“Hang on,” she said. “You had fantasies? About me?”
“That surprises you?”
“I never got any kind of vibe from you,” she said. “That’s one thing that made it so safe to have fantasies about you. You weren’t interested in me, and you were already taken.”
“I guess I started getting ideas when you put your hand on my arm.”
“You mean like this?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was just, you know, friendship.”
“I see.”
“I did it unconsciously.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe it wasn’t entirely unconscious,” she said, and thought it over. “Maybe it was just the tiniest bit sexual.”
“Well, don’t apologize for it, Donna.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. What kind of fantasies did you have, that my hair wasn’t a part of?”
“Well, what we just did.”
“Oh.”
“And a couple of other things,” I said, “that we haven’t done yet.”
“None of them involving long hair.”
“Look, I always admired your hair.”
“And you wish I hadn’t cut it.”
“No,” I said. “I actually think I like it better now. But I liked it fine before.”
“Men all think they like long hair,” she said, “but it’s a pain in the ass to take care of, and you know what else?”
“What?”
“It gets in your mouth when you fuck. Those things we haven’t done yet. Should we shower first?”
I showered later, once I’d returned to my hotel. After our second session she’d announced that she was too tired to go anywhere, but that we ought to eat something, and what if she made us some sandwiches? I said that sounded fine, and she came back with a couple of sandwiches, liverwurst on dark rye, and a bag of corn chips made from organically grown blue corn.
“I’m starting to fade,” she said. “It’s been a busy day.”
“I’ll say.”
“You’re welcome to stay over.”
But I knew better. I got dressed and she walked me to the door. “You’re a sweet man,” she said. “I’m glad we did this.”
It was cooler out, and I thought I’d take a bus straight down Columbus. But I got itchy standing around waiting for the bus to come, and I started walking, and was halfway home by the time a bus came along. I could have caught it, but I let it go and walked the rest of the way home. Sometimes walking is a good way to get some thinking done, but at other times it’s a handy alternative to thinking, and as long as I kept putting one foot in front of the other I didn’t have to turn over any rocks and see what was under them.
There were messages at the hotel desk, as I thought there would be. Two calls, Jan and Greg. I looked at my watch and decided it was too late to call either of them. I went upstairs, and when I got out of the shower I picked up the phone and called Greg.
“No luck,” he said.
“He’d thrown out Jack’s things?”
“No, he bundled them up, just the way he was supposed to. Then just the other day a policeman showed up to collect them. Is that usual?”
Not when they’ve essentially decided to sign off on the case. “Maybe they’ve got a lead,” I said. “Whoever picked it up would have signed for it. Was it Redmond?”
“It never occurred to me to ask.”
“I don’t suppose it matters,” I said. “Maybe I’ll give him a call and see what I can find out.”
I rang off, got in bed. Maybe I’d call Redmond, I thought, and maybe I wouldn’t. I couldn’t see that it made much difference either way.
XXVIII
THEY HAD A STORY in the paper the other day,” Jim said. “There’s this new Chinatown out in Flushing. You take the Shea Stadium train clear to the end of the line. Main Street, Flushing—that’s the name of the stop. And there’s blocks of Chinese restaurants with different cuisines from the different sections of China. Stuff you wouldn’t get here.”
“Stir-fried panda,” I suggested.
“Including parts of the panda it would never occur to you to eat. So I was thinking we really ought to get out there, just walk into the first restaurant that looks good and see what they serve us.”
“Good idea.”
