When Max first came into her life, the collection of expense money was her brother’s duty. But Alan had no talent or taste for quibbling with mayors, councilmen, and bureaucrats. As often as not, when Mary had done her work and the guilty man had been found, the local politicians who had summoned her tried to get rid of her without paying what they owed. Alan seldom pressured them. As a result, tens of thousands of dollars in expenses were lost each year
;
and although Mary earned considerable sums, she was slowly going broke.
Within two months following the wedding Max straightened out Mary’s financial affairs. He renegotiated her contract with the lecture bureau and doubled her speaking fee. When her contract with the newspaper syndicate came due for renewal, he made a far more advantageous deal than she had thought possible. And he never failed to get a check for expenses.
“Well?” Alan said.
“All right. You take her back to the hotel. But remember what you said. I’m better at getting the money. And I always will be.”
“Of course. You have a nose for it,” Alan said. His smile had no warmth. “You sniffed out Mary’s money pretty damned fast, didn’t you?”
“Go,” Max said.
“Too much truth in that for you?”
“Get out of here before you find yourself looking up your own ass for the rest of your life.”
Alan blinked.
Max didn’t.
Alan walked over to Harley Barnes.
Gradually Max became aware of a number of people in the crowd who were staring at him. He stared back at them, one at a time. Each grew self-conscious and turned away—but each looked at him again as soon as he moved his gaze.
None of them was close enough to have heard the argument. He realized that they were staring because his face was contorted by rage, because his shoulders were drawn up like those of a stalking panther, because his huge hands were in tight fists at his sides. He tried to relax, to let his shoulders fall. And he put his hands in the pockets of his raincoat so that no one could see he was too infuriated to uncurl them.
4
THE HOTEL ROOM had four ugly lamps with garishly patterned shades, but only one of them was on.
In a black vinyl armchair that stood on a swivel base Alan folded his hands around a glass of Scotch that he wasn’t drinking. The light fell over him from the left, carving his face with sharp shadows.
Mary was sitting up in bed, on top of the covers, well out of the light. She wished Max would get back so they could go out for a late supper and a couple of drinks. She was hungry and tired and emotionally exhausted.
“Still have a headache?” Alan asked.
“The aspirin helped.”
“You’re drawn... so pale.”
“There’s nothing wrong that eight hours of sleep won’t cure.”
“I worry about you,” he said.
She smiled affectionately. “You’ve always worried about me, dear. Even when we were children.”
“I care about you very much.”
“I know that.”
“You’re my sister. I love you.”
“I know, but—”
“He presses you too hard.”
“Not this again, Alan.”
“He does.”
“I wish you and Max could get along.”
“So do I. But we never will.”
“But
why?”
“Because I know what he is.”
“And what’s that?”
“For one thing, he’s so different from you,” Alan said. “He’s not as sensitive as you are. He’s not as kind.” He seemed to be pleading with her. “You’re gentle, and he’s—”
“He can be gentle, too.”
“Can he?”
“With me he can. He’s sweet.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” she said sarcastically. Anger flared briefly in her but was quickly extinguished. She couldn’t stay angry with Alan for more than a minute. Even a minute was stretching it.
“Mary, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Then don’t.”
“We never had cross words, not in thirty years... until he came into the picture.”
“I’m not up to this tonight.”
“You’re not up to anything because he presses you too hard and too fast when he’s guiding you through your visions.”
“He does it well.”
“Not as well as I did it.”
“At first he was too insistent,” she admitted. “Too anxious. But not anymore.”
Alan put down his Scotch, got up, turned his back on her. He went to the window. Moody silence enveloped him.
She closed her eyes and wished Max would get back.
After a minute Alan walked away from the window. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her. “I’m afraid to go away on vacation.”
Without opening her eyes, she said, “Afraid of what?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Max.”
“That’s what I mean—alone with Max.”
“Alan, for Christ’s sake!”
“I mean it.”
She opened her eyes, sat up straighter. “You’re being silly. Ridiculous. I won’t listen to any more of this.”
“If I didn’t care what happens to you, I could walk out right now. Whether you want to hear it or not, I’m going to say what I think is true about him.”
She sighed.
“He’s an opportunist,” Alan said.
“So what?”
“He likes money.”
“So do I. So do you.”
“He likes it too much.”
She smiled indulgently. “I’m not sure you can ever like it too much, dear.”
“Don’t you understand?”
“Enlighten me.”
Alan hesitated. There was sadness in his beautiful eyes. “Max likes
other people’s
money too much.”
She stared at him, surprised. “Look... if you’re saying he married me for my money—”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“Then it’s
you
who’s pressing me too hard.” There was steel in her voice now.
He changed his tone with her, spoke softly. “All I’m trying to do is make you face facts. I don’t—”
She raised herself up, away from the headboard. “Am I so ugly that no one would want me if I were poor?”
“You’re beautiful. You know that.”
She wasn’t satisfied. “Then am I some mindless little twit who bores men to death?”
“Don’t shout,” Alan said. “Calm down. Please.” He seemed genuinely grieved that he had hurt her. But he didn’t change the subject. “Plenty of men would give everything they own to marry you. And for all the right reasons. Why you ever picked Max—”
“He was the first decent prospect, the first full-fledged man who asked.”
“That’s not true. I know of four others who asked.”
“The first two were spineless wonders,” she said. “The third one was about as gentle and considerate in bed as a bull is in the ring. The other one was virtually impotent. Max wasn’t any of that. He was different, interesting, exciting.”
“You didn’t marry him because he was exciting, or because he was intelligent or mysterious or romantic. You married him because he was big, strong, and gruff. A perfect father image.”
“Since when have you practiced psychiatry?”
She knew Alan didn’t want to pick at her like this. He continued only because he felt she needed to hear it. He was being a conscientious big brother. Even though he was misguided, his intentions were admirable. If she hadn’t been certain of that, she would have asked him to leave.
“I don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that you need to lean on someone. You always have. From the day you realized what your clairvoyance was, what it meant, you’ve been frightened of it, unable to deal with it yourself. You leaned on me for a while. But I wasn’t tall enough or broad-shouldered enough to fill the role for long.”
“Alan, for the first time in my life I have the urge to slap your face.”
He came around and sat down on the edge of the bed. He took her left hand in both of his. “Mary, he was a newspaper hack, a washed-up reporter who hadn’t covered a major story in ten years. You knew him just six weeks before you were married.”
“That’s all the longer I
needed
to know him.” She relaxed, squeezed Alan’s hand. “It’s working out fine, dear. You should be happy for me.”
“You’ve only been married four months.”
“Long enough to like him even better than I did when he proposed.”
“He’s a dangerous man. You know his past.”
“A few fights in barrooms... and he doesn’t go to barrooms anymore.”
“It’s not as innocent as that. He nearly killed some people in those brawls.”
“When they’ve had too much to drink and are feeling mean, some men will go after the biggest man in the room. Max was a natural target. He didn’t start any of those fights.”
“So he says.”
“No one ever pressed charges.”
“Maybe they were afraid to.”
“He’s changed. What he needed was someone who loved him, someone he could feel responsible for. He needed me.”
Alan nodded forlornly. “Want a drink?”
“I’ll wait for Max.”
He drank his Scotch in three swallows. “You’re absolutely sure about him?”
“About Max? Positive.”
He went to the window again, studied the night sky for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be returning to work with you after my vacation.”
She got up, went to him, took hold of his shoulder and turned him around. “Say again?”
“I’m a fifth wheel now.”
“Nonsense. You take care of so much of my business—”
“That’s nothing a secretary couldn’t handle,” Alan said. “Before Max, I was vital. I was your guide through the visions. But there’s nothing important for me to do anymore. And I don’t need this constant friction with Max.”
“But what will you do?”
“I’m not sure. I think I’ll start by taking two months vacation instead of two weeks. I can afford it. You’ve been very generous to me and—”
“Not generous. You earned your share. Alan—”
“I’ve got enough money put away to keep me for years. Maybe I’ll go back to the university... finish that degree in political science.”
“Will you move out of the house in Bel Air?”
“That would be best. I can find an apartment.”
“Will you live with Jennifer?”
“She dropped me,” he said.
“What?”
“For another guy.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She wasn’t my type.”
“You two seemed happy.”
“We were... briefly.”
“What went wrong?”
“Everything.”
“You won’t move far away, will you?”
“Probably just to Westwood.”
“Oh, then we’ll practically be neighbors.”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll have lunch once a week.”
“All right,” he said.
“And dinner occasionally.”
“Without Max?” he asked.
“Just you and me.”
“Sounds lovely.”
A childlike tear rolled out of the corner of her eye.
“No need for that,” he said, wiping it away.
“I’ll miss you.”
“A brother and sister can’t live in the same house forever. It’s unnatural.”
The sound of a key in the lock made them turn to the door.
Max came in and stripped off his raincoat.
Mary went to him, kissed him on the cheek.
Putting an arm around her, refusing to acknowledge Alan, Max asked, “Feeling better?”
“Just tired,” she said.
“Everything went smoothly in spite of Oberlander,” Max said. “I got the check for expenses.”
“You always do,” she said proudly.
During that exchange Alan went to the door and opened it. “I’ll be going.”
Only minutes ago she had hoped he would leave before Max returned in order to avoid one of those tiresome quarrels. Now she felt that Alan was drifting out of her life, and she was unwilling to let go of him so soon or so easily. “Can’t you stay for another drink?”
He looked at Max and shook his head. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
Max said nothing. He didn’t move, smile, or even blink. His arm at Mary’s waist was like a stone bannister against which she rested.
She said, “We haven’t talked about what happened tonight. There’s so much to be discussed.”
“Later,” Alan said.
“You’re still just going to spend your vacation driving up the coast?”
“Yeah. I’ll spend some time in San Francisco. I know a girl there who’s invited me for Christmas. Maybe after that I’ll head for Seattle.”
“You’ll call me?”
“Sure.”
“When?”
“A week or so.”
“Christmas Day?”
“All right.”
“I’ll miss you, Alan.”
“Watch out for yourself.”
“I’ll watch out for her,” Max said.
Alan ignored him. To Mary he said, “Be careful, will you? And remember what I said.”
He went out, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone with Max.
The small, downtown tavern was dimly lit, quite busy as late evening approached, but cozy in spite of the crowd. Max and Mary sat in a corner booth, and the bartender made two perfect vodka martinis. Later they ate roast beef sandwiches and split a bottle of red wine.
When she had finished half of her large sandwich, she pushed the rest of it aside, poured a third glass of wine for herself, and said, “I wonder if Dan Goldman’s hospital bills will be covered.”
“The town carries a comprehensive insurance policy on its cops,” Max said. “Goldman got hurt in the line of duty, so he won’t be stuck for a penny of it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I knew you’d want me to be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I knew you’d wonder about Goldman’s hospital bills, so I asked the mayor.”