The Sugar House

But that was not to be his fate, of course, not just yet.

“Who are you, Adam?” she asked the man sitting across from her, waiting patiently for her to finish her accounts.

“The first man,” he said. “Why do you think I chose the name Adam?”

“No, who are you, really?”

He shook his head. “That’s mine, the only thing I ever really owned, the only thing I’ll never give away or sell.”

“Where will you go? What will you do?”

“West,” he said. “I’ll find a campaign. There’s a senator who’s already thinking about the next presidential race, a governor who wants to be a senator. There’s even a Hollywood actor who wants to run for office. I’ll find a way. I may have to start as a volunteer, but I’ll make staff in a matter of weeks.”

“Are you that good?”

“I’m that good. In fact, I’m better at politics than I ever was as trade.”

“I doubted you, you know,” she said. “Even when you told me what you wanted to do, I didn’t think it would work. Never get caught with a dead girl or a live boy. You left Dahlgren with a dead boy, and all the i

Adam gave her his full, radiant smile. You could rule the world with a smile like that, Tess thought. But all Adam wanted was to advise the people who ruled the world. She couldn’t decide if this made him more dangerous, or less.

“I prefer being underestimated,” he said. “But then, so do you, right? It’s always an advantage.”

She handed him an envelope. “Spike got you the IDs-I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. You’re Joseph Kane now. You have a Maryland driver’s license to prove it, and a new Social Security number, courtesy of a little boy named Joseph Kane who died last year and never got to use it.” She produced a second envelope. “You also get the petty cash from Domenick’s.”

“How did you arrange that?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Tess said blandly. “There was a horrible mix-up at housing. A demolition permit was issued for a vacant rowhouse one block over, but there was a typo on the work order. Nicola DeSanti showed up for work one morning and her bar was gone.”

“You took her bar?”

“She took my parents’ house. Look, it’s only three thousand dollars. It won’t last long.”

“You’d be surprised at how long I can live on how little,” he said, tucking the money into a thin leather wallet.

“No, I wouldn’t. One more thing.” This envelope was larger, a little thicker. “Dick Schiller gave me Gwen’s remains, to distribute among those who tried to help her. I already gave Sukey her part, we spread them at Fort McHenry earlier today.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Only if you get caught. I’ve put aside another portion for Devon Whittaker, when she returns from Guadeloupe. This is yours.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He folded it in half, and stuck it in a pocket of his topcoat. A new cashmere coat, Tess noticed, one that fit him perfectly.

“You ready to go?”

“I can take a cab, you know.”

“Not on Christmas Eve. You’ll never get one to come get you over here.” He still looked reluctant. “I promise I won’t notice which train you board. I won’t even get out of the car at the station.”

Adam regarded her speculatively. His beauty was still astonishing to her, she could not imagine what it must be like to be at large in the world with that face. To be a woman with such a face, or an about-to-be-woman, as Gwen had been, must have been more terrifying still. Had Meyer Hammersmith thought his “ownership” of these beauties made him beautiful by association?

“I’ll let you drop me off,” he said at last.

“It seems only fair,” Tess said. “Since I’m the one who convinced you to leave your car at Sandy Point Park, and now it’s impounded by the State Police.”

As she promised, Tess stayed in the car when they arrived at Pe

She then parked her car on St. Paul Street and walked inside, studying the tote board. There was a Northeast Direct to New York in fifteen minutes. But Adam had said he was going west. So he must be on the Chicago train, which left an hour later.

He came out of the newsstand. He was not happy to see her.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Not exactly. But it’s Christmas Eve. No one should get on a train on Christmas Eve and not have someone to see him off. It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for you.”

“You don’t know where my journey will end, or who might be there for me,” he said.

“Well, I also want to give you a Christmas gift,” Tess said. “Wait right here.”

She went into the souvenir shop and returned with a small bag. “Turn your back,” she said. “I have to make a slight adjustment.”

He complied, sighing.

“Okay, I’m done. Turn around.”

She handed him a snow globe. The shop had carried a variety of scenes-the I

“Remember, that’s where you are.”

“Where Adam Moss is.”

“Where Adam Moss is,” she amended. “How you’re going to keep from being recognized is beyond me. You don’t have a forgettable face, you know. One photograph of you and the new candidate-”

“I’m not the kind of operative who ends up in photographs, or yakking on CNBC. I’m from the old school. I stay in the background.”

The tote board’s tiles began turning, and the Northeast Direct showed “All Aboard” at Gate E. To Tess’s surprise, Adam began walking toward the stairs.

“I thought you were heading west-”

“I am. But I have someone to see in New York first.” Mysterious to the end. Adam Moss may change his name, but he’d never change his ways. Tess walked with him to the staircase, and down to the tracks, into the icy night air. She wanted to see him get on the train, wanted to know he was safely away. The train swept in, already full of holiday travelers. Intent on getting a seat, Adam pressed forward, not even saying goodbye.

“Hey, Joe-”

He turned at his new name. Good for him.

“Pick a better candidate this time, okay?”

“I couldn’t find a worse one, that’s for sure.”

epilogue

THE MOST SURPRISING THING TESS RECEIVED FOR Christmas was an eviction notice.

“I’m so sorry, Tesser,” Kitty said, after breaking the news at their holiday di

“It’s not your fault,” Tess said, suddenly glad that Crow had remembered to put some dope in her Christmas stocking. It more than made up for his failure to find a local beauty supply store willing to part with its “Human Hair” neon sign.

But when Crow saw her rummaging for rolling papers after lunch, he proposed taking a drive instead.

“We can start looking for a new place for you to live,” he said. “Check out other neighborhoods. You’ve got to treat this as an opportunity.”

“On Christmas Day?” But there was nothing else to do, except digest turkey and sauerkraut, so she put on her coat, pulled Esskay’s new Christmas sweater over the dog’s head, and piled into Crow’s Volvo.

It quickly became apparent that the drive was much more targeted than Crow had let on. He headed north, into the funky little neighborhood they had found when trying to get to Thirty-fourth Street all those weeks ago. They never did make it to see the lights, she realized, feeling wistful for the holiday season that had passed her by. Next year, she resolved, work was going to be less consuming. There were worse things than divorce work and dumpster diving.