you are a very handsome specimen.”
“With this lopsided face?”
“Lopsided, hell! Piquant. Pixy. Tart. But not lopsided. No, I was just wondering why you haven’t gone and got yourself married.”
She gave me a mocking look. “Mine, sire, is a sad tale of unrequited love. I thrust my heart at yon yokel and he spurned it with jokes and laughter.”
“A pretty stupid-type guy, eh?”
She put her chin on her fist. “When I was a sprout, lad, I had a dog-eared old cat named Oliver. Other people fed him, but he loved me. Just me. Very flattering. Who else had a one-woman cat? Nobody. I thought it made Oliver very special, and, incidentally, me too. They sent me away to school. Oliver gave it a fictional finish. He just pined away. No old blunt head rubbing on my leg any more. No big purr like a busted sewing machine. No kneading with the feet. Now for the moral. If Oliver had been capable of spreading his affection around, he would have been a well-adjusted cat. But as cats go, Oliver was psychotic. And I think he influenced my early years. I cannot spread myself around. All I can do is work like hell and try to forget the guy.”
“Ever put it up to him?”
“Nope. Never will. And I’ve never even told anyone about him before, Dil. And I won’t tell you his name, because you’d try to go running after him and pound some sense into his thick head.”
“I’d do exactly that,” I said.
“You said you wanted to hide out until tonight. What goes on tonight?”
“Call it a party.”
“Can girls come?”
“There’ll probably be some there, but I can’t take you. I may not even be able to find the party.”
She stared at me. “You’ve got a line on Haussmann, haven’t you?”
“Haussmann? Who’s Haussmann?”
“When you lie, your nose wrinkles up and your eyes go all bland and silly, Dil.”
“I’d just like to know where you got that name.”
She gave me an enigmatic smile. “Hell, son. Can’t a girl have contacts too? I’m going off to cook. When you need a fresh one, come out in the kitchen.” At the doorway she turned and said, “Barney confides in me sometimes.”
Chapter Nine
W hen dinner was almost ready, Jill went off and changed. I helped her move the table over to where we could look out on the little court as we ate. The deep shadows beyond the tarnished bronze of the cupid were blued and purpled by the approach of dusk. In the center of the table she put a slender white candle in a simple wrought-iron holder. The flame was motionless. She had changed to a simple white dress that left her shoulders bare. Her skin was like cream. I had to force myself to stop looking at her. This sort of thing wouldn’t do at all.
The meal was simple. Two small steaks, a green vegetable, a tossed salad. It was much too hot to eat more.
“Tell me more about Barney confiding in you, Jill.”
“Is it fair for you to pump me? And not tell me anything?”
“Now, listen. I want to be serious for a moment. You warned me that this was a big, rough situation, where I might get hurt. I don’t like your knowing that nameHaussmann. I don’t like your digging around too much, Jill.”
“It’s my business. I make my living at it.”
“But you said yourself that the lid has gone on this thing. You can’t print what you find out anyway. So why not drop it?”
“I am a very stubborn girl, Dil. Surprisingly stubborn. Maybe I can’t print it right away. Someday I’ll be able to. That’s good enough for me. And—well, it’s sort of a game to take the few facts you know, and try to make a picture. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle where the rules permit you to manufacture a few pieces here and there. Can I talk about Laura without your getting all huffy with me?”
“Sure.”
“The moralists say that no one is completely good or completely bad. And yet, Dil, I’m almost willing to say that Laura was bad. Call it a consciousness of evil. I don’t blame you. She had her act polished well
“With this lopsided face?”
“Lopsided, hell! Piquant. Pixy. Tart. But not lopsided. No, I was just wondering why you haven’t gone and got yourself married.”
She gave me a mocking look. “Mine, sire, is a sad tale of unrequited love. I thrust my heart at yon yokel and he spurned it with jokes and laughter.”
“A pretty stupid-type guy, eh?”
She put her chin on her fist. “When I was a sprout, lad, I had a dog-eared old cat named Oliver. Other people fed him, but he loved me. Just me. Very flattering. Who else had a one-woman cat? Nobody. I thought it made Oliver very special, and, incidentally, me too. They sent me away to school. Oliver gave it a fictional finish. He just pined away. No old blunt head rubbing on my leg any more. No big purr like a busted sewing machine. No kneading with the feet. Now for the moral. If Oliver had been capable of spreading his affection around, he would have been a well-adjusted cat. But as cats go, Oliver was psychotic. And I think he influenced my early years. I cannot spread myself around. All I can do is work like hell and try to forget the guy.”
“Ever put it up to him?”
“Nope. Never will. And I’ve never even told anyone about him before, Dil. And I won’t tell you his name, because you’d try to go running after him and pound some sense into his thick head.”
“I’d do exactly that,” I said.
“You said you wanted to hide out until tonight. What goes on tonight?”
“Call it a party.”
“Can girls come?”
“There’ll probably be some there, but I can’t take you. I may not even be able to find the party.”
She stared at me. “You’ve got a line on Haussmann, haven’t you?”
“Haussmann? Who’s Haussmann?”
“When you lie, your nose wrinkles up and your eyes go all bland and silly, Dil.”
“I’d just like to know where you got that name.”
She gave me an enigmatic smile. “Hell, son. Can’t a girl have contacts too? I’m going off to cook. When you need a fresh one, come out in the kitchen.” At the doorway she turned and said, “Barney confides in me sometimes.”
Chapter Nine
W hen dinner was almost ready, Jill went off and changed. I helped her move the table over to where we could look out on the little court as we ate. The deep shadows beyond the tarnished bronze of the cupid were blued and purpled by the approach of dusk. In the center of the table she put a slender white candle in a simple wrought-iron holder. The flame was motionless. She had changed to a simple white dress that left her shoulders bare. Her skin was like cream. I had to force myself to stop looking at her. This sort of thing wouldn’t do at all.
The meal was simple. Two small steaks, a green vegetable, a tossed salad. It was much too hot to eat more.
“Tell me more about Barney confiding in you, Jill.”
“Is it fair for you to pump me? And not tell me anything?”
“Now, listen. I want to be serious for a moment. You warned me that this was a big, rough situation, where I might get hurt. I don’t like your knowing that nameHaussmann. I don’t like your digging around too much, Jill.”
“It’s my business. I make my living at it.”
“But you said yourself that the lid has gone on this thing. You can’t print what you find out anyway. So why not drop it?”
“I am a very stubborn girl, Dil. Surprisingly stubborn. Maybe I can’t print it right away. Someday I’ll be able to. That’s good enough for me. And—well, it’s sort of a game to take the few facts you know, and try to make a picture. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle where the rules permit you to manufacture a few pieces here and there. Can I talk about Laura without your getting all huffy with me?”
“Sure.”
“The moralists say that no one is completely good or completely bad. And yet, Dil, I’m almost willing to say that Laura was bad. Call it a consciousness of evil. I don’t blame you. She had her act polished well
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