Perchance to Dream by Robert B. Parker

five minutes that seemed no longer than the Thirty Years War she began to calm down. The sobs spaced out more and finally stopped. She lay still in my arms, her face against my chest, her arms locked around my neck, her body pressed against me hard. Finally she lifted her face and kissed me. There was no contrivance this time. I kissed her back. She opened her mouth.
        Without taking her lips from mine she murmured "yes, yes."
        I didn't hear anyone say "no."
        
***
        
        When it was over, we lay still, half dressed and breathless together on her couch, which was a little narrow for two people, one of whom weighed 190.
        "I wonder sometimes," Vivian said, "why it had to be me. Why I have to take care of this childish pervert."
        "I guess because there isn't anyone else," I said.
        Vivian lay with her head in the crook of my arm.
        "She was always… twisted. When we were little girls in polka-dot dresses, she was always, somehow, corrupt, as if she were born with something nasty infesting her soul."
        "Ever try to get her cured?" I said.
        Vivian's head stirred on my arm. She held the fingers of that arm in her right hand and pressed them occasionally against her cheek as she talked.
        "I've taken her to Europe, sanitariums, private hospitals, the best analysts. She remains a depraved child. Maybe it's my mother's blood, or the mix of it with the Sternwoods'. My mother died when we were very young. My father would never speak of her."
        "So you finally gave up on Carmen and tried to find somewhere to keep her out of trouble."
        "I need a life, Marlowe. I need a chance to love someone, to get free of her."
        "So you shipped her off to Dr. Bonsentir, and his needles, and his pills, and his security."
        "Yes," Vivian said. "I'm not ashamed of that. Resthaven is well regarded, and Dr. Bonsentir is a specialist in sexually related personality disorders."
        "I'll bet he is," I said. "How'd you find him?"
        She said something I couldn't hear.
        "I didn't get that," I said.
        "Randolph Simpson," she said in a voice that came out too loud because she was forcing it.
        "Ah yes," I said. "The old family friend."
        "My father knew him. When my father was younger he did some business with his family."
        "The first time I asked, you said you didn't know him."
        "He requires anonymity," Vivian said.
        "I'll bet he does," I said.
        "In truth he frightens me. He told me to tell no one he'd helped me with Carmen, and when you asked I was afraid."
        "You think Carmen's with him?"
        "I don't know." I could hear her breath go in shakily and come out the same way. "I guess I don't want to know."
        "So where's Mars come in?"
        "I asked Eddie to see if he could find out where Carmen was."
        "And he agreed?"
        "Yes. He helped me with Carmen before. He knows about her."
        "What's he get out of it?"
        "Nothing. It's just a favor to me."
        "Guys like Mars don't do favors," I said. "He gets something."
        "Maybe you wouldn't understand," Vivian said. "But Eddie Mars loves me."
        "I might understand that, but I'm not sure I understand it in a gee like Eddie."
        "I know. I know what Eddie is, but he is capable of love, Marlowe, and he loves me."
        "How about you?" I said.
        "Do I love him?"
        "Un huh."
        "No, I don't suppose I do. But it would be easy to. Eddie's a powerful man. He has money. He has influence. He's tough and things don't scare him."
        "And he's crooked as a con man's smile," I said.
        "Maybe, but if you've been alone and a woman and frightened, power and influence and money and tough looks like it might be enough."
        "What about me?" I said.
        She paused, rubbing the back of my hand against her cheek.
        "You're