"What do you think, Colin?"
"I don't know. It brings up a lot of possibilities, doesn't it?"
"Yes, I guess it does. There were plenty of Indians here at one time, you know."
"Or it could be that someone doesn't know how to make a swastika. I'll bet if you asked ten people to make swastikas at least half would draw them the way the killer did."
"You're probably right."
"Have you ever heard anything about a Nazi party here?"
"No."
"And the only Orientals I've seen own the restaurant."
"Believe me, it couldn't be any of Koi Chang's family. I know them pretty well."
"I can't back this up, but I have a feeling the one made was the one meant. I wish I could find out more about this symbol." He lifted the dictionary from their laps, placed it on the floor, and turned back to her. They were still touching; neither moved away.
"Betty Mills would probably have some information."
"The librarian," he confirmed.
She nodded.
"Could we see her?"
"The library's not open at ten-thirty on Saturday night."
"Monday, then. What time does it open?"
"Ten, I think."
"Ten," he repeated vaguely, his eyes searching hers. They were very blue, the pupils dark, the color of black olives. She'd drawn an outline around the edges, given a soft blue cast to her lids. There was a delicacy to her mouth, and he wanted to taste her lips, gently bite the lower one. He leaned toward her, she toward him. Their mouths met. He slipped an arm around her, pulled her closer. She responded, her hand behind his neck. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, knew just how he would touch them. When they parted he said, "I want you, Annie."
"Colin," she whispered, closed her eyes, almost imperceptibly shook her head.
But he saw it. "What?"
She opened her eyes, taking him in. "It's been so long. I'm frightened."
"Me, too." He kissed each eye. "I haven't felt like this since… since my wife."
"I know. I feel the same. But…"
"You feel guilty?"
"As if I'm cheating on Bob. I know it's foolish, but I can't help it."
"I understand."
"You're the first man I've kissed, Colin, since him." She touched his cheek with her fingertips. "It seems strange."
"I know."
"Do you feel that? Do you feel I'm strange?" she asked. "Yes and no. You're not Nancy and that's strange. But you're Annie and I like that."
She smiled, leaned toward him. Carefully, he took her lower lip between his teeth, slid into a kiss.
Then he said, "Annie, I want to stay the night with you," his lips to her ear.
"Oh, Colin, no," she said.
"Why not?" Here come de minister, he thought. She moved away, picked up her cup, sipped. "Is it your religion?" he asked.
She laughed sweetly, touched his hand. "You think Unitarian Universalists don't make love?"
"I thought maybe ministers didn't, if they weren't married."
"Some do, some don't."
"And you?"
She evaded the question. "I couldn't let you spend the night, Colin. It would offend too many people."
"Who has to know?"
"Everyone would know."
"You mean my car? I'll park it somewhere else."
"No, that wouldn't work."
"Why not?"
"You'd be seen. Trust me, the people around here know everything that goes on."
"No one's spotted a killer, so what makes you think anybody's going to know I spent the night with you?"
"I can't take the chance."
"That doesn't leave us much, does it?"
"What do you mean?"
He lit a cigarette. "We're not kids, Annie."
"If we were, you'd be spending the night." He laughed, took her hand in his, and kissed her palm. She trembled.
"Let me ask you this. If you weren't a minister with a nosy congregation, would you let me stay?"
Hours seemed to pass before she answered but it was only seconds. "Yes," she whispered.
He put his cigarette in the ashtray, drew her toward him, traced her lips with his finger. "We could make love now and I could leave afterwards, but I don't want you that way, Annie. If we make love, we spend the night together or else we don't make love at all."
"Thank you for that." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and sweet.
He couldn't take it any longer, gently disengaged himself. "I think I'd better go."
At the door he said, "Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know."
"I guess we play it by ear."
"I guess."
They kissed again, their bodies pressed hard against one another. He wanted to beg her to change her mind, but knew she wouldn't, couldn't.
"I've got to go," he said. Then he made a last-ditch effort. "How about you coming to my house?"
She smiled. "Same problem."
"I thought you'd say that." He took her face between both hands, tenderly kissed her eyes, her mouth. "We'll talk tomorrow?"
"Yes," she said.
Sitting in his car, he reflected on the past half hour. Annie was wonderful. She made him feel alive again. God, he'd wanted her. He wondered how they'd ever get together, make love. "Play it by ear," he'd said. But one thing bothered him: He hadn't told her the truth about Nancy and the kids. If there was ever to be anything meaningful between them, he'd have to tell her. Tomorrow.
He started the motor, put the Mercury into gear. And when he drove away, recalling their kisses, he failed to notice the man in the car, slouched down behind the wheel, parked across the street from Annie's house.
– -
When Colin pulled into his driveway he saw a car in front of his house but didn't recognize it. The door opened on the driver's side and a man got out.
"Hey there, Maguire," Hallock called, coming toward him. "Waldo. I didn't know it was you. New car?"
He ambled up the path. "Rental."
Colin wondered why he couldn't use his own car but didn't ask.
"Some beautiful night." Hallock faced the water and the tiny sparkling lights of Shelter Island.
Colin said, "Full moon."
The men looked at each other, a frisson of fear passing over each face, then laughed at their superstition.
Hallock inhaled a mouthful of air. "Ah, boy, that's good. No goddamn pollution here. Smell that air, Maguire? That's Seaville air, smelled it all my life. Can't imagine smelling any other air."
"Any reason why you'll have to?"
"Every reason." He put a hand on Colin's shoulder. "Can we go in?"
They walked up the steps. Colin opened the screen door to the porch and got out his keys.
Hallock said, "Used to be a time when nobody had to lock their doors. Gone forever."
Inside Colin snapped on a light.
"Haven't been in this house for more than thirty years. My first girlfriend lived here, Roberta Staten, Bobbie I called her. Had blond curls like ringlets all over her head. Real pretty blue eyes, the kind that make you stop and stare, know what I mean?"
Colin nodded. "What happened to her?"
"Moved away, married some pilot for one of the big airlines. Place looks different. Didn't have all this nice wallpaper then."
They walked through the living room into the large kitchen. Colin pulled the cord on the large wicker hanging lamp over the round oak table.
"Christ almighty," Hallock said, looking around. "I never saw a red kitchen before."
"Me either. You have to get used to it. Want a drink?"
"I'll take a beer." He put a stack of folders on the table.
Colin hadn't noticed them before. He handed Hallock a cold beer. "Want a glass?"
"Nope. You're not having any?"
"I had some wine earlier." He popped the tab on his can of Tab. "What's up? I have the feeling this isn't just a social call."