The Most Dangerous Thing - Laura Lippman [105]
Of course, Tim was tough-skinned, a good foil. Go-Go was so crazed that a statement like that wouldn’t land as a joke. And Tim has never doubted it was a joke. His old man had his moments, dry and inappropriate as his humor might have been. If his father had been around for the Twitter generation, he definitely could have been the hero of Shit My Dad Says. He was anti-PC before there was PC.
Sean, for all his confidence, was a sensitive little shit, could not stand for the joke to be on him. So it fell to Tim to be the butt of most family punch lines. Tim and Doris, to be fair. They all ganged up on her. She was the odd woman out, the spokeswoman for cleanliness and sanity and don’t-play-ball-in-the-house. Tim loves his daughters, but he wouldn’t have minded one son, if only so that there would be someone in the household he actually understood on a regular basis.
Gwen breezes through the door and catches almost everyone’s gaze, especially the younger homicide cop, a total hound of a guy. Tim has logged a lot of hours in courthouse corridors, passing time by listening to this guy’s exploits, as his sergeant likes to call the guy’s one-night stands. “Tell us about your latest exploit.”
The stories were funnier before Tim’s daughters started growing up.
There is a moment of awkwardness when Tim and Gwen greet each other. At Go-Go’s funeral, an embrace had been the proper thing, but here—she starts to shake his hand, then almost kisses his cheek, only to pull back, lets him kiss her cheek.
“Not a very diet-friendly menu,” she says, studying the laminated place mats.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Tim says. If anything, he thinks that she should put on a few pounds. Her slenderness looks a little rough, the result of stress. He doesn’t think Gwen was really meant to be thin.
“I’ve been worrying about my weight for most of my life. If I stop, I won’t know what to do with myself. Cottage cheese and a pear! I love that. Did I enter a time machine?”
Tim knows she’s making fun of the diner, not him, yet he feels a little mocked. So it’s not tapas or sushi, or whatever the fuck she eats most days. It’s good, honest food.
“What the hell, I’ll have an open-face turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes, gravy, and a fountain Coke. What’s the point of coming to a diner if one doesn’t eat diner food? Seize the day. One never knows—” Her voice trails off, and Tim doesn’t have to ask where her train of thought is headed.
“What’s the point?” he echoes. “And what’s the point of this meeting? You promised it wasn’t work related. You know my office doesn’t do the glory hog thing. I’m not going to talk about my current case.”
“No, although if you did want to talk—” She gives him a mischievous smile. “It is awfully interesting. If you ever do decide to spill the beans, I expect you to honor your old friend with the story.”
“Are we old friends, or once-upon-a-time friends? We haven’t really stayed in touch.”
Gwen shrugs. “When you’re friends as kids, it never really ends, does it?”
“Sure it does. Childhood friendships end all the time. I see it with my girls. Friendships end, romances end, half of all marriages end. Family’s the only thing that’s forever, and I’m not even sure about that sometimes.”
“I’m here about family, actually. Your family.” She studies the photo of the open-face sandwich on the menu, as if she might not recognize it when it arrives. “Did you know that a private investigator tried to get in touch with Go-Go earlier this year?”
Tim, by dint of his profession, is used to treating conversations as poker games. Surprised by Gwen’s information, he automatically reverts to state’s attorney’s mode, guarding his emotions. “Where did you hear that?” It’s a calculated phrase. He’s not admitting that Gwen knows something he doesn’t and he wants to find out more before he commits himself.
“I ran into his ex-wife, and she told me. It’s why she threw him out. A PI kept calling, saying she needed to talk to him, that someone from his past needed him. But he wouldn