After Midnight

“Has he made a complete recovery?”

“I shouldn’t say ‘complete.’ No. Hardly complete. He limps. I suspect he’ll always limp.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

Which brought a squeaky laugh out of Elroy. He said, “Oh, Alice, I love it. You haven’t changed a bit. Not one smidgen. You’re such a terror.”

“That’s me.”

“So, where can I take you?”

“Where would you like to take me?” I asked.

42

THE INVITATION

“Oh, my,” Elroy said.

I gave him the eye and asked, “You didn’t go and get married, did you?”

Fat chance.

But you never know. It’s amazing, some of the losers who end up getting married. All they need to do is find someone who’s an even bigger loser.

“Nope,” Elroy said. “No ball and chain for yours truly. I’ve gotta have my freedom.”

“Going with anyone?”

“Aren’t we inquisitive?”

“I wouldn’t want to get you into hot water with your sweetie.”

“Hot water? How?”

“By having you over for dinner tonight. I happen to be house-sitting for my friends, this week. I’ve got their whole house all to myself. We could have cocktails by the swimming pool, and I’ll barbecue some steaks on the outdoor grill. How about it?”

I’d been watching his face go through changes. The way I read it, he was shocked and delighted by the invitation, but afraid I might be trying to embarrass him with a phony offer.

Casting me a smirk, he said, “Surely you jest.”

I tried to look hurt. “I thought you said you were glad to see me.”

“I am,” he insisted. “It’s just that…You aren’t serious about…what you just said about dinner. Are you?”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“Well, it sounds lovely, but…”

“Turn right at the next light.”

“Why?”

“It’s how we get there,” I explained, smiling.

“No, I mean…I’d be happy to just drop you off. You don’t have to make dinner for me.”

“I don’t have to, I want to.”

“That’s the part I don’t get.”

To be frank, I didn’t quite get it, myself.

Until running into Elroy, I’d only wanted to get home as soon as possible and be alone. Have a drink, have a meal, take a nice long bath, and go to bed. And sleep and sleep and sleep.

However. Being given the car ride would save me at least two hours of hard walking. I owed Elroy for that. Besides, I could spend an hour or so treating him to dinner, and still be ahead of the game timewise.

Another thing. I needed a chance to figure out whether or not Elroy was a threat to me. If asked, he could testify as to the time and place he’d picked me up. But did it matter? If it did matter, I needed to figure out how to prevent him from talking.

And. This may seem odd, considering. For one thing, I’m pretty much of a loner. For another, I’d always figured Elroy for a dork. But I actually liked the idea of having him around when I got home.

Life is strange.

I don’t know why anything happens. Why did I really ask Elroy to have dinner with me?

Maybe it was in my genes to invite him. Or in the cards. Or in the stars. Maybe I was programmed to do it by the Great Computer. Or moved by the Master of Games. Maybe God made me do it. Or the Devil.

If you want the truth, though, I guess the main reason must’ve had to do with Murphy.

It was Murphy, more than anything, that made me reluctant to be alone.

Too bad it couldn’t be him instead of Elroy keeping me company.

But Elroy would be better than nobody.

I supposed.

“What are you scared of?” I asked him in a teasing way.

“Me?” Elroy asked. “I’m not scared.”

“You seem awfully nervous.”

“Do I? I’m just…surprised, that’s all. We haven’t seen each other in ages, and all of a sudden you’re inviting me over to your place for dinner.”

“My friend’s place. Anyway, it seems like a fine idea to me. I always felt that we should’ve gotten to know each other better.”

“I asked you out, remember? You turned me down.”

I remembered, all right. He’d asked me out three different times, and I had always politely refused, claiming to have prior commitments.

“I had a rule against dating anyone at work,” I explained. “But now that I don’t work there anymore, I don’t see any reason for us to stay away from each other. Do you?”

“Me? No. I never did.”

“Then you’ll have dinner with me?”

“I’d be most honored.”

“Good deal.”

After that, I gave him directions now and then, while he filled me in on doings at the office, gave me a summary of his own recent activities (dull as mud), and asked about mine. I didn’t want to admit much of the truth, so I told him that I was now a mystery writer.

“Oh, how exciting! Have you had anything published?”

“Just one book, so far.”

“But that’s spectacular! I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks.”

“The big bad girl makes good!”

I smiled at him. “Watch it, buddy.”

“So, what’s the title of your book?”

“Depths of Darkness.”

“Excellent! It’s so…evocative! And is it published under your own name? I do hope so. You’ve such an absolutely luscious name for a mystery writer.”

“Think so?”

“Oh, indeed,” he said. “But did you? Use your own name?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, good for you!” He spoke my name slowly and dramatically, so it almost sounded like poetry. (My actual name, not Alice.) “It’s so perfect, I just bet everyone must think it’s a pen name.”

“Maybe so,” I said, starting to regret the fabrication.

“ ‘She writes with a poison pen.’ ”