Cold Night (Jack Paine Mysteries) by Al Sarrantonio Page A

back to you about this Paterna creep," Petty said, and hung up.
    There came a knock at the door. Paine looked up to see Jimmy Carnaseca standing there.
    "Morning, Jack," he said.
    Paine held up a tired hand in greeting.
    "You look like shit," Carnaseca said. "What you need is sex."
    Paine stared at him.
    "Don't you want to know how I've been, Jack?"
    "How've you been, Jimmy?"
    "Just fine. Listen," he said, fiddling with the strap of his camera bag, "you really should try one of these hubby-cheater things. You never can tell what's going to happen."
    "What happened, Jimmy?"
    Carnaseca winked and walked past him. "Never mind. You really do look like shit." He laughed and went down the hall.

TEN
     
    T he lights were still on in his apartment. He opened the door loudly, letting it swing back against the doorstop with a bang, then closed it and went in. The bags were gone from the side of the chair. There was only one coat there now. He heard movement in the bedroom.
    She was leaving the room as he walked in.
    "Oh!" she said. "I thought I heard someone at the door." She smiled uneasily. "How are you?"
    She was wearing a denim skirt and a turtleneck top that showed the outline of her small waist and breasts.
    He shrugged. "And you?"
    "I'm okay. I hope you don't mind me taking those things . . ."
    "Good a time as any. Should I leave?"
    "No, of course not. I'm . . . almost finished."
    "That's good."
    "Why don't you . . . make some coffee or something? I'd like some."
    "All right."
    He went into the kitchen. He heard her hurrying through the bedroom. When he came out with two mugs and set them on the coffee table, she had four bags filled with clothes and a couple of garment bags laid neatly across the arm of the chair with her coat.
    "You'll need help," he said.
    "I've—" she began again. "Someone is coming up to help me."
    He gave her the coffee and sat. She perched on the thin arm of the chair with the garment bags on it. She didn't look at him. He found himself thinking again about her moving under him, trying, her eyes going from moist to rock-hard, the fright in the corners filling them up—
    "I don't know what I'm supposed to say," she said.
    "Neither do I."
    "Jack . . ." she said, trying to make herself sound reasonable, "I really don't know if this is a good way to end things."
    "It's as good a way as any."
    "Do you have to be cryptic? You always sound so cynical about everything."
    He said nothing.
    "Jack," she said, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish it had worked out. I think I'll always wish that."
    "Always?"
    "Yes."
    "As long as it was both our faults, I guess that's okay." Something changed in her face. He knew he had chipped away a piece of her.
    "Ginny," he said, "I'll always feel that you thought, deep down inside, that almost everything was my fault."
    "Yes, that's true."
    "Can you tell me why?"
    "Because you didn't have to do the things you did. You could have been better than what you are."
    "I don't understand, Ginny."
    Her face began to change. The self-consciousness was gone; it was as if she had realized that this was the last time she would be able to say these things.
    "Goddammit," she said. "What do you think it was like living with you? I never knew what the hell you were going to do. Every time I talked to you I didn't know which Jack I was going to get—the happy one, the one in a black mood, the wiseass one or . . ."
    She bit her lip.
    "Or what?"
    "The one with the gun to his head! Don't you think I knew about the box of shells in the kitchen cabinet? Goddammit, Jack!" She began to cry.
    She stood up and gathered her things. She threw her coat over her arm, scooping the bags of clothes into her two hands. "I've got to go."
    "Can't I help you?"
    "I'll . . . meet him downstairs. I've got to go."
    She opened the door and walked out.
    He rose and put his hand on the door. He stood with it open, listening for the elevator, and then it came. The elevator doors kissed shut and he heard it go