At the end of the block she stopped running and looked once more. He was gone.
Chapter Ten
LAURA HID HERSELF for a minute in a shadowed doorway and tried to make sense of things. She was a mess, with mud on her torn clothes and on her face, tangled hair and dried blood.
She made an effort to smooth her hair down. There was some Kleenex in her pocket and she wiped her face off carefully, reaching every corner of it and rubbing till the skin turned pink. She brushed at her disheveled clothes rather hopelessly. Maybe it was late enough so nobody would notice her.
She began to walk, holding her arms together in front of her as if to keep herself warm, but in fact to keep the worst rips from showing. And she kept her head down. If only the police don’t stop me, she thought. I must look like a whore.
Laura walked straight west on Forty-first Street, for it was Forty-first, past Lexington Avenue and Park and Fifth and Broadway and over to Seventh. No cops stopped her, although more than one passerby stared.
It was cold, a raw March night with the sting of coming storm in the air. Laura went south on Seventh Avenue, walking almost mechanically. When she thought of it she realized it was cold. But she hardly thought of it. There was too much else on her mind.
She was very surprised to reach Fourth Street so quickly. She had known, without thinking, that that was where she was going. In less than five minutes she had entered the little court in front of Beebo’s apartment building and the old familiar trembling had begun.
She sat down on a bench in the court to gather her strength. At last she looked up the wall of dark windows behind her, twisting on the bench to see, and saw lights in Beebo’s living room, and began to shiver.
Ten or a dozen times she looked up anxiously at the lights on the second floor. They were faint, as if only one small light were on. With a sudden rush of desire that eliminated the need to make a decision, she pulled open the inside door and raced up the stairs.
At the top she stood trying desperately to get her breath. But she knew after a moment that her whole body would shake and sweat and wear itself out with unbearable anticipation if she didn’t get the door open. She reached for the knob, but it was locked.
She rattled the knob hard and then she knocked.
When the door swung open a moment later she gasped in amazement. It was Milo Robinson—Tris’s husband.
“Milo!” she exclaimed.
He stared at her.
“Don’t you remember me? I’m Laura. Laura Landon.”
“I remember,” he said quietly. “I just never saw you fresh out of the gutter before.”
She looked down at herself and her cheeks went scarlet. “I look awful, don’t I?”
“Somebody after you?” Milo asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Can I come in?”
“I guess you can,” he said, stepping back. “You’ve got as much right to be here as me, that’s for sure.”
Laura walked into the living room and just the sight of it, warm and comfortable and a little raggy, made her want to weep. She sank down on the couch, exhausted.
“Want some coffee?” Milo said, staring at her.
“No, thanks. I’ve had too much tonight.”
“Milk?”
“I guess so. Thanks.”
“You look real bad, Laura. You’d better get to bed,” he said frowning at her.
“Where’s Beebo?”
“Tell me that and I’ll tell you where my wife is,” he said sharply.
“You coming back to Beebo?” he asked her.
“If she’ll have me.”
“From what I know of it, she won’t. But I’m on your side, Laura. I’d do anything to pry Patsy loose.”
It startled her to hear him call Tris by her real name. “Is Beebo in love with her?” she asked cautiously.
“Naw,” he said with leisurely disgust. “She puts up with her but she’s not in love with her.” He ambled out to the kitchen to pour her some milk. “I should be so lucky,” he called. “I’d dump her. Right now.”
“How about Tris? How does she feel?”
He answered her while he poured the milk. “I don’t know, Laura. I never could figure that kid. Living with her only makes it more confusing.” He sounded very tired, like a man defeated. “I wish I could forget her, forget the whole thing.”
He came back and handed her the milk and sat down in a chair near her.
They looked at each other. He was a tall young man in his early twenties, handsome and well educated. His skin was dark and satiny in the pink lamplight.
“Does she love you?” Laura asked gently.
He shrugged and gave a little laugh. “Who knows?” he said. “She says so now and then. But that’s only when I lay down the law on the Lezzie stuff.”
“What’s the law?” Laura said.
“Well, goddamn it, enough’s enough!” he exclaimed. “I like to see her once in a while myself. She’s my wife.”
Laura thought of Jack and felt the tears start quietly down again. “Excuse me,” she sniffled. “I’m running like a sieve tonight. I don’t know why. Did Jack Mann come over here tonight?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Milo said. “I’ve only been here since midnight.”
“Did he call?”
“Nobody called.”
“Nobody?” She had been so certain Jack would follow her here. “When does Beebo get in?”
“You tell me, then we’ll both know.” He sighed.
“What will you do with Tris, Milo?” She spoke softly, sympathetically, in a raspy tired voice.
“Take her home again.”
“Do you understand her? What makes her
