Devil May Care (3 page)

Kate's voice snapped out a command. The dog slid off Henry and crouched, cowering. Henry didn't blame it for cowering. The next command was didevil-MAY-CARE 17

rected at him; it brought him staggering to his feet, although for several reasons he would have preferred to remain prostrate.

Kate looked him over.

"Are you all right?" she asked; and answered her own question. "More surprised than hurt. Here, have a drink."

Henry took the glass Ted handed him. It was excellent Scotch.

"What an affectionate dog," he said, glancing at the mastiff. Its teeth were bared in what might or might not have been a canine grin, but when Kate turned cold blue eyes in its direction it sobered immediately and lowered a pensive muzzle onto its paws.

"She is completely undiscriminating in her affection," Kate said. "And completely fickle. Any new face ... "

The rest of the afternoon passed like a horrible dream. Ted took his departure, and although Henry did not care for his type, he was sorry to see him go because Kate was then free to turn her entire attention to him. It began to rain. One of the dogs--a Saint Bernard--was afraid of rain. It wanted to sit on Henry's lap. Kate finally removed it, but not until it had deposited considerable hair on Henry's beautifully tailored knees.

Eventually Kate led her guests upstairs and showed them their rooms. She had some regard for the proprieties after all, Henry decided; not only did he and Ellie have separate rooms, but they were separated by the full length of the house. Ellie went off with her aunt to help prepare supper and Henry collapsed onto the bed, where he remained for some time.

He was aware that he had not made a smashing impression, but an interval of peace and quiet restored his natural egotism and he decided he would win the old lady over during the evening. In the

18 Elizabeth Peters

handsomely appointed private bathroom he made a finicky toilette and assumed his second-best suit.

Then he set out to find his hostess. It was not an easy job. The house was big and rambling. Henry didn't mind; it gave him an opportunity to inspect the premises. As he wandered from room to room, counting antiques, he was more and more inclined to overlook Kate's eccentricities. Even the dogs.

Finally he located the two women in a small cozy parlor in the east wing. The theme here was American primitive. The furniture was eighteenth century and the walls were covered with antique samplers and paintings of puffy-faced children. The cats were modern.

There were three of them--an ageless Siamese, an enormous orange beast with a tail like Cyrano's plume, and a smaller, long-haired silver tabby with malevolent yellow eyes. Henry leaned over to stroke the Siamese. "Nice kitty," he said. The Siamese gave him a long, thoughtful look, very much like the look Kate had given him earlier. Then it rose to its feet, stretched, and walked away. Even Henry, who was not sensitive, got the point.

However, he was sensitive enough to realize that he had interrupted a heated discussion between Ellie and her aunt. Ellie was flushed and suspiciously moist around the eyes. Kate looked pensive, and, for her, almost subdued. She greeted Henry and removed a cat from a chair so that he could sit down.

She was wearing a long skirt embroidered in silks of varying shades of blue, a pale-blue silk blouse, and enough jewelry to stock a store. Diamonds blazed and sapphires glowed in the soft light of sunset.

There were opals on her small ugly hands.

Ellie's only ornaments were her engagement ring and a copper-colored pendant that resembled a petrified fried egg. Her long skirt was of faded blue denim, with a ragged fringe around the bottom instead of a hem; her sleeveless T-shirt had a print of DEVIL-MAY-CARE 19

an Hawaiian sunset, with palms. She looked absurdly pretty in this ridiculous outfit; Henry made a mental note to help her select more suitable evening attire when they got back to Washington.

"Have a drink, Henry," Kate said sweetly. "My dear boy, don't be so abstemious, a big man like you needs a stiffer drink than a woman does. Here, lee me ... There you are. Now sit down and tell me all about yourself."

Henry was still describing his high-school career when the dinner guests arrived. One was Ted, wearing a faultlessly tailored tuxedo and a ruffled shirt.

The other guests were a couple named Grant. Mrs. Grant was a slim pseudo-blonde whose type Henry recognized; her daytime attire would consist of slacks and a tailored shirt, and her hair would be tied back with a scarf when she drove the station wagon, taking the children to their private schools.

Her evening wear was just as conventional--a long skirt and silk blouse. Henry hardly noticed; he was more interested in greeting her husband, a craggyfaced, broad-shouldered man with streaks of gray in his dark hair.

"Senator," he exclaimed, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Just call me Al," Grant said with a practiced smile. "I mustn't get too accustomed to that title; who knows, I may lose it in November," "I admire modesty, Al," Henry said sincerely. "But everyone is predicting a landslide victory for you."

"There's one vote I won't get," Alan Grant said, turning to his hostess with the same bland smile.

"Unless Kate changes her mind about my platform and qualifications."

Kate returned the smile. Hers was distinctly feline; you could almost see the whiskers vibrating.

"I wouldn't vote for you for dog catcher," she purred.

The comment, and the haste with which Grant

20 Elizabeth Peters changed the subject, confirmed Henry's earlier hunch--politics was not going to be a safe topic.

Grant's platform was conservative, to say the least, so it was not difficult to imagine where Kate's political sympathies lay. Henry had suspected from the first that she was a left-winger. He was tempted to start a discussion so that he could impress Grant with his knowledgeability. Grant was definitely a corner. Still in his early forties, he would be a national figure by the time he passed the half-century mark. But if he pleased Grant he would alienate Kate, and he didn't want to do that. Better leave politics alone. He would find an opportunity to make use of the introduction to Grant some other time.

Apparently Grant and Kate were old acquaintances, if not friends, and Grant knew how to get his revenge.

"Have you been meddling with the electricity again?" he demanded, glancing at a coil of wire and pair of pliers that had been shoved not quite out of sight under a chair. "Kate, why the hell don't you call an electrician?"

"And pay him twenty dollars to rewire a little old plug?" Kate demanded indignantly. "I can manage a simple thing like--"

"The last time you tried it you blew every fuse in the house," Grant said.

"She fixed that table lamp for me," Anne Grant said.

Her voice was placid and there was a pleasant smile on her exquisitely made-up face. But Kate glanced sharply at her and then exchanged a quick look with Ted.

"Thanks, Anne," she said. "Testimonials and recommendations appreciated. I always say--"

"Alan can't plug in a lamp without blowing a fuse," Anne said. She was still smiling.

"I'm afraid Alan has a point when he criticizes me, though," Kate admitted. "I am, of course, an expert DEVIL-MAY-CARE 21

in practically everything; but even Leonardo da Vinci had a few failings; and electrical work still baffles me at times. But I've got a book, Alan--The Practical Home Electrician. I'll lick it yet."

Henry wondered whether he should say something complimentary about Leonardo da Vinci. "What a painter!" or something like that ... No, wait a minute; that wasn't the name Ellie had mentioned as being a favorite of Kate's. Lorenzo. Not Leonardo, Lorenzo. Another Italian.

The conversation had become light and casual, following Kate's lead. Grant kidded her, not without malice, about her enthusiasm for new hobbies and her frequent failures. Kate defended herself vigorously and Ellie and Ted took one side or the other as the spirit moved them. Only Anne Grant sat silent, smiling--a Mona Lisa smile, Henry thought. He knew what Anne's problem was. Quietly and inconspicuously she had already put away three stiff drinks.

She was able to get away with it because they were serving themselves--except when Kate pressed a refill on one guest or another. She had not pressed any on Anne. (Henry was unaware of the fact that he had been favored by Kate more frequently than anyone else, but he undoubtedly would have misinterpreted her attentions even if he had noticed them.) He had already been struck by the absence of servants. Odd, but then everything about Kate was odd. Except for her Scotch. She served excellent Scotch, and she wasn't stingy about it, either. Henry felt fine. He was having a wonderful time with a lot of swell people.

Sweet pretty Ellie, sweet, rich Kate--good old Al-- poor Anne, the lush--Ted ... Oh, hell, Henry thought tolerantly; it takes all kinds to make a world.

The next time Anne reached for the decanter Kate rose smoothly to her feet without interrupting her speech:

"... and I also have a new cookbook. Recipes from

22 Elizabeth Peters the Yurts of Turkey. My abgushti will be completely ruined if we don't eat it now."

"If abgushti is what it sounds like, I don't imagine time will make it any worse," Grant said.

"You're mistaken." Ted had also risen. Smiling, he offered Anne his arm. "Abgushti needs all the help it can get."

Henry, who enjoyed his food and had a delicate stomach, was relieved to learn that the Turkish cookbook was another of Kate's little jokes. The main course was an excellent pot-all-feu, accompanied by salad and rolls. They served themselves and then took their plates to the long dining table with its magnificent lace cloth. The wine was magnificent too. After taking one sip Grant lifted his eyebrows; the smile he turned on Kate had more genuine warmth than it had held all evening.

"Good Lord, Kate, where did you get this?" "My little old wine merchant," said Kate. "Is it any good?"

Henry decided it was time for him to shine. He had not spoken much up to this time; the social chitchat the others engaged in was too frivolous for him.

"Superb," he exclaimed, before Grant could answer.

"Wonderful bouquet--authority--mellow--

Kate's smile became seraphic.

"How lucky that I should have selected it. I didn't realize you were such a connoisseur, Henry. Have another glass."

"Thank you. It reminds me," Henry said, "of a Chateau Margaux I had once in a tiny restaurant in Paris--not mentioned in Michelin, the best places never are, you know ... " "Is that right?" Ted asked.

"Oh, yes. Don't want the hoi polloi finding out about-'em. Know lots of places like that. This wine--"

Henry went on at some length. He really did know DEVIL-MAY-CARE 23

quite a lot about wines; he had spent hours reading up on them. After a while he noticed that Ellie, across the table from him, was making the most extraordinary grimaces. He stopped in the middle of a sentence.

"Is something wrong, darling?" he asked.

"Uh--no. No. What makes you think something is wrong?"

"You were making such funny faces," Henry said simply. "What was I talking about?" "Wine. But," Ellie said, "I think you've covered that subject very thoroughly, darling. Let's talk about something else." "Pick a subject," Henry said cheerfully. "Any subject."

Ted leaned forward.

"Are you a football fan, by any chance, Henry?"

"Am I a football fan!" Henry eyed the older man's smiling face owlishly. He winked. "Hey. What about those stories I been hearing? You know what I mean, of' boy--you know any of those guys? You know who I mean. Can't say anything more; ladies present. But you know--" "Oh, yes," Ted said. "I know what you mean."

Henry was feeling no pain, but he was dimly aware of an aura of disapproval emanating strongly from certain quarters. He was relieved when Grant said pleasantly, "I suppose you're a Redskin fan, Henry? Seasonticket holder?"

Now it must be explained that season tickets to Washington football games are a prestige symbol.

They are jealously guarded, and it is almost necessary to inherit them from a friend. Henry hesitated, but not for long.

"Not that enthusiastic anymore," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh, I enjoy a good game now and then; go with friends when I'm in the mood. Team's gone downhill lately."

E4 Elizabeth Peters

"How true," Grant said. "Actually, I'm a Baltimore fan myself. They're a young team, with a great young quarterback. I think he'll be as great as Tar- kenton one of these days."

"No." Henry shook his head. Once he had started shaking it he couldn't seem to stop. "Tarkenton's the greatest. Of all time. Broke all the records."

"Not quite all," Kate said.

She was sitting with her elbows on the table-- uncouth, Henry thought dimly--and her chin propped on her hands. Her eyes were enormous; her hypnotic blue gaze held Henry, so that he was able to stop shaking his head. The eyes seemed to be getting bigger and bigger, and he had the strangest feeling that he was going to be drawn into the blue depths and drowned.

"All the records," he said firmly. "Used to be Unitas.

The greatest. Now it's Tarkenton. The greatest."

"Do you really think so?" Kate said flatly.

Grant chuckled.

"No fair, Kate. Poor Henry doesn't realize he's treading on sacred ground. You see, Henry, Kate has a favorite--" "Oh," Henry said. Now he knew why Ellie was making faces at him again. He had forgotten their conversation in the car. Ellie should have reminded him. But it wasn't too late. He could still retrieve his near error. He smiled widely at Kate.

"Not quite, not quite. Thought you'd catch me, didn't you? Oh, no. Not me. Greatest of ' all.

Greatest quarterback the Redskins ever had; any team ever had ... uh ... Billy Kilmer!"

CHAPTER TWO.

It was necessary to leave early the next morning, since Kate's flight from Dulles departed at ten. Henry's alarm woke him at six. In the first moments he couldn't tell whether the pounding noise came from rain on the roof or the interior of his skull. He had not been aware of drinking that much, but his physical symptoms and the haziness of his memory indicated that he had.