The Groaning Board

telling what you’d find.”
    “Quite right. Anyway, when I cleaned
out his desk, I found a rather detailed investigative report on you.”
    “That gives me the creeps.”
    “It shouldn’t. I destroyed it.”
    “But not before reading it.”
    “But not before reading it.” He gave
her what could only be described as an impish grin.
    “Shit,” she said.
    He drove up to Fifty-fourth Street
and parked near the Carnegie.
    She said, “I don’t want you to say
things like ‘I want to get Leslie home.’“
    “Why not?”
    “It’s patronizing. Hey, I’m Leslie. I
can make those decisions for myself. You never even asked me if I wanted to go home. And it’s proprietary. I felt you were telling Silvestri I belong to
you now. Which isn’t true.”
    “I’ll be right back,” he said. He got
out and locked the door. Seventh Avenue was bright with lights. People
strolled, tourists and New Yorkers, all foot traffic, few cars.
    She was taking a risk that he would
think a relationship with her was too complicated, but she refused to commit to
anything ever again that was not totally honest.
    When Veeder came back with the big
bag of deli, which he set on the floor in the back, he said, “You’re right. I
apologize.”
    “I’m not scaring you off?”
    “Lady, it would take more than a
streak of feminism to scare me off.”
    “Oh, please,” she said, laughing.
    “Of course, you’ll have to watch me
carefully so that I don’t slip again.”
    “I don’t mind that.”
    They left the Mercedes in the garage
on Eighty-seventh Street and walked to Wetzon’s apartment. Someone in the
neighborhood was setting off fireworks, sending strobes whistling into the sky
over the Upper West Side. The air was hot and dry and when they stopped to
watch the shower of silvery light, Bill held her hand.
     
    The sandwiches were so huge, Wetzon
wrapped up half of hers and put it in the fridge, returning with two more
beers, and a dog biscuit for Izz, who was reclining on Bill’s lap.
    “So are we okay?” he asked,
scratching Izz’s belly. He’d hung his jacket on the back of a chair and parked
his gun on the kitchen counter.
    “Yes. You said you didn’t want a
passive partner in bed. You’re not going to get one out of bed either.”
    “That’s fine with me.” He saluted her
with his bottle. “What’s that on your arm?”
    “This?” He twisted his arm to look at
the red pinpricks. “Tetanus. Hepatitis. Gamma globulin. Defense against
anything the Hudson might offer.”
    “Did... Forget it.”
    “Did Silvestri get the same?”
    She nodded.
    “He got them too. There’s still
something between you, isn’t there?” Rather than disappointment, the idea
seemed to energize him, as if he would do battle for her hand.
    “He and I have a history, Bill. The
relationship is over, but I care about him. Wouldn’t I be a shit if I could
just turn it on and off? So forget it. You are not going to duel him for me.”
    He laughed, then thrust out two
fingers. “Fins,” he said. “What’s that?”
    “Put your first two fingers on top of
mine. Say fins.“
    “Fins.”
    “That’s Brooklyn for truce.”
    Now she laughed.
    He got up and rummaged through his jacket.
“Have something for you.” He handed her a small pale blue box. “Don’t look so
horrified. It isn’t anything like that.”
    Like what, she thought, bewildered.
She knew a Tiffany box when she saw it. She opened the little box hesitantly.
On a bed of soft cotton lay a gold cross on a fine chain. “I— God—excuse me.”
She was shocked and... disappointed. Here was evidence of how he’d misjudged
her.
    “What’s the matter?” He was clearly
as disappointed as she. “It took me a while to find the right chain.”
    “Why would you have even wanted to?”
    “Because yours broke during our first
night together.“
    “Mine? You think this cross is mine? ”
    “Isn’t it?”
    “No. I’ve never seen—” She stopped.
“It must belong to one of your other... friends.”
    He shook his head. “It couldn’t, Leslie.
My maid found it on the living-room carpet when she came in on Monday. I
wondered why you never said anything, then decided you might have been
embarrassed.”
    “I wouldn’t have been embarrassed if
it was mine.” She looked down at the little gold cross, then lifted it out of
its box, letting it dangle in the air. Where had she seen a cross dangling like
this? Up close too. “That night, after Hem and Min’s