was the final proof—in his last life he was in Renaissance Italy. He’s sure he was a Medici. Always wears those black suits. The man is very taken with Italian gangsters—Italy, not Chicago. I know this all sounds crazy—being slightly drunk makes it more plausible.”
“No,” Elkins shook his head.
Stephanie opened a heavy door, pulled him forward and pushed it shut behind them. She turned off the lights. He saw rows of bottles on racks before the room went black. He felt her opening his shirt and running her hands over his chest. She pulled away from him, and then he felt her naked breasts, her tongue slowly sliding back and forth between his lips.
She pulled away. A few seconds later the lights went on and she was dressed, looking unruffled. He reached for her, but she moved beyond his grasp. Then she turned and buttoned his shirt.
“You have a nice chest,” she taunted.
“So do you.” Then the anger hit. “What the hell are you doing? This isn’t fair to me, it isn’t fair to....”
“Isn’t fair to whom...to Clifford? You know about us, he doesn’t care. To Ellen, she’s dead, Elkins. It’s been a year. You want me, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”
“But this kind of teasing...”
“I want to tease you. I want you to get angry. I haven’t seen any affect for months. I’m going to push you until I know you’re alive again.” She playfully slapped him a few times, two hands, one on each cheek.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, turned and kissed him quickly at the top of the steps, and then said, “Come on, there’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
She guided him through the chaos, moving toward a group in the living room and extracted a woman—petite, attractive—from the group. Stephanie introduced them. “Jane, this is Ray Elkins, the man I told you about. Elkins, this is Jane Arden.” Stephanie tried to get a conversation going, but was pulled away by a member of the catering staff.
After a few minutes of trying to talk over the noise, Jane suggested they go out and get some air. She led the way toward the front door. They paused and looked into the library. Chesterton was holding court, a circle of junior faculty members hanging on every word.
They found the smokers in the front yard, clustered in small groups. Reda Rudd was standing off to the side with Father Bob. She motioned them over. Elkins noticed how she was standing, suggesting an intimacy between them that he wouldn’t have expected.
“Do you....” she gestured toward Father Bob.
“Yes, we’ve met.” They shook hands.
Elkins started to introduce Arden. She cut him off. “We’re all acquainted. Nice to see you again,” she said as she shook hands with Reda. “I’ve enjoyed reading your pieces in the Daily.”
Reda turned to Elkins. “Is there anything new....”
Her question was cut off by a long horn blast from an eighteen-wheeler, the scream of rubber against cement, the report of metal against metal and exploding glass. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a small tongue of yellow flame began to illuminate the wreckage. Ray ran toward the entrance of the subdivision.
The scene was lit by the yellow flames. The crushed remnants of a small car were just behind the tractor wheels of a large truck. Burning fuel poured across the road into a ditch. A man in tan work clothes, his face lit by the flames, stood looking at the wreckage.
“Are you hurt?” asked Elkins
“There was nothing I could do. It ran the stop sign,” he yelled. The car was now a pillar of fire, there was no sign of its occupant.
Lights flashing, siren screaming, a sheriff’s car braked hard and came to a halt, headlights on the wreck. The deputy climbed out, pulled an extinguisher from his trunk, and emptied it on the blaze. Then the first fire engine rumbled to a stop. The crew, in full protective gear, jumped from the rig and deployed hoses, covered the burning vehicles with foam, the
“No,” Elkins shook his head.
Stephanie opened a heavy door, pulled him forward and pushed it shut behind them. She turned off the lights. He saw rows of bottles on racks before the room went black. He felt her opening his shirt and running her hands over his chest. She pulled away from him, and then he felt her naked breasts, her tongue slowly sliding back and forth between his lips.
She pulled away. A few seconds later the lights went on and she was dressed, looking unruffled. He reached for her, but she moved beyond his grasp. Then she turned and buttoned his shirt.
“You have a nice chest,” she taunted.
“So do you.” Then the anger hit. “What the hell are you doing? This isn’t fair to me, it isn’t fair to....”
“Isn’t fair to whom...to Clifford? You know about us, he doesn’t care. To Ellen, she’s dead, Elkins. It’s been a year. You want me, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”
“But this kind of teasing...”
“I want to tease you. I want you to get angry. I haven’t seen any affect for months. I’m going to push you until I know you’re alive again.” She playfully slapped him a few times, two hands, one on each cheek.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, turned and kissed him quickly at the top of the steps, and then said, “Come on, there’s someone I want to introduce you to.”
She guided him through the chaos, moving toward a group in the living room and extracted a woman—petite, attractive—from the group. Stephanie introduced them. “Jane, this is Ray Elkins, the man I told you about. Elkins, this is Jane Arden.” Stephanie tried to get a conversation going, but was pulled away by a member of the catering staff.
After a few minutes of trying to talk over the noise, Jane suggested they go out and get some air. She led the way toward the front door. They paused and looked into the library. Chesterton was holding court, a circle of junior faculty members hanging on every word.
They found the smokers in the front yard, clustered in small groups. Reda Rudd was standing off to the side with Father Bob. She motioned them over. Elkins noticed how she was standing, suggesting an intimacy between them that he wouldn’t have expected.
“Do you....” she gestured toward Father Bob.
“Yes, we’ve met.” They shook hands.
Elkins started to introduce Arden. She cut him off. “We’re all acquainted. Nice to see you again,” she said as she shook hands with Reda. “I’ve enjoyed reading your pieces in the Daily.”
Reda turned to Elkins. “Is there anything new....”
Her question was cut off by a long horn blast from an eighteen-wheeler, the scream of rubber against cement, the report of metal against metal and exploding glass. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a small tongue of yellow flame began to illuminate the wreckage. Ray ran toward the entrance of the subdivision.
The scene was lit by the yellow flames. The crushed remnants of a small car were just behind the tractor wheels of a large truck. Burning fuel poured across the road into a ditch. A man in tan work clothes, his face lit by the flames, stood looking at the wreckage.
“Are you hurt?” asked Elkins
“There was nothing I could do. It ran the stop sign,” he yelled. The car was now a pillar of fire, there was no sign of its occupant.
Lights flashing, siren screaming, a sheriff’s car braked hard and came to a halt, headlights on the wreck. The deputy climbed out, pulled an extinguisher from his trunk, and emptied it on the blaze. Then the first fire engine rumbled to a stop. The crew, in full protective gear, jumped from the rig and deployed hoses, covered the burning vehicles with foam, the