She nodded thoughtfully and sipped a little more of her tea.
'You're very charming,' she said. 'But you don't actually say very much.'
'I haven't much to say.'
'I don't believe that,' Penny said.
'And detectives get further listening than they do talking.'
'Are you being a detective now?'
'I'm always being a detective,' I said.
'Really? Is that how you define yourself?'
'No. I define myself as Susan Silverman's main squeeze. Detective is what I do.'
'Are you married to her?'
'Not quite.'
'Tell me about her.'
'Smart, a little self-centered, intense, quick, very tough, very funny, dreadful cook, and beautiful.'
'What does she do?'
'Shrink.'
'Wow.'
'Wow?'
'Well, I mean, it's so high-powered.'
'Me too,' I said.
Penny smiled.
'Have you two been together for a long time?' she said.
'Yes.'
'But you've never married.'
'No.'
'Is there a reason?'
'It's never seemed a good idea at the times we've thought about it.'
'Well, I'd love to meet her.'
'Yes,' I said. 'You would.'
When the sprinklers stopped, Penny and I took a stroll with Dutch around the grounds, the tennis courts, and the riding stables. The unexplained outbuildings turned out to be a small gymnasium with weight-lifting equipment and two locker rooms. Then I went back to my hotel to think long thoughts. As is usual when I'm thinking long thoughts, I lay on the bed with my eyes closed. Susan says I often snore when thinking long thoughts.
FOUR
JAPANESE LANTERNS IN many colors were strung over the dark lawn, defining a patch of light and movement behind the Clive mansion. A number of guests dressed in elegant informality clustered together inside the circling lanterns near a bar set up on a table with a white tablecloth, where a black man in a white coat made drinks upon request. I was there wearing a summer-weight blue blazer to hide my gun, and sipping some beer and eating an occasional mushroom turnover offered me by a black woman with cornrows, wearing a frilly white apron. If you went outside the lanterns into the surrounding darkness and waited until your eyes adjusted, you could look up and see stars in the velvety night.
Walter Clive was there in a straw-colored jacket and a navy-blue shirt. He still had on his aviator sunglasses, probably protection from the glare of the lanterns. A woman in a soft-green linen dress came out of the house and into the circle of light. She had silvery blond hair, and very worthwhile cleavage, and good hips and long legs. She was standing with a graceful-looking younger man with hair as blond as hers.
'Dolly,' Clive said. 'Over here.'
She turned toward his voice and smiled and walked toward us. She had the kind of walk that helped me to think about the soft sound of the linen dress whispering across her thighs. When she got to where we were she kissed Clive, and put her hand out to me.
'Dolly, this is Spenser, the man we've hired.'
'How lovely to meet you,' she said.
Her grip was firm. She smelled gently of French perfume. At least in the light of the Japanese lanterns, her eyes were violet.
'How do you do?' I said.
'Have you met Hugger yet?'
'No, is he here?'
'Oh, aren't you funny,' she said.
