«They’ll try again, dear.»
«I wouldn’t be surprised,» I said, feeling a little grisly inside at the thought, but trying not to show it. «I’ll do my best to be careful… Did I talk about it, about the murder, last night?»
«Not very much. Just toward the end. Before you finally fell asleep, you know. Your voice had been growing softer and the words were beginning to run together and I was wondering if you were falling asleep or needing a doctor when you sat up and said, ‘The pen, I shouldn’t have done it,’ or something like that. It wasn’t very clear. You reached out with your hand and I took it and that seemed to relax you and you fell asleep. At first, I feared it might be a coma, but it looked for all the world like natural sleep and I decided to take the chance.»
«Good. I’m glad you did. So I talked about pens. I suppose I’ll never quite get over having messed up my friend on his last night alive. And I went to sleep holding your hand, did I?»
«Yes, and then, after a while, I let go.» She went to the sink.
I said, «Oh, don’t wash the dishes. I’ll take care of that when I get back.»
She washed them anyway.
I said, «You know, I’ve never before spent a night with a girl alone in an apartment without—going to bed with her.» (Silly expression, but I shied away from the various monosyllabic terms.)
She soaped her hands, rinsed them, and dried them on the dish towel. «And it’s the first time I’ve ever spent an innocent night with a boy,» she said calmly. «Now we both know what it feels like.»
«I don’t,» I said. «I was out like a light.»
«I do,» she said, «and I have spent far better nights… I will have to use your bathroom again.»
I waited, remembering that I hadn’t cleaned my teeth yet, or shaved, or done a few other things, so I went in when she came out. And it was when I was cleaning my teeth that the thought struck me—for the second time, for I must have had it first the night before, when the blow on my head had unhinged me and let me think loosely enough, jarring me out of the same old circle in which my thoughts had burrowed for a day and a half.
I started shouting, and with my mouth full of toothpaste, nothing much came out. Sarah must have been at the door again, waiting for me to fall down, because she was there beside me at once, saying in anxious tones, «What is it, Darius? What is it?»
I had to rinse my mouth. Then I said, «What you heard me say last night about the pens. Did I say ‘pens’ plural or ‘pen’ singular?»
She shook her head and held out her hands helplessly. «I couldn’t swear to it. Singular, I think.»
«And I said, ‘I shouldn’t have done it’?»
«I think so.»
«Could I have said, ‘It shouldn’t have been there’?»
«It could be,» she said doubtfully. «You were falling asleep. You weren’t exactly enunciating clearly.»
«It must be,» I said. «Of course.» Where earlier I had counted the flagstones and watched them, in my mind, form a path, now other flagstones were coming together, quite suddenly, to form a structure, one by one.
I said, «Are you ready to go, Sarah?»
She said, «Are you sure you want to wear that jacket with those pants?»
I looked down at myself and my head only ached bearably.
«All right,» I said, «I’ll get my maroon one.» I made sure I had all my pocket accessories, wallet, keys, credit cards, and so on, and then we were indeed ready to go.
Sarah said, «I think we’d better take a taxi. I don’t want you overdoing and besides it looks like rain.»
«Sure thing,» I said, trying not to burble. «I want to get there as fast as I can. Something’s beginning to make sense.»
It didn’t take long to get a taxi (my location is a good one for that) and during the five-minute ride, I said, «Can you do something for me?»
«Maybe. What?»
«I was told the police took a complete inventory of Giles’s possessions in the room, and that Security would get a copy. Can you arrange to let me see that copy?»
She looked nonplussed. «I’d have to ask Tony Marsogliani—»
«Don’t ask him. Have some underling send it to you. If Marsogliani thinks it’s for me, he’ll never let you see it.»
She said, a little uneasily, «I’ll try.»
We were at a red light a block from the hotel when I remembered and said, «Oh—Thank you for helping me last night. It was a terrible imposition on you.»
«You didn’t force me to do it. I could have left.»
«Well—thanks.»
«It’s all right.»
I stood there looking at her and words were inadequate and I kissed her just as the taxi began to move again. There was no need to diminish the distance between our faces or estimate responses. I just put my arms about her as though it were a settled thing, and kissed her. There was no attempt to push her buttons or turn her on; no attempt to use the skill anyone gets after years of practice to make it lead to something else.
It was just a simple gesture of gratitude and affection, nothing more; and she returned it as though she were pleased, and nothing more.
No. I’m lying. It was a hell of a lot more. It was a good kiss and it lingered.
In fact, it took the taxi driver’s reluctant, «Hey, buddy, we’re here», to pull me loose.
I said, «We’d better go, or I’ll forget what I’ve got to do.»
«Yes,» she said, taking a quick breath as though to steady herself, «or I won’t get that advertising campaign on the road.»
I paid off the taxi driver, doubling my usual tip for no other reason than that I was in love with the whole world, and we got out. It was just beginning to sprinkle.
2 NELLIE GRISWOLD 10:15 A.M.
It was well after ten when we separated, she to take the elevator and I the escalator. We waved at each other cheerfully. It wasn’t really a parting. I knew I’d see her again.
I went like a homing pigeon through the jungle of exhibits to the Hercules booth. There was a vague feeling of disintegration in the air. It was the last day of the convention and the booths would close permanently in early afternoon.
The books and the placards and the gimcrackery would all be put away or discarded, and the shadow of that coming event reached forward.
Nellie wasn’t there. I felt a touch of panic. Now that I was beginning to understand, I couldn’t bear to have to wait to put the last pieces in place.
I said to the girl in the booth anxiously, «Where is Miss Griswold? Do you know?»
«She’ll be right back,» said the girl, with just enough hesitation and embarrassment to make it clear Nellie was in the powder room. That was good. They always return from the powder room. Its attractions are limited, I suppose.
I saw her from a distance, which is the advantage of looking for a person who is tall. I walked quickly toward her, hoping to keep her from being deflected.
«Nellie.» I waved a hand. I had to do that, or she wouldn’t have seen me—the disadvantages of not being tall.
She said, «Darius. How do you feel? Have you had enough of this shindig yet?»
«Almost.»
«As for me—quite. I’m going home tonight after the banquet and straight to bed. Then I’m not coming to work until Monday.»
«Good,» I said, quite willing to let her have a whole month off, if necessary, provided only she would give me the answer I wanted. I knew what the answer must be, but every notch I lowered the uncertainty, every link I didn’t have to guess into existence, would make the structure so much firmer and the final gamble so much safer.
I said, «Listen, Nellie, I have to know something else about Giles Devore; you know, the autographing session.» I looked up at her earnestly as I said it and it struck me for the first time that a girl could be grotesquely tall.