R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone 18)

"Actually, I am. It just sometimes takes me a while to work up to it."

There was a companionable quiet, broken only by the sound of Henry's trowel chunking in the ground.

Finally, I said, "Is Lewis still in town?"

"He flies home tomorrow. I feel better about him, in case you're wondering. I don't want to see him just yet, but we'll work it out in due course."

"What about Mattie?"

"Oh, that's probably for the best. I never expected the relationship to turn into anything serious."

"But it might have."

"'Might' doesn't count for much. I generally find it wiser to deal with what is than with what might have been. Having made it to the ripe old age of eighty-seven without a long-term romance, there's no reason to suppose I'm even capable of such a thing."

"Couldn't you at least call?"

"I could, though I'm not sure what that would accomplish. She made her feelings clear. I have nothing else to offer and nothing much to add."

"What if she called you?"

"That's up to her," he said. "I don't mean to sound like a sad sack. I'm really fine."

"Well, of course you're fine, Henry. It's not like you're crushed because you've dated her for years. On the other hand, I thought you were great together and I'm sorry things didn't work out."

"You were picturing… what?… a little trip down the aisle?"

"William got married at eighty-seven, why not you?"

"He's impetuous by nature. I'm a stick-in-the-mud."

I threw a handful of grass at him. "You are not."

Reba called at 5:00, interrupting what I realized in retrospect was an award-winning nap. I'd stretched out on the bed with my favorite John le Carre spy novel. The light was soft. The temperature was mild and the sheet I'd thrown over me was the perfect weight. Outside I could hear the dim buzz of a lawn mower, followed by the pft-pft-pfi of Henry's Rain Bird, firing jets of water across the newly trimmed grass. Thanks to my sleep deprivation of the past two nights, I sank out of consciousness like a flat stone settling lazily to the bottom of a lake. I don't know how long I might have gone on like that if the phone hadn't rung. I put the handset to my ear and said, "Uh-huh."

"This is Reba. Did I wake you?"

"I greatly fear you did. What's the time?"

"Five minutes after five."

I checked the skylight, squinting in an attempt to determine if the sun was coming up or going down. "A.M. or P.M.?"

"It's Friday afternoon. I was just wondering what you'd heard from your guys."

"Nothing so far. Cheney's currently on surveillance, but I know he's trying to reach his contact in Washington, D.C. It may take a few days to set up the meeting. With so many agencies involved, the protocol's tricky to negotiate."

"I wish they'd get on with it. Beck's back Sunday night. I don't want to have to deal with him if I'm doing this."

"I can appreciate that. Unfortunately, Cheney's dependent on other people and he can only push so hard. Doesn't help we have a weekend coming up."

"I guess. You want to go someplace later? We could have dinner."

"That sounds good. What time?"

"Soon or right away, whichever one comes first."

"What'd you have in mind? You want to meet me somewhere?"

"You decide. All I know is I gotta get out before I lose my mind." I could hear her pause to light a cigarette.

"What's making you so itchy," I said.

"I don't know. I've been feeling anxious all day. Like maybe there's a drink or a poker parlor coming up real soon."

"You don't want to do that."

"Easy for you to say. I'm already back to smoking a pack a day."

"I could have told you not to start."

"I couldn't help myself."

"So you said. Personally, I don't buy it. You either take charge of your life or you might as well give up."

"I know, but I've been feeling so bad. I know Beck's a shit, but I really love the guy -"

"You love the guy?"

"Well, not now, but I did. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Not in my opinion."

"Also, you know, as odd as it sounds, I kind of miss being locked up."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not," she said. "In prison, I didn't have to make all these decisions, so that limited my chances of screwing up. Out here, what's the incentive to behave?"