' 'You and all your women, Scudder.' That's what he said to you.'
'A lot of bad guys say a lot of things over the years. You can't take all that crap seriously.' I went over and picked up the envelope again, as if I could read its psychic vibrations. If it held any, they were too subtle for me.
I said, 'Why now, for God's sake? What's it been, twelve years?'
'Just about.'
'You really think it's him, don't you?'
'I know it is.'
'Motley.'
'Yes.'
'James Leo Motley,' I said. 'Jesus.'
James Leo Motley. I'd first heard the name in that same apartment, but not in the black-and-white living room. I'd called Elaine one afternoon, dropped by shortly thereafter. She fixed bourbon for me and a diet cola for herself, and a few minutes later we were in her bedroom.
Afterward I touched the tip of one finger to a discolored area alongside her rib cage and asked her what happened.
'I almost called you,' she said. 'I had a visitor yesterday afternoon.'
'Oh?'
'Someone new. He'd called, said he was a friend of Connie's.
That's Connie Cooperman. You met her, remember?'
'Sure.'
'He said she gave him my number. So we talked, and he sounded all right, and he came over. I didn't like him.'
'What was wrong with him?'
'I don't know exactly. There was something weird about him.
Something about his eyes.'
'His eyes?'
'The way he looks at you. What is it Superman's got? X-ray vision? I felt as though he could look at me and see clear through to the bone.'
I ran a hand over her. 'You'd miss a lot of nice skin that way,' I said.
'And there was something very cold about it. Reptilian, like a lizard watching flies. Or like a snake.
Coiled, ready to strike without warning.'
'What's he look like?'
'That may have been part of it. He's kind of strange-looking. A very long narrow face. Mouse-colored hair, and a lousy haircut, one of those soup-bowl jobs. It made him look like a monk. Very pale skin.
Unhealthy, or at least that's how it looked.'
'Sounds charming.'
'His body was strange, too. He was completely hard.'
'Isn't that something you strive for in your line of work?'
'Not his cock, his whole body. Like every muscle was tense all the time, like he never relaxed. He's thin, but he's very muscular. What you call wiry.'
'What happened?'
'We went to bed. I wanted to get him into bed because I wanted to get him out of here as soon as possible. Also, I figured once I got him off he'd be calmer and I wouldn't be as nervous. I already knew I wasn't going to see him again. In fact I would have asked him to leave without taking him to bed, but I was afraid of what he might do. He didn't exactly do anything, but he was an unpleasant trick.'
'Was he rough?'
'Not exactly. It was the way he touched me. You can tell a lot from the way a man touches you. He touched me like he hated me. I mean, who needs that shit, you know?'
'How'd you get the bruise?'
'That was after. He got dressed, he wasn't interested in taking a shower and I didn't suggest it because I wanted him O-U-T. And he gave me this look, and he said we'd probably be seeing a lot of each other from now on. That's what you think, I thought, but I didn't say anything.
He was on his way out, and he hadn't given me any money, or left anything on the dresser.'
'You didn't get money in front?'
'No, I never do. I don't discuss it ahead of time, not unless the man brings it up, and most of the time they don't. A lot of men like to pretend to themselves that the sex is free and the money they give me is a present, and that's fine. Anyway, he was ready to walk out without giving me anything, and I came this close to letting him go.'
