Still, she was right in her way. By the time he’d hit thirty, Slade had thought he’d seen all there was to see. He was constantly finding out there was more.
    “Yeah, I meet a lot of people.” He discarded again, and again Jessica plucked it up. “Busted a few professional card sharks.”
    Jessica sent him an innocent look. “Really?”
    “One was a great-looking redhead,” he improvised. “Ran a portable game in some of the best hotels in New York. Soft southern accent, white hands, and a marked deck.” Experimentally, he held a card to the light before he discarded it. “She went up for three years.”
    “Is that so?” Jessica shook her head as she reached for the card. “Gin.”
    “Come on, Jess, there’s no way—”
    Apologetically, she spread her cards. “There seems to be.”
    After a quick scan of her cards, he swore. “Okay, that’s it.” Slade