Hangman

“I can count the number of times I’ve lost my temper on one hand. Look, I know she’s scared, but she doesn’t have to be. It was just…” As he started to get up from the couch, Decker waved the gun in his face. He sat back down. “Can I see my wife, please?”

“At least, this time you said please.” Decker stared at him. “Let me ask you a couple of theoretical questions. What if she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“She wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if she didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you over the phone. That would give you time to plan something dangerous and probably stupid.”

“Is that what she said?” Donatti looked up.

“How about if I ask the questions?”

“I’m not planning anything. I was an idiot. It won’t happen again. Just let me see my wife, okay.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if she asks for a divorce?”

“Don’t know.” Donatti kneaded his hands together. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“It would piss you off, right?”

“Probably.”

“What would you do?”

“Nothing with you around.” His eyes finally sparked life. “Decker, she’s not going to ask me for a divorce—at least not now—because, first and foremost, I’ve got enough money to engage her in a very expensive and protracted legal battle for Gabe. It would be easier for her just to wait me out until he’s eighteen, and Terry is nothing if not practical. I’ve got another three and a half years before I have to confront this issue. I’d like to see Terry now.”

He was panting. Decker said, “Another Scotch?”

“No.” Donatti shook his head. “I’m fine.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m ready when you are.”

Decker gave him a hard look. “I’ll be watching your every move.”

“Fine. I won’t move. My butt is glued to the chair. Can we get on with it?”

There was no sense putting off the inevitable. Decker called out her name. He had placed Terry’s chair to the side so he had a clear path from the barrel of his gun to Donatti’s brain. Not that he really expected a shoot-’em-up, but Decker was a Boy Scout and a cop and always tried to be prepared. Terry had curled her legs under her long dress, but her posture was erect and regal. Again, she was sleeveless, her long tanned arms adorned with several bangles. Her eyes were on Donatti’s face even though he was the one who had trouble meeting her gaze.

“You look good,” he told her.

“Thank you.”

“How do you feel?”

“Okay.”

“How’s Gabe?”

“He’s fine.”

Donatti exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. Then he focused on her face. “What can I do for you?”

“Interesting question,” she told him. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He scratched his cheek. “I’ll do anything.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Before he could answer, she said, “I’m not ready to come back with you.”

Donatti folded his hands in his lap. “Okay. Are you ever going to be ready?”

“Possibly…probably. Just not now.”

“Okay.” Chris glanced at Decker. “Could we get a little privacy, please?”

“Not gonna happen.” Decker held up the flowers. “He brought you these.”

Terry glanced at the lilies. “I’ll call for a vase later.” To Chris, she said, “They’re lovely. Thank you.”

Donatti fidgeted. “So…when do you think…I mean how much longer do you want to stay here?”

“In California or here in the hotel?”

“I was thinking away from me, but yeah, how much longer are you going to be here, too.”

“I don’t know.”

“A month? Two months?”

“Longer than that.” She licked her lips.

“That’s getting a little on the expensive side. I mean, not that I’m begrudging you the money…”

“It is expensive,” Terry said. “I want to rent a house. Technically you’d be renting it. I saw one that I’d like. I’m just waiting for you to write the check.”

Decker was amazed at how confidently she spoke, daring him to deny her anything.

“Where?” Donatti asked.

“Beverly Hills. Where else?”

As she started to stand, Decker said, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m a little thirsty.”

“You sit back down. What would you like?”

“Pellegrino, no ice.”

“Not a problem. What about you, Chris?”

“Same.”