Lambertville was unlikely territory for pickups. Unescorted women were rare in the bars and cocktail lounges. Trenton was not all that far. He was a safe driver, and drink never made him abandon safe habits; if anything, he drove more slowly and carefully when aware he had had too much. And one never knew what one might find in a downtown bar, and if nothing else the drive there and the barhopping and the drive back would burn off some of the nervous energy that ran through him.
He walked almost to the car before changing his mind. No, he decided. Not tonight.
He walked back to the main drag into the bar of the Lambertville House. The place had been a hotel since Revolutionary times. It was now largely residential, renting the bulk of its rooms inexpensively to pensioners. The public rooms downstairs were comfortably and attractively furnished, and the restaurant did a brisk lunch business through the week. The bar, modern and not too brightly lit, was less crowded than he had thought it would be. He stopped briefly at a table to exchange a few words with two couples he knew slightly, sloughed off an invitation to join them, and made his way to the back of the bar. The bartender had just placed his drink in front of him when someone spoke his name.
He turned. There was a woman in the corner booth looking his way. She looked familiar but he could not
place her. He picked up-his drink and carried it the booth.
“You are Hugh Markarian, aren’t you? I thought I recognized you. I don’t think we’ve met, but you were pointed out to me once or twice. I’m Melanie Jaeger.”
“How do you do?”
“Sully Jaeger’s wife.”
“Oh, Sully’s wife. The name didn’t register at first. I gather you and your husband are put scouting the competition.”
“No, I’m alone,” she said.
“Oh.”
“I’m not sure where Sully is,” she said. She pushed a strand of light brown hair out of her eyes. “I felt like getting out on my own for a change. I think people ought to do that now and then. Don’t you, Hugh?”
“Why not?”
“Of course it gets lonely sitting by yourself.”
“May I join you?”
“Do you think you’d enjoy it?”
He looked at her. There was a feline quality to her face, the pointed chin, the sharply arched eyebrows. She ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip, her eyes holding his as she did so. He tried to remember if he had heard anything about Melanie Jaeger. Sully’s wife. Not only Sully but Sully’s wife must be above suspicion—
“Yes,” he said levelly. “I think I’d enjoy it.”
“Then sit here next to me. These booths are small. I sort of shoved the table that way to give myself more room.”
“People need all the room they can get.”
“I know. I try to give myself all the room I need. You didn’t recognize me at first, did you? Of course not, since you never met me. Of course someone may have pointed me out to you, the way you were pointed out to me.”
“No. I would have remembered.”
“Because you have a wonderful memory?”
“Because you’re wonderfully memorable.”
She turned toward him, smiled — warmly at him. She was wearing cocoa brown hot pants and a matching top. Her midriff was bare, and her skin looked to have the texture of velvet. She was slender and compactly built, and her breasts looked disproportionately large for her frame.
“I’m not wearing a bra,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I saw you looking and I thought you might be wondering. But I’m not. See?”
She leaned against him, her breast pressing against his upper arm. The warmth of her flesh was delicious.
He began talking, hardly sure what he was saying. Something about the town or the weather, something meaningless. She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed, and he stopped in mid-sentence.
“It’s silly for us to waste time talking to each other, isn’t it? We don’t have anything to talk about, really. No, I don’t want another drink. I didn’t really want this one. I didn’t come here to talk and I didn’t come here to drink. I already found what I came here for.”
“Oh?”
Her hand moved, cupped him. He felt himself growing under her touch. He was staring hard at the opposite side of the booth. He couldn’t speak.
“I don’t want people talking. They will anyway but there’s no point encouraging them. Where did you park your car?”
“Forsythe Street. Just across from the funeral parlor.”
“What kind of car?”
“A Buick. A white Buick.”
“Sit in your car and wait for me. Give me five minutes. All right?”
“Sure.”
She gave him a little squeeze, bounced her breast a second time against his arm. “Five minutes,” she said.
He sat in the car with the lights out and the motor running and felt like a Hollywood spy. “I don’t want people talking.” He thought of Mrs. Kleinschmidt: Tongues will wag. Not only Sully but Sully’s wife—
God, what a forward little piece she was. Hello, you’re Hugh Markarian, let’s fuck. A firm pillow of a tit against his arm and a greedy little hand between his legs and give me five minutes. He would slip into her, and could imagine nothing more comfortable than that.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He told himself that he did not expect her to show up. When people came on that strong they were likely to be more interested in the game than anything else. It was unlikely that she would deliver. It was not as if he been singularly dynamic, charming her off her feet into his bed. Nor had she come looking for him. For someone, yes, but not for him. She had as much as said that she had come to the Lambertville House specifically to find a man. He had been in the right place at the right time, that was all.
He thought of Sully and smiled. If ever a man deserved to be cuckolded, Sully was the man. And maybe that was the motive, for that matter. Maybe Melanie had finally found out that her great hairy bear of a husband was running all over town screwing everything with a hole in it, and had decided to get some of her own back. Which was understandable, but it still left room for. her to get cold feet and change her mind.
He saw her turn the corner and let out his breath. He’d been unaware he was holding it. He blinked the lights once at her and saw her smile. He drove up, stopped for her, and she hopped in beside him and drew the door quickly shut.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming,” he said.
“I came, though.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And not for the last time, either. I think there’s going to be a lot of coming tonight.”
Her hand found him again. “That’s dangerous,” he said.
“It is?”
“When I’m driving it is.”
Her hand did not withdraw. “Oh, I’m not worried,” she said. “This is turning you on—”
“You better believe it is.”
“—but not in a way that’s gonna make you lose control of the car. You don’t lose control of things. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“How do you mean?”
“Because I think we both want the same thing out of the next couple of hours.”