Bardo's boldness tonight was probably due to his delusions of invincibility following his acquittal, and possibly to the alcohol she smelled on his breath. His excitement would only be fanned if she showed any fear. Instead, in a harsh and distinct voice, she told him to remove his hand.
Stretching wider his reptilian grin, he ground his palm more firmly against her."Or what, Mrs. Duvall?"
Pushing the words between clenched teeth, she said, "If you don't take your hand off me " "He was fucking you, wasn't he?"
Unable to stand his touch another second, she shoved his hand away.
"Leave me alone." This time when she made to go past him, he roughly took her by the shoulders and backed her against the support column.
"That's why you were late for the party, right? Pinkie was screwing his brains out. If you belonged to me, that's what I'd do. Day and night.
All the time, I'd be at you. One way or another."
Lewdly, he rubbed his pelvis against her."You think Pinkie is good?
Until you've had me, you don't know from good, Mrs. Duvall." He stuck out his tongue and wagged it obscenely, then dragged it across her neck.
"It's only a matter of time, you know. I'm gonna have you." She swallowed her nausea and pushed against him with all her strength.
She couldn't have physically overpowered him, he allowed her to push him away. When he stepped back, he was laughing at her attempts to stave him off.
"If you come near me again " "You'll what? Well, speak up, Mrs. Duvall: What'll you do?"
He placed his hand above her head on the column and leaned into her.
His voice was taunting."You'll what? Tattletale to Pinkie?" He shook his head."I don't think so. If you told your husband I'd come on to you, he might blame you instead of me. He trusts me, see. And you do have a way of advertising the merchandise."
He reached for her breast, but she slapped his hand aside."I won't bother telling Pinkie. I'll handle you myself."
"Handle me?" he mocked."I like the sound of that." Her voice calm, eyes glittering as coldly as the gem around her neck, she said, "Mr. Bardo, are you under the misconception that you're the only killer-for-hire on my husband's payroll?"
For a fleeting moment, his arrogant grin faltered and his dark eyes lost some of their gleam. Using that momentary lapse in his selfconfidence, Remy pushed him aside, and this time successfully escaped him.
She walked quickly and purposefully up the pathway back to the house, hoping that Wayne Bardo couldn't see how unstable her knees were.
Because, despite her boast, in a toss-up situation between her and Bardo, she wasn't sure whom Pinkie would believe.
GAg Barbara was already asleep when Burke got home. He undressed in the dark, not wanting to awaken her. But when he got into bed beside her, she rolled toward him."Where have you been?"
"Sorry I woke you up."
"It's late, isn't it?"
"A little after midnight."
"Where've you been?" she repeated.
"Working."
"You told me Doug had given you the rest of the week off."
"He did." He wished she would leave it there, but he sensed her unspoken demand for an explanation."I had to put some closure on it, Barbara. Isn't that the catchphrase these days? Closure?"
She gave a little huff of disapproval."For God's sake, Burke, Kev Stuart's been dead for months. The verdict is in on Bardo's trial."
"I know all that."
"So get over it," she snapped.
"It's not that easy."
"It's not easy, but you're making it harder than it has to be."
A dozen sharp retorts sprang to mind, but he held them back. He and Barbara had plowed this row countless times. He didn't want to plow it again tonight. Their arguments always left him feeling like he'd been wrung out and hung up to dry. He couldn't take another defeat today.
In a more conciliatory tone, she said, "What happened to Kev was terrible. But the harsh reality is that policemen get killed. The risk goes with the job."
"But it's pretty damn rare that a cop's own partner is the risk."
"It wasn't your fault."
"The jury must've thought so. In any event, they didn't blame Bardo."
While subconsciously flexing his right hand, Burke envisioned Duvall's house, lit up like Shangri-La, flowing with liquor, and filled with food and fancy women."He and Duvall are having a big party tonight in celebration of killing a good cop." He kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed with his hands supporting his head.
Behind him, Barbara also sat up."How do you know what they're doing?"
"Because I was over there watching them."
Even though his back was to her, Burke imagined her frowning with consternation."Are you insane? Are you trying to get yourself fired?
If Doug Pat is forced to fire you, will that make everything all right?
Would losing your job make you happy?"
'"It would make you happy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shot her a pointed look over his shoulder."Like you haven't been after me for years to leave the department."
"I don't want you to leave it in disgrace," she said angrily.
He snorted a caustic laugh."Oh, I see. No wonder you didn't come to the courthouse during the trial. You didn't want to be associated with the disgrace of the N.O.P.D, which, ironically, is an organization you've bad-mouthed for years."
During the course of their marriage, a recurring argument had been over his work. Barbara wanted him to give up police work in favor of something less demanding and more lucrative. Discussions on the subject started out in a fractious mode and usually deteriorated into shouting matches that resolved nothing, but left in their wake disaffection and resentment on both sides.
Barbara always fell back on the argument that if he loved her, he would take her feelings into account. Burke's argument was that if she loved him, she wouldn't ask that he stop doing what he loved to do. What if he were to insist that she give up teaching? Would that be fair? It was an ongoing debate that neither side could win.
Tonight, Burke was too tired to engage in such a futile argument.
He lay back down and stared at the ceiling.
After a long silence, she said contritely, "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. The disgrace part." There was genuine remorse in her voice, but she didn't touch him. He couldn't remember when they'd last touched each other in anything more than a perfunctory way. Not since the night Kev died. Maybe even before then. No, definitely long before then.
He turned his head toward her and said softly, "Forget it, Barbara. It doesn't matter."
Although years of chronic discontent had etched lines into her face, she remained a very attractive woman. Teaching physical education at a public middle school had kept her figure slender and supple. In fact his coworkers often dropped envious, if lewd, comments about her figure.
They all thought he was one lucky son of a bitch to have Barbara in his bed every night.
Sadly, Burke couldn't recall the last time they'd done anything in bed except sleep. During the months leading up to the trial, his fractured emotions and heavy workload hadn't left him with the energy even to think about sex. Responding to his moodiness, Barbara hadn't initiated it either.
But now Bardo's trial was over. The issue was history. Kev had died, but Burke hadn't. It was time he began living again. Sex would be rejuvenating. It might make him appreciate that he hadn't been entombed along with Kev.
A woman's softness had healing properties. Her body could provide a man not only physical relief, but surcease from spiritual conflict.
Suddenly, Burke yearned for that sense of peace. He was desperate for a few minutes of sweet oblivion. He craved intimacy with something besides suffocating guilt and bitter regret.
Curving his hand around the back of Barbara's neck, he drew her head down for a kiss. She didn't overtly resist, but he felt a tension there, and it wasn't the good kind. He rationalized her lack of enthusiasm. It had been a long time since they'd made love, and he cautioned himself to take his time and not to rush it. Each of them needed a slow and steady warm-up, an easy adjustment, a period of familiarization. Or maybe she was simply being coy. Maybe their lengthy abstinence had damaged her ego and she wanted to be wooed.
He deepened their kiss in the hope of sparking her desire and his.
He fondled her breast through her nightgown, but her nipple didn't respond to his stroking. He slid his knee against the seam of her thighs, but she didn't part them. Between kisses, he whispered her name.
After another few awkward moments, she disengaged herself."I've got to be at school early tomorrow morning. We begin a volleyball tournament during first period."
He released her."Yeah, okay."
"I'm sorry, Burke. I "
"It's cool. Don't apologize."
"I really do have to be up early, but "
"Barbara, it's no big deal," he said, more sharply than he intended.
"Okay? I'm sorry I woke you up at all. Go back to sleep."
"You're sure you're "I'll live, believe me. You don't die from not getting laid."
"Don't blame me, Burke," she lashed out."You've done this to yourself.
You've harbored this grief far too long. It's unnatural. Why is it still eating at you?"
He refused to answer. He couldn't answer.
"All right then," she said."Good night."
"G'night."
He closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't go to sleep, and he didn't.
Her rejection had pissed him off, but he wasn't as pissed off as he had a right to be, and that in itself bothered him.
When he was sure she'd fallen asleep, he got up, went into the kitchen, and fixed himself a sandwich. Then he sat down at the table and, holding his head between his hands, stared unseeingly at the sandwich he never ate.
I (7\ouble or nothing? She'll stop in front of us and give us an upw close and personal look. Do we have a bet?"
"No." Burke rubbed his temple where a headache had taken root an hour ago and which so far had continued to outpound the drums in the jazz band and defy two analgesic tablets. Maybe he should have taken Pat up on his offer of a paid week off, but he'd rather work than stick around the house where he had too much idle time to think."I don't want to play anymore, Mac. Give it a rest, okay?"
Mac McCuen flashed his irrepressible grin."I'm giving you a chance to win back some of the money you've lost to me."
"No thanks."
McCuen would bet on anything from the outcome of the World Series to which cockroach would win the race to the doughnut box.
Disappointed by Burke's lack of interest, McCuen turned his attention to the topless dancer who, by God, did stop directly in front of him.
Breasts shimmying, she winked at the narcotics cop, who was young and good looking and who dressed like a GQ model even when he wasn't pretending to be a gawking out-of-towner taking in the nightlife of Bourbon Street.
By comparison, Burke looked tired and disheveled and illtempered, which was exactly how he felt. He'd been up most of the previous night, alternately wallowing in self-pity and honing his anger over Barbara's rebuff to a razor's edge. They'd mumbled hostile good mornings and goodbyes to each other this morning, and his piss factor had been at a record high all day.
Scowling, Burke watched Mac as he watched the gyrating dancer.
What was Mac's real first name, he wondered. All he'd ever heard was Mac. McCuen had made repeated requests to be transferred into Narcotics and Vice before he was actually assigned to it a little more than a year ago. In Burke's opinion the guy was too flashy and effusive to be a good narc.
"I've got a five-dollar bill says her tits are plastic," McCuen said as the dancer strutted away."What do you say?"
"I say I'd be stupid to lay money on that. How do you propose we determine it? By asking her?"