clasping a hand to her chest.
“Peeking? I am shocked. I am stunned. What kind of a man are you?”
Dee pulled the coverlet from the bed and held it in front of her. “What sort of a man am I locked in this room with?” she declaimed in mock horror. “A peeping Tom?… Or, gasp, worse?”
She tugged his arm, urging him to respond. Ash never understood what she wanted. He did not know the games.
“What sort of a man are you?” she cried.
“I don’t know,” Ash said.
She threw her forearm across her brow like a heroine in a melodrama.
“What shall become of me now? Who will save me? Who? Oh, will no one take care of me? Will no one protect me from this monster of lust?”
“I’ll protect you,” Ash said.
“No, Ash, you’re the villain. You can’t protect me.”
“Yes, I can. I always take good care of you.”
“Alas, trapped with a sex fiend who will have his way with me! I am at your mercy, sir, I must submit.”
“I’ll protect you, I will,” said Ash.
With a sigh. Dee dropped the coverlet and the game at the same time.
“Never mind. Ash,” she said. She sounded weary, but not angry.
“I’ll play,” said Ash. “I’m playing, I am playing.”
“Never mind.” She pulled the bedclothes taut with brisk efficiency, squaring the hospital corners the maid could not match.
There was something Ash was going to ask her that he had forgotten now. The confusion of her role- playing had driven it from his mind.
“Never mind,” Dee said, touching his arm. “It will come to you.”
Ash looked at her in wonder. How had she known he was trying to remember? As always, it gave him a creepy yet exciting feeling to know that she could see right inside his head.
Dee was at the door. “Come on, stud. It’s time for dinner before I go to work.”
“Can we have Chinese?” Ash asked.
“I don’t know if there’s a Chinese place there,” she said. “I didn’t notice.”
“There’s a Chinese,” Ash said.
“Are you sure?”
“I think,” Ash said. He wrinkled his brow in concentration. It was hard to tell one place from another since they moved so often.
“That’s close enough,” Dee said. “Bring the laundry. You’ll have time to do it before I have to leave for work.” Laundry was Ash’s chore. He enjoyed putting the quarters in the slots, he liked measuring out the soap. Dee said she couldn’t stand the sitting around and waiting, but Ash didn’t mind the waiting at all. It gave him a feeling of pride to bring home the laundry, still warm from the dryer, carefully folded as she had taught him, smelling fresh from the fabric softener sheet. Because of the special handling they required. Dee took her dresses to be cleaned and starched at the cleaners, but Ash took care of the clothes they wore every day.
With the laundry bag cradled on his lap. Ash settled in for the ride. Dee drove the same route every time so he could be sure to learn the way in case he should have to come home alone. She hadn’t made him walk home yet, which was good. But the appearance of the plastic gloves was bad. Ash remembered what he had forgotten. He was going to ask Dee if she had been taking her pills. She would probably get mad at him if he asked; she didn’t like being treated like a child. He didn’t want to ask her now, because she was singing. She sang better than the car radio, he thought. Such a high, sweet voice. She always sang softly, almost as if to herself, but the sound was so pure Ash could hear it no matter how far away she was. It made her face so peaceful. Sometimes she cried when she sang; tears would appear on her face, but her voice never quavered. Ash was never certain why she cried. The songs were so lovely. Lullabies, she called them. Songs you sing to babies, she said. Babies always made Dee weep; Ash never understood why.
Dee sang all the way to the mall. When they pulled to a stop in the parking garage, she continued to sing until she had finished the refrain, staring straight ahead as if she were still driving. She held the last note for a long time, not wanting to let it go because the melody and its comfort would be gone.
When she was finished, she turned to Ash and smiled sweetly. Her cheeks were wet, but she looked gently happy.
She patted his face.
“Because you’re not a woman,” she said. “That’s why you don’t understand. Nobody loves like a mother.”
Still carrying the laundry bag because he had forgotten to put it down. Ash followed her into the mall.
Chapter 7
As soon as Becker pulled off the Merritt Parkway and onto the road network leading into his home town of Clamden, he was aware of the police car behind him. Driving up the long, steep hill that led into the Clamden city limits, Becker accelerated slowly but steadily to see if the cruiser would keep pace. Convinced that he was being followed, Becker turned left at the crest of the mile-long hill, picking up speed as he crossed the intersection. Just before his view of the police car was blocked by the intervening buildings, Becker saw the flashing lights come on atop the cruiser.
Becker turned right at the first intersection, then left at the next. The police car loomed ever larger in his rearview mirror, closing the gap between them. The lights continued to flash, but there was as yet no siren. Becker turned right and then immediately into a driveway. When the police car raced past, Becker pulled out of the driveway and went back the way he had come, turning the corner and just glimpsing the taillights of the cruiser come on as the driver slammed on his brakes.
Around the corner and temporarily out of sight of the police car, Becker parked and got out. He was leaning on the hood of his car as the cruiser came rapidly around the corner and sped past him. Forty yards away the police car came to a stop and began to back up, very slowly, toward Becker.
When the police car came abreast of Becker, the cop leaned out his window.
“Cute,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Becker.
“Make me run back and forth, spinning my wheels like something in a cartoon. I’m a role model, you know.”
“I hadn’t heard,” said Becker.
“Lots of kids look up to me for clues on how to live their lives.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
“It doesn’t do for them to see me looking like a jerk. I’m the Chief of Police.”
The policeman got out of the car. He was a large man, tall and strongly built, but with muscles now sagging and fat beginning to fill out his face and abdomen.
“How many kids look to you as a role model?” Becker asked. “Just offhand. If you know.”
“Hundreds, maybe dozens. How about you?”
The policeman shifted his gun belt in a movement with which Becker was long familiar. The chief rode in the car with his bolstered automatic nestled between his legs for comfort. Once standing, he twitched it into place again, a motion that looked at times as if he were preparing for a fast draw.
“Kids run screaming when they see me,” said Becker.
“Funny reaction,” said the policeman. “Personally, I find you rather attractive.”
“I’ll try to work on that,” said Becker. “Nice driving, by the way.”
“I took a course in that,” the policeman said. “Taught by some sissy yob in the FBI.” He leaned against the hood next to Becker. “I can go around a corner on two wheels and do a three-sixty just like the guys in the movies. I have all the skills.”
