Her dark thick hair moved in the wind, and occasionally she would brush it away as she drove. She wore iridescent Oakley wraparound sunglasses, and her profile was clear and beautiful.
'I feel like Nick and Nora Charles,' I said.
'Of course, darling. Would you like to stop at the next Roy Rogers and have a martini?'
'Not without Asta,' I said.
'She loves Lee Farrell,' Susan said. 'She'll be perfectly happy.'
I told her about the case. She was a professional listener and was perfectly quiet as I talked.
'So what do you hope to do in Saratoga?' she said when I was through.
'What I always do. Blunder around, ask questions, get in people's way, be annoying.'
'Make love with the girl of your dreams.'
'That too,' I said. 'All the principals are here: Dolly, Jason, Penny, and Delroy.'
'I wish it were Sherry Lark that did it,' Susan said.
'Because you don't like her?'
'You bet,' Susan said. 'She's self-absorbed, stupid, dishonest with herself.'
'Isn't that a little subjective?' I said.
'I'm not a shrink now, I'm your paramour and free to be as subjective as I like. Who do you wish it were?'
We had crept up very close to the rear end of a Cadillac which was creeping along at the speed limit. Susan seemed not to notice this, but love is trust and all I did was tense up a little.
'Sherry'd be nice,' I said. 'But I can't see what her motive would be.'
'Too bad,' Susan said.
She swung suddenly left and passed the Cadillac and swung back in. The Cadillac honked its horn.
'Oh fuck you,' Susan said pleasantly.
'Beautifully put,' I said.
'So who do you think?'
'Well, it pretty much narrows down to Penny or Delroy or both. I'm hoping for Delroy. He's got a record. Even better, he's got a record for scamming women. But I don't see how all this could go down without Penny's involvement.'
'Maybe he has some sort of hold on her,' Susan said.
'Or she on him,' I said.
'I thought you were fond of her.'
'I am. She's beautiful, charming, twenty-five, and smells of good soap and sunshine,' I said. 'But you may recall the words of a wise and randy shrink-things are not always as they appear to be.'
We passed West Stockbridge, and crossed the state line at breakneck speed. Susan smiled at me.
'I'm not so wise,' she said.
FIFTY
IT WAS A near-perfect summer day, seventy-six and clear, when Susan and I found Penny and Jon Delroy in the paddock at the track in Saratoga a few minutes before the seventh race. The paddock was grassy, and ringed with people, a number of whom, I assumed, owned shares in Hugger Mugger. Billy Rice was there with Hugger, their heads close together, Rice talking softly to the horse. Hale Martin was on the other side of Hugger Mugger, and the jockey was there. His name was Angel Dнaz. Like all jockeys he was about the size of a ham sandwich, except for his hands, which appeared to be those of a stonemason.
'Hello,' I said.
Penny turned and smiled at me brilliantly. If the smile was forced, she was good at forcing.
'My God, look who's here,' she said.
'This is Susan Silverman,' I said. 'Penny Clive, Jon Delroy.'
Susan put out a hand. Penny shook it warmly. Jon Delroy, on the other side of Penny, nodded briefly.
'What are you doing here?' Penny said.
'I wanted to see Hugger Mugger run in the Hopeful.'
'I didn't think you knew what the Hopeful was.'
'Sometimes I know more than I seem to,' I said.
'Well,' Penny said, again with the fabulous smile, 'that sounds ominous.'
Behind us the crowd noise from the stands suggested that the seventh race was achieving climax.
'Hugger's going onto the track,' Penny said, 'in a minute.'
