in there. That way, you won’t have the money if they should grab you as you leave the bank. I don’t think that’s likely, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that lady agent coincidentally had to cash a check about the time you’d be here.”
Susan nodded, almost absently, her acceptance of that.
“If I tell you where you can find Bryan, will you help Jennifer get away?”
“No,” Matt said. “I can’t do that, honey.”
“You said Costa Rica doesn’t believe in extradition?”
“I won’t let you let yourself in for another aiding-and-abetting charge,” Matt said. “For one thing, it would tie you closer to the bombing and the bank robberies, and there’s a chance—not much of a chance, but a chance—that maybe we can do something about that. And if you helped her in getting out of the country, they’d learn about it, and really go after you. I can’t let you do anything like that.”
“I just can’t turn Jennie in!” she said.
“Does she trust you?”
“Of course.”
“Then tell her to turn herself in. A good lawyer, and a babe in arms, might get her out of the murder rap.”
“She’d never betray Bryan.”
“Tell her to start thinking about her baby. They take babies away from women doing life without possibility of parole.”
“You mean when she calls?”
“ ‘I can’t meet you, Jennifer, because I don’t want to be responsible for them taking your baby away from you.’ Something like that. Sow the seed.”
“I don’t know,” Susan said doubtfully.
“Have you any better ideas?”
She shook her head, then started to cry.
“That’s not going to do any good. And I don’t want that lady FBI agent to get on the phone and tell her boss you came to work looking like you’d been crying. They might interpret that as meaning something.”
That speech had the precisely opposite reaction to the one Matt had hoped for. It seemed to open a floodgate.
He tried to comfort her, fully aware as he did so that comforting a weeping woman was not among his social skills.
When she was finished, she pushed herself away from him, sat up, and knelt on the bed. There was a box of Kleenex on the bedside table, and she blew her nose loudly.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Honey, you’re just going to have to get used to the idea that your friend Jennifer is beyond salvation.”
“I know,” Susan said. “That’s not what I was crying about.”
“Then what?”
“Us,” she said. “Where the hell were you, my precious beloved, when I needed you? To deliver that Jennie-made-the-wrong-choice speech, to tell me ‘I won’t let you get yourself in for an aiding-and-abetting charge’?”
“I wish I had been there,” Matt said. “Jesus, I can’t believe how someone as intelligent as you are has fucked yourself up like this!”
“Truth, they keep saying, is stranger than fiction,” Susan said.
Matt didn’t reply.
“What are you thinking now?” Susan asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. I thought about that in the wee hours last night. I’ve got to start thinking about how things really are, not how I wish they were.”
“That’s a start,” he said.
“So what were you thinking just now?”
“How things really are?” he asked. “The naked truth?”
She nodded.
“I want to take your clothes off,” Matt said.
“Just like that?”
“You asked.”
She pushed herself off the bed and stood up.
“I’ll take them off,” she said. “You tend to rip them.”
“If you don’t want—” Matt began, now chagrined.
“When I was crying, honey,” Susan interrupted, “I was thinking, Why doesn’t he put his hand up my dress when I desperately want him to, need him to?”
Matt had a sudden, unpleasant thought.
What that could be is, “I will fuck a gorilla and pretend I love it if it will keep me from going to the slam.”
Three minutes later, as he lay spent on top of her, he knew that wasn’t true and was deeply ashamed of himself.
Officer Paul Thomas O’Mara stood in the door to Inspector Peter Wohl’s office, waited until Wohl had finished speaking on the telephone, and then announced, “There’s a Dr. Payne on three, Inspector. You want to talk to her?”
“I think I can find time to work the good doctor into my busy schedule, Tommy, ” Wohl replied. “Thank you very much, and please close the door.”
Then he picked up his telephone and punched the Line Three button.
“Peter?”
“I have this problem, Doctor,” he began. “I wake up in the morning, alone in my bed—”
“You want to buy me lunch?”
“You have the same problem, do you? Your place or mine?”
“Here.”
“You’re at home?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“The last time we ate there,