there, after all.
"What else?" she said. "I mean, there's got to be more to you than being a policeman."
"Not much."
"Well, what do you like to do,” said Cassandra patiently, "when you're not on duty?”
"I think I like having lunch with librarians," he said. "Or dinner. " It was the first thing he'd said that sounded awkward. He pushed away his bowl. "Do you mind if I smoke?" She shook her head, and he lit a cigarette. "I don't read much. I like to go to the movies, sometimes. I like to travel. I like to sail.”
"Are you separated, or divorced, or something?"
"Divorced.”
She felt considerable relief. "Why are you divorced?”
"We get moved around a lot. My wife finally got tired of it. I don't blame her. We were in Kamloops before I came here. We'd been there five years, and she'd started a little business, a boutique. She didn't want to give it up."
Cassandra waited, but he didn't go on. "Do you have any kids?”
"Two. They're in university now. In Calgary. That's where their grandparents live. My ex-wife's parents."
Cassandra looked out over the water. She wondered why his children hadn't wanted to go to university in Vancouver, where they could be near their father. "Where did you learn to sail?" she said.
"On Lake Ontario. That's where I grew up. Toronto.”
"What kind of a policeman are you? You don't give out traffic tickets and things like that, do you?"
"No.” He smiled again. "This is my detachment. Sechelt. I do whatever comes along."
"If this is your detachment," she said hesitatingly, "then you must be involved in that awful thing, that poor old Mr. Burke."
"Yeah."
"The man who found the body—he's a friend of mine.”
"George Wilcox?"
"He comes into the library a lot. We've become friends.”
She felt an uneasy sense of caution. "He was quite upset, I think."
"I'm sure he was.”
She finished her lunch in silence. He doesn't talk about his work, she thought. She wondered if this was because she was a stranger to him, or if he hadn't even talked about it with his wife. She'd read somewhere that a lot of cops-police officers, she corrected herself—were like that.
Over coffee they discussed the Sunshine Coast, and Vancouver, and sailing. Cassandra kept trying to imagine him brandishing a revolver and shouting, "Stop in the name of the law!” He looked a bit old to be doing that sort of thing, actually. Maybe he just did administrative work and delegated all the other stuff.
"How many ads have you answered?" she asked him.
"Oh, two or three. Maybe four.”
She wanted to ask how successful these other meetings had been. "Have you put in an ad of your own?" she said instead.
"No."
"Are you going to?"
"I don't think so.”
"You'd get more replies than I have," said Cassandra glumly. "There are hordes of women out there, just hordes of them.”
"Yeah,” said Alberg, "but they all want to get married.”
Cassandra looked at him with interest. "Oh, do they?" she said casually. She glanced at her watch. "My God, I've got to get back to work.”
"Me too," said Alberg. He put his cigarettes and lighter in his pocket and laid money on top of the bill. He got up and pulled back Cassandra's chair for her.
Outside the restaurant he walked her to her car. "How long have you had this thing?" he said, looking critically at the Hornet.
"All its life. Nine years." She put an affectionate hand on its hood.
"I'd like to see you again," he said. "But I won't call you if you've already made up your mind that you don't want to see me.”
Cassandra lowered her head to fish her sunglasses from her purse. "Go ahead and call," she said carelessly.
He opened the door for her. "You ought to lock it, you know."
"I ought to exercise, too, and eat more salads." She climbed in and slammed the door.
"Thank you," said Alberg through the window. "I enjoyed myself.”
"Are you off duty?" said Cassandra. "Is that why you're wearing that suit? If you don't mind my asking.”
"I don't mind your asking.
"What else?" she said. "I mean, there's got to be more to you than being a policeman."
"Not much."
"Well, what do you like to do,” said Cassandra patiently, "when you're not on duty?”
"I think I like having lunch with librarians," he said. "Or dinner. " It was the first thing he'd said that sounded awkward. He pushed away his bowl. "Do you mind if I smoke?" She shook her head, and he lit a cigarette. "I don't read much. I like to go to the movies, sometimes. I like to travel. I like to sail.”
"Are you separated, or divorced, or something?"
"Divorced.”
She felt considerable relief. "Why are you divorced?”
"We get moved around a lot. My wife finally got tired of it. I don't blame her. We were in Kamloops before I came here. We'd been there five years, and she'd started a little business, a boutique. She didn't want to give it up."
Cassandra waited, but he didn't go on. "Do you have any kids?”
"Two. They're in university now. In Calgary. That's where their grandparents live. My ex-wife's parents."
Cassandra looked out over the water. She wondered why his children hadn't wanted to go to university in Vancouver, where they could be near their father. "Where did you learn to sail?" she said.
"On Lake Ontario. That's where I grew up. Toronto.”
"What kind of a policeman are you? You don't give out traffic tickets and things like that, do you?"
"No.” He smiled again. "This is my detachment. Sechelt. I do whatever comes along."
"If this is your detachment," she said hesitatingly, "then you must be involved in that awful thing, that poor old Mr. Burke."
"Yeah."
"The man who found the body—he's a friend of mine.”
"George Wilcox?"
"He comes into the library a lot. We've become friends.”
She felt an uneasy sense of caution. "He was quite upset, I think."
"I'm sure he was.”
She finished her lunch in silence. He doesn't talk about his work, she thought. She wondered if this was because she was a stranger to him, or if he hadn't even talked about it with his wife. She'd read somewhere that a lot of cops-police officers, she corrected herself—were like that.
Over coffee they discussed the Sunshine Coast, and Vancouver, and sailing. Cassandra kept trying to imagine him brandishing a revolver and shouting, "Stop in the name of the law!” He looked a bit old to be doing that sort of thing, actually. Maybe he just did administrative work and delegated all the other stuff.
"How many ads have you answered?" she asked him.
"Oh, two or three. Maybe four.”
She wanted to ask how successful these other meetings had been. "Have you put in an ad of your own?" she said instead.
"No."
"Are you going to?"
"I don't think so.”
"You'd get more replies than I have," said Cassandra glumly. "There are hordes of women out there, just hordes of them.”
"Yeah,” said Alberg, "but they all want to get married.”
Cassandra looked at him with interest. "Oh, do they?" she said casually. She glanced at her watch. "My God, I've got to get back to work.”
"Me too," said Alberg. He put his cigarettes and lighter in his pocket and laid money on top of the bill. He got up and pulled back Cassandra's chair for her.
Outside the restaurant he walked her to her car. "How long have you had this thing?" he said, looking critically at the Hornet.
"All its life. Nine years." She put an affectionate hand on its hood.
"I'd like to see you again," he said. "But I won't call you if you've already made up your mind that you don't want to see me.”
Cassandra lowered her head to fish her sunglasses from her purse. "Go ahead and call," she said carelessly.
He opened the door for her. "You ought to lock it, you know."
"I ought to exercise, too, and eat more salads." She climbed in and slammed the door.
"Thank you," said Alberg through the window. "I enjoyed myself.”
"Are you off duty?" said Cassandra. "Is that why you're wearing that suit? If you don't mind my asking.”
"I don't mind your asking.
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