“I’m running from the law.” I grinned.
“Murder I assume?”
“Murder, armed robbery, credit card fraud...”
“So a typical weekend in Brooklyn.”
“Well, we do get brunch first.”
He continued to look at me, and I knew he was waiting for a real answer.
“I guess…I mean…it just seemed like I needed a change. Not that everything isn’t perfect at home. You Canadians can tell that by watching our news.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Honestly, I thought about moving to the States from time to time. I used to love Westerns as a kid. That’s what I’m hoping to do later this summer, maybe. Go there for a trip. Arizona, Wyoming…”
“You’re going to go to Arizona in August?”
“I know it’ll be hot.”
“And full of rich retirees and golf courses.”
“Well, don’t ruin the surprise.”
“Some of it is pretty,” I said. “But in August?”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
I swallowed a joke about how he looked, because I couldn’t think of one that didn’t reveal anything. We stopped for donuts and then drove down the coast to Witless Bay, which was a spectacular stretch of the coastline with an ecological reserve that was mostly accessible by boat.
“The best views can be seen by boat,” Paul said. “So I hope you’re ready for a boat trip.”
“I get kind of queasy on boats.”
“Oh, no, really? You should have said something.”
“I’m a terrible traveler. Carsickness, too. But I’ll give it a try. I should be alright if it’s not too choppy.”
Half an hour later, Paul and I were on a two-hour boat trip around the bay on a small tourist boat with about twenty other puffin enthusiasts. He insisted on buying the tickets, and I tried hard to studiously ignore that I was effectively on a date with an attractive man who was recently divorced, according to Lisette’s intel.
“So you’re not married or anything, I take it?” I finally asked as we were leaning over the railing together.
“No,” Paul said to the horizon. “Divorced. Six months ago. I’m surprised Lisette didn’t tell you.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Because Lisette likes to celebrate the demise of my marriage. They weren’t close. My wife left me for a TV producer from who came through town.”
“Oh, no.”
Paul shrugged. “He was in town for two months doing a show for the CBC, and she was working on it as a freelance editor and uh…fell for him. Picked up and moved to Vancouver. So…”
“So you can’t watch the CBC with quite as much enthusiasm.”
He laughed a little. “And how about you? No husband either?”
“No husband, no boyfriend.”
“That’s who you murdered, presumably, before fleeing the States.”
