The Match (Wilde, #2)(81)
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“So maybe we should change the laws, make it clear that it’s open season on Nazis and Klansmen.”
“You’re cute when you try to debate me,” Hester said. “But no, that’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m okay with how the laws are written now.”
“But the laws don’t allow for what Richard Levine did.”
Hester tilted her head to the right. “But don’t they? We’ll see, I guess. The current system may indeed work and set my client free. The current system may have the elasticity to stretch and make this right.”
“And if it doesn’t? If the jury comes back with a guilty verdict?”
Hester shrugged. “Then the system has spoken.”
“So the system is always right?”
“No, the system may not be as elastic as I think it should be. At least, not with this jury. Not with the defense I made. I believe in the system. I also believe it’s okay to kill Nazis. Why do you keep thinking those are contradictory?”
He smiled. “I love your brain, you know.”
“I love yours too, though not as much as your bod.”
“As it should be,” Oren said.
She rested her head on his chest. “So where should we go on vacation?”
“The Caribbean,” Oren said.
“You like the warm weather?”
“I like the idea of you in a bikini.”
“Fresh.” Hester couldn’t help but blush. “I haven’t worn a bikini since the end of the Carter Administration.”
“Another victim of Reaganomics,” Oren said.
Hester put her head on his shoulder. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“Part of me was ready to end it,” she said.
Oren said nothing.
“As much as I adore you, my job will always come first. Your telling other police officers that Wilde found the body…”
“Unconscionable,” Oren said.
“So why did you do it?”
“Because I wanted to catch a cop killer. Because I’m stupid sometimes. Because I’m a small-town police chief who never worked on a homicide and maybe I let my pride get ahead of me.”
“A chance to be a big man?”
Oren cringed. “Yes.”
“You used your own justifications,” she said.
“Doesn’t make what I did right.”
“No.”
“So why are you forgiving me?”
Hester shrugged. “The system has elasticity. So do I.”
“Makes sense.”
“I also don’t want to lose you. We all self-rationalize. You, me, Richard Levine. The question is, Is the system elastic enough to handle it?”
“And in this case?”
“With me, it’s okay.”
“Oh, good.”
“With Wilde, I’m not so sure. He doesn’t trust easily.”
“I know,” Oren said. “I’ll try to make it up to him.”
Hester did not think he could, but she kept that thought to herself.
“Another body has been found,” Oren said. “Shot by the same gun.”
“Whoa. Is Wilde a suspect?”
“No. The man was shot in Delaware at around the same time Wilde was under surveillance in New York City. He’s totally in the clear.”
“Good.” Hester rose up and took a sip of wine. “In that case, is it okay if we don’t talk about it tonight?”
“More than okay.”
“I just want to rest.”
“Okay.”
“Or maybe neck,” Hester said.
Oren smiled. “That might lead to other things.”
She put down the glass and reached for him. “It might at that.”
“I thought you just wanted to rest.”
Hester shrugged. “The system may have elasticity.”
Chapter
Thirty-Five
The caller ID read “PETER BENNETT.”
“My name is Chris,” the voice said.
“That’s not the name on here.”
“I know. I wanted to get your attention.”
“How did you get my number?”
“It’s not relevant. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Peter Bennett, Katherine Frole, Henry McAndrews, Martin Spirow.”
The man named Chris waited for a response. Wilde did not give him one.
“I hope that’s all,” Chris said, “though there will certainly be more if we don’t act.”
“Who are you?”
“I told you. My name is Chris.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“The real question is, Why should I trust you? I’m the one with a lot to lose here. We need to meet.”
“Where are you calling me from?”
“Look out the front window.”
“What?”
“You’re in the Crimstein house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Look at the front yard.”
Wilde moved toward the picture window by the door. He gazed out into the night. A thin man stood silhouetted by the streetlamp. He lifted his arm and waved to Wilde.