"That's a very good policy."
"Don't I know it? But a lot of girls do, you know. I've got tons of friends who go around with married guys. Which is totally stupid, if you ask me." She narrowed her eyes. "There's no future in it. Only heartache."
"And sometimes murder," Rusty said.
"That's exactly what I mean. Hey, hang on a second, I'll go see if your food's ready." She scooted out of the booth and walked toward the counter.
Rusty watched her go.
No harm in looking. She's not into married guys.
Or old guys, probably.
Good thing.
When she returned, she had a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She put them down in front of Rusty. "Let me warm up your coffee," she said, and hurried off again. She came back with a coffee pot, poured, took it away and returned with another glass of ice water. Scooting into the booth, she said, "I got Lucy to take my tables just in case."
"Good idea."
"So anyhow, where was I?"
"Staying after class with Parkington."
"Oh. Right. So that was that. I told him no dice, you know? But I was nice about it. I don't believe in being nasty, especially about that kind of stuff." She grinned. "Besides which, I've gotta see this guy in class every day. He's still my teacher, so I don't want him any more . . . ticked off at me than is like absolutely necessary. So I tried to let him down gently. And you know what?" She raised her eyebrows and waited.
"What?" Rusty asked.
"The very next day, he starts in on other girls in the class. You could always tell who he had his eyes on just by the way he acted. You know, the tone of his voice, the way he'd stare at them, that sort of stuff."
Rusty bit into the grilled rye of his patty melt, but his attention was so focused on Doris that he was hardly aware of eating.
"After me, he went after this tacky brunette -- Hester something. She was a real snorter, though, if you know what I mean."
"Not especially attractive?"
"Yeah, and then some. Anyhow, I think he went after her just because he knew she'd put out. Girls like that always do, you know. That's because they're so desperate. A guy just has to give them a second look, and they'll drop . . . they'll give in. So I'm sure he made it with Hester. But as soon as he got her, he didn't want her any more. That's the way guys like him operate, at least when they go after someone like her. Anyhow, he started picking on her in class, calling on her with impossible questions, really giving her a tough time. She broke down crying one day and ran out of the room and never came back. I guess she dropped the class."
"Professor Parkington doesn't sound like a very nice fellow," Rusty said.
"Oh, he can be very sweet when he wants to be. You know. But he can be really cold and cutting when he feels like it, too. A real . . . jerk. I think he's insecure. Insecure people always get a thrill out of putting other people down and hurting them and stuff."
"I've noticed that, too," Rusty said.
"Yeah. Well anyhow, after he dumped Hester, Dr. Parkington finally made a play for this really hot blonde. I mean, this gal was drop-dead gorgeous. She'd been in class from the start, so God knows why he went after me first instead of her. Maybe she was too gorgeous, you know? Maybe that's how come he waited. Maybe he felt like he had to work his way up to her, or something. Who knows? Maybe he was waiting for a signal from her. But when he finally did make his play, she came across. As far as I know, they're still at it. What I think is, maybe she helped him kill his wife."
"Who is this gorgeous blonde?"
Doris grinned. "Her name's right there." She nodded toward the newspaper on the table beside Rusty's plate. "She's the one who found Mrs. Parkington's body down by the river this morning. Faye Everett."
"Faye?"
Doris grinned.
"Faye Everett was having an affair with Grant Parkington?"
"You'd better believe it."
He tried to believe it.
It wasn't easy.
Faye? Bass's fiancee, Faye? Harney and Pac's friend, Faye? Faye, who'd gone to the Bend this morning to start a canoe trip with Bass and happened to find the headless corpse of a woman who happened to be the wife of her secret lover?
Faye, who vanished this afternoon?
What the hell?
Rusty felt astonished and disoriented. He rubbed his face. Then he took a drink of coffee. Then he asked Doris, "Are you sure? Do you know it for a fact that Faye was having an affair with Parkington, or are you just assuming . . . ?"
"Oh, it's not an assumption. I just sort of assumed things about him and Hester, but I know what he was up to with Faye."
"How?"
"About a week ago, I needed to see Dr. Parkington about an assignment. I wanted to do this paper about how Coleridge got interrupted when he was writing 'Kubla Khan.' I wanted to find out where I could get my hands on certain source material. . . ." She laughed and shook her head. "Which is all besides the point, right? I mean, Coleridge smoleridge. The deal is, that's how come I needed to see Parkington. Anyhow, it was pretty late in the afternoon, but he was scheduled to have office hours so I went up to drop in on him. Well, his door's shut, so I knock on it. Right? But nobody answers. I figure maybe he's out for a little break or something, so I'll just hang around and wait for him to come back. So I park myself on a chair right outside his office. It's really quiet in there. I mean, the whole building is as quiet as a tomb. And kind of spooky. I keep sitting there, but I'm starting to get the creeps. Finally, I've had enough, so I'm just about to leave when all of a sudden his office door swings open. It scared the life out of me. But then I see it's only Faye. She just gives me this snotty smile and keeps walking."
"Parkington was in his office?"
"He was in there, all right. I waited a couple of minutes after Faye left, then I knocked and he said, 'Come in.' So I went in, and he was all red and huffy like he'd just finished running a marathon or something."
"And you think they'd had sex in his office?"
"I'd bet a million dollars on it."
"That's a lot of money."
"I'd win. See, the good professor hadn't done a very good job of cleaning up. I don't think he even tried. I mean, the carpet in front of his desk . . . Well, you know."
Chapter Thirty
Sweethearts
When they finished, they lay side by side on the couch. Ina's fingers smoothed the hair above Bass's ear.
"If I'd known it would be like this," Bass said, "I wouldn't have waited so long."
"Serves you right." Lightly, she brushed her lips against his mouth.
"I guess I'm just slow sometimes."
"You wouldn't even be here now," Ina said, "if that guy hadn't booby trapped your house."
"We need to send him a thank you."
"Even with Faye missing, you didn't have the least intention of seeing me, did you?"
"Well . . ."
"You would have stayed in that house, all alone, just waiting to hear from her. After everything she's done to you."
"All of which you were good enough to tell me about."
"Faye had no right to hurt you that way. She was cheating on you, honey."
"We weren't married. She had the right."
"She shouldn't have done it."
"I guess they've both paid, haven't they?"
Ina's skin grew prickly with goosebumps. She pressed herself tightly against Bass, then felt the comfort of his arms wrapping around her back. "You should've told me sooner who the body was."
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it does."
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't know, because it makes it all so close."
"You don't think I killed Parkington's wife, do you?"
Ina shook her head. She felt one of his hands move slowly down her back. "You wouldn't have much reason," she said. "You might kill what's-his-name. Him."
"Grant?"
"Right. Grant. And I wouldn't blame you for it if you did. But you wouldn't have any reason to kill his wife, would you?"
"I shouldn't think so."
"She's not the one who slept with Faye."
"Not that we know of," Bass said, and smiled.
"You're terrible." Braced on her elbow, Ina rubbed Bass's chest. She watched her hand. Her skin was darker than his. She wished vaguely that he wasn't so hairy, and imagined the mess his dark curls would make in the bathtub.
"Do you think it was a coincidence?" he asked. "Me and Faye finding that body?"
Ina shook her head.
"Then what's the connection?"
"Do you want me to guess?"
"Give it your best shot," Bass urged her.
"Do you know?"
"How should I know?"
"I don't know," Ina said.
"So, what do you think?"
She slid her hand down his belly. "Welllll." Lightly, she fingered his penis. It stirred and began to grow. "Maybe either Grant or Faye decided to kill Mrs. Parkington. Or maybe they . . . did away with her together."
"Possible," Bass said. He sighed with pleasure as she stroked him.
"I guess they could've even hired someone else to do it," Ina suggested, watching him rise and thicken in her hand.
"Hired a killer?"
"Right. The man you saw this morning. And they needed to have you there as a witness so you could testify that he wasn't Grant."
"I guess it's possible," he said.
"Cause, you know, the husband's always the first guy they suspect."
"Yeah."
Ina climbed onto Bass and eased herself down, moaning as he slid into her.
They were finished and sweaty and trying to catch their breath when the doorbell rang.
"Oh, shit," Bass said.
"I'd better see who it is," Ina whispered.
They both sat up. As Ina pulled her cut-offs up her legs, Bass started picking up his clothes.
The bell rang again.
Bass hurried for the hallway.
Ina, standing, buttoned and raised the zipper of her shorts. She lifted her halter top off the couch.
The bell rang again.
"Just a minute," she called. She put on her halter as she walked to the door. "Who is it?"
"Sheriff Hodges."
Though Ina had seen him on the news and she knew he was Pac's father-in-law, she had never met him. She took off the guard chain. Turning the knob, she realized with a sudden jolt of fear that he might be bringing news of Faye. She jerked the door open.
The man on the front step didn't look at all like Sheriff Hodges. He was lean and bald -- not a husky redhead.
He held something against his leg.
A tire tool.
"You aren't . . ."
His arm swung the black steel rod.
Chapter Thirty-one
The Visitor
Merton wished he'd aimed higher. Instead of smashing her temple, the tire tool caught her across the cheek and ear. But the effect pleased him; her legs folded.
She dropped to the floor.
He shut the door, locked it and stepped into the living room.
Nobody there.
Two glasses remained on the coffee table, though. Not much had been drunk from either one, but the ice cubes were melted to nothing.
The ice had probably done all that melting while he'd been sitting outside listening to his car radio, smoking and waiting.
Waiting for what? For the other woman, the blonde, to show up? For Bass to leave and drive over to the blonde's place so he could follow. Maybe for the blonde to drive up, herself, and knock on the door. But you can only wait so long. The time it takes for a few ice cubes to melt in booze.
Besides, the radio news had finally given him the blonde's name, so finding her address shouldn't be any great trick. He could do that after finishing Bass.
He looked in the kitchen.
Nobody.
The hallway was too dark. He turned on a light and started walking quietly. He opened a door. A closet. The door made a soft bump when he shut it.
"Ina?" asked a voice.
Just ahead of Merton, a door opened and Bass Paxton looked out. Merton lunged. The door crashed shut, slamming like gunfire a moment before his tire tool struck, burying its head in the wood.
Merton grabbed the knob and twisted. Locked. He backed off and threw himself against the door, his shoulder driving against it.
The door didn't give. Instead, it threw him backward. Raging, he squared his back against the wall across from it, raised his right leg and shot his foot forward. His heel crashed against the wood beside the knob. The door exploded open, throwing splinters, slamming the wall behind it.
The bathroom was empty. Above the tub, the dusky evening sky looked cool and empty through the open window.
Chapter Thirty-two
Anniversary Dinner
"A cocktail before dinner?" The waiter, a slim man with slicked-down black hair, bent forward to listen.
"Two margaritas on the rocks," Hamey told him. "Better make them doubles."
The waiter snapped his head toward Pac. "And for the lady?" His friendly smile made her forget his hair trouble.
"That's one margarita for each of us," she said.
"With or without salt?"
"With," said Pac.
"Without," said Harney.
"Excellent." The waiter jotted down the order. "I'll be right back with your drinks," he said, then left.
"That's the guy who waited on us last time," Harney said.
"You're right."
"He's very good."
"I like him."
"Remember Faye kept calling him hombre?"
"Yeah." Pac couldn't keep the worry out of her voice.
"Are you sure you want to be here?"
"It's all right."
"Are you sure?"
"It's fine. A lot better than sitting at home waiting."
"We could put this off for another night."
"Another night isn't our anniversary. I'm fine with staying. Really. Anyway, it's not like she's dead or something."
The waiter arrived with the margaritas on a tray. He set them on the table in front of Pac and Harney. "Would you care to order now, or would you like a few minutes?"
"We're not quite ready," Harney told him.
"Very good." He left.
They lifted their glasses and Harney toasted, "To my favorite wife."