Violets Are Blue - James Patterson [38]
Questions you should be asking about me:
Are my parents alive? Answer: Yes and no.
Was I ever married? Answer: Yes.
Any siblings? Answer: Oh, absolutely. Nota bene.
If I’m married, do I have any children? Answer: Two genuine American beauties. I saw that movie, by the way. Loved Kevin Spacey. Adored him.
And am I attractive, or physically flawed in some minor way? Answer: Yes and yes!
Now, do the homework! Draw the love and the hate triangles in my life, Dr. You’re in the triangles, of course. So is your family — Nana, Damon, Jannie, and Alex Jr. Everything you care about and think that you stand for is right there in those beautiful triangles, wrapped up in my obsessions.
So unravel it, before it’s too late for both of us. Not to mention everybody you care about in the world.
I’m right outside your house on Fifth Street, and it would be so easy to barge inside right now. It would have been easy to kill you and the family at the Smithsonian, the “Smitty,” as your daughter calls it.
But that would be too easy, too small, and, as I’ve been trying to tell you —
The phone in the Mastermind’s hand was ringing, calling, reaching out to touch somebody. He patiently let it continue.
Finally, Cross picked up.
“I have a grandiose sense of self-importance,” the Mastermind said.
Chapter 39
I SETTLED back into my duties in Washington, where I took some abuse from my detective pals about how much I seemed to enjoy working with the Federal Bureau lately. They didn’t know that I had been approached about becoming an FBI agent and was actually thinking it over. But I was still drawn to the mean streets of D.C.
I had a decent week on the job, and when another Friday rolled around, I also had a date. It struck me a long time ago that the best thing that ever happened to me was being married to Maria and having two great kids with her. It’s not an easy thing to play the dating game at any age, especially when you have kids, but I was committed to it. I definitely wanted to be in love again if I could, to settle down, to change my life. I suppose that most people do.
Occasionally, I would hear my aunts say, “Poor Alex, he doesn’t have anyone to love, does he? He’s all alone, poor baby.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Poor Alex, my butt. I have Damon, Jannie, and little Alex. I also have Nana. And I have lots of good friends in Washington. I make friends easily — like Jamilla Hughes. So far, I haven’t had trouble getting a date either. So far.
Macy Francis and I had known each other since we were little kids growing up in the neighborhood. Macy went on to get a couple of degrees in English and education at Howard and Georgetown. I went to Georgetown, then Johns Hopkins for my doctorate in psychology.
About a year ago, Macy returned to the Washington area to teach English lit at Georgetown. We met again at one of Sampson’s parties. We talked for an hour or so that night, and I found that I still liked her. We agreed to get together again soon.
I called Macy when I got home from my bust of a trip to California. We met at the 1789 Restaurant for drinks and maybe dinner. Macy’s choice. It was near her place in Georgetown.
The restaurant is in a Federal-style town house at Thirty-sixth and Prospect. I got there first, but Macy arrived a few minutes later. She came up, gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek before we sat down in the cozy pub. I liked the fleeting touch of her lips, the smell of a citrus fragrance on her neck. She had on a lilac turtleneck sweater — sleeveless — a black skirt that lightly hugged her, suede sling-back heels. She had small diamond studs in her ears.
As far back as I can remember, Macy had always dressed well. She’d always looked nice, and I guess I had always noticed.
“You know, I’ll tell you a secret, Alex,” Macy said once we had ordered glasses of wine. “I saw you at John Sampson’s party and I thought to myself, Alex Cross looks better than he ever did. I’m sorry, but that’s what went buzzing through my head.”
We both laughed. Her teeth were even and shiny white. Her brown