Claire Malloy - Poisoned Pins Part 2

I knew Debbie Anneas parents had been contacted by the police, but Iad promised to call them and I was a bit curious about their reaction. No one answered, nor did a mechanized voice suggest I leave a message at the sound of the beep. Resolving to remember to try later, I tucked the piece of paper with the number into my pocket.

The police were not usually brought in on cases in which the perpetrator shared the secret whistle with someone outside the sisterhood. Surely Debbie Anne knew that, I told myself as I dialed Peters office number. He was out, I was informed by a woman with a chilly voice, who subsequently declined to share the details of his destination or his estimated time of return. I left a message for him to call, waited the rest of the afternoon for him to do so, periodically tried Debbie Anneas home number with no success, and locked the store at seven.

I hesitated under the portico that had once protected ladies with bustles from rain when theyad debarked from the train and waited for their carriages. These days the ladies tended to wear jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts, and rarely bustled. Nor, frankly, did I, even during prosperous times when I could afford such behavior The beer garden was too rowdy for my taste on Sat.u.r.day evenings, and my apartment was apt to be occupied by a teenaged tragedienne whoad had all afternoon to drape the living room in black crepe and polish her performance for the final act. Unwilling to be subjected to it, I walked up the hill to Luanneas store to see if I could interest her in fajitas, cheese dip, and speculation.

The acloseda sign hung on the inside of the door, and the windows of her apartment above the store were dark. I couldnat remember if Luanne had mentioned plans for the evening, but it didnat much matter As I stood on the sidewalk, hands on my hips, frowning at my undeniably comely reflection while I debated what to do, I felt a twinge of sympathy for Debbie Anne Wray. How many nights had she been in the mood for food and chatter, only to be rebuffed by her so-called sisters? She had no place else to go, no one else on whom to rely.

I had my apartment, but I would be forced to listen to Caronas insufferable whines. The Book Depot was bleak and inhospitable after dark, inclined to creak as if trains of bygone days were racing by to the next abandoned station. If Peter were home, we could cuddle on the sofa and watch inane movies, but he might be occupied until all hours. It occurred to me that Iad insulated myself too well, and my insistence on self-reliance would reduce me to a half order of fajitas.

aHo, Mrs. Malloy,a called a familiar voice as a bicycle sailed down the sidewalk on what I felt was a collision course.

I shrank into the doorway and fluttered my fingers at my science fiction hippie. In honor of the weekend, head combed the crumbs out of his wispy beard and tied his ponytail with a relatively clean shoelace. His blue works.h.i.+rt was unsoiled, if also unironed. He braked in front of me and put a foot down to steady himself.

aYou ever find that copy of Bimbos?a he asked. Behind the smudged lenses of his gla.s.ses, his eyes sparkled, either from friendliness or from the recent inhalation of an illicit substance.

aNo, but I ordered one for you, and it should be here next week. Would you like to join me for fajitas and beer? My treat, naturally.a aIs this like a date?a aThis is like a dinnera I said firmly, although inwardly I was quivering like an adolescent at a junior high dance.

I was on the verge of withdrawing my offer and scurrying away when he nodded, and shortly thereafter I was perched on the back of his bike and we were zooming down the sidewalk.

Several hours later I emerged from the restaurant, satiated not only with food and beer but also with a heady conversation about the ma.n.u.script he was writing, well over a thousand pages already and still in the germinal stages of its plot. It was an alternative history that concerned the impact on our modern culture had Napoleon refused to us (as in U.S.) the eight-hundred-oddthousand square miles known as the Louisiana Territory.

I was pondering the convolutions of Nebras qu as I approached the Kappa Theta Eta house. It looked innocent, as if the tragedy of the previous evening had never taken place. Lights were on in the front room, and in Winkieas suite. With Debbie Anne still in hiding, only three occupants were left: Winkie, Pippa, and Rebecca. Pippa was threatening to leave for the summer, which meant Eleanor Vanderson might decide to close the house. For her, a coup daautorit, for me, a coup daclat.

I may have been smiling complacently when I saw a tiny light in a third-floor window. It blinked out, but after a moment, it appeared in another window, illuminating a construction-paper cat on the wall for a brief moment, and then again blinked out. I tried to convince myself Iad had one fajita too many, but when I spotted the light in yet a third room, I dismissed the heresy.

Someone was prowling on the third floor, moving through the rooms at the front of the house, apparently unimpeded by locks. And doing so stealthily, in that a person with a legitimate presence would find it more expedient to switch on the ceiling light fixture rather than risk stubbed toes and bruised s.h.i.+ns.

I had no idea what to do. I was barely able to prevent myself from clasping my hands together and fluttering my eyelashes in the timeless tradition of gothic heroines. I had options, but racing upstairs to confront the prowler was not high on the list. There were three people living in the house; one of them might have been doing some sort of ritualistic room check, as required by National. Or Debbie Anne might have been hiding up there since the previous night, I told myself slowly. The police had been told no one currently lived on the second or third floor, and therefore might have searched in a perfunctory manner, ascertaining only that lights were off and doors were locked. If shead hidden until they left, she could be staying in her old bedroom and using the communal pay telephone in the hall. And creeping from room to room in search of clean towels or pink paper cats.

As I congratulated myself on the theory, a face appeared in a window. It was not Debbie Anne Wray, unless shead shaved her head and put wadded cotton in her cheeks. I wasnat completely sure, but the man bore a remarkable resemblance to the one whoad driven up to the house the previous evening, parked for a minute, and left. He jerked away from the window so abruptly that I a.s.sumed head seen me staring at him from the sidewalk.

I forced myself to shrug and stroll toward my apartment, seemingly unconcerned by his presence on the third floor I was unable to whistle, but I made every effort to look as if I might at any moment. Only when I was in the foyer of my duplex did I go storming up the stairs, gasping in a most unattractive fas.h.i.+on. I pounded on the front door and yelled, aCaron! Itas an emergency! Hurry up!a Iad dumped the contents of my purse on the floor and was pawing through the litter for my key when the door opened. aMother,a Caron said, her lip curled in distaste, awhat on earth are you doing?a I told her to pick up everything, hurried around her, and dialed the fateful three-digit number aThereas a prowler in the Kappa Theta Eta house!a I said. aItas on Campus Boulevard near the corner of-a aYouall have to call campus security, maaam. Itas in their jurisdiction.a aI donat have time to-a I stopped, lowered my brow, and growled, aGive me the number.a After Iad reported the problem to the campus police, I banged down the receiver and nearly knocked Caron down on my way to my bedroom window, where I did my best to watch the front and side yards for any sign of the prowler aAre you having a hot flash?a Caron asked from the doorway. aMost women donat have them until after the age of fifty, but itas not totally unheard of in medical circles. You can look forward to osteoporosis, urinary incontinence, and my favorite, genital atrophy.a aWill you shut up!a I said without turning.

aIrritability is another symptom, you know. Watch out if the doctor puts you on a combination of estrogen and androgen. You may feel great, but side effects include hirsutism and acne. You might turn into a spotty troglodyte.a This time I tried a bit more vigorously to knock her down as I went past her, through the living room, and downstairs to my porch to await the campus police. My two old chums pulled up within minutes, and I trotted across the yard and caught up with them as they headed for the Kappa house.

aAnother prowler, Mrs. Malloy?a said Officer Terrance. aI saw a man in that room.a I pointed at the pertinent window, which was black and blank, and then explained the progression of the flashlight and tried to describe the face Iad seen in the window. All I could do was hope it sounded less preposterous to them than it did to me.

He and Officer Michaels exchanged skeptical looks, but continued across the porch to the door. I followed them, praying that the delay hadnat resulted in ma.s.s murder in the lounge, and was relieved when Winkie opened the door with a puzzled frown rather than a b.l.o.o.d.y gurgle.

aYour neighbor here reported another prowler,a said Terrance. aThis time, according to her, heas up on the third floor, carrying a flashlight and-a aMen are not allowed on the third floor,a Winkie said automatically, then put her hand to her mouth and stepped back. aDonat just stand there-go find him and bring him down here!a She looked so small and frightened that I edged past the policemen and put my arm around her aYou need to give them the keys to all the bedrooms and storage rooms, Winkie,a I said. aUntil weare sure heas not hiding up there, youare not safe. Where are the girls?a aThey went out together to see a movie.a She glanced at the dark staircase. aHow could someone be up there? I made quite sure the back door was locked, and Iave had my door open all evening, waiting for Pippa and Rebecca to return just to rea.s.sure myself that they were safe. No one came through the front doora aThe keys, maaam?a Terrence said impatiently.

aYes, of course, but Iall have to accompany you. Even with no girls in residence, I cannot.. .a She went into her suite and returned with the key ring. The keys clinked and her voice was thin and uneven as she said, aWell, then, shall we go upstairs, gentlemen?a I trailed along, telling myself I was doing so to give moral support to Winkie. She switched on the lights as we came to the third-floor hall, then began unlocking doors and waiting as the officers searched each room. The storerooms that were used for luggage were empty, as were the pink-tiled bathrooms and the shower stalls. The bedrooms were incredibly small, some jammed with as many as three or four bunk beds, all with built-in furniture, well-worn textbooks, electronics equipment, oddments that had been overlooked during frenzied departures, a plethora of construction-paper cats, and the aura of a shabby hotel that had seen way too many better days.

After the final room had been searched, we repeated the process on the second floor, found nothing more intriguing than a solitary mouse, and returned to the first floor.

aWead better check the bas.e.m.e.nt,a I said.

Winkie stiffened. aThis is the door that leads to the bas.e.m.e.nt,a she said as she gestured at a door that had been painted pink and was almost invisible. aThere is only one key, and it is in my possession at all times. Furthermore, I have a clear view of the door from the rocking chair in my living room. I promise you that no one can go down there without my knowledge.a Officer Terrance glanced at me, then said, aIf there was a prowler, heas gone now. Everythingas okay, but I would like to say itas not wise to allow the girls to leave things in their rooms all summer Youare asking for trouble.a aNormally, we donat allow it, but since the house is occupied this summer, I didnat insist they remove all their belongings. I didnat realize how many of the girls have computers these days. When I was in school, we shared a portable typewritera aWeave had a lot of thefts on the campus this month,a he said. aNot just in the dorms and houses, but in the departments, cla.s.srooms, maintenance sheds, you name it.a aBetter get your exterior locks rekeyed,a added Michaels.

aI did exactly that three days ago, after Debbie Anne and our house corps president were attacked outside the house. Thereas no way this man could have a key unless . .

aUnless he has Debbie Anneas,a I finished for her aOh, my goodness,a she gasped. aThen weare not safe here! This man could murder us in our beds! My G.o.d, Claire, Iam responsible for the welfare of the girls.a The look they exchanged this time was weary, leaving me to be skeptical as Terrance said, aWeall patrol the house every hour If there was a man on the third floor, he knows he was seen and heas long gone. Besides, you have Ms. Malloy here to keep a surveillance on your house, night and day.a They left, but Winkie seemed so distraught that I offered to stay with her until Pippa and Rebecca returned. I was leery of accepting her invitation for tea in her suite, but she a.s.sured me that Katie was curled up on her little bed. I called my apartment to let Caron know what I was doing, but the line was busy and I doubted shead be overcome with worry about someone who insisted on wearing an inappropriate palette.

aDebbie Anne called me early this afternoon,a I said when we were settled with tea in her suite. aShe wanted me to call her mothera aShe called you? Are you and her mother acquainted in some way?a aDebbie Anneas afraid her motheras telephone line has been tapped by the authorities and they could trace her call.a aWhere is she?a aShe wouldnat tell me. The odd thing is that she spoke as if she were unaware of Jeanas death.a I could have added more, but I wanted to a.s.sess Winkieas reaction to each tidbit.

aBut how could she not be? It was her car, and she must have been driving. Rebecca borrows Pippaas car on occasion, and Iave let Jean use mine when hers was in the shop, but I can hardly imagine anyone wanting to borrow Debbie Anneas old clunker. Last fall some of the girls signed a pet.i.tion to forbid her from parking it in front of the house. They felt that it made the house look disreputable, as if we were on the verge of putting rusty pickup trucks on concrete blocks, scattering broken appliances in the yard, and raising farm animals. Even though I ordered them to forget such foolish sn.o.bbery, Debbie Anne cried for days.a aUnless sheas a skillful actress, she doesnat know what happened,a I said. aWhen I first saw the flashlight on the third floor, I wondered if she was hiding up there. But it was a man, the same one who parked briefly in front of the house last night while the police were here. Heas short and plump, with a round white face and a basically bald head. Does he sound like anyone you know?a aAnd he was on the third floor tonight?a Without waiting for an answer Winkie went into her kitchen, opened and closed the refrigerator, and returned with the decanter and two winegla.s.ses. aThis has been too much- all the excitement, the police, the ambulance, prowlers in every nook and cranny. Will you join me?a aYes, thank you,a I said as I watched her slosh wine into the gla.s.ses. Shead withdrawn her emotions and was the epitome of indecipherable blandness, but it was clear she had a good idea of the ident.i.ty of the man Iad described. And wasnat going to tell me. aEven if this mysterious mana-I gave the phrase a bit of emphasis-ahad access to Debbie Anneas house key, he couldnat have used it to open bedroom doors, could he? Theyare all keyed differently.a She handed me a gla.s.s and sat down in the rocking chair aYes, they are. Each girl has two keys-one for the exterior locks and one for her bedroom. It doesnat make any sense, and Iam beginning to wonder if you might have seen a reflection in the window, perhaps from a car driving through the campus. As for this face, it was nothing more than the man in the moon s.h.i.+ning back at you. You did say youad been drinking beer, dear.a I took a deep swallow of wine, and when I could trust myselt said, aSo I did, and in any case, it wasnat Debbie Anne. Do you have any idea where she could be hiding? Does she have any friends from her hometown wh.o.a.re going to summer school? Is there a professor she might have gone to?a aThe police asked me those questions last night, and all I could say was that we have sixty-seven girls in the house, and I cannot keep track of their friends and confidantes. On the rare weekends when there were no pledge activities, Debbie Anne went home. The pledges are strongly encouraged to involve themselves in Kappa projects in order to strengthen the bonds of sisterhood in antic.i.p.ation of initiation. Jean was the pledge trainer last year, and she did a marvelous job. She organized picnics, treasure hunts, outings to rest homes and child-care centers, parties with fraternity pledge cla.s.ses, all sorts of things. I canat remember when a pledge cla.s.s has been so busy.a It sounded more like isolation to me, an attempt to erase or at least minimalize their individual personalities and mold them into genuine Kappa material. All that enforced togetherness would have driven me into the nearest built-in closet. Iad endured two years in a dormitory, but Iad done so at a civilized distance, eschewing floor meetings and popcorn parties, and moved into an apartment as soon as it was permitted by the in Iota parentis policy of the college.

The squeaks of the rocker were barely perceptible as Winkie gazed at the wall above my head. Her eyes darted not from flock to flock, but from thought to thought, as if she were filling in a crossword puzzle in her mind.

As tempting as it was, I reminded myself I could not shake her until she relented and told me what she suspected. aDebbie Anne said something else that troubles me,a I said conversationally. aNot only was she unaware of Jeanas death, she seemed frightened by the idea that Jean might accuse her of something that would end in arrest.a aJean? I find that impossible to believe. Jean was one of the few girls who never came home drunk, never failed to sign out for the weekend, never was late for our Monday-night dinners, never skipped a chapter meeting or a house meeting. She was so very responsible, unlike Debbie Anne, who more often than not claimed shead lost track of the time or had a flat tire or some silly excuse.a She finished her wine, refilled her gla.s.s, and sat back to regard me with the smile of a used-car salesman whoad just closed a deal. aJean Hall was a girl of impeccable character and breeding. No one ever so much as breathed a word against her.a But someone did run her down in the alley, I considered mentioning, but kept it to myself. Winkie was not going to offer me anything that might explain Debbie Anneas slightly incoherent avowal that Jean had coerced her into something illegal. Girls of impeccable character and breeding didnat do that sort of thing; they simply became Kappa Theta Etas.

The doorbell rang. Winkie patted my shoulder as she went past me and out to the foyer to open the door. aWhy, Eleanor,a she said, awhatever brings you here at this hour?a aIam so worried about all this, and about you and the girls, and even little Katie. I was at a charity bridge party all afternoon, and this evening at a dreary reception for a faculty candidate. I wanted to stop by and find out if the police have made any progress.a Winkie remained in the doorway, smiling politely at her guest but managing to shoot a quick-and noticeably panicked-look in my direction. I grabbed the decanter and gla.s.ses and took them into the kitchen, and was relaxed on the sofa by the time Winkie and Eleanor came into the suite.

aClaire,a Eleanor murmured with a gracious nod. aHow nice of you to keep Winkie company.~a aShe seemed nervous,a I said with an equally gracious nod, aand Pippa and Rebecca are out.a Eleanor accepted a cup of tea from Winkie. aHas Debbie Anne come back? I heard on the morning news that the car is registered to her parents and that shead obtained a campus parking permit. It pains me to say it, but the evidence is certainly mounting up against her. I wish I knew how to help her, but we donat even know where she is or how to a.s.sure her that.., we want to get this settled as soon as possible. How terrible for her to be alone at this time, no doubt terrified of what will happen to hera I waited for Winkie to mention the call Iad had, but all she said was, aI was just telling Claire what a wonderful girl Jean was, how enthusiastic and energetic. Some of the pledges must have wondered if she was a drill sergeant, considering how busy she kept them.a aYes, indeed,a Eleanor said in a strained voice.

aAnd she herself was always so busy,a Winkie continued. aWith her zealous dedication to cla.s.ses and to house activities, it was a miracle that she found time for a social life. I spoke to her about it, suggesting that she relax and try to enjoy her senior year, but she a.s.sured me that she was enjoying it very much.a aI hope as much as youave enjoyed the year, dear Winkie. All your responsibilities must exhaust you.a I felt as if I were watching them toss a hand grenade back and forth. Either the room was oppressively warm or they were filling it with inarticulated anger along with their sugary words and thin, meaningless smiles.

Eleanor unexpectedly lobbed the grenade to me. aWinkieas on call day and night, and as the housemother, she must have a reputation and demeanor above reproach. Iam afraid I myself would find it a relentless burden. Donat you agree?a aOh, yes,a I said, fingering the metaphorical pin and discovering it was loose. aIad hate to face life without an occasional scotch or a lovely Sunday morning in my shabbiest bathrobe and bare feet.a I thought Iad pa.s.sed it to Winkie, but it ended up in Eleanoras manicured fingers. aI understand you have a relations.h.i.+p with that handsome police lieutenant who was here last night. Rosen, isnat it?a She laughed as I opened my mouth to protest. aFarbervilleas a small town, Claire, and youave gained some notoriety with your involvement in those mysterious cases.a To Winkie, she added, aOur neighbor is a renowned amateur sleuth, which explains why she was so quick and clever when that awful man was prowling in the yard. She knew just what to do.a It struck me as an opportune moment to mention the most recent prowler, but Winkie again ignored the obvious. aSo quick and clever,a she murmured. aSo quick and clever.a I didnat feel quick or clever, and I was tired of the grenade game. If Iad heard anything worthy of my a.n.a.lytical attention, I had no idea what it was. Smothering a yawn, I bade them good night and left, not caring which of them was blown to smithereens, metaphorically or otherwise.

7.

aI hear you went out with another man last night,a Peter said as he came into the Book Depot. During the school year, it was closed on Sunday afternoons, but I was too desperate to risk missing a single sale, and at that particular moment I was considering the possibility of adding a section of Greek-related items. Not virgin olive oil and ouzo, but cutesy coffee mugs, visors, clipboards, and pastel stationery, all with appropriate letterheads. Other stores in town carried that sort of thing, but I was the closest to the campus and might do well. Then again, it would be challenging to put on makeup every morning if I were unable to look at myself in the mirror.

aIam impressed with the breadth of your surveillance,a I said evenly. aWhere have you been? I was beginning to suspect you and Jorgeson were sharing romantic moments at the cabin. The mere thought of such treachery is what drove me to the arms of another man-that, and the need to avoid my daughter until she regains her grip on fiscal reality.a aThat could take years.a Peter propped his elbows on the counter. He wore a cotton sweater rather than a suit, but his cheeks were smooth and I caught a whiff of the after-shave Iad given him for his birthday. After a moment, I realized Iad given him the sweater for Christmas. The rest of his clothing was of his own doing; a lady never proffers trousers or underwear, and the cost of his shoes was comparable to my rent.

aJorgesonas not bad,a he continued, abut his ankles are bony and he sweats. So whoas this guy?a aMerely one of those potential millionaires one meets on the street every day. As soon as his book hits the best-seller list, heas going to whisk me away to some sw.a.n.ky resort with an employee whose sole duty is to swat mosquitos.a aI also heard you called 911 last night, and then the campus police, who responded promptly to your latest claim to have seen a prowler at that blasted sorority house. You might as well move in and save yourself the bother of das.h.i.+ng over there every hour.a I told him about the man Iad seen in the window, adding that I was convinced he was the same man who had stopped in the street the night Jean Hall was killed. aAnd when I described him to Winkie, she reacted as if she knew him,a I concluded, doing my best to hide my frustration.

aBut refused to share the name with you?a He flashed his perfect white teeth at me. aHow uncooperative of her. Iall go by tomorrow and see if sheall be more forthright with an officer of the law. Is there anything else youave discovered and failed to share with us?a I thought about attempting to strike a bargain with him, but I had a feeling he might interpret my offer as blackmail rather than a display of camaraderie. I related the gist of Debbie Anneas call, and said, aShe sounded genuinely worried about something Jean was going to do to her, and I doubt she was bluffing. However, I keep characterizing her as a soggy-nosed ninny, but she did graduate from high school and was accepted at Farber College, so she canat be totally devoid of wits. Those who know her better than I seem to think sheas devious and deceitful, and capable of manipulation. For all I know, she could be a contemporary Mata Han with a secret agenda that forbodes ill for the future Kappa Theta Eta alumnae pool. Maybe she hired this prowler and staged her encounter with him to fool us, gave him her keys, and sent him to the house ~ast night to ..

aPlant bombs? Bug the bedrooms? Kill the cat?a aI donat know,a I muttered, unamused by his condescending att.i.tude. There I was, willing to share my ideas and pa.s.s along information, and in return, I was rewarded with smirky intonations, delicately arched eyebrows, and those d.a.m.n teeth. It was time for a new game plan. aWhat progress have you made? Did you identify any fingerprints in the car?a aWith the exception of some unremarkable smudges, they belong to the person who reputedly occupied Debbie Anne Wrayas bedroom at the sorority house, used her toothbrush, and placed the photograph of her parents on the desk. The blood on the b.u.mpei hood, and tires matches that of the victim. A shard of gla.s.s from the broken headlight was taken from the body. The prosecuting attorney wonat file charges until we have her in custody and can finalize our report, but even if it was an accident, heall probably opt for negligent homicide and leaving the scene of a personal injury-both felonies. No one admits to having any idea where she is, so weare just waiting for her to get tired of hiding. I suppose we could put a tap on your telephone.a aNot without a court order signed by Sandra Day OaConnor. If Debbie Anne calls again, Iall persuade her to tell me where she is and youall be the first to know. But I am not going to allow you to eavesdrop on my calls or monitor my private life as if I were a criminal. How did you know that I had dinner with a man last night?a aOne of the desk sergeants was at the restaurant and said something about it,a Peter said. He had the decency to look somewhat embarra.s.sed to be caught gossiping, which gave me a measure of satisfaction. aI was teasing, Claire. Youare perfectly free to see anyone you want, or date other men, or spend the weekend with them. Itas increasingly clear that our relations.h.i.+p isnat going in the direction Iad hoped it might. Maybe seeing other people would help both of us figure out whatas for the best.a aMaybe it would,a I said without inflection, inwardly appalled at the thought of even a second dinner with my science fiction hippie, who was harmless (when not discoursing on his ma.n.u.script) but hardly as stimulating as Peter. Rather than allow the conversation to lapse into something more suitable for a romance novel, I told him I had work to do and he huffed away.

I did not burst into tears, but I admit I sniffled just a bit as I dusted the self-help racks with more than usual vigor. My predicament was of my own making, which made it all the more irritating, and by the time Caron and Inez came into the bookstore, Iad dusted every book, swept the floor, cleaned out the drawer beneath the cash register, and rearranged the racks in order to determine if I could add sorority and fraternity paraphernalia.

aMenopause,a Caron explained to Inez. aHer face is red and sheas drenched in sweat. Furthermore, sheas been behaving very erratically lately, and-a aHelp me move this table,a I interrupted in a glacial voice, struggling not to imagine the warm satisfaction I would receive if I throttled her on the spot.

Inez blinked soberly at me. aMy mother started having hot flashes in her mid-forties, Mrs. Malloy. She said she felt as if she were wrapped in an electric blanket set as high as it would go. Sometimes shead start crying for no reason, but the doctor gave her estrogen and it really worked.a The intensity of my scowl provoked them into mutely helping me drag a heavy oak table across the room and situate it in front of the window. aI am not having hot flashes,a I said, panting. aPeter and I had a disagreement, and I was perturbed. Iam not even forty yet, for pityas sake, and I do not care for all this unsolicited advice from teenage girls whose knowledge of medical matters is gleaned from soap operas. Do you understand?a aWhatever.a Caron wandered toward the office. aYou had a call earlier this afternoon, by the way. Some man, but he didnat leave his name or number.a As the door squeaked, she added with ill-disguised relish, aHe said youad better mind your own business or youad be sorry.a aWhat?a I gasped. aTell me exactly what he said.a aI just did, Mother. A rather poor choice of clichs, if you ask me, but the whole thing was probably a wrong number I mean, why would some man call you? Do you have any diet sodas stashed in here? Iam about to Die of Thirst after all that work.a Inez had edged behind the travel guides, as if she feared my purported hot flashes might escalate into an incendiary eruption. aWe donat have much time,a she called to Caron. aYou have an appointment in less than an hour and itall take us a while to walk over there, especially if we go by the Kappa house to get the kit.a aWhoas the victim?a I asked her.

aMrs. Verbena, the art teacher at the high school. I donat think she was all that enthusiastic, but she finally said Caron could come by and explain it.a aSheas an Elegant,a Caron said as she returned emptyhanded. aOf course, I wonat tell her until she agrees to pay me. My Beautiful Self consultants have to watch out for sneaky people who try to weasel free advice.a Her eyes narrowed as she regarded my jeans and black T-s.h.i.+rt. aSome of us certainly could use some, free or otherwise. Come on, Inez, we have to go all the way to the Kappa house, and then turn around and go all the way back to Mrs. Verbenaas house. If I had my own kit, we wouldnat have to walk the extra six blocks, but no one would lend me the money for one crummy week so I could get it. Thatas why we have to go all the way to the-a aSo Pippa didnat leave?a I asked before we reheard the entirety of the itinerary, which in her mind seemed to require miles of walking barefooted on glowing coals.

aIf shead left, I wouldnat be able to borrow her kit, would I?a She jabbed Inez. aI need to go home and change clothes. This forest green is good, but my royalblue blouse really demonstrates how effective the a.n.a.lysis is. If youad stop being selfish about your new earrings, I could probably do an accessory awareness, too. Come on, itas going to take at least half an hour to get the kit and find Mrs. Verbenaas house. If weare seconds late, sheall make up an excuse to leave and weall have hiked All Over Thwn for nothing.a Inez trudged after her, but turned around and came back to put her hand on my arm. aWhy donat you call my mother, Mrs. Malloy? Iam sure sheall be happy to give you the name of her doctora aIall think about it,a I said through clenched teeth. Once they were gone, I sat on the table and stared at the cobwebs on the rafters, wis.h.i.+ng Iad stayed in bed with the Sunday newspaper and countless pots of tea-or with the blanket pulled over my head. First Peter, then the girls, and to top off the afternoon, an anonymous threatening call.

After another bout of sniffling, I bestirred myself and dialed the number Debbie Anne had given me. This time a woman answered, and I told her who I was and why I was calling.

aI am worried sick about this,a Imogene Wray said, having identified herself as such in a tw.a.n.gy drawl identical to her daughteras. aThe police calling, and then Brodie-heas the deputy sheriff-coming by to make sure Debbie Anne wasnat under the bed or out in the barn. My husbandas ulcer flared up so bad he finally went over to the drugstore to buy another bottle of that gooey pink medicine. I canat imagine whatas gotten into Debbie Anne. Sheas always been so sweet and respectful, never ever in any kind of trouble. You can ask any of her teachers at the school, and theyall tell you the same thing.a aI want to help her, but I donat know where she is or how to find her. Has she ever mentioned any friends who live in Farberville and might let her stay with them?a aI donat reckon she has any friends outside the sorority,a Imogene said promptly. aThatas all she ever talks about, how they had a party or played cards or went to the picture show together. They seem to keep her awful busy when sheas not studying, but I guess the reason for joining a group like that is to have girlfriends who are as close as sisters.a I told Mrs. Wray that Iad let her know if I found Debbie Anne and replaced the receiver It appeared that Debbie Anne had failed to communicate the true nature of her relations.h.i.+p with her sorority sisters, but that was understandable and by no means proof that she was generally mendacious.

What I needed was not estrogen therapy, but a clear idea of Debbie Anneas personality. And of Jean Hallas, I added as I wrote each name on a discarded envelope. Presumably, they were opposites, but I had no idea which personified good, which evil. Winkie and Eleanor had made their position known, and Rebecca and Pippa were likely to concur Imogene Wray dissented, but she was biased. Peter didnat care. I seemed to be the only person willing to defend Debbie Anne, although I wasnat going to do it until I had more evidence about her.

Unable to rally the energy to play devilas advocate, I tried a scenano in which she was nothing more complex than a soggy-nosed ninny. If this persona accidentally hit Jean in the alley, she would have leaped out of the car and dashed inside to call an ambulance. She might have been distressed to the point of hysteria, but if shead panicked, she would have gone no farther than my apartment to sob on my shoulder (if I let her, and since it was my scenario, I instead made her sit at the kitchen table) and whine about her troubles.

Her telephone call added to my confusion. If she had been telling the truth, she hadnat been driving her car, and had gone into hiding for another reason-one that had to do with illegal activity instigated by that lovely girl Jean, who was in no condition to be questioned.

The anonymous call was equally bewildering. Arnie? The man-in-the-moon prowler? Some unknown figure who lacked the imagination to come up with an innovative threat? After all, I was minding my own business, or at least what business there was on a Sunday afternoon in June; it was hardly my fault that prowlers kept popping out of the Kappa shrubbery like possessed prairie dogs.

A growing sense of petulance provoked me into closing the bookstore several hours earlier than Iad intended. I took the long route home in order to avoid pa.s.sing the sorority house, although I couldnat prevent myself from glancing at it as I approached my porch. Rebecca and Pippa sat on the top step, surrounded by unopened textbooks, notebooks, bags of chips, and cans of soda, clearly more interested in painting their fingernails than in the quest for knowledge.

I veered across the lawn and said, aHave you heard from Debbie Anne?a Rebecca shook her head. aIam not sitting here waiting for her to walk up the sidewalk so I can give her a welcoming hug. After what she did to Jean, shead better have taken the first bus home to her little redneck enclave amid the pigsties and chicken coops.a Her lovely blue eyes brimmed with tears, and her lovely voice with bitterness. aJean and I were best friends since our first semester, and we shared a room until last year when we both moved into private rooms. It was going just great- until that pious little b.i.t.c.h pledged Kappa Theta Eta and ruined everything!a aPious?a I echoed.

aShe didnat approve of anything, not even some of the boring public relations stuff the pledge cla.s.s has to do every year. Apparently in her hometown, n.o.body ever smoked a cigarette or drank a gla.s.s of decent French wine, much less partied past midnight. Right before spring break, Jean bribed one of the Betas to take Debbie Anne out and get her good and drunk, but she drank half a martini, gagged on the olive, and threw up all over his front seat. Whatas that supposed to do for our reputation?a I had no answer for that. aDebbie Anne did tell me that she was pressured to do things she felt were wrong.~~ aSuch as?a Rebecca said with a faint sneer that reminded me of Jean.

aShe said she couldnat tell me because I wasnat in the sorority. Her faced turned red, however, and she implied they were things that would upset her preachera Pippa giggled. aShe was probably thinking of the Bedroom Olympics weekend. What a prude!a aYou have to consider her background,a I said, hoping I didnat sound prudish. aBut youare convinced she was driving her car when Jean was struck?a Rebecca leaned back and regarded me coolly. aWinkie tried to convince us it was an accident, as did Mrs. Vanderson, but I wonat buy it. Thereas light in the alley, and itas too narrow for someone to be driving very fast. Itas obvious that Debbie Anne did it on purpose. She murdered Jean out of jealousy.a Trying to mask my surprise, I said, aI would have said it was more a case of wistfulness than of jealousy.a aEverybody in the house knew how jealous she was. She stole silk blouses from Jean on at least two occasions, and she pretended to be overcome with astonishment when Jeanas tennis bracelet just happened to turn up in her desk drawer Maybe in the beginning she just wanted to be like Jean, but became so obsessed that eventually she had to be Jean. When she realized she couldnat, she slandered her and finally killed her.a I certainly had no need to probe delicately to ascertain her opinion of Debbie Anne. I s.h.i.+fted my attention to Pippa, who was not dimpling.

aIt might have been an accident,a she said in response to my implicit question, abut Debbie Anneas awfully moody and reserved. She never contributed to the conversation or told jokes, and it was like a total waste of time trying to teach her to play bridge. One night I found her hunkered in the shower as if she were in a catatonic stupor. A real spook, if you ask me.a aA real b.i.t.c.h,a growled Rebecca.

aAnd neither of you has any idea where she might be?a I asked with faint optimism.

Pippa gave me a facetiously sad look. aAnd neither of us cares. Mrs. Malloy, I donat know if Caronas said anything to you, but you really shouldnat wear black. It tends to emphasize all those wrinkles around your nose and chin, and it makes your complexion look ashy.a aHow nice of you to notice,a I said as my fingernails dug into my palms. aCaron mentioned that you were thinking about dropping out of school for the remainder of the summer I presume youave changed your mind?a aYou what?a Rebecca turned on her so abruptly that fingernail polish splattered on her knee and dribbled onto the porch like viscous pink blood. aYouare d.a.m.n well not going to split for the summer, honey! Weare both going to stay right here at the Kappa Theta Eta house for the duration, especially after what happened to Jean.a She caught my bright-eyed look and forced a melancholy smile. aI lost one of my best friends, and I cannot bear to lose another so soon.~~ It sounded like a line from Tennessee Williams, and the setting was appropriate: decaying mansion, dusty summer afternoon, sisterhood gone awry, tumultuous emotions poorly disguised. All we needed was a surly male in a stained unders.h.i.+rt and a clattering streetcar.

I hesitated, but Rebecca was wiping the polish off her knee with a tissue and Pippa was shriveling into the woodwork. To the latter, I said, aIt was kind of you to lend Caron your color a.n.a.lysis kit.a aOh, it was nothing, and I feel sorry for her. I know what kind of psychological damage can be caused by feelings of economic deprivation, and itas important to feel a part of oneas peer group at such a vulnerable age. I just hope she can make enough money this summer to buy a car and successfully integrate herself into her selfperceived commumty.a I repressed the urge to point out that Caron was neither economically deprived nor noticeably vulnerable, despite her incessant complaining to the contrary. Her relations.h.i.+p with the infamous Rhonda Maguire was the root of all evil, and I was disinclined to listen to a spate of psychobabble from someone who dimpled- sympathetically, no less.

aPlease let me know if Debbie Anne comes back,a I said and headed for my apartment. I was halfway through the downstairs door when a cacophony of rumbles, rattles, wheezes, and clanks caught my attention. The green truck pulled to the curb, and visible through the bug-splattered winds.h.i.+eld was none other than Arnie Riggles. He lurched across the pa.s.sengeras seat and disappeared, but after a moment the window on that side began to descend in tiny jerks.

I had several questions for him, and it seemed an auspicious moment to pose them. Before I could rally sufficient enthusiasm, however, Rebecca hurried down the sidewalk and began to converse through the window. She spoke rapidly and urgently, pausing for what had to be responses from the pit of the pa.s.sengeras seat, and then reacting with increased urgency. Stunned, I could only watch as she stepped back and Arnie resurfaced behind the steering wheel and drove past my house and around the corner. I looked back in time to see Rebecca and Pippa entering the sorority house. What on earth could strikingly beautiful, perfectly packaged Rebecca have to discuss with someone as vile and oily as Arnie?

This was the second time head slipped away before I could inquire into the parameters of his involvement, and I decided it was high time to have a little talk with him. The mere thought was enough to make my skin itch as if Iad rolled in poison ivy and the pustules were emerging. Rather than retreat to the bathtub, I reminded myself that I was the only person with any desire to help Debbie Anne, whether or not she deserved it.

Arnie was not listed in the telephone directory. The last time Iad been unfortunate enough to encounter him, head been living in a storage room at the city animal shelter Head subsequently been fired-for just cause-and I had no idea where he currently lived. I could have spent the remainder of the afternoon turning over rocks in the woods or crawling under bridges in hopes of finding him, but even I had limits (although Peter Rosen would be the last to acknowledge it).

I made a pot of tea and sat down on the sofa to rely on deductive prowess rather than physical exertion, being a fan of the armchair-detective genre. Reading about the women private eyes with bra.s.s bras and testosterone for brains had always left my fingers gritty and my eyes dazed with images of violence. Tea and intuition were ... my cup of tea.

Arnie was employed by a remodeling contractor, more specifically a painter whose name Iad heard and dismissed as unworthy of notice. If I asked Winkie for his name, Rebecca might hear about it and realize Iad seen her talking to him; I wanted to confront him before he could be waned. Under no circ.u.mstances would I ask a certain cop to track down Arnieas address.

In the middle of the second pot of tea, it occurred to me that Eleanor Vanderson would know the painteras name, if not the details of Arnieas squalid personal life. There was only one Vanderson in the directory, and she herself answered on the third ring.

aThis is Claire Malloy,a I said, aand I was hoping-a aDid Debbie Anne call you again? Do you know where sheas hiding?a aSony, but no. This has nothing to do with the horrible accident in the alley. Iave been thinking about having the interior of my apartment painted, and I wanted to know the name of your painter-if youave found him competent and reliable, of course.a There was, as Caron would say, A Distinct Lull. aWhy, I suppose I could give you his name, but thus far they havenat started painting. Iam afraid Winkie overstepped her authority when she promised the job to him and his a.s.sistant. National requires that we take bids in order to choose the most compet.i.tive rates, and Iam waiting to hear from several other contractors before I can finalize anything. Based on my one conversation with that man who claimed to know you, Iam as reluctant as you were to offer a recommendation. Heas quite a character, isnat he? Heas soa-she hesitated to find a phrase suitable for a deanas wife-aearthy and uninhibited.a Or dirty and crude, some of us might say. I instead said, aI might as well take bids, too. His name?a aIall have to find the folder.a Papers shuffled in the background as she continued to talk. aMy husband is forever complaining about the piles of paperwork and the amount of time I dedicate to the chapter, but now that my children have moved away and married, it helps to fill the void. Sometimes I wonder if itas immature of me to engross myself in whatas basically a college activity, but it was so vital to me then and I want to do everything I can to ensure that the girls still have a memorable experience. And it is something for which I have a talent.a Serial killers had talent, too. aAs long as you enjoy it,a I murmured inanely, having agreed with her supposition that it was immature to devote oneas energy to something that was indeed a college activity. It wasnat simply the response to a vacuum, I suspected, but a need for power. Her children grown, shead replaced them with a group of girls who were depleted each spring but replenished each fall during rush.

aHere it is,a she said with a laugh. aI feel as if Iave been scuba diving through the paperwork. The primary contractor is Ed Whitbred.a She spelled it for me, gave me a telephone number~ then said, aBear in mind Iave not yet hired him, although his bid is the lowest Iave received. Winkle has attested to his character, but as house corps president, itas my obligation to interview him personally and a.s.sure myself thatas heas reputable and honest.a aI donat suppose you have Arnieas address?a aI believe I do. I needed to send some bidding forms to Mr. Whitbredas office, but Arnie didnat know that address and gave me his.a Papers again began to rustle like dried leaves; it was easy to imagine towering stacks of folders, each emblazoned with Kappa Theta Eta and of a uniform color. She made little noises of exasperation for a long while, then congratulated herself and said, aIt was in the wrong folder. He lives at the Airport Arms Motel, which one can only a.s.sume is in the vicinity of the airport.a aOne can only a.s.sume.a I thanked her for her time and wished her a pleasant afternoon. Mine was less likely to be that, especially if I spent it tracking down and interrogating Arnie. Then again, if I stayed where I was, Caron and Inez were apt to appear to share medical insights about my deteriorating body or regale me with the details of Mrs. Verbenaas a.n.a.lysis. Peter certainly wouldnat come by to visit.

Anyone who could find the airport could find the Airport Arms Motel. I picked up my purse and went to look for Arnie.

8.

The Airport Arms Motel sat far back from the highway, fronted by a gravel parking lot that was spa.r.s.ely populated by squatty cars, pickup trucks with gun racks, and an enormous motorcycle with improbably high handlebars and enough chrome attachments to intrigue NASA. The building, weathered to gray and as bleak as a military barracks, was a two-story structure with six apartments on each level. As I pulled into the lot, an airplane came thundering over the treetops and continued its descent onto the runway across the highway. Several seconds pa.s.sed before I was able to sit up, lick my suddenly parched lips, and park near a battered car that was similar in breadth to Debbie Anneas lethal weapon.

Arnieas green truck was not there, but Iad driven several miles on my mission and it would be silly-all right, cowardly-to leave without any attempt to find him. Hoping there was a parking lot behind the building, I climbed out of my car and went to the double row of rusty mailboxes. Although the numbers of the boxes hada been written in crude numerals, the few scrawled names were too faded to be legible.

It was, I decided uneasily, a bit like Russian roulette. Behind the splintery doors were twelve apartments; any one of them might be Arnieas. The eleven others belonged to the owners of the vehicles in the lot. I looked back at the motorcycle, squared my shoulders, and knocked on the nearest door.

The woman who opened it was less than excited by my presence. She had a beer in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other, and kept her eyes on the television blaring across the room and filling the room with flickery blue shadows. Only one side of her mouth moved as she said, aWhaddaya want?a aIam looking for Arnie Riggles, and I was told he lived at this address.a aWhy you lookina for him?a aI want to discuss a job,a I said semitruthfully.

She cackled at something on the screen, drained the beer and crumpled the can in one fluid motion, and said, aNever heard of him.a The door closed inches from my nose. No one was home in the next two apartments, and from within the fourth I heard sounds of marital discord heading for a crescendo that might drown out the next incoming airplane.

Surely no one would cohabit voluntarily with Arnie. I continued down the row, interrupting another woman who was watching the same television show and had never heard of Arnie, and a swarthy Middle Eastern male who trembled in response before he slammed his door.

I returned to the middle of the building and went up the creaky staircase to the balcony, where six more doors awaited me. I knocked on the end door perhaps with less vigor than previously, and backed into the railing when my worst nightmare opened the door Dressed as he was only in boots and faded jeans that rode low on his hips, I had an overwhelmingly excessive view of his body hair, all black and curly on his chest and belly, straggly and streaked with gray on his head, and sprouting in thickets on his jaw and upper lip. His nose and cheeks were rosy, his mouth almost feminine. There was nothing feminine about his arms, however; they were so densely tattooed that virtually no flesh between his wrists and his neck retained its original hue. He seemed to realize I was taken aback, and with a wry smile he said, aBe careful, maaam. The railingas rotten and itas a long way down. Something I can do for you?a aIam looking for Arnie Riggles,a I said, desperately trying to prevent myself from gaping at the colorful swirls on his arms. I was not at a sideshow, and I hadnat paid a quarter to justify rudeness. Then again, he could have put on a s.h.i.+rt before he answered the door.

aHe lives in the next apartment, but heas not home. He came by a little while ago to see if I wanted to shoot some pool. I didnat. You want me to give him a message?a aNo, I donat think so. Do you have any idea when heall be back?a aHe didnat say, but heas only down the road at the Dew Drop Inn. You can catch him there.a Clearly amused at my demeanor and having little difficulty interpreting it, he turned around to expose his back, which was more ornate than a medieval tapestry. When he held up his arms and flexed his biceps, a mermaid rippled as if swimming amid purple and blue fish, and a dragon swished its silver tail. aPretty neat, huh?a he said, grinning over his shoulder at me. aIave got more, but I usually donat show them to ladies unless weare.., intimate.a The railing bit deeper into my back, and my voice may have risen as much as an octave as I said, aPlease donat. If you could be so kind as to point me in the direction of the place you mentioned, Iall-Iall be on my way.a aTell you what, let me grab a s.h.i.+rt and Iall go with you. The Dew Dropas not the sort of place for a lady to go by herself.a Before I could decline his offer, he disappeared into the apartment. When he returned, carrying a translucent black helmet, he was more pedestrian (and a great deal less colorful) in a long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt and black leather vest. aWhyas someone like you looking for someone like Arnie?a he asked as we went downstairs.

aI need to ask him a few questions about some recent events,a I said vaguely. aThatas my car. Shall I follow you?a aYouare welcome to ride with me, and Iall bring you back whenever youare ready.a He spoke politely, with no edge of challenge in his voice, but his mustache quivered as he struggled not to smile. aItas only a mile or so. Nice, warm evening like this, you might enjoy it. aIn those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.a Milton, 7lractate of Education, of course.a aOf course.a I wasnat nearly as intimidated by him as Iad been when he opened the door. He was no taller than I, and although he was built like a barrel, he was hardly a ma.s.sive monster seething with rage and likely to rip apart live chickens with his teeth. There was no skull emblazoned on the back of his vest. Except for the facial hair and that which I, like the Shadow, knew lay beneath his s.h.i.+rt, he was rather ordinary, perhaps as old as fifty, a benign, middle-aged version of Santa Claus. Ordinary, that is, except in his ability to quote Milton.

aShall we?a He gestured at the motorcycle.

Changing my mind was one thing, but losing it was another I stayed where 1 was. aI donat even know your name.a aaWhatas in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.a Or, in my case, would be as willing to escort such an attractive woman to a dive like the Dew Drop, if only because Iam curious why you want to find Arnie. You game or not?a That was the question, all right. Approximately twenty-four hours earlier Iad decided that I had insulated myself, that I needed to expand my boundaries, meet new people, experience new things. At the time, I hadnat counted on being offered a ride on a motorcycle, particularly one that could have come screaming out of a futuristic movie that featured heavily armed cyborgs with poor att.i.tudes. But hadnat Peter Rosen, Mr Propriety himselt encouraged me to go out with other men? There was no doubt about it: this was about as far out as I could go.

aSure,a I said, aIam game. What do I do?a He gave me the helmet, helped me onto the padded seat, and showed me where to rest my feet. aAll you have to do is hang on and flow with it,a he added as he straddled the seat in front of me, did something mysterious, and leaned back as the machine bellowed to life with a fury not unlike a rabid buffaloas.

Just hang on and flow with it, I told myself as we squealed out of the parking lot and shot down the highway, easily pa.s.sing a pickup truck on one side and a tractor trailer on the other. Iad expected to be stoic yet terrified, but after a minute, I loosened my death grip on his waist and acknowledged that I was enjoying the speed, the wind that stroked my skin and ballooned under my s.h.i.+rt, the vibrating powe; the continual roar that isolated us from our surroundings. The traffic moved; we were motion itself.

I was a little disappointed when we slowed down and pulled into a parking lot. My chauffeur cut off the engine. The abrupt cessation of sound was unnerving.

aSo whatad you think?a he asked.

I took off the helmet. aA memorable experience, unlike anything Iave ever done.a The Dew Drop Inn was shabbier than the Airport Arms, if possible, and held together with splintery sheets of mismatched siding, indecipherable metal signs, spit, and a goodly amount of prayer There were more than a dozen vehicles in the lot, and as I pa.s.sed over the helmet, another car pulled in.

aTodayas Sunday,a I said as we started for the door aWhy is this place doing a brisk business when it isnat even supposed to be open?a aThe Dew Dropas more of a social club than your ordinary tavern, and the NBA playoffs are on this afternoon. Last year Mulie put in a big screen. Itas a male rite of spring to congregate and watch the game over beer and bulls.h.i.+t. Thereas plenty of both here.a All the NBA signified to me was the National Book Award, but it was hard to envision the literati slinging quotes at each other across a net. If they were to do so, sophistry and sherry would be their accouterments of choice. Mystified, I entered the Dew Drop Inn.

The room was dark, and the smoke was as pernicious as the skies of Los Angeles. There were only two sources of light: a swaying rectangular fixture above a pool table and a large television screen on which men in boxer shorts cavorted in pursuit of an elusive ball. Most of the twenty or so men were seated at tables, watching the game, but three or four stood in the shadows beyond the pool table. Oblivious to the ashes dribbling from his cigarette, a man in a cowboy hat was bent over the table, the tip of his cue stick resting on the worn green felt. Competing with the outbursts of laughter, good-natured curses, and inanely bright chatter from the game announcers was the persistent ringing of unseen telephones.

aHo, Senator!a I located Arnie at one of the tables. It was not challenging, in that he was waving his arm above his head while pounding on the table with a beer bottle. aI guess we found him,a I said to my companion. Iad garnered enough attention, some of it curious and some of it smirky, to be glad to have him beside me, and unless Iad misjudged him a second time, I was safe from the advances of the rednecks in the room.

aCome join us, Senator!a Arnie yelled, still carrying on as if we were at a pep rally rather than a seedy tavern. aI got something I want to ask you about this trade imbalance with the Pacific Rim.a Uncomfortably aware of the incongruity of my presence (there was not so much as a female barmaid), I went to his table and said, aCould I speak to you in private?a Arnie swatted the man in the next chair. aJesus, McDooley, were you raised in a barn or what? Give the lady your seat before I cram a beer bottle up your lovely snout.a aIn private?a I repeated emphatically.

aAnything you want, Senator, as soon as the gameas over. I got some serious interest in the outcome, about a hundred dollarsa worth.a He began to wave again, violently enough to rattle the small copse of bottles on the table. aHey, Ed, whatcha waiting for-an invitation? Come sit with the senator and Iall buy you both a beer Arnie Riggles is a-rollina in dough today!a I raised my eyebrows as my swarthy driver sat down in the hastily vacated chair on the other side of Arnie. aEd?a He mimicked my expression. aSenator?a Arnie slapped his simian forehead, by pure serendipity with the hand not holding the beer bottle. aWowsy, Senator, I thought you two knew each other, coming in together like you did. This lovable guy hereas Ed Whitbred, my boss and my best friend in the whole d.a.m.n world.a He hiccuped as he leaned over to throw his arm over Edas shoulder aIn the whole d.a.m.n world, he is my best friend. I canat tell you the number of times he came down to the can to bail me out, then scolded me all the way home about how I oughta do this detox thing. 01a Ed Whitbredas meaner than my first wife and uglier than my second, but I love him just the same.a Arnie rested his face on Edas shoulder and began to cry. From the lack of interest shown by the other occupants at the table, I deduced that the maudlin display was unremarkable, and, indeed, no one remarked on it.

A man in a dirty ap.r.o.n set down two beer bottles and stomped away. I frowned at the bottle, then at Ed. aYou didnat mention that you and Arnie are such dear friends.a aYou didnat ask,a he said. He tried to pry Arnie off his shoulder, but Arnieas grip was stubborn. aIam not sure heas in the mood for conversation.a A door at the far end of the bar opened to admit two men, and the sound of ringing telephones intensified. Even with the door closed, I could hear what seemed to be at least a dozen of them. aWhatas with the telephones? Are they running some kind of telethon in there? This hardly seems the place for Jerryas kids.a aA hundred dollars,a Arnie said, lifting his face. aYou wanna little action, Senator? You donat have to bet much, and it makes the bisketbell.. . that is to say, the basketball game more exciting. Nickel or dime betas okay.a I took a nickel from my purse and put it on the table. aIall bet you this that you canat sit up and answer a few simple questions, Arnie. If you can, itas all yours.a One of the men cleared his throat. aItas kinda traditional in gambling circles that a nickel means five dollars, a dime means ten. Considering the state heas in, maybe it donat matter.a aDo you mind?a I glared until he looked away, then shook Arnieas arm. aI am not interested in absorbing the local traditions. If it takes five dollars, then so be it!a I took out a bill and slammed it on the table, feeling quite as bold as a poker player in a Wild West saloon. aDo we have a bet or donat we?a Arnie wiped his nose on Edas shoulder and managed to sit up. aYeah, no one ever accused Arnold JUggles of shying away from a bet, no matter what. It seems to me, though, that a senator ought to be willing to go higher than a measly five bucks. Whatas the defense budget these days? How about Medicare and Medicaid payments? You raised your salaries last year-a He suddenly slumped forward, his head bouncing off the table several times before coming to rest.

aI am not a senator,a I said to Ed, who understandably seemed perplexed. aWhoever said it was impossible to underrate human intelligence must have been thinking of Arnie. The smoke and the stench and those telephones are too much for me. Could you please take me back to my car?a aSure, and then Iad better come back and drive Arnie home. Heas surpa.s.sed his limit for the evening.a I politely nodded at the occupants of the table and pushed back my chair, but before I could stand up, the front door opened and the room swarmed with men. Men in coats and ties, holding up identification badges. Men in blue police uniforms. Men in khaki police uniforms. More men in overalls and caps. Young men, old men, enough men to take to the football field. For the most part, men with guns. And they were saying, not in unison but in a great babble of confusion ranging from tenor to ba.s.s, from strident to coldly authoritarian: aThis is a raid!a aEverybody stay put!a aPut your hands on the tables where we can see aem!a aStay away from the door!a aYou there-put down that cue stick!a aUp against the wall, bubba!a I sank back into the chair as more of them stampeded through the door at the end of the bar From within the back room came spurts of official phrases that referred to illegal possession of gaming equipment, violations of federal statutes concerning interstate racketeering, operation of an establishment that operated gambling devices, and more.