Everybody Dies

"And you don't think they'll want to get even?"

"Again, it's possible. They're pros, but even a pro can let his ego get caught up in his work. I'll keep my eyes open the next couple of weeks, and I'll stay out of dark alleys."

"That's never a bad idea."

"And you know what else I think I'll do? I'll carry a gun."

"That one?"

I'd put it on the coffee table. I picked it up now and felt the weight of it on my palm. It was a revolver, a.38-caliber Smith, with hollow-point shells in five of the cylinder's six chambers.

"I carried one a lot like this," I said, "when I was on the job. They always weigh more than you think they're going to, even a stubby one like this. It's got a one-inch barrel. The piece I mostly carried had a two-inch."

"When you came up to my apartment," she said, "the first thing you would do was take off your gun and set it aside."

"As I remember it, the first thing I would do was kiss you."

"The second thing, then. You made a ritual of it."

"Did I?"

"Uh-huh. Maybe it was a way of showing you felt safe with me."

"Maybe."

When we met, I was a married cop and she was a sweet and i

I said, "A few years ago they realized the cops were outgu

"I hope you won't need any gun at all, but I agree it's not a bad idea for you to carry it. But is it legal?"

"I have a carry permit. This gun's not registered, or if it is it's not registered to me. So in that sense it's a violation for me to carry it, but I'm not going to worry about it."

"Then I won't worry, either."

"If I have to use it, the fact that it's unregistered is the least of my problems. And if there's an incident that I'd just as soon not report, the lack of paper could be a plus."

"You mean if you shoot someone and walk away from it."

"Something like that." I put the gun on the table and yawned. "What I'd like to do is go straight to bed," I said, "but I'm going to soak in a hot tub first. Come morning I'll be glad I did."

I didn't doze off in the tub, but I came close. I stayed in it until the water wasn't hot anymore. I toweled dry and headed for the bedroom, and when I got there the lights were dim and there was soft music playing, a John Pizzarelli album we both liked. She was standing beside the bed, wearing perfume and a smile, and she came over to me and unfastened the towel from around my waist.

"You've got something in mind," I said.

"See what happens when a girl marries a detective? He doesn't miss a thing. Now why don't you get in the middle of the bed and lie on your back with your eyes closed?"

"I'll fall asleep."

"We'll see about that," she said.

Afterward she said, "Maybe it's an affirmation of the life force. Or maybe I just got horny at the thought of you stretching those two goons. But that was nice, wasn't it? And it didn't hurt your sore tummy or anything else because you didn't have to move a muscle. Well, maybe one muscle.

"And I love you so much, you old bear. It makes me crazy to think of anybody trying to hurt you, and all I want to do is hunt them down and kill them. But I'm a girl and that means I'm stuck with the traditional female role of providing aid and succor. Especially succor.

"And all you want to do is sleep, you poor bear, and this crazy broad won't leave you alone. You had your succor- don't you love that word?- and now you're drifting off. Oh, sleep tight, my darling. Sweet dreams. I love you."

I awoke knowing I'd had some unusually vivid dreams but unable to recall them. I showered and shaved and went into the kitchen. Elaine had gone off to a yoga class and left a note telling me as much, and that coffee was made. I poured myself a cup and drank it at the living room window.

My stomach was predictably sore from the blow I'd taken, and there was some equally predictable discoloration. It would be worse tomorrow, in all likelihood, and then it would start getting better.

Both my hands were a little stiff and sore, too, from the right that had glanced off the side of his head and the left that had gone where it was supposed to. I had other muscular aches here and there, in the arms and shoulders, in the calf of one leg, and in my upper back. I'd used various muscles in ways I didn't often use them, and there was a price to pay. There always is.

I took a couple of aspirin and dialed a phone number I didn't have to look up. "I almost called you last night," I told Jim Faber, after I'd filled him in on what he'd missed after we'd parted company.

"You could have."

"I thought about it. But 'it was pretty late. If Elaine hadn't been here I wouldn't have hesitated, it was no time for me to be alone, but she was here and I was all right."

"And you don't keep booze around the house."

"No, and I didn't want a drink."

"Still, going straight to a ginmill right after a street fight…"

"I paused at the threshold," I said, "and decided I was all right. I had a message to deliver, and I delivered it, and then I got the hell out of there and came home."

"How do you feel now?"

"Old."

"Really? I'd think you'd be feeling like a young lion. How old were the guys you beat up?"

"I wouldn't say I beat them up. I surprised them and I lucked out. How old? I don't know. Say thirty-five."

"Kids."

"Not exactly."

"Still, that's got to feel good, Matt. Two young fellows and you knock them on their asses? Even if luck had a little to do with it- "

"More than a little."

"- it still goes in the books as a win."

We talked some more, and he steered the conversation to our Sunday di

"Out of business," I said.

"You're kidding. Since when?"

"I don't know, but I saw the sign in their window sometime early last week. 'Restaurant Close. Go Somewhere Else. Thanks You.' Not quite the way they'd put it in the English as a Second Language class, but the message was crystal clear."

"Elaine must be distraught."

"Try inconsolable. We found a vegetarian place in Chinatown, there are a few of them down there now, but the one on Fifty-eighth was a favorite of hers and it was right around the corner. It's going to leave a hole in her life."

"It'll leave a small one in mine. Where else am I go

"You want to try the place in Chinatown?"

"Well, I'd like to have that eel dish one more time before I die, but that's a long way to go for it."

"I'm not even sure they've got eel on the menu. The joint on Fifty-eighth's the only place I've ever seen it."

"In other words we could drag our asses all the way downtown and I'd wind up having abalone made out of gluten?"

"It's a risk you'd be ru

"Or lamb chops made out of library paste. Eel aside, I'd just as soon stick to real food, so let's forget about Chinatown. God knows there are enough Chinese places in the neighborhood."

"Pick one."

"Hmmm," he said. "Where haven't we been in a while? How about the little place on Eighth and Fifty-third? You know the one I'm thinking of? The northeast corner, except it's not right at the corner, it's one or two doors up the avenue."

"I know the one you mean. The Something Panda. I want to say Golden, but that's not right."