'And took off his tie? What else did he take off?' Nudger realized he was only half joking; there was an edge in his voice that surprised him.
Claudia paused in unhooking her bra, bent sharply forward at the waist, and stared at him with her elbows back and out, as if she were an elegant bird that had just touched down in the bedroom. 'Nudger…' There was a dark warning in her eyes.
He got undressed silently, slowly, waiting for the bedroom to cool. The window unit seemed to be doing an exceptionally efficient job.
Well, maybe Claudia was right to caution him. He admitted to himself that he'd demonstrated unreasonable jealousy over practically nothing. Made a prime ass of himself, not for the first time. Okay, he'd messed up; the heat and the wine might have had something to do with it.
Still, that red tie, slung luridly over his own…
When he got into bed beside Claudia, she was nude on top of the covers. Her body was pale and slim, her hip bones prominent. She had teacup-sized, pointed breasts, and lean but shapely dancer's legs, though she had never danced. Nudger felt the increasing tightness in his throat, the warm stirring at the core of him. He stroked her shoulder, said, 'Biff Archway?'
Claudia sighed loudly. More of a hiss, really. 'Biff was in the neighborhood and dropped by to see me.'
'And took off his tie.'
'Nudger, you and I aren't married. We're not engaged. I don't wear your class ring, like the girls wear boys' rings at Stowe School, with adhesive tape wrapped around them so they fit. That's very possessive.'
'Possessive? Sure. I thought we had an understanding. A commitment.'
She smiled at him, then propped herself up on one elbow and leaned over and kissed him. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his arm. Her long dark hair brushed the side of his neck, tickled. 'We do have an understanding,' she assured him.
'Did this Archway make advances?'
'Advances?' She fell back with her head on the pillow and stared straight up at the ceiling.
'You know. Advances…'
'Jesus, Nudger! Sometimes I think you live in the nineteenth century. No, he didn't make advances toward me; he came in here walking backward, and then he kind of sidled out.'
'That's not a serious answer.'
She turned her head and looked at him, a bit sadly, he thought. 'Seriously, I'm not going to answer you. You shouldn't have asked.'
Nudger started to get out of bed. When he sat up he felt her hands on his shoulder, fingers clawing into his flesh, drawing him back. He sat for a long moment on the edge of the mattress, feeling her grip loosen.
Maybe he was making too much of all this. Maybe this Archway guy really did just happen to be in the neighborhood and dropped by, and it was hot so he removed his tie and it found its way into Claudia's bedroom. On top of Nudger's ties. Maybe. Nudger wondered if he should check the drawer where he kept his underwear.
He settled back down on the bed, amused at his own unreasonableness. Green-eyed fool Nudger.
Claudia wrapped her arms around him as he pulled the length of her lean body against him. The naked heat of her felt good in the cool room. They kissed, and he ran his fingertips ever so lightly over her erect nipples. She tossed her head and snuggled even closer against him.
Things were all right again.
Better than all right.
'So I'm a jealous middle-aged guy,' Nudger said, after about ten minutes. 'We get that way when we see the dark at the end of the tunnel.'
She laughed softly, and he kissed her forehead and shifted so his body was poised above hers. The bed creaked, then was quiet, as if waiting.
'What else does this Archway teach out at the school?' Nudger asked.
'Physio-social analysis and adaptability.'
'What's that?'
'Sex education.'
Nudger rolled heavily to the side, said, 'Damn!'
VI
Edna Fine lived in the Hallmont Apartments, directly across the street from Olson's Liquor Emporium. Hers was a one-bedroom unit facing the street, and on the day of the murder she'd heard shots and looked out her window in time to see a man flee from the store, climb into a dark green car that was waiting for him at the curb, and fire a shot back from the speeding car as it left the scene. She'd told her story to the police, made her identification, given her deposition for the prosecution, and thought the affair was ended.
But here was Nudger, sitting across from her in her living room, asking questions. Pesky Nudger.
He smiled at Edna Fine and thought that she looked more like a middle-aged spinster than anyone he'd known. She was tall and unattractively angular, with a tiny pinched face, graying hair, and an austere look about her that suggested teetotaling, no sex except once during leap years, and stern morality in all matters. She wore rimless round glasses and had on a plain black dress suitable for funerals. A jury would sense that she might be bending over too far backward in her effort to smite evil, and might hear her testimony with some dubiousness if they saw her. The prosecutor knew what he was doing when he'd taken her deposition and merely had her sworn testimony read into the record, so she wouldn't actually appear in court. Colt's lawyer, a guy named Siberling, hadn't cross-examined her. Nudger would have to talk with Siberling.
Edna Fine's small, antiseptic apartment's furniture fit her appearance; it was dull, stiff, and unadorned. Nudger shifted uncomfortably on the wood-trimmed, straight- backed sofa and said, 'Did you get a good look at the suspect's face, Miss Fine?'
'You mean Curtis Colt?'
Nudger nodded.
Edna Fine smiled.
Wait a minute. It changed her entire appearance, gave her surprising warmth. The pinched face widened, and crow's feet added humanity to the close-set blue eyes. Nudger liked her better. A jury might have, too; maybe the prosecutor had missed a good bet after all. And maybe Siberling had done some pre-trial investigation and was wise not to have put her on the stand.
She said, 'Don't think I'm so cocksure of my identification that you have to humor me as if I'm some kind of tight- assed old maid.'
Nudger was constantly amazed by how appearances could deceive. The world was made up of distorting mirrors, things were the opposite of what they seemed. 'Then you're not sure?'
'I'm as sure as it says in my deposition. I went to the window after hearing shots, looked out, and saw this skinny little man carrying a gun run from the store and get into a car that drove away with him.'
'How many shots did you hear?'
'Four, plus one when the car sped toward the corner. I knew they were shots immediately; I spent three years as a nurse in Southeast Asia and I recognize gunfire.'
'And did you see the man's face?'
She sat down with an exaggerated, incongruous primness on a dainty chair facing the sofa and nodded. 'Got a glimpse. What I saw mostly, though, was the top of his head. Mass of wavy dark brown or black hair. Parted in the middle, I think. He was a slender little bastard, but sort of wiry, strong-looking. Remember, though, I had to take all this in within about four seconds.'
'But you picked Curtis Colt out of a police lineup.'
She shrugged. 'When I saw him standing there, it just hit me that he was the man. You want a drink, Mr. Nudger?'
'No, thanks.' A scrawny yellow cat strutted into the room, angled over, and rubbed against Nudger's leg. Nudger was mildly surprised; the apartment smelled nothing like cat; it had in fact a faint lilac scent.
