'She said she doesn't want to talk to you,' he told Elliott. 'Said you were a dork.'
'That hurts.'
'Tell me about it.'
Quinn hung up the phone, smiling around his dead cigar.
17
'You drank just the right amount of wine during dinner,' he told Marilyn, as they strolled along the sidewalk toward her apartment. Even though Marilyn was wearing high heels, he was slightly the taller of the two in his Rough Country boots, and he knew the hat added another three or four inches. They were walking very close together and presented a kind of unassailable front that prompted people approaching to veer around them. Power prevails, thought the Butcher.
Marilyn laughed. 'I'm afraid to think what you might mean by that.'
'I mean you showed restraint.'
'And you admire restraint?'
His turn to laugh. 'Up to a point.'
He rested his right hand lightly on her shoulder as they walked, raising his head slightly and smiling as he let his senses take in the moment. The mingled scents of the city rode on the sultry summer evening. Headlights of approaching traffic starred in the humidity. The slightly sweet smell of curbside trash waiting to be picked up in early morning was like perfume to him. He enjoyed the subtle but persistent wafting of exhaust fumes; the rumble of a bus or truck; a cacophony of blaring horns echoing from far away.
And something else…a delicate hint of nearby scent.
Her shampoo.
'Did you wash your hair just for me?'
She seemed surprised and pleased. 'Of course I did. It's perceptive of you to notice.'
'There isn't much I don't notice.' He realized at once he'd sounded a note of arrogance and moved to temper it. 'I'm afraid my job makes me like that.'
'You never told me what you did for a living,' she said.
I can tell her anything now, on this, her last night.
'I'm a historian.'
'You teach?'
'Not now. I'm writing a book on the Civil War.'
'About your ancestor.'
'General Grant wasn't exactly an ancestor.'
'You know that for a fact?'
'Well, no.'
'Then maybe you and he are related. Or maybe not. You drank just the right amount of wine for dinner, too. Showed restraint. I don't think General Grant often did that.'
They'd reached the entrance to Marilyn's building and stopped walking at the base of the concrete steps up to the stoop.
'You know your history,' he said. 'The general did enjoy his liquor. Lincoln once said-'
He fell silent as he noticed a woman approaching. As she passed from shadow into brighter light, his glance took her in quickly-medium height, slightly overweight, short blond hair, white joggers, dark slacks, untucked sleeveless blouse, a purse of glittering green sequins slung by a strap over her right shoulder. When she got closer, he saw that she was in her thirties, had protruding teeth, was moderately pretty, and was wearing half a dozen jangling silver bracelets on her left wrist. A necklace. Rings. In love with jewelry. Presents to herself.
The woman smiled. 'Marilyn?'
Beside him, Marilyn took a step toward the woman. 'Ella? Is that actually you?'
'Of course it's me!' Smiling with her toothy mouth wide open, the woman hobbled toward Marilyn on her high heels, her arms spread like inadequate wings. She reminded him of one of those birds that couldn't fly but because of Darwinian memory still ran and flapped about as if they might take off.
The two women hugged while he stood by awkwardly, making himself smile, putting on the amused and tolerant expression that he thought appropriate. Play their game.
'You did something to your hair,' Marilyn was saying. She stood back, hands on hips, and looked perplexed.
'Made it blond,' the woman said. 'It's something I always wanted to do, and since I lived in New York, I thought it'd be a smart time to do it.'
'Oh, you mean because of that Butcher creep.'
His smile stayed firm. Only a matter of time. Destiny is on rails, and gaining speed and momentum. Sixty miles an hour. No whistle. No stopping it. No avoiding it. He was the engineer and he knew.
'I thought I saw you on the street a few days ago,' the woman said, 'only I couldn't be sure. But I decided to try and find you.'
'How did you?'
'Called Rough Country. I'd heard some time ago you worked there. They gave me your address.'
'If I'd known you lived here-'Marilyn suddenly gave a start. 'Excuse my bad manners, I was so excited to see you. This is my friend Joe Grant.' She made a sweeping motion toward him with her hand. 'This is Ella Oaklie, Joe. She's an old college friend from Ohio State.'
He shook the woman's damp hand, feeling the pain of a sharp ring. 'Any relation to Annie Oakley?'
'Not hardly,' Ella said, grinning. 'Spelled differently. And about the only thing I shoot off is my mouth.' She cocked her head to the side, appraising him. 'Hey, I like your hat. Not to mention the boots. Kinda cowboy, but also big city. Sexy. Must be the Marilyn influence.'
He suddenly felt ridiculous in his new outfit. 'It sure is. She's good for me, and having a startling effect on my wardrobe.'
'Well, you look right at home in New York, wrangler.'
'We were just on our way out to have some drinks,' Marilyn lied. Her way of letting Ella know Joe was hers. He liked that. 'Join us, why don't you? Joe won't mind.'
'Sounds great,' he said, trying to show adequate enthusiasm.
Ella shrugged. 'I really can't…'
Good. Why don't you mosey along.
'Then come on upstairs. I know you'd like to see the place,' Marilyn insisted. 'And I'd like to show it off. Really.'
Damn it! This is going to happen.
Roll with it. Social ju-jitsu.
'Listen,' he said, 'why don't you two go up without me?'
'Joe-'
'I really don't mind, Marilyn. You're obviously good friends and haven't seen each other for a long time. You'll have plenty of news for each other. You don't need a third party around who doesn't recall old times.'
'Really-' Ella began, flapping her arms. She really did resemble an awkward, overweight bird.
'So go ahead. I'll leave you two to catch up, long as you don't talk about me.'
'It'll all be complimentary, Joe,' Marilyn said.
'I'll try to believe that.'
'Call me?'
'Speed dial.'
'I can see you've made a good impression,' Ella said, aiming her indomitable toothy grin at him. 'And I can see why.'
Interested? He gave her a shy smile. 'I try.'
'Not enough men do.'
