But not before one last shot at the Police Chief. My close encounters of the Clifford kind still rankled me. Besides, I needed something to purge my rancid reaction to Alexis’s rendition of the Rowe/Brown saga. “So I was right about your job—‘serve aAnd Protect.’

“What do you want, Jacob? A letter of resignation?”

“I’ll settle for an apology.”

“I’m sorry about involving Washington Clifford. But I’m not going to apologize for protecting Alexis. If I had to do it again, I’d probably do the same fucking thing.”

“Got you by the shorthairs, doesn’t she?”

Teddy shrugged.

“Teddy can’t help himself,” Alexis’s breathing slowed as she found her way into a familiar groove.

“Love, Alexis,” Biancho said. “A word that never crosses your lips. You never use that word.” The Chief shook his head. “I thought my marriage would finally free me, but I never should have returned.”

Biancho’s mouth twisted. “It’s ironic Jacob, you got involved because you love someone, and I kept chasing you away for the same damn reason.”

“I’d call what you’ve got a ‘jones,’” I said, preparing to leave.

Biancho rose from his seat but Alexis didn’t even glance up, her mind far away.

“I haven’t exactly covered myself with glory,” he said. “but I’m a better cop than you have reason to believe.”

“I’ll tell you something,” I said waking toward the door as a conversation with Lou slapped me upside the head. “If love is your disease, it can make you do right or do wrong. And you’ve been doing wrong. Both of you.”

 

I sat in the dark sedan and lit a cigarette and a joint. Mr. Bluebird still wasn’t perched on my shoulder and nothing was particularly “satisfactual.”

And hadn’t changed by the time Alexis and Biancho left her office. He stepped close to her but she roughly shoved him away. The Chief shook his head despairingly and started down the block. Alexis scrambled into her Saab and gunned the car off the curb. Without returning his weak wave.

Their farewell shook me out of my stuck. Goosed about the case, but once again bummed about close relationships. One for two. Probably the wrong one.

But the right time for that conversation with Paul Brown.

 

It was pretty late and Anne wasn’t very pleased to see me. “Paul’s not here and I don’t know when to expect him,” she said peering over a door-chain, her eyes baggy and bloodshot, her spearmint breath a poor hide for the booze.

“I’m not here to see Paul,” I said in a moment of professional, or perhaps sleazy, inspiration.

Anne’s head was already shaking before I finished. “Our last little talk didn’t help my home life.” No slur to her words, but the cadence was off.

I nodded. “Heather told me. I didn’t mean to complicate things.”

Anne’s face softened at the mention of her daughter, but the latch remained on the door.

“She said I cause trouble wherever I go,” I admitted.

“Heather exaggerates.” She unhooked the chain, but held her ground. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know who else to turn to,”

“Let me guess, you want to talk about Paul. Well, come inside. We can’t discuss him on the porch.”

Anne led me to the room where we’d talked the last time. Everything but her slight stumble was the same, including the tilt to Heather’s picture.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“A beer and ashtray would be great. Do you know when Paul will be home?”

“No,” she called from another room, “but it will be late. It always is these days.” She returned carrying a slanted tray with a couple of Sam Adams, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a glass, and the same shell ashtray. “I have plenty of time to bum your cigarettes.”

“Help yourself,” I said, placing the pack and lighter between us, ripping my eyes off the whiskey.

“So you’re still worried about your father-in-law and Lauren?” Anne asked after we’d lit up and settled in.

“I’m not comfortable with it,” I said. “Especially when I keep hearing different pieces of her family history.”

“I’m not the person to put your mind at rest.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to get used to it since they’re going to be together.”

“This is not the first time I’ve heard about it.” Anne sighed, but almost looked relieved.

She took a long sip of Jack. “I’m the last to learn about anything. It’s always been that way,” she said without looking up. “When Jim and I moved up here, the town was even more exclusive than it is now. We were lonely and isolated. I was pregnant with Heather and the move was a real disaster until we met the Browns.”

“When was this?” I asked, though I hadn’t come here for history.

“Seventy something. Too long ago to remember.”

“During which of Lauren’s lifestyles?”

Anne chuckled. “It’s hard to keep track. She’s been in everything that even smelled “alternative.” But our trouble didn’t start until she got into open marriages.” The humor left her face.

“Lauren was my hero. Fearless, powerful. But no matter how much I worshipped her, Jim always came first. For Lauren as well.” Anne paused.

“There was an undercurrent of sexuality between everyone,” she admitted. “At least after I gave birth to Heather,” she added, averting my eyes.

“Lauren and Jim got together while you were pregnant, didn’t they?” I asked softly. The faster I got through the past, the closer I’d be to the present.

Anne nodded, “Told you I was always the last to know. I didn’t find that out until Paul and I started living together. He thought I knew.” She bottomed up and drizzled another couple of fingers worth into her glass.

“What makes it worse was how kind Lauren had been during my pregnancy. It’s sick, but I still don’t believe it was totally bullshit.” Anne shook her head. “Even sicker, I still don’t hate her.”

“So you understand my mixed feelings,” I said.

“Of course.”

Anne was talking because she was closing in on drunk.

And wanted to get there. She sipped from her glass. “After Heather was born we moved into the Hacienda. Caring for the babies together was much easier. For a long time the living arrangement was fun.”

“But the air went out of the balloon?”

“Control issues. Jim and I, especially me, always did what Lauren and Paul wanted. What Lauren wanted, really.”

“But it was the open marriage that blew you and Jim apart?” It had been a half open marriage that had ruined my first. My first wife Megan’s half.

“Experimenting with sex masked everything. For a while it was pretty exciting. I’d never slept with anyone but Jim, and Paul seemed so experienced.”

“You didn’t feel threatened?” I asked, thinking about myself. “Jealous?”

“Not at first. Lauren was almost ten years older than Jim and pretty wild looking. Sunburst hairdo, weird makeup, and tied-dyed tee shirts. I thought their sex trip was an extension of friendship, like mine with Paul. I actually imagined that Lauren and I were much closer than we were with our husbands.

“It’s hard to believe how long it took me to catch on. I was devastated when I finally realized they’d fallen in love.”

“Sometimes it takes a while for reality to sink in,” I said. Again, I couldn’t help thinking about my own rationalizations about Megan.

“I thought she and I talked about everything with each other.”

Anne took a deep breath, poured more bourbon into her glass, and snagged another cigarette. “As badly as it turned out, those were exciting years. And to be honest, most of the excitement was generated by Lauren.”

Her voice dropped, “But so was the pain. Jim was so damn blind he didn’t believe we had problems. He thought I was captive to my ”bourgeois” background. For the longest time I agreed with him. The solution wasn’t to stop the experiment, but to “overcome the contradictions.” By the time we realized we weren’t going to overcome a goddamn thing, it was too late.”

Anne took a deep slug. “Too late for everything but another fucked up marriage.”

“Where was Paul in all this?”

“Let me quote: ‘The way to keep a butterfly on your shoulder is to let it leave. Once the butterfly realizes it’s truly free, there’s no need for it to depart.’”

“He was mistaken?”

“About butterflies, but not himself. Paul was the same then as he is now. Lauren never made a move to keep him, and he never left.”

Anne swiped another cigarette and puffed thoughtfully, not yet ready to return to the now. “When it became clear the situation was totally out of control, my family moved out.”

“But it didn’t help?”

“Jim and Lauren never stopped fucking,” Anne said bluntly. “Our move was supposed to give the “friendships” an opportunity to heal. Believe it or not, I wanted everything back the way it used to be.”

“You didn’t have any trouble breaking off your sexual relationship with Paul?”

“Not really. Paul had been a radical departure from the rest of my entire life; anyhow, sex between us was nothing terrific. I thought the trouble was me. At least that’s what I thought then,” she added sourly. “I was naive and stupid.”

“You were inexperienced.”

“And you are tactful,” she smiled crookedly. Anne pulled her hands apart, then seemed confused about what to do with them. “You have to understand, we’re talking years to wipe the bloom from this rose,” she said, covering her sudden embarrassment.

“But you stayed with Paul.” It had taken a while but we were finally where I wanted us. Wasn’t sure what I was searching for, but I’d know when it showed.

“Our relationship deepened when Lauren deserted the Hacienda. She never said a word, just disappeared leaving a note that she couldn’t stand living in a nuclear family. To be fair, she stayed in touch with the kids which is more than you can say about Heather’s father.”

“What happened to him?”

“When Lauren disappeared he hung around for a while then left the country. I haven’t heard from him since. That woman breaks a lot of hearts.”

“That’s when you and Paul linked up again romantically?”

“Romance has never been a part of our relationship. When Lauren left, Paul wanted more than a friendship, but I was frightened I’d be abandoned the moment she returned. We didn’t sleep together until Lauren came back and kicked Paul out. Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds like a lot of people who didn’t have their shit together. There are a lot of us like that.”

“Some people never get it together.”

I smiled, “Are you talking about Lauren or Paul?” Or me, I wondered, losing the smile.

“Mostly about myself. And Paul.”

“You know which end is up.”

“Knowing isn’t doing. I should have left the moment I understood what makes Paul tick. I still should, but ending up on the meat market at my age is more than I can handle.”

“What does make him tick?” I asked after a short draw on my beer.

Her eyes flashed with pain and anger. “Lauren Rowe. Always has, always will. Time hasn’t changed a damn thing. The moment it became clear that Lauren’s relationship with Lou was unlike any she’d had before, all hell broke loose.”

I nodded my agreement. “The kids were shattered.”

“And it’s been even worse for Paul.”