that his attention seemed elsewhere, and the question flew harmlessly by.
'Could he be staying at the Walton House? Seems to me I've seen a blue sedan parked there,' I said.
'I doubt he's at the Walton House.' Herman dried his hands on his apron. 'Every time I saw him pull away he'd swing around and head east from the traffic light.' He paused as if checking his memory. 'I don't think he lived in town at all.'
'Oh, well, it's not that important. Put another head on this thing for me.'
At least it was confirmation of sorts that Bunny had hidden out east on Main as I'd originally figured. I'd been beginning to wonder. I might be stubborn, but I had no intention of working my way to the east coast of Florida a side road at a time. I'd have to keep at it, though, now that Herman's recollection had strengthened my first guess. Bunny was out there somewhere. Not that I was going to be able to do him any good now. It had been too long.
I left the tavern and drove back to the Dixie Pig parking lot. Hazel was sitting in her car, the glow of a cigarette illuminating her face. 'Let's go in mine,' I called to her.
She came over and got in. I caught a whiff of perfume. She was wearing a dress again. I headed down the driveway and out onto the highway.
'Relax, big stuff,' I told her. 'Everything's going to be all right.'
She looked at me curiously. 'Don't go building yourself up for nothing, Chet. It's not that important.'
'Relax,' I repeated.
I drove with my left hand and held her left in my right. The full moon was past; it was a darker night. I nearly missed the turn-off road, so I had to back up before we jolted down the final three hundred yards and sat looking at the cabin that was a darker blotch in the blackness.
Hazel gave me her key, and I unlocked the door. It was so quiet it almost hurt the ears. We didn't bother with any lights. Hand in hand we stumbled from the cabin's living room into the bedroom.
I undressed her myself. She showed up whiter and whiter with each layer removed until she gleamed in the dark like phosphoresence in the Gulf. I forgot her cowboy boots. I heard the click of her boot heels when her legs came together over my back as we settled down on the bed.
We really dusted off that bed. I made it so big it was a lumped-up, soul-satisfying taste deep in my throat. I could feel the wild pulse in Hazel's neck under my lips. When she blew her boiler it was a damn good thing for me there were no spurs on her boots. I rode for a long time before my cannon fired.
Hazel's voice was a muted, husky sound against the background of our mutual deep breathing. 'Welcome back, Horseman. You covered a spread of ground.'
I didn't say anything. We were still in the missionary posture. I slid my hands beneath her and took a solid double-handful of her powerful, sleek-feeling nude buttocks. I pulled her up against me, tightly.
'Oh, no!' she chuckled as she felt my renewed manifestation. 'Honest to Christmas, Chet—' She started to laugh, a full-throated richness of sound that remained in my mind long after it had died out in my ears.
It was absolutely the finest sound I'd heard in longer than I liked to think about.
I was on my back, relaxed, when Hazel came back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. 'I ought to sue you for misrepresentation, man,' she said quietly. 'You had me thinking there was no fire in the boiler at all.' She bent down over me, searching for my face in the dark.
'There's fire enough, baby, when the damn engineer's on the job. The trouble is that every so often he takes these two-week lunch hours.'
She stretched out beside me lengthily, a healthy animal. Her big arms pulled me closer to her. 'At the moment I couldn't care less,' she murmured. 'Although I'll admit I don't understand it.'
I understood it. Up to a point, anyway. I was geared to a different ratio. Bed-bouncing had never been mainline for me the way it is for most guys. Although with this big, warm-hearted, understanding, two-hundred- percent woman—
She stirred beside me. 'Funny how okay it can make things, huh? When it's right?'
'You said a hammered-down mouthful, baby.'
Her voice was soft when she spoke again. 'Nobody's ever called me 'baby.' It sounds-—nice.'
We stayed on the bed for a long time.
We showered together finally. The tiny bathroom looked us il a couple of whales had been turned loose in it. Then-was even water on the ceiling. I was conducting a mopping up operation with towels when Hazel came back in. dressed. 'Leave it,' she said. 'I'll drive out tomorrow and take care of it.'
We rode back to the Dixie Pig in a comfortable silence. I put Hazel in her car, and she ran down her window and waved to me before she drove off. I set sail for the motel and bed.
I woke with a start from my first deep sleep. A glance at the luminous dial on the alarm clock beside the bed showed I'd been asleep half an hour. My subconscious had somehow put together a nice, neat package: kick the whole bit in Hudson, Florida, and take off with Hazel. For anywhere. Really catch up on living.
I looked around the motel room's long, dappled shadows and blurred dark corners. I heard Kaiser's breathing at the foot of the bed. I listened to the thump of someone turning over in the next room, plainly audible through the thin partition.
I didn't need the cold light of day to squelch that crazy idea.
Don't try to be a bigger goddamn fool than nature intended, I told myself.
I knew what I was.
A leopard doesn't change his spots.
I closed my eyes again.
After awhile I even slept.
VIII
I picked Lucille Grimes up at the stroke of five in front of the post office. 'I made a reservation at the Black Angus, since it's early enough for a drive,' I said. 'Okay?'
'It's a nice place,' she replied. She smoothed her skirt beneath her on the front seat, palms flat against her pliant thighs. Her eyes were bright. There was an electric current between us from the instant she got into the Ford.
I headed north on the highway and just rolled it along. It was about a thirty-mile drive. I watched the rear- view mirror without being obvious about it. I saw no indication of a jealous deputy sheriff in pursuit, but Jed's warning stayed in my mind.
Lucille sat beside me in seeming tensed expectation. I couldn't understand it, and it made me cautious. Still, I was satisfied to leave it that way for the time being. I intended to probe a bit during dinner and try to find out what made this woman tick.
It didn't work out that way. Lucille had three Martinis in quick succession in the huge dining room. She apologized for asking me to order the third, but she downed it quicker than its predecessors. She ordered steak but just toyed with it. Conversation stayed at a minimum as Lucille closed out my tentative leads with terse replies. Her tone was brittle.
Her responses included incomplete sentences, dangling phrases, and half-finished verbalizations. These were punctuated by an occasional loose-lipped, dazzling smile.
An aura of almost febrile excitement emanated from her. I almost expected to see sparks fly from her fingers. She was the epitome of promise if I ever saw it.
All this for me, I asked myself?
Careful, man. Careful.
I suggested brandy after dinner. She had two, then another after a cigarette. I was becoming more curious by the minute. Lucille took on a high gloss. She was pronouncing her words carefully. She stepped a bit too high over the threshold when we left the restaurant.
She lapsed into complete silence in the car. Her gaze was fixed dreamily straight ahead down the road. If she
