The Quickie

Paul shook his head.

"I just telecommute."

"What about Veronica? You want me to believe you're not still screwing her?"

"It's true," Paul said.

A second later, I found myself screeching with my hands around his throat. "Bullshit! You married her!" I screamed. "I saw the pictures in the hall!"

Paul pulled my hands off him.

"No, no, no!" he said, holding his hands out before himself protectively as he backed away. "That was all for Caroline's sake. We wanted her to think she has a regular daddy like everybody else. We had a photographer take some pictures. That's all. She thinks I'm a pilot."

My eyes felt like they were filled with acid, burning deep into the sockets.

"And who does Veronica think you are?"

Paul shrugged. "She knows who I am," he said.

"That makes her in the minority, Paul, don't you think?" I said. "Does she know about me?"

"From the start."

"You fucker!" I said. I was insane with rage. I felt like biting him. "Do you know who you are? Because I don't. Is your new job a bullshit story, too?"

"No, that's actually real," Paul said, suddenly sitting down on an empty bench.

"Let's face it, Lauren," he said after a little while. "When you and I found out we couldn't have children, our marriage started sliding badly. We both were feeling hurt, screwed up. Then you got promoted to Bronx Homicide, Lauren, and that was all she wrote. Turnaround after turnaround. Double, triple shifts. Don't get me wrong, I didn't blame you. I just never saw much of you. I really didn't think there was a chance in hell of us getting back together.

"But things are so different now, Lauren. You're pregnant. It was like somebody hit a 'pause' button, then remembered the two of us after four years and just hit 'play' again. Caroline is in my heart, but I'd be willing to give up even her for you. There's an actual 'us' again, a future. I'm ready to do anything for that."

Paul gripped my hand.

"I've always just wanted us. You know that. From the first time I set eyes on you. We can work it out, Lauren. This… shit – It's just a stupid, horrible detour. All the lies are over now."

"That sounds really sweet, Paul," I said, pulling my hand away. "Really wonderful and nice, except for one thing. One small detail."

He looked at me quizzically. Now it was my turn to hurt him. Let's see how he liked getting his heart napalmed.

"You left something out. Something really important, Paul. The cop I watched you kill. I was there when you killed Scott, dumbass."

Chapter 109

PAUL'S FACE SEEMED TO CRUMBLE in front of me. "You were where?" he asked.

"At Scott's place in Riverdale," I told him. "You must have read our e-mails, but guess what? You were too late. He'd just been with me, Paul. Right before you cracked his skull open, we'd been in bed together. Turnabout is fair play, no? So how does it feel?"

Apparently not too good. Paul's mouth was gaping wider than The Scream's. "So you were… How did…," he stammered.

"That's right, Paul," I said. "Surprise, surprise."

I grabbed his wrist, squeezed with all my might.

"Who the hell do you think has been keeping you out of jail all this time? Your fairy godmother? I covered things up for you, destroyed my career – everything I was – in order to keep you out of prison. I actually felt sorry for you. Can you imagine that?"

Paul put his hand out toward my face. I slapped it down.

Other strollers started making a wide berth around us.

"And come to think of it," I snarled. "How dare you kill Scott when you knew you were being unfaithful to me? Who the hell are you? Thief. Murderer. Bigamist. What am I missing?"

I slapped him again, and it felt so good.

"Scott had a wife and three kids!"

Paul broke my grip, then walked away. He stood along the other side of the path so that I wouldn't hit him again, I assumed. After a while, he did something astounding. He started laughing.

"You want to let me in on the joke?" I said, red-faced, walking toward him. "I could use a real rib-tickler right around now."

Paul turned to me.

"Sure," he said. "Here's the punch line: I didn't kill Scott because he was sleeping with you. I had no idea about that, Lauren."

He folded his arms across his chest and gave me another smile. I didn't get it, not a word he was saying.

"I killed him because he was blackmailing me," said Paul.

Chapter 110

NOW IT WAS MY TURN to put my head down between my knees.

"Blackmailing you?" I asked.

Paul nodded.

"A year ago, Veronica came up to New York. She has a friend who's a model or something who gets her work. Eleven o'clock in the morning, she finds herself in the middle of a drug raid, and I get this frantic call at work to go and try to help her out.

"I walk into this apartment down in SoHo, expecting a million cops, but there's only one. Scott Thayer. I'd gotten there too late, though, because Veronica got scared and told him we had money. He takes me into the kitchen and tells me he's a reasonable guy. He'll let everybody go free for ten grand cash."

I felt a sharp pain in my neck. My skin felt clammy.

"So I gave it to him," Paul said. "A month goes by. One day I'm coming back to my desk after lunch, and Thayer's sitting at it, holding a picture of you. He tells me that you two work out of the same precinct house, and for another twenty grand, not only will he not turn me in – nice guy that he is – he won't tell you about Veronica."

Paul looked at me. I stared back at him, my mouth gaping.

"So I give him that. It was when he came back the third time that I realized it would never end. He wanted fifty thousand. Instead of giving it to him, I decided I'd rather take a shot at wrapping things up my own way."

I listened to flute music from somewhere in the park. It sounded like a dirge at my own funeral.

I'd thought Paul had fought for me. That his killing Scott had been about me. But it was over money, blackmail.

"You understand that Thayer wasn't content to keep on blackmailing me," Paul continued. "He wanted all of it. He came after you to get another hook into me. That's all he wanted with you, Lauren."

"So you killed him, Paul?" I said bitterly. "You're a gangster now? Robbing people and shooting cops. Maybe you should cut a rap album."

Paul squinted down at the ground, then shrugged. "Things just kind of kept on happening. One thing led to another."

A scintilla of compassion rose inside me. The same thing had happened to me, hadn't it? I pushed the sympathy away as quickly as I could. The last thing I would do was feel sorry for Paul.

"Listen, Lauren," Paul said. "Why don't we call it the mother of all midlife crises? I'll do whatever you want now. Give the money back. Or we can just go. We'll drive to Reagan International straight from here. A million point-two dollars tax free is a lot of money. Why don't we just go and spend it? Raise our kid on a sailboat. You're mad now, but you betrayed me, too, remember? Let's just… go. C'mon, Lauren. We can do this together."