The Girl in the Green Raincoat_ A Novel - Laura Lippman [0]
in the
Green Raincoat
LAURA LIPPMAN
For Niki, Claire, Logan, and Nash
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
From Laura Lippman
Never Steal Anything Small
About the Author
By Laura Lippman
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
I am being held hostage,” Tess Monaghan whispered into her iPhone. “By a terrorist. The agenda is unclear, the demands vague, but she’s prepared to hold me here for at least two months. Twelve weeks or eighteen years, depending on how you look at it.”
“Nice way to talk about our future child,” said her boyfriend, Crow, tucking a quilt around her, although it was a typical early autumn Baltimore, not at all chilly. The quilt was a gift from Crow’s mother, an artist with an exceptional eye, which made up for her lapses when it came to the nickname she had allowed her only son to keep into adulthood. Under normal circumstances Tess would have been thrilled by this updated version of a Geese-in-Flight, rendered in her favorite colors: muted greens and golds chosen to complement the recently winterized sun porch. But it was another reminder of her captivity, no different from an orange jumpsuit.
All summer long she had looked forward to sitting in this addition to her bungalow, watching the leaves change, warming her back at the two-faced fireplace connected to the living room. But that anticipation had been based on her belief that she would be able to leave the room when she wanted, not forced to lie here for days on end, under strict instructions to move as little as possible. Much to her horror, there had even been a discussion of bedpans, and her well-intentioned aunt had sent her an antique chamber pot. The doctor told Tess she could avoid that indignity, except perhaps at night. “As long as you don’t overdo it,” she added. Overdo a slow waddle to the bathroom! This made no sense to Tess. Raucous fun could be overdone. Drinking could be overdone. High-fat food could be overdone, even exercise. But a ten-foot walk to the bathroom?
“Bring wine,” she hissed into the phone. “And Matthew’s pizza. Those lima beans with feta cheese from Mezze. Sopa-pillas from Golden West. Hurry!”
Crow took the phone from her gently. Oh, he was forever gentle, wasn’t he, except when his sperm was storming the gates of one’s diaphragm, eluding spermicide and wiggling its way into the winner’s circle, a 99-to-1 long shot that drilled into her unsuspecting egg, creating the truculent would-be person who now had her pinned to this wicker chaise longue.
“You’re welcome to visit,” he told her oldest and best friend, Whitney Talbot. “And she’s actually allowed to have some salt, within normal limits. She’s joking about the wine.”
“I am not! If this state weren’t so backward, I could buy wine on the Internet. Stupid protectionist liquor lobby. I bet Eddie’s will deliver, if it comes to that.”
“They probably would,” Crow agreed, bidding Whitney goodbye and placing the iPhone on the stack of books that Tess’s aunt had sent with the chamber pot, trying to anticipate all her moods and whims. “But I’ve already spoken to them about our situation and your dietary requirements for the next ten weeks. Meanwhile, watch your tone. Even mock outrage can goose your blood pressure. In fact—”
He took the cuff out. Tess already hated the sight of it. “Most expensive bracelet I’ve ever owned,” she muttered as he fitted it over her left bicep, and although the device was only eighty-nine dollars, this was a literal truth. That eighty-nine dollars was the first of many expenses, she now realized, that would not be covered by the modest “group health insurance” she had set up for her company. She would need a family plan, which cost four times as much, and even then there might be more unanticipated expenses that could drain their savings. She willed herself to calm down as the cuff swelled and deflated. But being angry was preferable to being