receiver off the hook and her finger in the “O” hole. I hit her open-handed across the face. She reeled away, and I pulled the phone out of the wall.
Her face was white, with red marks from my fingers. “Superman,” she said.
“Don’t try it again.”
“Not with that phone, I won’t.” She picked up her glass. “What would happen if I threw this in your face?”
“I’d beat the crap out of you.”
“Uh-huh. Well, the hell with the ice.” She drank the straight Scotch all the way down and put the empty glass on the counter. “You hurt me, killer.”
“You had it coming.”
“I know.” She stood for a moment, thinking. “The hell with it I don’t want to get hurt any more. The killer plays too rough. I just want you to get the hell out of here. I don’t suppose it would do me much good to scream, would it?”
“None.”
“I didn’t think so. So let’s go back to the living room and sit down on the couch, and you can ask me your precious questions about Russ Stone, All-American Boy. And I will answer them and then you will go away. All right?”
“Fine.”
We went back to the living room. There was a phone there, and I ripped the cord out of the wall.
“I don’t think you trust me.”
“I don’t trust anybody.”
“That’s probably a good policy.” She settled herself on the couch, folding her long legs under her little rump. “You want a cigarette?”
“I have my own.”
We lit cigarettes. She inhaled deeply, sighed the smoke out, and shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“I think Gwen was having an affair with someone while we were married. Whoever it was, he’d have a good motive for framing me. The only motive I can think of. I want to know who it was.”
“You honestly think Gwen was playing around?”
Did I? A difficult question. “Yes.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want to know who the man was.”
“Don’t you have it mixed up? You were the cheater, lover.”
“Forget that.”
“You think my little sister-”
“Cut it out, Linda. You know all about it. Now tell me.”
She considered this. “If she were having an affair,” she said thoughtfully, “why should she tell me about it?”
“Someone would have to cover for her from time to time. She didn’t have any really close friends in town. Except you.”
“She never said anything to me.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’am?”
“Yes.”
She stretched like a cat, ground out her cigarette in an ashtray. “It wasn’t Stone,” she said. “I’ll bet on it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He was in California. That’s where she met him.”
“He was in New York at the time.”
“He was? I didn’t know that But he wouldn’t do anything with a married woman. Not that Boy Scout.”
“Just because he turned you down doesn’t mean he couldn’t fall in love with Gwen.”
“I’ll ignore the dig, killer.” She laughed shortly. “No, not Stone. The great Stone face. No. It might mess up his career, and it wouldn’t be moral Remember, I met the clown. He’s a
“Yes.”
“Because only the missionaries did it like that down there. The natives liked it doggie style. Which has its points, certainly. That way you don’t miss television.”
I didn’t say anything. She flicked her tongue over her red lips, her eyes holding mine. I pretended not to hear the murmur beneath the words or see the invitation in the pin-point pupils.
“It wasn’t Stone,” she said.
“Then who?”
“Probably nobody.”
“I don’t believe it. Was it Landis?”
“Who?”
“Pete Landis. Before we were married-”
“Oh, the rabbit!” She laughed aloud. “Not a bad guess, but no chance. She had a thing with him once.”
“I knew about it.”
“Sometimes a woman has a return engagement with an old love, but not this one. Not Mr. Wham-bam-thank- you-ma’am. When his wife had a premature baby, Gwen said it stood to reason. He’s not your man, killer.”
She changed position on the couch again, moving closer to me, twisting her body deliberately. I tried to ignore her. She was not at all pretty and she looked all of her years, and yet there was something annoyingly attractive about her. The evil accessibility, the aura of sexual skill and experience. I felt a stirring in my loins that I could not wholly will away, and she looked at me and knew it.
“She was having an affair,” she said suddenly.
“She told you?”
“Not in so many words, but she was never good at hiding things from me. And I did cover for her once or twice, but that was easy enough. You never suspected a thing, did you, lamb?”
“No.”
One hand fussed with her hair. “Poor baby.” The hand dropped to my leg and patted me. “I never found out who was the lucky man. I got the impression it wasn’t a name I would have recognized. Or you either. Someone she met in the neighborhood, that would be my guess.”
I looked away. Not Stone, not Landis. Somebody, but no one she knew, no one I knew. Not the man she had later married.
Just… someone.
It didn’t make any sense. Why kill for her and then give her up? Or, if he had thought he would get her, why kill a second time? He must have known he was safe. I had spent years in jail, and by the time I was out my wife was on the other side of the continent and married to another man, and I obviously suspected nothing, and did not even know the man, so that suspicion would be of no value to me-
Unless it was not her lover at all, but someone who just happened to hate me.
But who?
“You don’t look happy, sweetie.”
“I’m not.”
“Poor lamb. I didn’t help you, did I?”
“No.”
She moved closer to me. I could smell her, her perfume mingling with the odor of sexual arousal. “Poor lamb,” she said again, “there ought to be something I can do for you. I can’t give you a drink, I can’t give you any worthwhile information-”
I couldn’t say anything, or move. Or ignore the dismaying fact that I wanted her.
She stood up, more bright-eyed than ever, her tongue working nervously with her upper lip. She took off her blouse and slacks, kicked off her house slippers, removed her underwear. Her body was boyish, with tiny breasts
