“Shameless hussy,” I said.
“He can write people well. I was surprised.
I asked him why he doesn’t write a serious book and you know what he told me?”
“What?”
“He said that every time he tries, he freezes up. Blocks. But that he can write his porno just fine because he knows it’s just trash and doesn’t matter. I sort of feel sorry for him.”
“You feel sorry for everybody.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Al Monahan has two bus-stop benches on either side of the entrance to his caf@e. Nice for eating outdoors on hot days, which we did.
I had iced tea and a cheeseburger. She had iced tea.
“I thought you wanted some lunch.”
“Iced tea is lunch,” she said defensively.
“I’d hate to hear you argue that in court.”
“Want to take the case?”
“You should eat,” I said.
“You should stop being a mother hen.”
“That’s the most effective diet in the world.
Heartbreak.”
“It sure is.”
“When’s the last time you ate?”
“Last night. A piece of pizza.”
I was about to do a little more mother-henning when I saw them.
Sara and Dierdre Hall. Jaywalking from the other side of the street.
“Be right back,” I said and jumped up, setting my lunch down.
I caught them just as they reached their baby-blue DeSoto convertible. They were dressed pretty much the same-pink summer blouses, white pedal pushers, white dressy sandals. And the darkest sunglasses this side of Elizabeth Taylor.
They looked alike, too. Quiet beauty all the richer the longer you studied it.
“Hi, Sara, I wondered if I could call you this afternoon.”
“Get in the car, Dierdre.”
“Mom, didn’t you hear him?”
“Didn’t you hear me, Dierdre? I said to get in the car.”
“Sara, we really do need to sit down and talk.”
“Mom, do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? Why don’t you at least answer him?”
“I’ll answer him when you get in the car.”
“This is very embarrassing, Mr.
McCain. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Your mom’s obviously having a bad day.”
“My mom’s always having a bad day.”
Dierdre got in the car. Crossed her arms across her chest.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Sara Hall said to me.
“I’m trying to help you, Sara.”
“How noble.”
“Would you prefer if I just started talking right here? In front of your daughter?”
“Yes, Mother,” Dierdre said. “That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?”
“I resent this,” Sara Hall said.
“So do I. You owe me some answers.”
“I don’t owe you anything. And I plan to take this up with Judge Whitney, believe me.”
I knew better than to say that the Judge already knew I’d be talking to Sara. “I’d appreciate it if you’d be at my office at four o’clock.”
“If she isn’t there, I will be, Mr.
McCain.”
That was another point I’d make on my list.
Muldaur’s daughter and Hall’s daughter offering to cooperate even though their mothers refused to.
“I’ll see you at four,” Sara Hall said, and got into her car.
I could see them pantomiming an argument as the swept-fin convertible swept away. I had the sense that it was an argument they’d had many times. I wondered what it was about. I felt sure it had some bearing on the murders.
“Ah,” I said, sitting down next to Kylie on the bench again and picking up my lunch. “Just the way I like it. My cheeseburger’s cold and my iced tea’s hot.”
“I’m now a black-belt in fly-shooing. It looked like Pearl Harbor on your burger.” She sipped her iced tea. “So, did you learn anything?”
“Just that Sara and Dierdre Hall don’t seem to get along very well.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not yet.”
“Meaning you plan to find out?”
“Of course. Before Richard Milhous
Nixon gets here and finds out that we have murders just like everybody else.”
“He says he’s not sure if he loves her.”
“I take it we’re not talking about Nixon anymore.”
“He says he knows he’s being unfair to me and he wouldn’t blame me if I just walked out.
We really got into a terrible argument-the people downstairs were banging on the wall and everything-and then we ended up making love practically all night. And then when he was leaving for school this morning-even though he doesn’t have any classes today-I asked him if I’d see him tonight and he said that he had a date with her.”
“Ah.”
“That’s all you’re going to say? Ah? What kind of comment is that?”
“A non-comment. I’m staying out of this, remember?”
“Well, pretend it’s you and not me. What would you do, then?”
“That’s how it sorta was at the end with Pamela. We finally made love one night and as soon as we were finished the phone rang. It was good ole Stu and she went rushing off to him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you take her back?”
“She never came back. Not really, anyway.
She snuck away a few days later because Stu was having second thoughts about dumping his wife and family and the governorship.”
“What governorship?”
“Everybody figured it was his turn to be governor.”
“But he’s here now.”
“Yes, he is. Rebuilding his image after running away with a hussy.”
“And where’s Pamela?”
“Hiding somewhere. I’m not sure where, exactly.”
“What if she called and asked you to get married?”
“I don’t know. That’s the only answer I can give you.”
“She walked all over you.”
“Yes.”
“And ditched you for somebody else.”
