Colin stared at the hill of fried rice on his plate, the moo shu pork, its pancake slowly unwrapping. He'd been stunned by Babe's parting shot, and dutifully followed her to the Peking Palace.
'You're not eating,' Babe said.
'I told you I wasn't hungry. What do you want, Babe?' He pushed the plate to one side, lit a cigarette.
'Are you going to smoke while I eat?'
'Yes.'
'That's rude, Colin.'
'Tough. What do you want?' She'd been playing a game, refusing to talk until the food came. Now it was here, and she still wasn't talking. 'Either you tell me what you have up your sleeve or I'm leaving.'
'I don't think so,' she said, a piece of rice stuck on her lower lip.
She was right, of course, she had him by the short hairs. Colin stared at the grain of rice clinging to her mouth. 'I came to this goddamn place with you, so what are you waiting for? Tell me what you want, for Christ's sake.'
She picked up her roll of moo shu pork. Colin grabbed her wrist, squeezed. 'You're hurting me,' she said.
'That's the idea.' He tightened his grip and her hand opened, the filling dropping from the unfurled pancake.
'Stop it,' she hissed, looking frantically around the room, fearful they'd be seen.
'Then tell me what you want.'
'All right, let go.'
He did. The pancake clung to her palm for a moment, then dropped with a splat onto the plate.
'You're a bastard,' she said, rubbing her wrist. 'You could have broken it.'
'I'm waiting,' he said.
'It's simple. I know about your wife and children.'
'Know what?'
'I know they were murdered.'
'So?'
'I know you were a suspect.'
'So?'
'I know they never found the killer.'
'So?'
'It's an unsolved case.'
'I'm not getting your drift, Babe.'
'No? That's funny, I thought you were kind of bright. I guess you can't ever tell by appearances, can you?' She sat back in her chair, continuing to rub her wrist.
'You're not telling me anything I don't know.'
'Well, how about this then: Other people in this town who don't know about it might find it very interesting, like your boss maybe?'
Colin smiled, blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. 'He already knows.'
Her face fell like a bad souffle. 'I don't believe it.'
'Ask him.'
She leaned toward him, her hands clutching the edge of the table. 'Do the police know, too?'
'No, the police don't know. I take it you mean Schufeldt.'
'Any police.'
'So what's your point, Babe? Are you blackmailing me?'
She laughed like the sound of squealing tires. 'Oh, I love it. I just love it. Blackmail!' she snorted.
'What then?'
She lit a cigarette, let the smoke curl out from her mouth and drift upwards while she looked at Colin from under heavy lids. And then she began to blink, eyes watering.
Colin laughed. 'You don't make a good Mata Hari, Babe.'
'Fuck you,' she said.
'Oh, is that what this is about?'
She dropped the cigarette in the metal ashtray and wiped her eyes with her napkin. A trail of mascara streaked one cheek. 'What this is all about,' she snarled, 'is that for the first time in its history, the North Fork has had a rash of unexplained killings and among its citizens is a man who, in his past, was involved in three murders. Coincidence? Maybe.'
Rage worked its way up from Colin's gut to his chest. 'Are you implying that I not only killed my family but I've killed the four people here as well?'
She picked up the chopsticks, caught some moo shu pork between them, popped it into her mouth, and began to chew, a slight smile playing around her lips.
'Babe, answer my question,' he demanded.
'Let's put it this way, Colin: it makes a damn good story.'
He was grateful that they were in a public place. He'd never felt this kind of rage before. The anger he'd experienced over his family being murdered was different. That was laced with abandonment, helplessness, the fury free-floating. But this anger was clear and pointed. 'I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Babe.'
'Really? Why?'
Colin breathed deeply, trying to ward off the beginning of a panic attack. 'A good story for whom?' he asked softly.
'Well, I was thinking about the
Under the table he could feel his legs shaking. 'So why have you told me, if that's what you plan to do?'
'I thought maybe we could make a deal?'
'Like what?'
'I want your job, Colin. And I deserve your job. I've worked for Mark since the beginning. We had a tacit agreement that I'd be the next managing editor, at least I thought we had. Then you got the job. It wasn't fair.'
'What is?' he interjected.
'So how about it?'
Colin's breathing was accelerating; he was beginning to feel lightheaded. 'How about what?'
'Your job. Aren't you listening?'
'You expect me to hand over my job to you? Don't be stupid. Even if I were to leave, what makes you think Mark would give my job to you?'
'He would. He'd have to.'
Colin laughed. 'You have stuff on Mark, too?'
Her eyes were cold. 'The reason Mark gave you my job was because he was an old friend, and you were having some kind of breakdown in New Jersey. He thought a job on a country paper might help you. That wasn't hard to find out. But if you left there's no doubt the job would be mine.'
The shakes were beginning to crawl up his body into his arms. He had to get out of there. 'And if I don't leave?'
She shrugged. 'I guess I'll have to give out the story.'
Colin pushed back his chair, got unsteadily to his feet. 'You know what you are, Babe?'
'Before you tell me, let me say one more thing. I don't think Annie Winters would really like going out with a murder suspect, do you?'
He wanted to throttle her, instead he clutched the back of the chair.
'Steady there, big guy.'
There was no use trying to hang on so he could tell her what a shit she was. He forced himself to walk through the restaurant and out. When he got to his car he grabbed the handle, wrenched open the door, and fell inside.
Leaning back, head against the seat, he tried to regulate his breathing. But the roof began to crumble and crack, the doors closing in on him. He shut his eyes. Immediately Nancy's cut and bleeding face swam round in the
