He shrugged. 'Who the hell knows-or cares. For unwed mothers or to spay stray cats or something.'
'So you have to go home to dress?'
He smiled at her. 'Not for an hour,' he said.
'Time enough,' she said. 'We can go around the world in an hour.'
If she seemed languid, almost enervated, when dressed and in the company of others, she displayed a totally different persona when naked and alone with him. Her strength was astonishing, her vigor daunting. Indifference vanished; now she was vital and determined. She gave Clayton credit for this transformation. 'You make me a pagan,' she told him.
He could scarcely believe his good fortune. This lovely, intense young woman seemed to have no wish but to give him pleasure. There was nothing he asked that she would not do, and their lovemaking became a new world for him. He was a sexual despot, and she his willing slave, eager to serve.
He thought he had never known an ecstasy to equal this, and only later did he begin to plot how he might change his life to insure that his happiness would endure forever.
Chapter 7
Dora Conti had been trying for almost a week to pin down a meeting with Felicia Starrett. Two appointments had been made, but Felicia called at the last minute to cancel both, oflFering excuses that seemed trivial to Dora: she had to have her hands waxed, and Bloomies was having a panty hose sale.
Finally she agreed, positively, to meet Dora for a drink at the Bedlington cocktail lounge at 4:30 on Friday. She was only twenty minutes late.
She came sailing into the bar wearing a mink Eisenhower jacket that Dora would have killed for. Under the jacket she wore a white turtleneck sweater, and below was a skirt of black calfskin, short and tight. Her only jewelry was a solitaire, a marquise-cut diamond in a Tiffany setting. Five carats at least, Dora guessed.
Felicia shook hands, took off her mink and tossed it onto an empty chair. 'Chivas neat,' she yelled at the bartender. 'Perrier on the side.' She sat down across the table from Dora, looked around the cocktail lounge. 'Ratty dump,' she said..
'Isn't it,' Dora said pleasantly. 'Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time, Miss Starrett. I appreciate it.'
'I hope it's only a few minutes. I have an appointment for a trim and rinse at five-thirty, and if I'm late Adolph will probably scalp me. Who does your hair?'
'I do,' Dora said. 'Doesn't it look like it?'
'It's okay,' Felicia said. 'Like you don't give a damn how it looks. I like that. May I have one of your cigarettes?'
'Help yourself.'
'I'm trying to stop smoking so I don't buy any. I'm still smoking but I'm saving a lot of money. Your name is Dora Conti?'
'That's right.'
'Italian?'
'My husband is.'
'How long have you been married?'
'Six years.'
'Children?'
'No.'
'That's smart,' Felicia said. 'Who the hell wants to bring kids into this rotten world. This is about the insurance?'
'Just a few questions,' Dora said. 'Your mother has already told me most of what I wanted to know. She said you were in the apartment having cocktails the evening your father was killed. But you left early.'
'That's right. I had a dinner-date downtown. A new restaurant on Spring Street. It turned out to be a bummer. I told the cops all this. I'm sure they checked it out.'
'I'm sure they did,' Dora said. 'Miss Starrett, do you know of any enemies your father had? Anyone who might have wanted to harm him?'
Felicia had been smoking with short, rapid puffs. Now tears came to her eyes, and she stubbed out the cigarette.
'Damn!' she said. 'I thought I was finished with the weeping and wailing.'
'I'm sorry I upset you.'
'Not your fault. But every time I think of him lying there on the sidewalk, all alone, it gets to me. My father was a sonofabitch but I loved him. Can you understand that?'
'Yes.'
'And no matter what a stinker he was, no one should die like that. It's just not right.'
'No,' Dora said, 'it isn't.'
'Sure, I guess he had enemies. You can't be a world-class bastard all your life without getting people sore at you. But no, I don't know of anyone who hated him enough to murder him.'
'I met Father Callaway when I questioned your mother. He seems to agree with the police theory that your father was killed by a stranger.'
'Father Callaway!' Felicia cried. 'He's as much a Father as I am an astronaut. Don't pay any attention to what he says or thinks. The man's a phony.'
'Oh?' Dora said. 'How do you mean?'
'He's got this rinky-dink church in an empty store, and he cons money from a lot of innocent people like my mother who fall for his smarmy smile and bullshit about one world of love and harmony.'
'Surely he does some good,' Dora suggested. 'He said his church runs a soup kitchen for the homeless.'
'So he hands out a few cheese sandwiches while he's dining at the homes of his suckers on beef Wellington. My father had his number. Every time he saw Callaway in his preacher's outfit, he'd ask him, 'How's white-collar crime today?''
Dora laughed. 'But your father allowed him in your home.'
'For mother's sake,' Felicia said wearily. 'She's a true believer in Callaway and his cockamamy church.'
'Is anyone else in your family a true believer? Your sister-in-law, for instance.'
'Eleanor? All she believes in are the society columns. If she doesn't see her name in print, she doesn't exist. I don't know why I'm telling you all this; it's got nothing to do with the insurance.'
'You never know,' Dora said, and watched the other woman light another cigarette with fingers that trembled slightly.
She figured Felicia had already endured the big four-oh. She was a tall, angular woman, tightly wound, with a Nefertiti profile and hands made for scratching.
'I'll tell you something about Eleanor,' she said brood-ingly. 'We used to be as close as this…' She displayed two crossed fingers. 'Then she and Clay had a kid, a boy, a beautiful child. Lived eighteen months and died horribly of meningitis. It broke Eleanor; she became a different woman. She told everyone: 'No more kids.' That was all right; it was her decision to make. But-and this is my own idea-I think it also turned her off sex. After a while my brother started playing around. I know that for a fact. One-night stands, nothing serious. But who could blame him; he wasn't getting any at home. And then Eleanor got on the charity-party circuit, and that's been her whole life ever since. Sad, sad, sad. Life sucks-you know that?'
Dora didn't reply.
'Well, enough soap opera for one day,' Felicia said, and rose abruptly. 'I've got to dash. Thanks for the drink. If you need anything else, give me a buzz.'
'Thank you, Miss Starrett.'
She tugged on her mink jacket, stood a moment looking down at Dora.
'Six years, huh?' she said. 'I've never been married. I'm an old maid.'
'Don't say that,' Dora said.
