The Last Good Kiss (49 page)

"But if you took a long time to find her, long enough

for him to finish this new book," she said, "it wouldn't

matter by then." When I didn't answer, she added, "I

wish you could read the beginning of this new book. It's

beautiful, and you would understand why this is so

important."

"I can't do it," I said as I tried to hand the envelope

·

back to her.

"Just think about it, then," she said. "Keep the

money and think about it. You owe me that much."

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"I guess I do," I said as I set the envelope down and

worked into my clothes. "Whose money is it?" I asked

as we finished dressing.

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe. "

"Edna and I put up equal amounts. "

"I'll think about it, but I know I won't d o it," I said.

"If you don't convince her," Catherine whispered as

she stepped into my arms, "Trahearne's a dead man."

"I can't," I said, then buried my face in her damp

hair. Beneath the sharp mineralized odor of the spring

water, the light flowery touch of her perfurrile lingered.

"Everything would be so simple if you could," she

whispered against my neck, "and it will be so awful if

you don't. "

"It's already awful," I said.

We rode in silence back to Trahearne's house, and

when she dropped me there, we didn't even say good

night. I watched her drive over to the other house and

park her car in the garage on the far side, watched the

progression of lights turned on, then off as she moved

through the house. The light in the living room stayed

on for several minutes, as if Catherine had spent time

looking at Trahearne's war trophies again. Then the

downstairs went dark and a soft glow lightened the

upstairs windows, as if a hallway light had been turned

on. As I turned away, both upstairs windows on this

side of the house flared, and I could see the two

women's shadows moving behind their separate curtains. The old woman had been sitting downstairs in the darkness among the remains of that old war. A shudder

swept across my back, and I went over to my El

Camino, unlocked the topper, then crawled inside to

lock the envelope in the. gun case in the bottom of my

tool chest. I went on to bed before I could think about

any of it.

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Catherine was right about one thing, though: two

days later Traheame asked me to drive down to pick up

Melinda so he wouldn't miss a day's work.

When she came down the ramp, I almost didn't

recognize her. She wore a tailored, vested suit in a dark

shade of peach, her hair was blond again, short still but

smoothly cut instead of hacked into a rumpled mess,

and she even wore light touches of make-up. When she

walked briskly across the asphalt and through the

terminal doors, everything came to a halt at the airport

while everybody watched her. She wore a new pair of

leather boots, too, with stacked heels, and she didn't

have to reach up to give me the light hug and kiss with

which she greeted me.

"How do you like the new me?" she asked, her smile

so warm and dazzling that it nearly blinded me.

"Jesus Christ," I murmured.

"Thank you," she said; accepting the compliment as

if she felt she deserved it. "How are you?"

"Overcome with desire," I confessed.

"Thank you again," she said calmly, then swung her

shoulder bag around and headed for the baggage claim.

1\vo matching leather suitcases came down the conveyor. She nodded toward them, and I picked them up.

"What the hell's in here?" I grunted.

"A new life," she said, still smiling.

I followed her out to the El Camino, hurrying to

keep up with this new, confident stride. Even from the

rear, she looked happy. When she swung open the

passenger door, Fireball tumbled out to greet her. If he

had been any more excited, he would have rolled over

on his back and pissed on himself like a puppy. As it

was, he bounced around and barked and slobbered

until he ran out of breath.

"Old Fireball MacRoberts seems to have recovered," she said as she knelt to rub his stubby ears.

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" Roberts," I said as I tossed her bags under the

topper.

"What?" she asked.

"Fireball Roberts," I said, "not MacRoberts. "

"Oh who cares?" she said joyously, and I had to

agree.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what happened," I said as

we drove away.

"Buy me a beer and I'll tell you all about it, " she said

as she opened the cooler between the seats and cracked

two beers. She handed me one, then drank half the

other in one long rippling swallow, the smooth muscles

of her throat working fluidly. "How's your hand?"

"Still broken," I said as I pounded the ratty cast on

the steering wheel.

"What happened?" she asked.

I had made the mistake of assuming that she knew,

but it seemed that Traheame hadn't told her. If he

hadn't, I certainly wasn't going to.

"One of those things," I said.

"Well, if you want to be mysterious," she said, then

laughed and attacked the beer again. When she finished it, she crumpled the can like tissue paper, tossed it behind the seat, and went after another. "You

ready?"

"Not just yet," I said, hefting the nearly full beer.

"What did you do down there?"

"I don't know where to begin," she said, "so many

wonderful things happened. I found a gallery in

Ghirardelli Square, and they liked my work well

enough to arrange a show-which sold out in three

days; can you believe that?-and I shipped the rest of

my pieces to a place in L.A. , so that's settled.

"Then I went to see all the old ghosts. Rosie and I

got roaring drunk, had a terrible fight, then fell

weeping and laughing into each others arms. " She

paused long enough to laugh giddily. "I went up to see

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Mr. Gleeson, and he was a pathetic old fool. Then I

dropped in unannounced on poor Albert, and it took

him two Valium and a giant Scotch before he stopped

stuttering. I forgave the bastard for being a bastard,

and you know what he did?"

"No, but I can guess."

"He came on like Mister Smooth-action. " she said,

"and when I wouldn't have any of it-1 laughed in the

creep's face-he burst into tears and dashed upstairs to

see his shrink. I loved it. " She laughed again, then dug

into her purse. When she jerked out a long white

envelope, I occupied myself with the beer can, but she

slapped me across the chest with the envelope. "Five

thousand dollars cash money," she said. "Will you see

that Hyland gets it for me?"

"All right," I stammered, then stuffed the money in

my shirt pocket.

"A down payment on a new life."

"Melinda-" I started to say.

"Betty Sue," she interrupted quietly, "Betty Sue

Flowers. It's a decent name."

"I've always thought so," I said.

"How's Trahearne?" she asked. "He didn't have

much to say over the telephone."

"Nose to the grindstone, dry as a bone," I cliched.

"He did mention that you were a great nursemaid,"

she said. "You'll stay, won't you? As long as he needs

you?"

"I guess so," I said. "Unless you want to run away

with me."

"Don't be silly," she chortled as she slapped me

heavily on the thigh. "I've just come home again. "

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