"I don't believe you have any intention ofhelping me. You're simply trying to pump me for information."

It was true. I didn't care for her as shewished to be cared for by someone. I didn't entirely trust her. Her handsomebody seemed to contain two alternating persons, one sensitive and candid, onehard and evasive.

She rose and went to the glass wall thatfaced the mountains. They had turned lavender and plum, with dark nocturnalblue in their clefts and groins. The entire evening, mountains and sky andcity, was inundated with blue.

"Die blaue Stunde," she saidmore or less to herself. "I used to love this hour. Now it gives me themortal shivers."

I got up and stood behind her."You're deliberately working on your own emotions."

"You know so much about me."

"I know you're an intelligent woman.Act like one. If the place is getting you down leave it, or stay here and takeprecautions. Ask for police protection."

"You're very free with brilliantsuggestions not involving you. I asked for protection yesterday after I got thethreatening telephone calL The Sheriff sent a man out. He said such calls werecommon, and usually involved teenagers."

"Could it have been a teenager?"

"I didn't think so. But the deputy said theysometimes disguise their voices. He told me not to worry."

"So don't worry."

"I can't help it. I'm afraid, Lew. Stay withme?"

She turned and leaned on my chest, movingher body tentatively against me. The only real feeling I had for her was pity.She was trying to use me, and using herself in order to use me.

"I have to run along," I said."I told you at the start I have a prior commitment. But I'll check back onyou."

"Thanks so much!"

She pulled away from me, so violently thatshe thudded like a bird against the glass wall.

chapter 7

I drove downhill through deepeningtwilight toward the Mariner's Rest Motel, telling myself in various tones ofvoice that I had done the right thing. The trouble was, in the scene I had justwalked out of, there was no right thing to do—only sins of commission oromission.

A keyboy wearing a gold-braided yachtingcap who looked as though he had never set foot on a dock told me that AlexKincaid had registered and gone out again. I went to the Surf House for dinner.The spotlit front of the big hotel reminded me of Fargo and all the uselesspictures I had ordered from him.

He was in the dark room adjoining hislittle office. When he came out he was wearing rectangular dark glasses againstthe light. I couldn't see his eyes, but his mouth was hostile. He picked up abulky manila envelope from the desk and thrust it at me.

"I thought you were in a hurry for theseprints."

"I was. Things came up. We found her."

"So now you don't want 'em? My wife worked inthis sweatbox half the afternoon to get 'em ready."

"I'll take them. Kincaid will have a use for themif I don't. How much?"

"Twenty-five dollars including tax. It's actually$24.96."

I gave him two tens and a five, and his mouth wentthrough three stages of softening. "Are they getting back together?"

"I don't know yet."

"Where did you find her?"

"Attending the local college. She has a jobdriving for an old lady named Bradshaw."

"The one with the Rolls?"

"Yes. You know her?"

"I wouldn't say that. She and her songenerally eat Sunday buffet lunch in the dining room. She's quite a character.I took a candid picture of them once, on the chance they'd order some copies,and she threatened to smash my camera with her cane. I felt like telling theold biddy her face was enough to smash it."

"But you didn't?"

"I can't afford such luxuries."He spread out his chemicalstained hands. "She's a local institution, andshe could get me fired."

"I understand she's loaded."

"Not only that. Her son is a bigwheel in educational circles. He seems like a nice enough joe, in spite of theHarvard lahde-dah. As a matter of fact he calmed her down when she wanted tosmash my Leica. But it's hard to figure a guy like that, a good-looking guy inhis forties, still tied to his old lady's apron-strings."

"It happens in the best offamilies."

"Yeah, especially in the best. I seea lot of these sad cookies waiting around for the money, and by the time theyinherit it's too late. At least Bradshaw had the guts to go out and make acareer for himself." Fargo looked at his watch. "Speaking of careers,I've already put in a twelve-hour day and I've got about two hours ofdeveloping to do. See you."

I started toward the hotel coffee shop.Fargo came running after me along the corridor. The rectangular dark glasseslent his face a robotlike calm which went oddly with the movements of his legs

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009