was the quick flutter of pigeons' wings.
He picked up the valise, stepped over the ledge, and put the valise down again where it would be clear of the door's swing. Pushing the door further open, he stood with his back to it He extended one hand to Dorothy. With the other he gestured towards the expanse of roof as a head waiter gestures towards his finest table. He gave her a mock bow and his best smile. 'Enter, mam'selle,' he said.
Taking his hand, she stepped gracefully over the ledge and onto the black tar of the roof.
He wasn't nervous at all. There had been a moment of near-panic when he couldn't get the door open, but it had dissolved the instant the door had yielded to the force of his shoulder, and now he was calm and secure. Everything was going to be perfect. No mistakes, no intruders. He just knew it. He hadn't felt so good since-Jesus, since high school!
He swung the door partly closed, leaving a half inch between it and the jamb, so that it wouldn't give him any trouble when he left. He would be in a hurry then. Bending over, he moved the valise so that he would be able to. pick it up with one hand while opening the door with the other. As he straightened up he felt his hat shift slightly with the motion. He took it off, looked at it, and placed it on the valise. Christ, he was thinking of everything! A little thing like the hat would probably louse up somebody else. They would push her over and then a breeze or the force of the movement might send their hat sailing down to land beside her body. Bam! They might as well throw themselves over after it. Not he, though; he had anticipated, prepared. An act of God, the crazy kind of little thing that was always screwing up perfect plans,-and he had anticipated it. Jesus! He ran a hand over his hair, wishing there were a mirror.
'Come look at this.'
He turned. Dorothy was standing a few feet away, her back towards him, the alligator purse tucked under one arm. Her hands rested on the waist-high parapet that edged the roof. He came up behind her. 'Isn't it something?' she said. They were at the back of the building, facing south. The city sprawled before them, clear and sharp in the brilliant sunlight. 'Look'-Dorothy pointed to a green spot far away -'I think that's the campus.' He put his hands on her shoulders. A white-gloved hand reached up to touch his.
He had planned to do it quickly, as soon as he got her up there, but now he was going to take it slow and easy, drawing it out as long as he safely could. He was entitled to that, after a week of nerve-twisting tension. Not just a week,-years. Ever since high school it had been nothing but strain and worry and self-doubt There was no need to rush this. He looked down at the top of her head against his chest, the dark green veiling buoyant in the yellow hair. He blew, making the fine net tremble. She tilted her head back and smiled up at him.
When her eyes returned to the panorama, he moved to her side, keeping one arm about her shoulders. He leaned over the parapet Two stories below, the red tiled floor of a wide balcony extended like a shelf across the width of the building. The top of the twelfth story setback. It would be on all four sides. That was bad; a two story drop wasn't what he wanted. He turned and surveyed the root It was perhaps a hundred and fifty feet square, edged by the brick parapet whose coping was flat white stone, a foot wide. An identical wall rimmed the airshaft, a square hole some thirty feet across, in the center of the roof. On the left side of the roof was a vast stilt-supported water storage tank. On the right, the KBRI tower reared up like a smaller Eiffel, its girdered pattern black against the sky. The staircase entrance, a slant roofed shed, was in front of him and a bit to his left Beyond the airshaft, at the north side of the building, was a large rectangular structure, the housing of the elevator machinery. The entire roof was dotted with chimneys and ventilator pipes that stuck up like piers from a tarry sea.
Leaving Dorothy, he walked across to the parapet of the airshaft. He leaned over. The four walls funneled down to a tiny areaway fourteen stories below, its corners banked with trash cans and wooden crates. He looked for a moment, then stooped and pried a rain-faded matchbook from the gummy surface of the roof. He held the folder out beyond the parapet-and dropped it, watching as it drifted down, down, down, and finally became invisible. He glanced at the walls of the shaft. Three were striped with windows. The fourth, which faced him and evidently backed on. the elevator shafts, was blank, windowless. This was the spot. The south side of the airshaft. Right near the stairway, too. He slapped the top of the parapet, his lips pursed thoughtfully. Its height was greater than he had anticipated.
Dorothy came up behind him and took his arm. 'It's so quiet,' she said. He listened. At first there seemed to be absolute silence, but then the sounds of the roof asserted themselves: the throbbing of the elevator motors, a gentle wind strumming the cables that guyed the radio tower, the squeak of a slow-turning ventilator cap... , They began walking slowly. He led her around the airshaft and past the elevator housing. As they strolled she brushed his shoulder clean of the dust from the door. When they reached the northern rim of the roof they were able to see the river, and with the sky reflected in it, it was really blue, as blue as the rivers painted on maps. 'Do you have a cigarette?' she asked.
He reached into his pocket and touched a pack of Chesterfields. Then his hand came out empty. 'No, 1 don't. Do you have any?'
'They're buried in here someplace.' She dug into her purse, pushing aside a gold compact and a turquoise handkerchief, and finally produced a crushed pack of Herbert Tareytons. They each took one. He lit them and she returned the pack to her purse.
'Dorrie, there's something I want to tell you...' -she was blowing a stream of smoke against the sky, hardly listening-'... about the pills.'
Her face jerked around, going white. She swallowed. 'What?'
'I'm glad they didn't work,' he said, smiling. 'I really am.'
She looked at him uncomprehendingly. 'You're glad?'
'Yes. When I called you last night, I was going to tell you not to take them, but you already had.' Come on, he thought, confess. Get it off your chest It must be killing you.
Her voice was shaky. 'Why? You were so... what made you change your mind?'
'I don't know. I thought it over. I suppose I'm as anxious to get married as you are.' He examined his cigarette. 'Besides, I guess it's really a sin to do something like that.' When he looked up again her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened.
'Do you mean that?' she asked breathlessly. 'Are you really glad?'
'Of course I am. I wouldn't say it if I weren't'
'Oh, thank God!'
'What's the matter, Dorrie?'
'Please... don't be angry. I-I didn't take them.' He tried to look surprised. The words poured from her lips: 'You said you were going to get a night job and I knew we could manage, everything would work out, and I was counting on it so much, so much. I knew I was right.' She paused. 'You aren't angry, are you?' she beseeched. 'You understand?'
'Sure, baby. I'm not angry. I told you I was glad they didn't work.'
Her lips made a quivering smile of relief. 'I felt like a criminal, lying to you. I thought I would never be able to tell you. I... I can't believe it!'
He took the neatly folded handkerchief from his breast pocket and touched it to her eyes. 'Dorrie, what did you do with the pills?'
'Threw them away.' She smiled shamefacedly.
'Where?' he asked casually, replacing the handkerchief.
'The john.'
That was what he wanted to hear. There would be no questions about why she had taken such a messy way out when she had already gone to the trouble of obtaining poison. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it.
Dorothy, taking a final puff, did the same with hers. 'Oh gee,' she marveled, 'everything's perfect now. Perfect'
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently on the lips. 'Perfect,' he said.
He looked down at the two stubs, hers edged with lipstick, his clean. He picked his up. Splitting it down the middle with his thumbnail, he let the tobacco blow away and rolled the paper into a tiny ball. He flicked it out over the parapet 'That's the way we used to do it in the Army,' he said.
She consulted her watch. 'It's ten to one.'
'You're fast,' he said, glancing at his. 'We've got fifteen minutes yet.' He took her arm. They turned and walked leisurely away from the edge of the roof. 'Did you speak to your landlady?'
'Wha-? Oh, yes. It's all set' They passed the elevator housing. 'Monday we'll move your stuff from the
