“Well, we don’t know enough yet to do any useful theorizing, so let’s leave it for the moment. Right now you have, an important decision to make… But first I want you to take it for a little. Get used to it.”
“Take it? Oh.” She hesitated as I pulled the Mazda off onto the shoulder and stopped the motor. “I don’t really know after all these years… Can’t I try it first on a little empty road somewhere?”
“Easier here,” I said. “You’ll discover that little empty roads are kind of hard to come by these days, Miss van Winkle. Here they’re only coming at you from one direction.” After we’d switched seats, I said, “There’s a manual choke over there to the left, but you only need it the first thing in the morning. Gearshift, neutral. Okay, start her up with the key, good. Hand brake, off. It’s a five-speed shift, but don’t worry about fifth right now, it’s a kind of overdrive. All clear astern, go for it.”
It was a pleasure to see how fast confidence returned to her as she swung the car back onto the highway and worked her way through the gears, taking it up to speed. After some experimental jockeying and lane-changing, she found fifth gear—with a defiant little glance in the direction of the bossy guy who’d told her not to worry about it—and settled back in her seat, relaxing behind the wheel.
Her face was alive with the excitement of remembering the long-disused techniques of driving. More clearly than before, under the prison-worn flesh of the woman she was, I could see the ghost of the strikingly lovely girl she’d been. I found myself speculating about how she might look even now if she lost a few pounds—well, quite a few pounds—and tightened up the slack, neglected muscles with systematic exercise, and got a little sun on the tired, dead-white skin… The Helm Ex-Convict Rehabilitation Service, I thought sourly, reminding myself that this woman was supposed to be neither a friend nor a patient, but merely a useful decoy and source, of information.
She spoke at last: “Now what was that tremendous decision I had to make, Matt?”
“Your hair,” I said.
“My
hair
?”
I said, “Because of this council of war coming up, we’ll be stopping early in a place called Stockville up ahead. They have two establishments to choose from, Madelon’s La Mode and Blanche’s Beauty Boutique. If we were superstitious we’d send you to Madelon because of the similarity in the names; but my spies inform me that Blanche is supposed to be the superior operator. But you’d better be ready to tell her how you want it done—”
Madeleine said stiffly, “What is this, a project to bolster the poor convict-lady’s morale? My hair is perfectly fine the way it is, thank you!”
I said, “Actually, it’s lousy the way it is, and you don’t really like it that way yourself, do you? And afterwards you’ll visit Milady’s Fashions and Offenberg’s Department Store, and use those credit cards in your purse. That suit is okay for driving, but I think a simple little dress for dinners along the way, don’t you? And a pair of good-looking slacks, maybe, and some jeans for really rugged going, and shoes and shirts and socks and what they used to call unmentionables—underwear to you—to go with everything. If you want to give your lecherous traveling companion a treat, you might even pick up a few pairs of nice sheer nylons and throw away those cast-iron hose you’re wearing; you’ve got very nice legs for an unperson. Sorry we can’t make it New York or Paris, but do the best you can with Stockville. A new suitcase will probably be needed to handle the overflow. Have fun. Don’t look over your shoulder. Act like a dame on a mad shopping spree after eight years in pokey, a dame who doesn’t really believe her life is in much danger. Questions?”
She was silent for a moment. “I see. You’ll be watching?”
“Somebody’ll be watching. We want to know if Bennett has
“Take it? Oh.” She hesitated as I pulled the Mazda off onto the shoulder and stopped the motor. “I don’t really know after all these years… Can’t I try it first on a little empty road somewhere?”
“Easier here,” I said. “You’ll discover that little empty roads are kind of hard to come by these days, Miss van Winkle. Here they’re only coming at you from one direction.” After we’d switched seats, I said, “There’s a manual choke over there to the left, but you only need it the first thing in the morning. Gearshift, neutral. Okay, start her up with the key, good. Hand brake, off. It’s a five-speed shift, but don’t worry about fifth right now, it’s a kind of overdrive. All clear astern, go for it.”
It was a pleasure to see how fast confidence returned to her as she swung the car back onto the highway and worked her way through the gears, taking it up to speed. After some experimental jockeying and lane-changing, she found fifth gear—with a defiant little glance in the direction of the bossy guy who’d told her not to worry about it—and settled back in her seat, relaxing behind the wheel.
Her face was alive with the excitement of remembering the long-disused techniques of driving. More clearly than before, under the prison-worn flesh of the woman she was, I could see the ghost of the strikingly lovely girl she’d been. I found myself speculating about how she might look even now if she lost a few pounds—well, quite a few pounds—and tightened up the slack, neglected muscles with systematic exercise, and got a little sun on the tired, dead-white skin… The Helm Ex-Convict Rehabilitation Service, I thought sourly, reminding myself that this woman was supposed to be neither a friend nor a patient, but merely a useful decoy and source, of information.
She spoke at last: “Now what was that tremendous decision I had to make, Matt?”
“Your hair,” I said.
“My
hair
?”
I said, “Because of this council of war coming up, we’ll be stopping early in a place called Stockville up ahead. They have two establishments to choose from, Madelon’s La Mode and Blanche’s Beauty Boutique. If we were superstitious we’d send you to Madelon because of the similarity in the names; but my spies inform me that Blanche is supposed to be the superior operator. But you’d better be ready to tell her how you want it done—”
Madeleine said stiffly, “What is this, a project to bolster the poor convict-lady’s morale? My hair is perfectly fine the way it is, thank you!”
I said, “Actually, it’s lousy the way it is, and you don’t really like it that way yourself, do you? And afterwards you’ll visit Milady’s Fashions and Offenberg’s Department Store, and use those credit cards in your purse. That suit is okay for driving, but I think a simple little dress for dinners along the way, don’t you? And a pair of good-looking slacks, maybe, and some jeans for really rugged going, and shoes and shirts and socks and what they used to call unmentionables—underwear to you—to go with everything. If you want to give your lecherous traveling companion a treat, you might even pick up a few pairs of nice sheer nylons and throw away those cast-iron hose you’re wearing; you’ve got very nice legs for an unperson. Sorry we can’t make it New York or Paris, but do the best you can with Stockville. A new suitcase will probably be needed to handle the overflow. Have fun. Don’t look over your shoulder. Act like a dame on a mad shopping spree after eight years in pokey, a dame who doesn’t really believe her life is in much danger. Questions?”
She was silent for a moment. “I see. You’ll be watching?”
“Somebody’ll be watching. We want to know if Bennett has
Similar Books
