grinning, as she threatened to become violent. “He’s a big brave dog and he just didn’t want to hurt those poor little fellows. Ouch!”
She’d kicked me. I grabbed her, and we wrestled a bit, not altogether playfully. She was really mad. Then, her temper vanished in an instant, and she was laughing, and then she gasped, and I looked where she was looking at our images in the big mirror by the door: two beat-up characters too long without sleep, too long in their clothes. She freed herself and faced the mirror squarely.
“Oh, my God!” she said. “No wonder Dad said.”
She checked herself, grimaced, reached down for the belt and back for the zipper, and let the dress fall about her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it through the open bedroom door and one shoe with it. She kicked the second shoe after the first, and reached up to extract the few remaining pins from her hair, shaking it loose. It was longer than I’d thought, soft and bright to her bare shoulders.
“Look,” she said, still prospecting for pins, “why don’t you start some eggs and coffee while I take a shower; then I’ll get breakfast on the table while you’re cleaning up. What’s the matter?” She glanced down at herself, barefoot, in brassiere and panties, and said impatiently, “Oh, for God’s sake, you’ve made love to me twice! So I’ve got a body. Big deal!”
I said, grinning, “Who’s impressed? Go take your damn shower.”
She said, “Baby—” The doorbell rang. She said, with another glance at her brief costume, if you could call it that, “Oh, damn. Get that, will you, baby?”
I gave her time to withdraw into the bedroom and close the door. Then I opened the front door. The man outside was wearing clean coveralls and a cap with some kind of public utilities insignia. He was carrying one of those aluminum-covered notebooks or clipboards they use. He said something I didn’t catch, and opened the cover of the thing to show me something. When I stepped forward, his partner, whom I hadn’t seen, came up from my left and hit me over the head with a sap.
14
All right, so it was a stupid damn business, and if I’d seen it on TV I’d have groaned and turned off the set with, perhaps, some comments on the silly behavior of the supposedly tough and competent private eye on the screen, walking right into it like that. All I can say is that I’d had two nights without sleep, the last one a real dilly; I wasn’t at my best. Of course, we hardly ever are, in times of crisis. Unlike Olympic athletes, lucky fellows, we don’t get to go into training for our major efforts, with plenty of good wholesome food and lots of sleep. We’re supposed to do it on Benzedrine and hard liquor if necessary, which it usually is.
Anyway, they caught me completely off guard, the way a man like me isn’t ever supposed to be. I thought I had the opposition all figured out; and the time you start thinking that is the time you usually find out you’re wrong. I won’t say that the fact that I went to the door with my mind less on who might be out there than on my bright mental image of the kid without too many clothes on didn’t have something to do with my negligence.
The sap-man was an expert. His blow was no harder than necessary, and no softer, either. I went down. The one in the coveralls kept me from hitting my face on the brick steps. I wasn’t out, not completely; I was aware of the other man putting his instrument away—a cosh, it might have been called by Duke Logan, and why he came into my mind at that moment I didn’t know. The two men between them dragged me into the house. They dumped me on the nearby sofa. I could see it all quite clearly although my eyes were closed. It was as if I was way out and above it somewhere, looking into the tiny toy house with its tiny toy living room and the tiny toy figures going through their minuscule motions.
“Did you have to hit him so hard?” a voice asked. “If you’ve
She’d kicked me. I grabbed her, and we wrestled a bit, not altogether playfully. She was really mad. Then, her temper vanished in an instant, and she was laughing, and then she gasped, and I looked where she was looking at our images in the big mirror by the door: two beat-up characters too long without sleep, too long in their clothes. She freed herself and faced the mirror squarely.
“Oh, my God!” she said. “No wonder Dad said.”
She checked herself, grimaced, reached down for the belt and back for the zipper, and let the dress fall about her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it through the open bedroom door and one shoe with it. She kicked the second shoe after the first, and reached up to extract the few remaining pins from her hair, shaking it loose. It was longer than I’d thought, soft and bright to her bare shoulders.
“Look,” she said, still prospecting for pins, “why don’t you start some eggs and coffee while I take a shower; then I’ll get breakfast on the table while you’re cleaning up. What’s the matter?” She glanced down at herself, barefoot, in brassiere and panties, and said impatiently, “Oh, for God’s sake, you’ve made love to me twice! So I’ve got a body. Big deal!”
I said, grinning, “Who’s impressed? Go take your damn shower.”
She said, “Baby—” The doorbell rang. She said, with another glance at her brief costume, if you could call it that, “Oh, damn. Get that, will you, baby?”
I gave her time to withdraw into the bedroom and close the door. Then I opened the front door. The man outside was wearing clean coveralls and a cap with some kind of public utilities insignia. He was carrying one of those aluminum-covered notebooks or clipboards they use. He said something I didn’t catch, and opened the cover of the thing to show me something. When I stepped forward, his partner, whom I hadn’t seen, came up from my left and hit me over the head with a sap.
14
All right, so it was a stupid damn business, and if I’d seen it on TV I’d have groaned and turned off the set with, perhaps, some comments on the silly behavior of the supposedly tough and competent private eye on the screen, walking right into it like that. All I can say is that I’d had two nights without sleep, the last one a real dilly; I wasn’t at my best. Of course, we hardly ever are, in times of crisis. Unlike Olympic athletes, lucky fellows, we don’t get to go into training for our major efforts, with plenty of good wholesome food and lots of sleep. We’re supposed to do it on Benzedrine and hard liquor if necessary, which it usually is.
Anyway, they caught me completely off guard, the way a man like me isn’t ever supposed to be. I thought I had the opposition all figured out; and the time you start thinking that is the time you usually find out you’re wrong. I won’t say that the fact that I went to the door with my mind less on who might be out there than on my bright mental image of the kid without too many clothes on didn’t have something to do with my negligence.
The sap-man was an expert. His blow was no harder than necessary, and no softer, either. I went down. The one in the coveralls kept me from hitting my face on the brick steps. I wasn’t out, not completely; I was aware of the other man putting his instrument away—a cosh, it might have been called by Duke Logan, and why he came into my mind at that moment I didn’t know. The two men between them dragged me into the house. They dumped me on the nearby sofa. I could see it all quite clearly although my eyes were closed. It was as if I was way out and above it somewhere, looking into the tiny toy house with its tiny toy living room and the tiny toy figures going through their minuscule motions.
“Did you have to hit him so hard?” a voice asked. “If you’ve
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