The Best American Mystery Stories 2005
- Автор: Хиггинс Джордж, Камински Стюарт Мелвин
- Год: 2005
- Язык: английский
- Год: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
- ISBN: 978-0-618-51744-2
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Best American Mystery Stories 2005». Краткое содержание книги:
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Now, I really dug Rhonda. And this halfway stuff, it had its moments. Kind of like surgery, very exact, and very exciting, with all the fuss and bother and holding back. And all the danger. I mean, I’m always trying to figure out what happens if we go one angstrom too far. Am I engaged or dead on the side of the road?”
Only Elstner, I thought to myself.
“But it was also pretty frigging strange. The whole thing really bugged me. What was wrong with her? Or me? It was bizarre, but it went on the whole time I was seeing her. Finally, I met Ann at her brother’s at Thanksgiving, which is just about when Rhonda got interested in a guy she was working with, and we sort of faded away.
“One night, say six months later, I bumped into Rhonda at the A&P and we went out for coffee, just to sort of officially throw the dirt on the grave, and she tells me this other fellow has popped the question and something else. ‘Are you hurt?’ she says. ‘My pride,’ I say. She smiles, nicely, we liked each other, she says, ‘Halfway’s all you wanted, Paul.’ And soon as she said it, I knew she had that just right.”
Paul lowered the window to pay the parking attendant, then surged forward into the lot. As ever with Elstner, I was having a hard time following his logic.
“Meaning what? I should think about marrying Karen?” Even saying it seemed preposterous. I was still at the stage where I couldn’t imagine being married to anyone but Clarissa.
Safely in a space, Paul threw the car into park and studied me.
“Forget it,” he said finally. “It’s just a story.”
My law firm followed the quaint custom of holding a formal dinner at the conclusion of the firm’s fiscal year in January. It was intended to celebrate our successes, but was frequently an occasion for teeth gritting among those who were upset about the annual division of spoils. I looked forward to having Karen with me, both to buffer me from the simmering quarrels and to show her off to my colleagues, before whom I’d suffered the shame of not holding together my home. Already in my tux, I swept by her office to collect her. She walked to the car mincingly, trying not to dirty her silk shoes on the icy street. She was in a long gown, its revealing crepe neckline visible in the parting of her coat. I whistled. She smiled as she peeked down through the car door, but made no move to get in.
“I can’t go,” she said. “There’s a presentation tomorrow. My whole staff is upstairs. Somehow my father forgot to mention he had rescheduled with the customer, until he saw me dressed. I must have told him ten times how excited I was to be going with you tonight.” She leaned inside. “Will you kill me?”
“Not you. Better not ask about Maurie. I thought you said he liked me.”
“He does. You’re not the issue. Believe me.” She shook her head in sad wonder. “Why don’t you come back when you’re done?” She gave a salacious little waggle to her brow. “I’ll letcha take me home.”
When I returned near midnight, I found her unsettled. She’d had words with her father, the usual stuff about his indifference to her. I was angry enough with him to relinquish my customary restraint.
“Have you ever kept track of how much time you spend being upset about Maurie?” I asked her.
“Who knows? Sometimes it seems as if I’ve lost years that way. What’s the point?”
“I guess I wonder now and then why you put yourself in harm’s way.”
“You mean cut myself off?”
“Keep a distance. Nobody forces you to work with the guy.”
“It’s a family business. I’m in the family. And I refuse to just hand it all over to my brothers. You don’t like my father, do you?”
I weighed my options. “I don’t like the way he treats you.”
“Neither do I, sometimes. But he’s my father. And my problem.” She did not speak for the rest of the ride.
I suspect we were each ready to call it a night. But we hadn’t had many disagreements, and experience had taught us both the perils of parting angry. I came up. We had a drink and talked, then got around to doing what we did best.
As we groped, she slid from my arms, already naked below, and with a naughty grin pulled the belt from my trousers. I thought she was going for my fly, but instead she pushed me to a seated position on the bed, then threw herself across my lap. She bent one leg from the knee and touched her lip impishly. She put the folded belt in my hand.
“Spank me,” she said.
I looked down at her behind as if it were a face. This was a new note between us. All I could think of to say was, “Why?”
“Why not? I feel like it.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” I finally said.
“I’ll enjoy it. I’m asking you to do it. This isn’t whips and chains. Use your hand, if you’d rather. I’ll enjoy it.”
I tried one swat.
“Hard,” she said. “Harder. Keep doing it. I’ll say when I want you to stop. I’ll enjoy it.”
But I didn’t.
“No,” I said suddenly, and pushed her off my lap. I went for my clothing.
“What?”
“I don’t want to be this to you,” I said.
“Be what? The man who pleases me?”
“Not like that.”
“It’s what I want,” she said.
“No,” I said again and left.
“I think I have to tell her,” I said to Elstner the next night. “About her father.”
Paul took his time now. I’d been late and we’d skipped Gil’s, settling instead for dogs we were gobbling down as we stood at a little linoleum table fixed to one of the elderly pillars in the Field House.
“You can’t tell her,” Paul said then. “That’s all. You can’t. You can’t for my sake. And her sake. And your sake. You can’t. This isn’t comedy. This is real life. This guy is a murderer. And smart enough to realize there’s no statute of limitations. He killed a man to keep from getting caught. You think he wouldn’t do it again?”
“Paul, she wouldn’t say anything to Maurie. I’d make her promise.”
“Like you promised me?”
“I’ll keep you out of it.”
“He’ll figure it out. She knows we’re friends.” Paul seldom took advantage of his size, but he’d drawn himself up to his full height. I wanted to explain what it was like to be alone, to feel you have a chance to regain the purpose love alone imparts.,
“Paul, it might make a difference. It might open her eyes. To this whole thing with her old man. I really think it might.”
“You think people open their eyes just because you tell them to look? There’s no happily-ever-after on this. You’re dreaming.”
I kept shaking my head. “This is your fault, Elstner.”
“My fault? Because I told you a story years ago about the father of some girl you didn’t even know existed?”
“No,” I said. “No. Because of what you said last time. About stopping at halfway? I’ll say it to myself now, if I don’t do this. I want to go for it all with this woman. To see if she can really be what I need. So don’t tell me it’s her or you.”
Elstner stalked away to drop his little paper basket, now bearing only a few specks of relish, into the trash. When he came back, he said, “I’m not telling you it’s her or me. I’m telling you that you don’t have that choice. You gave me your word. And I have a God-given right to sleep at night. So you can’t tell her.” He stared at me, giving no ground. Instead he was calling in the cards guys like to think they have with one another, especially honor and loyalty.
Inside the arena, the horn blared, indicating the end of the shootaround. It was game time. Paul’s eyes had never left mine.
“I can’t tell her,” I said at last.
I told her anyway.
I didn’t see Karen or call her for several days after that encounter in her bedroom. Four or five nights along, I returned from work to find two items at my apartment door, a little bud vase with two sweetheart roses in fresh water, and a narrow box. Inside was a pair of suspenders with a note. “Forget about your belt... Sorry to mess up... Call me. Please.”