The sheet around her had fallen down below the small, perfectly conical breasts. “No, but I’m no curvy cutie-pie, no dolled-up starlet. And on a daily basis, half the little Jean Harlots in Hollywood are throwing themselves at Paul.”
“But is he catching?”
“Yes! Which is why poor old Myrtle is half-bonkers. I’m probably the only woman in California under forty he’s not having an affair with. He’s a ladies’ man, a tomcat from the word go, which is also why he’s not my type. He doesn’t respect women.”
“He has great respect for you. You’re his star pupil.”
Her eyes and nostrils flared. “That’s what I mean! He’s a stunt pilot, and a good one, but he doesn’t begin to have the list of records I have. What sets him above me?”
“Why do you put up with him, then? I would’ve guessed you were very fond of him.”
She shrugged, sighed. “I am. I guess I look at him and see a kindred spirit. He loves to fly, and he’s got adventure in his soul.”
“Well, tonight he had a wife with a .32 in his bedroom.”
“Maybe he’s a little too adventurous. And I respect him. He’s got connections in the aeronautics industry second to none; the guys at Lockheed love him. He knows people, and he knows his stuff.”
“But he’s also a cocky little bastard.”
“Yes. Can I ask you something, Nathan?”
“Shoot…as long you’re not packing a .32.”
“What do you think these are?” she smirked as she pulled the covers up over her breasts. “Listen. You were around the two of us, Paul and me, and even knowing me as well as you do, you thought the two of us might be having an affair, correct?”
“I was convinced of it. I was hoping it wasn’t true, because I couldn’t imagine why any sane woman would prefer that little son of a bitch to a handsome so-and-so like yours truly…but sure. I made you two for an item.”
She mulled that over. “Then G. P. really may have sent those notes himself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Nathan, tonight…when you saw me in bed with Toni…what did you think?”
“What do you think I thought?”
“Probably that I like to be with women.”
“A reasonable assumption.”
“Yes, but…I like women, uh…You see, I went to several girls’ schools, and that’s where I had my first, oh…this is embarrassing.”
“Then don’t talk about it.”
She swallowed, steeled herself. “There have been women in my life, casually…and a few men, too…. Does that shock you?”
I gave her my best smartass smirk. “So you fly a biplane. So what?”
She tapped my chest, with a playful fist. “I’ll hit you again….”
“It doesn’t shock me, Amy. I’m from Chicago. Takes a cattle prod to shock a Chicagoan.”
“Good. Because I need you to understand my relationship with G. P., and it’s not, uh…Saturday Evening Post material.”
“Not something Norman Rockwell might paint?”
“Not exactly. I was sort of G. P.’s…discovery.”
“I know. He cast you as ‘Lady Lindy’ to make a bestseller. Then the bestseller was such an enormous success, he decided to latch onto you for the sequels.”
“That’s about it, but the whole truth is, I also latched onto him…. Nathan, I didn’t have money. I’m a nurse, a social worker, a teacher, and flying is an expensive…obsession.”
“I remember.”
“He was married, when we were first associated. It sounds ugly, but it’s true: I wrote my first book, about the Friendship flight? Under his and his wife’s roof. Dorothy was wonderful to me…I even dedicated the book to her.”
“I’m sure that made up for you taking away her husband.”
“Go ahead, be snide, I deserve it; I’m not proud of what I did. He claimed their marriage was over before I came along, and I could lie and say I rejected his advances until after the divorce, but I won’t. We slept together, when he accompanied me on lecture tours…. My goodness, Nathan, why didn’t you kiss me when we were alone in those hotel rooms? Do you know how much time we’ve wasted?”
“Please…no salt in the wound. So there was love between you, in the beginning?”
“I never felt that for him.”
“How did he feel about you?”
“I’ve never been sure whether he viewed me as a valuable property he secured or really did love me, but I do know he…lusted after me. My goodness, this sounds like a meller-drama, doesn’t it?”
“All G. P. lacks is the handlebar mustache and the whip.”
“He was aware of my…proclivities. He knew that despite my fairly modest demeanor, that I, uh…”
“That still waters ran deep.”
“Thank you. What a generous way to put it. Anyway, I had a well-known, publicly stated aversion to marriage, but, uh, at the same time, the normal biological urges of a young woman and, perhaps in the view of some, some not so normal ones, as well. But I did, if not love him in those early days, admire him. He was an impressive man to me. I thought he was fascinating…publisher, explorer, socialite….”
“So you had a normal sexual relationship.”
“Yes. We, uh…don’t have much of one, now. He…he makes me feel dirty.”
“In bed?”
“No. Everywhere else. He’s the management, Nathan, and he still does a good job, but he goes too far. You’re a case in point…. He had no right to hire you to spy on me. We had an agreement, G. P. and I, before our marriage, not a formal agreement really, but I did put it in writing…”
“A prenuptial agreement, you mean?”
“Not exactly…just a letter I gave him on the eve of our wedding. But he accepted the terms.”
“The terms.”
“Yes. I told him I wouldn’t hold him to any medieval code of faithfulness, nor would I consider myself bound that way to him.”
“And has he been with other women?”
“Almost certainly, but it’s no concern of mine, is it? Then in the early days of our marriage, when we were more romantically active, he started getting possessive, and finally I did agree…Nathan, this is embarrassing for me, please forgive my reticence…I agreed that any future dalliances would be with members of my own sex.”
“You mean, it was okay with George if you fooled around as long as it was with other females.”
“That’s it.”
“But he wanted to be the only man in your life.”
“That’s right. Otherwise, it would be an affront to his manhood.”
I winced at the weird logic. “And you finding satisfaction in the arms of another woman wasn’t?”
“No. Frankly, I…I think he found the idea exciting. Is that a common male fantasy?”
“I think most fellas figure if two girls were going at it, and a real man happened onto the scene, he could straighten ’em out.”
She began to laugh. She laughed so hard, tears were rolling.
“Was that funny?” I asked. Usually I know when I’m kidding.
“You should write for the Marx Brothers…. Nathan, I believe I’m something of an exception, feeling as I do toward both sexes. But the notion of a ‘real man’ trying to make a ‘real woman’ out of Toni Lake, for example, is about as likely as a dog turning a cat into Rin Tin Tin…. Have I disappointed you? Did you think you’d made a real woman out of me tonight?”
Now I laughed. “Anything’s possible. Didn’t I make myself into a real fool?”
“A sweet fool.” She nestled under my arm again, the long tapering fingers of one hand entwining themselves in the hair on my chest. “You know, Nathan, this begins to make sense. If observing Paul and me together led you to believe we were ‘an item,’ then G. P. might have come to the same conclusion.”
I worked my fingers gently in her tousled curls. “Which means your husband might very well be behind those threatening notes.”
“It’s highly possible…. Nathan, your suitcase…is it my imagination, or is it packed?”