Corkscrew (30 page)

This third week should be the murder scene, but what Bryce gave Wayne was a manuscript of seventy-one pages, from page one. 'I made some changes,' he said, 'so I thought you ought to look at it from the beginning.'

'Okay, fine.'

Bryce was finished reading Wayne's eleven new pages first, of course, so he leafed through a magazine while Wayne kept reading.
The Second Woman
began as it had before, with maybe some cutting in the first scene with the buyer, but then the parking lot scene was longer and Brenda was already a little harsher than she'd been, more like the person of the second encounter. The transition to that second encounter was considerably longer and much better written, the lumpy sentences smoothed out. Dinner was also longer, and Brenda here was less harsh, so the character in this version made hardly any change at all between the two scenes. Also, in this version, Brenda talked a bit about her brother and sister, establishing who they were. The pages ended, as last week, with them leaving the restaurant.

'That's much better,' Wayne said, when he'd finished. 'You've really got Brenda consistent now, and I like bringing in the brother and sister.'

'Yeah, that felt good,' Bryce said. 'Do you, uh, have any ideas for the next part?'

'No, I think you just do what you planned to do.'

'Okay.' Bryce nodded, looking at the stack of pages Wayne had given back to him. 'I think,' he said, 'maybe I'll go do some work on it now.'

'And I might as well get my stuff set up,' Wayne said. 'Any comments on the new pages?'

'What? Oh, yours. No, it's fine, the book's just sailing.' Bryce grinned. 'You don't need me on that one.'

'Good,' Wayne said. 'That means you can concentrate on
The Second Woman.'

And wouldn't it be strange, Wayne thought, if Bryce actually made a real novel out of this thing. He still believed that was very unlikely, but maybe not impossible. Bryce just might be able to pull it off after all. Wayne hoped he would. He didn't have faith in it, but he could hope.

They went upstairs together, and into their separate rooms, and Wayne unpacked his ThinkPad and the new small printer he'd just bought for this trip and the rest of his materials, distributing them on to the refectory table. He looked out the window, and Susan was in the pool, doing laps.

It would be great to have their own house somewhere around here, particularly if it already had a pool, but there was no hurry. This house was big and comfortable, and Mrs Hildebrand was fabulous. Wayne and Susan could stay here through this two-week vacation, and then weekend here through the summer. Susan would like that, she'd fallen in love with this house.

Lucie used to swim naked in the pool; they both did. But there was no one in these rooms then, looking out the window.

Bryce sat at his desk, looking to his left at the window, and out it, at Susan doing laps in the pool. She had been doing that twice a day, after breakfast, and after lunch, for almost two weeks now. This was the second Thursday of their stay, and they'd be leaving on Sunday. But coming back, of course, next weekend.

Bryce remembered Lucie naked in the pool. He remembered how water would bead in her pubic hair when she came out of the pool, and he'd say, 'Your cunt is winking at me,' and she would laugh. Sex in the water was never totally successful, but they tried it a few times anyway, and he remembered the pale sleekness of her wet skin as she moved. He remembered the way she moved.

Susan wore a two-piece bathing suit, not quite a bikini. She had three of them, one with a design of white stars on red, one a solid royal blue, and one just swirls of color, like a kaleidoscope that had bled. Today, she wore the kaleidoscope. Every once in a while, she would climb out of the pool to use the diving board. Diving, she was efficient, made no big splash, but wasn't particularly graceful.

He closed his eyes. Time to go to work, go back to work, stop stalling, get moving here, break through that block while Wayne was still staying here. This was Bryce's last chance, and he knew it. Wayne was being very patient, urging him but not nastily, but Bryce could sense Wayne's patience wearing thin.

He couldn't get to the murder scene. Every time he approached it, the two people walking, the argument, establishing the dark, establishing the solitude, no one else around, his mind veered off and he thought about something he should do or undo in the pages that already existed. Like improve the sex scene, make it individual, make it real but not crude, he'd done that Monday. Every day he did more, he'd even tried to leapfrog to the later scene, when Luke would meet Dillon, Brenda's brother, but it didn't work. Without that experience behind him, Luke didn't yet exist in the later scenes, and Bryce had no way to write the man.

I have to do it today, he thought, and opened his eyes and looked out to see Susan toweling herself. The pattern was, she'd come in now and shower, then go down to the kitchen to chat with Mrs Hildebrand a while. She did that every day.

We all have our patterns here, he thought, we're a little community, we all have the things we do every day, but today what I have to do is the murder scene.

Susan, the towel around her, walked toward the house, moving out of sight. Bryce focused again on the screen in front of him, his fingers resting on the keyboard.

'Brenda,' he said, his hands clenching into fists

Was that right? Fists? Was it like a boxing match, punching, throwing hooks and jabs? That didn't seem right, it didn't seem violent or brutal enough. This isn't 'the fights.'

his fingers curled into claws,

No,
she
should be the one who scratches, claws and scratches. Why didn't Wayne have scratches on him?

Beyond the wall behind him, he heard the shower start. Not wanting the distraction, any distraction, he concentrated on the words on the screen.

'Brenda,' he said, his fingers curled into claws,

Her name isn't Brenda. Is that the problem? What is her name, if it isn't Brenda?

One of the reference books he kept on the shelf was a little paper-back called
4000 Names for Your Baby.
He took it down now, started to leaf through it. What initial? Not
L.

Do this later, he told himself. Push the scene through now, get past this scene, change the names later.

He put the book away, and a knock sounded at the door. When he was alone here, he kept his office door open, but with people in the house, and him being so easily distracted these days, he kept it shut.

He turned that way, called, 'Hello?'

'It's Wayne.'

'Come on in.'

Wayne opened the door as the sound of the shower stopped. 'I have to go to Danbury,' he said. 'Want to come along?'

'What do you need in Danbury?'

'A new ink cartridge for my printer.' Wayne grinned, pleased and sheepish at the same time. 'I thought I had enough till we got back to New York, but I'm working faster than I expected. Want to ride along? You haven't been in our new car yet.'

'Sure,' Bryce said, and gestured at his screen. 'Just let me—'

Shut it all down, he meant, but then he looked at the screen and saw

'Brenda,' he said, his fingers curled into claws,

and knew it was wrong. 'Wait a second,' he said.

'Sure.'

Bryce touched the keyboard.

and his shoulders hunched. His left hand moved out, almost of its own accord, and closed painfully on her upper arm.

She turned

pulled back

said,

'Bryce?'

Bryce took his fingers from the keys, looked at Wayne in the doorway. 'I think I should stay,' he said. 'I want to get through this part.'

'Oh, okay. How's it coming?'

'Oh, it's slow, you know,' Bryce said. 'There's progress, but it's slow.'

'You'll get it. See you.'

'See you,' Bryce said, and thought, I'm lying to Wayne now, exactly the way I used to lie to Joe. The same lie, the same words.

Wayne shut the office door and Bryce put his fingers on the keyboard. Faintly, he could hear the sound of the hairdryer.

'Claudia,' he said, and yanked at her arm. 'You're pushing me too hard.'

'Get your goddam hands off me,' she said, and swung at his face.

She
starts it? Why would she start it? And if she starts it, doesn't that change the dynamic of the whole episode? I'm absolving him, then, if she starts it, and I'm not here to absolve him.

Claudia.
That's like a joke, a stupid joke, about claws. Santa Claws, the patron saint of tough women. How tough is she?

'Just how tough are you, Brenda?' he said, and slapped her across the face.

A slap. A slap doesn't do anything, a slap is an insult, not a threat. He has to do… more. He has to
begin.

I should go with Wayne, he thought, get out of here, go for a ride in his shiny new car, think about… Easier to think if I get away from this screen for a while.

Ask him. In the car. Say, 'Wayne, just theoretically, how would this violence begin? How would it start?'

He got up and went out to the hall, leaving the office door open. He crossed the hall to go into his bedroom and look out the front window there to see if the Land Cruiser was still parked in its usual place down below, but it was gone. Wayne had already left.

He went back out to the hall. He could hear the hairdryer. Today was Thursday, Mrs Hildebrand's day off, she was in Danbury, visiting friends.

Bryce walked down the hall and opened the guest room door. Susan, seated at the vanity table, wearing a gray robe, saw the movement in the mirror there and turned as Bryce walked in. She switched the hairdryer off and said, 'Bryce? What is it?'

'You see, what the problem is, Lucie,' he said, 'I just have to
know.'

She stood. 'My name is Susan,' she said.

'Not any more,' he said.

Donald Westlake's publishing career includes juveniles, westerns and short stories. He is the author of over seventy novels and has worked as a screenwriter on five films, one of which he received an Oscar nomination. He has also been awarded four Edgars by the Mystery Writers of America, as well as winning their Grand Master award. He lives in New York.