Spider - Michael Morley [20]
Jack seemed oblivious to her attentions, but had missed nothing. He picked up his wine glass again, settled into a chair opposite her, and went on: ‘I guess Massimo sent you for three reasons. Firstly, you’re no doubt a very good police officer and he respects your judgement. Secondly, he wants you to find out whether I’m up to the job that you need help on, or whether I’m really just a cabbage and it would be a waste of time asking me.’
Orsetta looked confused. ‘How could you be a cabbage? This is a vegetable, no?’
Jack laughed. ‘Yes, it is. It’s a figure of speech, an expression we use. Not a very kind one actually; it means someone’s mentally no more use than a vegetable.’
‘Aaah,’ said Orsetta, deciding to use the humour of the moment to be honest. ‘Then yes, I suspect you are right. But I think my boss has also your best interests at heart. He wanted me to make sure that a case like this wouldn’t be too unpleasant for you. He knows what you’ve been through, and he has only the greatest of respect for you.’
Jack gave her a thin smile of acknowledgement. He knew Massimo had to be careful about asking for his help, and guessed he would have been similarly cautious if their roles had been reversed. ‘And I suspect the third reason is that, if you think I’m up to it, then he knows you will have to persuade me to help out, because let’s face it, I need this kind of gig about as much as a reformed alcoholic needs a free crate of bourbon.’
‘And are you persuadable?’ asked Orsetta.
Jack didn’t reply. He took another hit of wine and felt himself unwinding. He was glad to have company tonight, even if it was dangerously charming company.
‘Maybe not?’ continued Orsetta. ‘That pause tells me you’re a think first, reflect a while and then speak kind of person. Text-book introvert, with detached objective reasoning and logic. Am I right?’
Jack nearly spat out his drink. He couldn’t believe it; the damn woman was profiling him. ‘You running a Myers Briggs on me?’ he asked, smiling playfully.
She sipped her wine and felt her pulse quicken. ‘I bet an MBTI would place you more in the Perceiving category than the Judging one.’
‘How so?’ He sat down on the bed deliberately close to her, close enough to make most women shuffle back and claim some space. Orsetta didn’t budge an inch.
‘You switched your plans at the last minute, decided to stay in town. Perceivers are – let me remember – “comfortable moving into action, able to plan on the go.” Am I right?’
This was home turf for Jack and he effortlessly took control of the conversation. ‘Personality tests are never entirely accurate. Rorschach can help in some cases, Holland Codes has a value, as do the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory and all the rest of them, but they’re not much fun and don’t really open up the secrets of your imagination.’
‘Imagination,’ Orsetta echoed flirtatiously. ‘Now I’m fascinated. Tell me what you believe goes on in my imagination.’
Jack put his glass down. ‘Indulge me for a moment. Close your eyes and clear your head. You’re walking somewhere nice, in some woods somewhere, on your own –’
‘I wouldn’t be,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ve worked too many cases to walk in woods on my own.’
‘These are safe woods. Trust me, you can go there.’ He waited for her to close her eyes. ‘Now, picture yourself walking through them. Look around you, what season of the year do you think it is?’
‘I can see tall trees,’ she said, her never still hands shaping them in the space in front of her. ‘It’s summer, they’re big evergreens stretching to the sky. There’s light shining through the leaves and branches, a strong smell of pine. I can hear animals scurrying around and there’s a small bird flying in and out of the trees. It feels lovely, I like it here.’
Jack studied her; he noticed the way she relaxed, happy to escape from the horrors of the case files that he was sure had gradually hardened her. ‘Are you