'You don't reach out for life like you should,' Prine said. 'You don't
experience. You don't get loose enough often enough. That's the only
thing wrong with you, Paulthere than your socks.'
Stevenson looked at his feet. 'What's wrong with my socks?'
Prine went to the windows. He didn't look at the bright city beyond but
stared instead at his reflection in the glass. He grinned at himself.
He felt marvelous. Better than he had felt in weeks, and all thanks to
Harris. The clairvoyant had brought some excitement and danger into his
life, new purpose and interest.
Although Graham Harris didn't know it as yet, he was the most important
target of Prine's career. We'll destroy him, Prine thought happily;
wipe him out, finish him off for good. He turned to Stevenson. 'Are
you certain about the phone? I must have gotten a call.'
,No. Nothing.'
'Maybe you stepped out of here for a minute.'
'Tony, I'm not a fool. Give me some credit. I was here all the time,
and the private line never rang.'
Prine finished his second bourbon. It burned his throat. A welcome and
pleasant heat rose in him. 'Why don't you have a drink with me?'
Stevenson stood and stretched. 'No. I've really got to go.'
Prine went to the bar.
'You're drinking those awfully fast, Tony.'
'Celebrating,' Prine said as he added ice and bourbon to his glass.
'Celebrating what?'
'The downfall of another fool.'
Connie Davis was waiting for Graham when he came home to the townhouse
they shared in Greenwich Village. She took his coat and hung it in the
closet.
She was pretty. Thirty-four years old. Slender. Brunette. Gray eyes.
Proud nose. Wide mouth. Sexy.
She owned a prosperous hole-in-the-wall antique shop on Tenth Street. In
business she was every bit as tough as she was pretty.
For the past eighteen months she and Graham had lived together.
Their relationship was the closest thing to genuine romance that either
of them had ever known.
However, it was more than a romance. She was his doctor and nurse as
well as his lover. Since the accident five years ago, he had been
losing faith in himself. His self-respect faded year by year. She was
here to help him, to heal him. She was not certain that he understood
stood this; but she saw it as the most important task of her life.
'Where have you been?' she asked. 'It's two thirty.
'I had to think. I went walking. You saw the program?
'We'll talk about it. But first you need to get warm.'
'Do I ever. It must be twenty below out there.'
'Go into the study and sit down. Relax,' she said. 'I've got a fire
going. I'll bring you a drink.'
' Brandy?
'
'What else on a night like this?'
'You're nearly perfect.'
