The Marrying Kind

by Beverly Bird

  “Gunner, cucumbers aren’t—”

  “It’s a pretty damn good partnership we’ve got here in spite of all this other malarkey.” He interrupted her harshly. “Together, we just might be able to nail this bastard. So stop wriggling and stop breathing and let’s get on with it.”

  She lowered her, hands disbelievingly. “Stop breathing? Gunner, what are you talking about?” He opened his mouth to answer and she cut him off fast. “No, on second thought, I don’t...I don’t want to know. Just drive.”

  He drove.

  They’d gotten to the first address on their list before he realized that he still didn’t have any idea how he tied in with whatever she had told Gale Storm about Matt.

  It was three-thirty before they got back to the unit office. Tessa felt brain-dead from trying to assimilate everything told to them by twenty-five different people, and her feet hurt on top of it. But this time they had something—sort of.

  It was starting to become apparent that no one remembered seeing Christian Benami at the Heart Association Ball between the times of eight-fifteen and nine o’clock. Of course, a lot of people couldn’t recall exactly what time they’d seen him, she reminded herself as Gunner drove back to the parking garage.

  “I’ll feel more sure when I can see it,” Tessa murmured aloud. “I want to make a graph. A slot for each hour between seven and midnight. And then I’m going to put down every name of every guest who knows when they saw him. I’ll put each name in the appropriate slot.”

  “Yeah,” Gunner agreed. “Good idea.”

  “We think a pattern’s emerging here,” she said. “This way we can really be sure. We can see it in black-and-white.”

  “All right. We’ll stop by the Req office on our way upstairs and get whatever supplies we need.”

  They finally reached their desk to find the Homicide Office silent and deserted.

  “I don’t believe this,” Tessa murmured, looking around.

  “Funny how on certain days of the year, everybody suddenly has to work out on the streets,” Gunner agreed. “New Year’s Eve, Christmas Eve, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.”

  That was when something vaguely uncomfortable shifted in Tessa’s stomach. The way she looked and smelled notwithstanding, John Gunner must certainly want to be somewhere else right now than this office with her.

  “Why don’t you go?” she suggested suddenly. “I can draw lines on this cardboard and sift through the guests’ statements on my own. It’s really a one-person job.”

  Gunner shot a glance at the wall clock. “Nah, I’ve got hours yet. It’ll go quicker if we both work at it.”

  What were his plans? she wondered. And, in spite of herself, she tried to imagine who they were with.

  “Here, give me that cardboard and let me tack it to the wall.”

  Tessa handed it over. She sat Indian-style on top of the desk, the file in her lap, turning over one statement after another, reading off the name and the time that each person recalled seeing Christian. She was just as glad not to be alone, she realized uncomfortably.

  Some of the reports had already come in from the other detectives Kennery had assigned to the job. She added those lists to their own. Close to two hundred and twenty people had been covered by now. It took them nearly an hour and a half, but a pattern definitely began to emerge.

  Of the two-twenty, almost a hundred either couldn’t remember noticing Christian or didn’t know what time they had. Close to a hundred more remembered him making a donation on his and Daphne’s behalf at ten o’clock.

  There were a flurry of names in the seven-thirty time slot. Apparently Christian had made it a point to greet a good many people when he had arrived.

  “Establishing an alibi,” Tessa murmured.

  “Yep. But he would have needed a clone to have done that at eight-thirty.” Not one person, not one single guest, could remember seeing him when the main course had been served. The people at his assigned table could state only that he had definitely been there for dessert, but none of them had found this too unusual. It had been a powerful, political group. People mingled, wandered, visited the bar, sat briefly at other tables. And Benami had been at his own at some point.

  Tessa reached for the phone.

  “What are you up to?” Gunner asked.

  Tessa tucked the phone against her shoulder and dug into her purse for her address book. “I was thinking of trying to get in touch with some of Daphne and Christian’s acquaintances. I want to find out if there’s any evidence of Christian having a girlfriend squirreled away somewhere.”

  “We already covered Daphne’s friends on Friday,” Gunner said slowly. “They said the marriage seemed perfect. Approaching from that angle isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “I just want to find out if Christian had any friends of his own,” she answered stubbomly. “If so, maybe they’d know if the marriage wasn’t perfect.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to call these people on New Year’s Eve?”

  “No time like the present.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  She flashed him a quick, neutral look. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said again.

  “Yes, Gunner, we’ve established that.”

  “So how come you’re not running home to get all spit-shined?”

  “Have I mentioned yet how crude you can be when you try?”

  He ignored that. “How come?”

  She sighed and hung the phone up again. The first number had been busy anyway.

  “Because I’m not going anywhere,” she said finally.

  He stared at her a moment more, then he shook his head. “Cut me a break.”

  “I just did.” She looked down pointedly at her address book and began flipping pages. “I told you what you wanted to know so you’d stop bugging me.”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that there’s no hoity-toity gala somewhere in this very large city that you’re expected to attend tonight?”

  She looked at him again, exasperated. “Of course there is.” Leave it alone, Gunner, she thought. Please just leave it alone.

  “But you’re not going.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Of course he wouldn’t leave it alone. Tessa rubbed her hands over her face. What difference did it make? she thought wearily. She might as well tell him. He’d figure it out soon enough anyway, or he’d just keep badgering her until she did.

  “My parents are having a party at their home,” she said finally, without inflection. “Champagne and caviar and enough dead animals on women’s shoulders to make even the most liberal wince. The conversation will be as cold and dull as watching snow melt. I can guarantee you that it will do nothing whatsoever toward keeping my mind off things. Therefore, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m better off working. Satisfied? Will you leave me alone now?”

  “No. What do you want to keep your mind off?”

  Tessa took a deep breath. “It was a year ago tonight that Matt was killed,” she blurted helplessly. “Now, please, leave me alone. Let me work. I know how to handle this.”

  Gunner swore ripely.

  He felt like a dunce. He had just been thinking about that the other day—on Friday, as a matter of fact, when Kennery had assigned him to her just in time for her to face this dubious anniversary right in the face. And then he had forgotten about it. Even when she had mentioned Matt Bryant this morning, he hadn’t remembered.

  He started to apologize and thought better of it. “So come home with me,” he said instead.

  Tessa felt her heart suck up into her throat as though someone had just siphoned it there with a heavy-duty vacuum.

  “Home?” She squeaked around her heart. “With you?”

  He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against. This probably wasn’t a good idea. Hell, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. Not after last night. Not after the turmoil the
bathtub had caused them. It had taken them most of the day to really get back onto a nice, even, businesslike keel, and he’d be the first to admit that the keel felt precarious. It had wobbled every time he’d noticed her, the way she moved, the way she blushed, the perfume she wore.

  He had promised her that he could handle this almost-impersonal business, and he could. But he was beginning to think that he was going to have to keep a good arm’s length from her to pull it off.

  They just didn’t belong together, he told himself yet again. Forget his rule about women who worked for the city. Even without that, she was too serious, and he never got tangled up with women like her, no matter how good she looked. She was the marrying kind—a forever type of woman. And he was definitely not a marrying man. It was best just to keep his distance, then his body couldn’t put ideas into his head that his head knew he was better off without.

  She’d say no, anyway, of course. Those lines of hers, he thought. And that would be fine.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Where?” He looked at her, dumbfounded.

  “Home with you where?” she clarified. “Are you giving a party?”

  “A party?” he repeated. “Uh, no. I didn’t mean my...uh, my apartment. I meant my folks’ place. Down in South Philly. The Mummer’s Parade. You know, all that hoopla. People start warming up tonight, for the parade tomorrow.” He rubbed his jaw, then clamped it shut. He was babbling like a fool.

  Tessa thought about it with a little bit of longing. She was a Philadelphian by birth. She’d watched the Mummer’s Parade on television every New Year’s Day of her life. And of course she’d heard of the all-night carnival atmosphere that preceded it. But she’d never taken part in it.

  No memories there, she thought. It sounded like fun. Then she shook her head.

  “Thanks, but no,” she said quietly.

  Gunner breathed again, not sure if he was relieved or not. “Yeah, I guess it’s not your kind of thing.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “It’s not?” He felt damn off balance here.

  “No. I’d just be in the way.”

  “Of what?”

  “You know, hanging around with you and your date.”

  “What date?”

  The moment it was out, he realized that he was sounding more and more like a moron as the seconds ticked by. He felt a little bit panicky, and a lot like he wanted her to say, “Okay, sure, let’s go.”

  Not cool at all.

  Except if she didn’t go, she’d work. And hurt. And he wanted to protect her from that.

  Oh, hell. He tunneled his fingers through his hair, aggravated.

  “I’m not following you, Gunner,” she was saying carefully. “You’re confusing me.”

  At least it was catching. “This is a free-for-all, Princess,” he said finally. “No pairing off allowed.”

  “Oh.”

  He finally reached for his coat. “The doors start opening in about an hour, and I need to take a shower and shave, so I’m out of here. You coming or what?”

  “What would I...uh, wear?” she asked tentatively.

  And that was the moment, the exact moment, when she realized how very much she did not want to be alone tonight. It was when she knew just how frightened she really was. Because going to his parents’ house with him was not impersonal. It was, in many ways, even more intimate than what had happened last night. It was family. It was his stomping grounds, his home turf. It meant stepping into his private world.

  And she was willing to do that. She was willing to do almost anything to avoid being alone tonight. Fear rolled in her gut again. What if she stayed home by herself and she found that once again, even tonight, she could barely remember Matt’s face?

  She cried softly without even realizing it. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

  Gunner looked at her sharply and felt as though someone had kicked him.

  Tessa pushed to her feet. “Yes,” she said suddenly. “I’ll come.”

  “You will?”

  Please, God, don’t let him change his mind. “Please?”

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Sure. I invited you, didn’t I?” He swung out the door. “Jeans,” he said. “Do you even own one single pair of plain, old blue jeans?”

  “Of course,” she answered indignantly.

  “Then wear them and a warm coat. Not fur,” he cautioned quickly. “Along about midnight, somebody’d be apt to try to shoot you.”

  Tessa heard herself laugh. Already she felt better, steadier, stronger.

  “Thank you, Gunner.”

  “Don’t mention it.” His voice croaked. His gut churned.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 11

  No dates. No pairing off. That was the South Street party credo, and for the first time in a long time, Gunner did more than take it for granted. Given what something as simple as a bathtub could do to him where this woman was concerned, he was profoundly grateful.

  They stopped at Tessa’s place first. She went upstairs to shower and change, and Gunner prowled her kitchen, keeping one wary eye out for the cat.

  He would have invited anyone—anyone at all—home with him tonight, he told himself, if he had witnessed them sitting at that desk the way she had, with that sad-puppy look. But he wondered if maybe he wasn’t just asking too much of himself here, by taking her home.

  Asking too much of himself was something that Gunner rarely did anymore. As long as he steered clear of it, he couldn’t disappoint anyone. Not even himself. Nothing was on the line.

  There was plenty on the line tonight. He had to stay away from her. Hands off. For her sake. For his own.

  “Ready,” Tessa said from the doorway. He looked around at her sharply. It was rare that a person could sneak up on him, but she managed to do it time and again—at least when he found himself here, in this room in her home.

  He wondered if there was a correlation there anywhere and decided he didn’t want to think about it.

  “Well, good,” he answered. He thought his voice sounded a little raw. It was well past time to get a grip on himself here.

  “Do we need to stop at your place?” she asked as they went back to the car.

  Gunner shook his head. “We’re running late. I keep a change of clothes at my folks’ place. I’ll do everything I need to do once we get there.”

  Tessa didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. She realized she was curious to know where he lived after all—now that all those lines she had tried to establish really had been scattered now like so many spilled matchsticks.

  His parents lived in one of the Irish pockets of South Philadelphia. The street was already packed with cars and people when they got there. They parked and Tessa stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking around, absorbing all the sights and sounds.

  All the people.

  It was barely seven o’clock, but already every stoop, every porch, was so crowded with lawn chairs and the like that there was no room for anyone to move—except for narrow paths left open at the center, leading the way to gaping front doors. It couldn’t even be thirty degrees outside tonight, Tessa thought, but door upon door stood wide open and welcoming, heaters working hard just to spill their warmth outdoors. Every home was brightly lit, some still with Christmas lights, others simply awash with lamplight.

  “The electric company must love this,” she murmured. They’d make a small fortune in the south part of the city tonight.

  Gunner laughed.

  He led her up a stoop. She realized then that the people seated outside were almost all elderly. Canes and walkers were pushed back against the railings, out of the way. Voices rose in welcome as Gunner leaned over to kiss an old woman’s wrinkled cheek.

  He scooped up a little girl and settled her on his shoulders as she squealed. He took an old man’s hand and pumped it hard, slapped another man on the shoulder, grinned warmly at a toothless old woman who smiled widely. Tessa wonder
ed, amazed, why the cigarette dangling from her mouth didn’t fall out.

  “Hey, Mrs. P., breathe some of that my way.” Gunner laughed and leaned close to inhale her secondhand smoke. He shot a look back at Tess. “You never said anything about other folks’ smog,” he said pointedly.

  “No,” she agreed bemusedly.

  “You finally quit those damn cancer sticks, John?” one of the men called out.

  “Had to. Got myself a real mean partner,” he answered, thrusting a thumb at Tessa. “She won’t let me smoke.”

  “’Bout time somebody kept you in line, John,” the first old woman said.

  “Come on, Gram, you keep talking like that, you’re gonna ruin my angelic reputation.”

  Tessa’s head swiveled back and forth as the conversation bandied about. Gunner was different here, she thought... and yet he was the same. He was just a little looser, sexier, warmer...and just as teasing and irreverent. He never quite lost the devil-may-care gleam in his eyes as they kept working their way toward the front door. When he encountered another old woman trying to make her way onto the porch, he grabbed her and kissed her soundly.

  “That’s in case I miss you at midnight,” he told her.

  The woman blushed and adoringly watched him pass. Tessa followed him, feeling eyes on the back of her head.

  “You finally get yourself a real lady, John?” someone asked.

  Tessa blushed.

  Gunner thought about it. A lady, certainly, but the “get yourself” part was a pretty fair stretch of the imagination.

  “She your date, John?” another man called, as though reading his mind.

  “No dates allowed, Ernie. They made that rule because of that year you tried to bring three of them.”

  He’d stepped around that nicely, Tessa thought, following him into the hall. Her heart didn’t know whether to swell with gratitude or shrink with... with what?

  Don’t think about it... about anything. Just enjoy.

  The kitchen was at the front of the house. Even so, it took them a long time to get there. The hallway was crammed with bodies. When they finally reached the kitchen, one glance around told Tessa that this was the most lived-in room of the Gunner household. It was big, chaotic. The table was laden with food and a big punch bowl, but there were magazines and unopened mail, kitchen utensils, a toy robot and various other odds and ends strewn all over the counters.