The Crimes of Jordan Wise

features blended into a harmonious whole, that she was close to being beautiful.

Usually I was at a loss for any kind of clever repartee; I don't think well on my feet. But that day I managed to summon a reasonably bright response.

'I was lost,' I said, 'but now I'm found.'

'What? Oh,' she said, and laughed. Nice laugh. Rich and deep, not one of those tinkly giggles that some small women have. Then her eyebrows pulled together and she said in serious tones, 'Did you mean that Uterally?'

'Literally?'

'What you said about being found. The way it's meant in 'Amazing Grace.''

'You mean am I religious?'

'If you're a born-again . . .'

'I'm not. Being born once was enough.'

'Good. I have a problem with Holy Rollers.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'As long as you aren't one.' She smiled again. 'You know, this is a pretty odd conversation.'

'I guess it is.'

'Not that I mind. I find odd appealing—up to a point.'

'Is that why you came over to talk to me?'

'No. Because you looked like a lost stray.'

'I don't deal well with crowds,' I said.

'Shy?'

'You could say that.'

'I'm just the opposite. Outgoing. I love parties, the bigger the better.' She sipped from the glass she was holding. 'Champagne, too. But I think I've about had my limit. What's your limit?'

'One or two glasses. I'm not much of a drinker.'

'Mine's five or six. This is number six.'

She was a little drunk, I realized then. There was a flush across her cheekbones, and the brown eyes had a glaze.

I asked her if she was a friend of the bride or groom, and she said, 'Neither. Friend of a friend who went to school with the bride. You?'

'I work for the same company as the groom.'

'Which company would that be?'

'Amthor Associates. In the city.'

'That's an engineering firm, isn't it?'

'Yes.' I didn't tell her what I did at Amthor and I was glad she didn't ask. Some people equate being an accountant with being dull, uninteresting, and the fact that I fit the stereotype embarrassed me in situations like this. 'What do you do?'

'I'm a buyer for Kleinfelt's. The department store. Well, assistant buyer. Women's lingerie.'

'That sounds interesting.'

'Actually,' she said, 'it's a pretty shitty job.'

I didn't know what to say to that.

'Bad Annalise,' she said. 'Six glasses of champagne makes me say and do things I shouldn't.'

'Annalise. That's an unusual name. Euphonious.'

'What's that, euphonious?'

'It means pleasing to the ear. What goes with Annalise?'

'Bonner. Is your name euphonious?'

'I doubt it. Jordan Wise.'

'You're right, it's not. Are you a wise Wise?'

'Not as often as I'd like to be,' I said.

'Me, either. Who is? Well, Bert is. Thinks he is, anyway.'

'Who would Bert be?'

'The fellow I came with. But he seems to have disappeared.'

'Boyfriend?'

'Jury's still out on that. Why? Are you interested?'

'Yes,' I said. Bold. And I'd never been bold before. She brought that out in me right from the first. 'I'd like to see you again.'

'Are you asking me for a date?'

'Lunch, dinner, a movie, whatever you like.'

She thought about it, her head tipped to one side. 'Well, maybe,' she said. 'Jury's still out on that, too.'

'When will there be a verdict?'

'After due deliberation. Which just began, so it might take a while. You never know with juries.'

'How do I find out?'

That was as far as it went. She didn't have a chance to respond, because another voice said loudly, 'Annalise, there you are,' and a blue-eyed blond guy, half a head taller and a yard wider than me, came barreling up. He didn't even glance at me; as far as he was concerned, I wasn't even there. 'I've been looking all over for you. Come on, there's somebody I want you to meet.' He took hold of her arm and started tugging on it.

It cought me flatfooted. I didn't have a chance to say anything more. She smiled at me and shrugged as if to say 'What can you do?' and let him drag her off into the crowd.

I felt a rush of anger at the blond guy. Asshole! Yanking on her like that, taking her away! But the anger didn't last long. The dull acceptance that had characterized so much of my life replaced it. So what's the big deal? I thought. She'd probably have said no anyway. Forget it. Forget her.

But I hung around the reception for another half hour, working my way through the crowd. Annalise was gone, or at least I didn't see her anywhere. Finally I left and drove home, feeling flat, putting the flatness down to the crush of strangers even though she was still on my mind. She stayed on my mind the rest of the day, and I dreamed about her that night.

Forget her? Even then, at some level, I knew I never would.

* * *

It took me nearly a week to work up the nerve to call her. I would've done it sooner if she'd had a listed phone number, but she didn't and nobody I knew who'd been at the reception knew her. I was reluctant to call her at her job. Amthor Associates frowned on personal calls on company time, and I thought Kleinfelt's Department Store would probably feel the same. But it was either that or give up without trying, so I rode the elevator to the lobby on my morning coffee break and called Kleinfelt's on one of the public phones.

She answered with her last name and a Miss in front of it. I identified myself and said that we'd met at the Sanderson reception on Saturday—'Lost and found, if you remember.'

'I remember,' she said. Not as if she were glad to hear from me, but friendly enough. 'I didn't have that much champagne.'

'I was wondering,' I said, 'if the jury has come in yet.'

'Jury?' Then she got it and it made her laugh. 'Oh, the jury. Bight. Well, let's see. Which case were you interested in?'

'Mainly the one involving me.'

'Mmm. Just now, as a matter of fact.'

'What's the verdict?'

'In favor of the plaintiff, I think. Why don't you call me again tonight to confirm it?'

She gave me her home number. And when I called her that night, she confirmed the favorable verdict. She was busy Friday and Saturday, but Sunday would be all right for dinner as long as it wasn't a late evening.

She lived in an eight-unit apartment building near Golden Gate Park and the University of California Medical Center. I picked her up there and we went to Castagnola's on Fisherman's Wharf for dinner and then to the Top of the Mark for drinks. Annalise wore white again—a white flared skirt and a pale-blue-and-white blouse under a white jacket. If white is a color, it was her favorite, with pale blue a close second. She drew a lot of male eyes. Being with her made me feel proud and privileged and a little possessive, feelings I'd never had with any other woman.