I touched her arm. “Sue . . .”
She didn’t awaken immediately. I spoke her name twice again before she opened her eyes.
She said, “Hello, Mike.”
“Sue . . . did you set the fire?”
“Yes, I was . . . burning Mother’s old papers. I didn’t want him to see anything of hers.”
“What happened?”
She smiled again. “I . . . don’t know. Everything . . . seemed to start burning. I sort of felt happy then. I didn’t care. I sang and danced while it was burning and felt good. That’s all I remember.”
“Okay, go back to sleep.”
“Mike . . .”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right.”
“He’ll . . . put me away or something now, won’t he?”
“I don’t think so. It was an accident.”
“Not really it wasn’t. I meant it.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. She was still in a state of semi-shock and sometimes that’s the time when they can say the right thing. I said, “Sue . . . you remember telling me your mother was killed by the snake?”
Her eyes drifted away momentarily, then came back to mine. “The snake did it. She said so. The snake would kill her because he had to.”
“Who is the snake, honey?”
“She said the snake would kill her,” she repeated. “I remember.” Her eyes started to widen and under my hand her arm grew taut. “She said . . .”
But I wouldn’t let her talk any more. She was too near the breaking point, so I leaned over and kissed her and the fear left her face as suddenly as it appeared and she smiled.
“Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Don’t leave, Mike.”
“I’ll be around.”
“Please, Mike.”
I winked and stood up. “Sleep, baby, for me.”
“All right, Mike.”
I left a night-light on and the door partly open and went back downstairs with Geraldine. I sat back on the couch and took the drink she made me, sipping it slowly.
Outside the rain slapped at the windows, massaging them with streaky, wet fingers. She turned on the record player, drew the heavy draperies across the windows, and turned out all the lights except one. Then she sat down beside me.
Only then did she say, “What shall we do, Mike?”
“Nothing yet.”
“There were reporters out there.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That it was accidental. It really wasn’t too important . . . just a small outbuilding. If it weren’t Mr. Torrence’s place it would never draw a mention, but . . . well, you understand.”
“They won’t make much out of it.”
“But if Sue keeps making these accusations . . . it’s an election year, Mike. The campaign for governor of a state is of maximum importance. You know how both parties look at it. This is a key state. From here a governor can go into the White House or at least have a major effect on national policy. If anything . . . anything at all comes up that can be detrimental to a selected candidate it can be disastrous. This . . . this business with Sue is getting out of hand.”
“Your bunch knows about it then?”
She nodded, then took a swallow of her drink. “Yes . . . in a way it’s why I’m here. I’ve been with Sim Torrence on his other campaigns as much as a guardian for Sue as an assistant to Mr. Torrence. She doesn’t realize all this and I’ve made it a point to keep it almost businesslike, but I do manage to find things for Sue to do and distract this antagonistic attitude she has. All her life she’s been trying to emulate her mother . . . trying to be a showgirl. She’s been coached in singing, dancing, the arts . . . given the very best Mr. Torrence can give her. She’s taken advantage of those opportunities, not just to help her into show business but it gets her away from him. Sad, but true.”
“You speculating now?”
She looked at me over her glass. “No, she’s told me that. You can ask her.”
“I believe it.”
“What can we do? It’s critical now.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Will you, Mike? We need help badly.”
“You sure love this political crap, don’t you?”
“My life, Mike. I gave my life to it.”
“Hell, you’re too young to die. Maybe you should have been born a man.”
“There’s a place for women in politics.”
“Bull.”
“You just like them to be women, don’t you?”
“That’s what they are.”
“All right. For you I’ll be a woman.”
She put her drink down on the coffee table, took mine from my hand and put it next to hers, both unfinished. There was a sudden hunger in her eyes and a warmth to her face that made her mouth seem to blossom into a new fullness. Her fingers went to her throat and one by one she unbuttoned her blouse until it lay open, then with the slightest shrug of her shoulders it slid away so that her fingers could work more magic with the soft fabric of the bra. She whisked it away and it floated to the floor where it lay unnoticed.
I looked at her, not touching her, taking in the lovely slope of her breasts that were swelled with emotion and tipped with the firm pinkness of passion. I could smell the fragrant heat of her only inches away, and as I watched, her stomach undulated and moved spasmodically against the waistband of her skirt.
“How am I . . . as a woman, Mike?”
“Lovely,” I told her. I reached for her, turned her around, then lay her as she was, half naked, across my lap, my fingers caught in her hair, touching her gently at first, then with firm insistence that made her shudder.
She raised herself against me, twisting her head, searching for my mouth until she found it, then with a small whimper she was part of me, her lips a ripe, succulent fruit, her tongue an alive, vital organ that was a soul seeking another soul. I let her fall away from me reluctantly, her mouth still working as though it were kissing mine yet, her eyes closed, her breath coming heavily.
Someplace in the house a clock chimed and a dull rumble of thunder outside echoed it. I let my hand run down the naked expanse of her stomach until the tips of my fingers traced a path across her waist under the skirt. She moaned softly and sucked in her breath so there would be a looseness at her belt. I felt her briefly, kneaded the pliant flesh, then took my hand away.
Her eyes opened, she smiled once and closed them again. Then she was asleep. It had been a hard day for her too. I held her until I was sure she wouldn’t awaken, then raised her, propped a cushion beneath her shoulders, and let her down onto it. I covered her with her blouse and a plaid car blanket that was folded over the back of a chair.
In the morning she’d feel better. She’d hate me maybe, but then again, maybe not. I went upstairs and checked Sue. She had turned on her side and the oversized stuffed toy was almost crushed beneath her.
I called a cab in from town, let myself out, and waited by the gate. The cop on the beat asked me if everything was all right and I told him the women were both asleep and to stay on his toes. He still couldn’t read me but with the card I carried he wasn’t taking any chances. He saluted cordially and walked off into the darkness.
Inspector Grebb should have seen that, I thought. He’d flip. He’d sooner I got a boot in the tail.
When the cab came he didn’t want to take me clean into the city so I changed cabs at the George Washington Bridge and gave that driver the address of my new apartment. I started to grin, thinking of what Velda would do if she knew where I was an hour ago. Hell, she never would believe me if I told her the truth anyway, so why say a word? But you can’t go through two of those deals in one night and stand up to it. If Velda was there I hoped she was sacked out tight. Right then I needed sleep more than anything I could think of.