The Professional - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,51

impression.

“Sex is a complicated thing,” I said.

Susan widened her eyes.

“Wow,” she said.

“It enhances love,” I said. “But not as much as love enhances it.”

“You’ve noticed that,” Susan said.

“I have.”

“And you may be particularly aware of that interplay these days,” Susan said. “Because of this business with Gary Eisenhower and the women.”

“I would guess,” I said.

Susan and I stayed in eye lock, another moment, then. She smiled.

“Perhaps,” she said, “if you would get your two-hundred-something pounds off of my body, I could breathe and we could discuss it over breakfast.”

“You were breathing good a little while ago,” I said.

“Gasping,” Susan said.

“In awe?” I said.

“For breath,” she said.

I eased off her and lay on my back beside her, and she put her head on my shoulder.

“I mean, the old jokes are all true. The worst sex I ever had was very good. But I have never had a sexual experience to compare to making love with you.”

“Jewesses are hot,” Susan said.

“You are beautiful, and in shape, and skillful, and enthusiastic. But I have been with many other women who fit that description close enough. But nothing to compare with you.”

Susan turned her head so that she could look at me.

“There’s a saying I read someplace, that appetite is the best sauce,” she said.

“Meaning it’s not just what you are, it’s what I feel you are,” I said.

“I would guess,” she said, “in truth, that it is finally about what and who we are.”

I nodded.

“It’s what Gary Eisenhower and his women don’t understand, and probably never will,” I said.

“It is probably life’s essence,” Susan said.

I nodded.

“Maybe children, too,” I said.

“Maybe,” Susan said. “But we’re not going to have any.”

“This’ll have to do,” I said.

“It does very well,” she said.

She kissed me. I kissed her back.

“I’m thinking pancakes for breakfast,” she said.

Chapter61

WE HAD PANCAKES for breakfast and walked down through Central park to Bergdorf and Barneys, where Susan shopped and I trailed along to watch her hold stuff up, and admire her and, occasionally, some of the other female shoppers. In the next couple of days, we strolled through the little zoo in Central Park. We had dinner at the Four Seasons and walked through Rockefeller Center and Grand Central Station, which I always liked to do in New York. We experienced life’s essence several times before we went home.

Life’s essence never disappoints.

It was a Wednesday morning when I got back to my office. There was a call on my answering machine from Vinnie.

“Call me,” he said. “I might have something.”

I called him on his cell phone.

“Where are you?” I said.

“In the Public Garden,” he said, “watching her house.”

“What’s up?” I said.

“Nothing at the moment, but Monday she had a, like, a incident with a guy.”

“Tell me,” I said.

“Guy’s waiting outside her house when she comes back from her health club. I’m trailing along behind, looking at her ass, and he, like, stops her as she starts up her steps. Puts his hand on her arm. She slaps it away. He says something. She says something. He puts his hand on her arm again. She shoves him away and runs up the steps into her house. He stands down at the foot of the stairs for a long time and looks at her front door. I’m up the street thinking if he tries to go in after her do I shoot him. But he didn’t. After a while he walked away.”

“It wasn’t a friendly exchange,” I said.

“No.”

“You recognize the guy?”

“No, but he wasn’t her type, that’s for sure.”

“What’d he look like?” I said.

“Big guy, ’bout your size, but, you know, he was walking on his heels.”

“Like punch-drunk?” I said. “Like a punch-drunk ex-fighter?”

“Be my guess,” Vinnie said. “Looked like a pug, nose was flat, and, you know, thick around the eyes.”

“Anybody with him?” I said.

“Nope.”

“Where’d he go after she went in and he stared at the door?”

“Walked down Arlington Street. I figured he was heading for the subway.”

“You didn’t follow him?”

“Nope. You just tole me to watch the broad.”

“I did,” I said. “Anything else happen?”

“Nope. She stayed in all the rest of the day.”

“No sign that she called the cops?” I said.

“None showed up,” he said. “This guy shows up again, you want me to shoot him or anything?”

“Only if you have to,” I said.

“Okay,” Vinnie said.

“I may stop around later and visit Beth,” I said.

“Okay,” Vinnie said.

“Don’t shoot me.”

“Okay,” Vinnie said.

He sounded disappointed.

Chapter62

WHEN BETH JACKSON came out of Pinnacle Fitness and into the lobby, I was waiting for her.

“Buy you coffee,” I said.

She