The Paper Detective. E. Joan Sims
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seemed suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, yet determined to have his say.
“I like your mother, Paisley. She’s a very admirable woman, but I’m not talking about a relationship with her. It’s you who’s been on my mind for the last few months. I know this must seem very sudden to you, but I’ve wanted to be close enough to say these things to you for a long time, and I can’t waste this opportunity.”
Bert reached across the table and took the cards out of my hand. He covered my smaller palm with his big one. My backbone melted like sweet, warm beeswax. I had never felt so delicate in my life. And I was terrified. I wasn’t ready for this.
“Is there a chance that we could be more than friends?” he asked with a crooked smile.
I jumped up and practically ran to the window. The night outside was clear, with a bright, ice-cold moon shining on the snow. I could see his dog’s tracks around the cabin and his own big footprints leading out to the woodpile.
I turned around and faced him.
“This is not why I came out here. I…I don’t need this kind of complication in my life right now.”
I was close to tears again. I hated crying. I hadn’t cried this much in the last twenty years. Damn concussion, I thought.
I watched Bert’s face close off. His lips narrowed and the light left his eyes. His irises turned from sky blue to the color of steel as he turned in on himself. I wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.
“Look, Bert, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My mistake,” he said abruptly.
He stood up and put on his jacket. He called the dog, and they went out into the winter night.
I sat in front of the fire for what seemed like hours until the man and his dog came back home. I heard him stomping his feet to shake off the snow and ran to open the door. At that moment I think I would have done almost anything to return to our previous state of growing intimacy, but one look at Bert’s face told me that opportunity had gone for good. I sank back down on the sofa feeling like I had killed something young and innocent and infinitely promising.
He hung his coat up and fed the dog before he joined me in front of the fire.
“So,” he said, “why did you come all the way out here looking for me?”
His voice was steady and very calm, almost without inflection or feeling, just tinged with a mild curiosity.
“Leonard, I needed a Leonard,” I answered miserably. “But that was a stupid idea. Forget about it.”
“Leonard. He’s the one who’s supposed to be writing your books, isn’t that so?”
“Yeah, he’s the one, all right.”
“Well, go on.”
I was getting questioned now, by the police. My new best friend had gone outside and the ex-cop had come back in his place.
“My agent called,” I sighed. “There’s a very important magazine in New York, and they want to do a feature story on Leonard Paisley. Pam wanted me to find him, and you came to mind.”
“Why?”
“Why not? You look just like him, or almost. And you’re familiar with murders and criminals, and…well, Leonard’s kind of thing,” I explained. “I thought you would be perfect. I didn’t know you had turned into jolly ole Paul Bunyan.”
Bert laughed for the first time since dinner, but it had a different sound. There was an edge to his humor now. The softness was gone
“So Raggedy Ann is calling me Paul Bunyan!”
“Raggedy…why, that?”
“That mop of funny looking hair, that’s why. That’s how I knew it was you in the snow. I held my gun sight on you for two hundred feet before you fell to your knees. I was getting ready to fire a warning shot when your hood slipped off and all that curly red hair spilled out. Lucky for you, too, otherwise I might have left you to cool off in the snow some more.”
“You wouldn’t!” I protested. “I could have frozen to death.”
“Maybe just a little frostbite,” he grinned.
“But why?”
He gazed into the crackling fire for a long time before he answered me.
“Not everyone is a friend.”
“Look, I said I was sorry…”
He cut me off with a slash of his hand.
“I have quite a few enemies, real enemies—the kind who would like to see me dead. You asked me why I left Danny and came out here by myself. Well, that’s the reason. I don’t want any innocent bystanders getting in the way if somebody with an old grudge comes looking for me.”
I tried to see his face, but like a good cop he had arranged it so he was in the shadows and I was in the light of the fire.
“Does Danny know?”
“Of course not. And I don’t want him to. Understand?” he demanded gruffly.
I nodded in agreement as I pondered the vast range of human emotions. I had gone from giddy happiness, to bleak misery, and now cold fear in the space of less than two hours. It was exhausting.
“What’s in it for me?” he asked after a long moment.
“Being Leonard? Well, the magazine is offering ten thousand. Pam gets fifteen percent. You can have the rest,” I offered meekly.
He turned angry blazing eyes on me.
“I don’t need the whole damned thing. You didn’t come out here with that offer in mind, did you?”
“No,” I admitted humbly. “I was going to split it with you.”
“That’s more like it!”
In spite of the fire, I was cold. I shivered and pulled one of the quilts up around my shoulders. Bert noticed and put another log on the fire. I was grateful for his kindness and told him so. He acknowledged my thanks with a curt nod. I knew we would never be able to talk as easily as we had before, but I was still curious.
“Have you taken any precautions to protect yourself? I mean, do you have any surveillance cameras, or…”
Bert dropped his head back and laughed. This time it was the same deep, truly genuine laugh he’d had before. I smiled tentatively in return. When he finished, he wiped his eyes and answered me.
“My God, woman,” he said still chuckling, “haven’t you noticed my rather primitive lifestyle? Where do you think I would get the power to juice up those cameras? Train the raccoons to run a generator?”
He walked back to the kitchen still chuckling to himself.
“Want some fresh coffee?” he asked, turning to watch for my answer.
“Sure. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again, anyway.”
When his eyes sharpened, I hastened to add, “I’ve slept so much, I mean. I guess the blow on my head,” I finished lamely.
He came back with two mugs of hot coffee laced with cream and sugar.
“I would have added a little Jack Daniels, but I don’t think a doctor would approve so soon after a head injury.”
We sipped our coffee in silence. He was much better than I at adjusting to the new distance between us. I think he was more at ease with himself, and maybe more honest.
“You’ve changed a lot out here in the woods,” I ventured.
He was back in the shadows again, and I couldn’t tell much from the tone of his voice.
“Maybe.”