“Don’t be so sure,” he said. “I might have something in mind that you’d like very much.”
She gave a backhand motion that seemed to brush him off, as if the matter had been settled. “Oh, I don’t doubt that in the slightest! But I have to finish dressing, and we need to leave. You know that.”
“I know that,” Chumley admitted.
He watched the sway of her hips beneath the green robe as she walked from the living room. It had been years since a woman had reached him as she had, had so excited him. She wasn’t a ripe and eager girl-only a few years younger than he was, would be his guess-but there was a sensuousness to her that was eternal.
“I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable,” she called to him from what he assumed was the bedroom.
He considered walking back there to join her, then thought better of it. That would be pushing her too far. And she was right; they should tend to business. There’d be plenty of time for play later today.
The apartment was quiet except for the intermittent humming of traffic from the street below. Somewhere in the building water ran. There were very faint voices, a muted thump as if a shoe had dropped.
Chumley slipped his hands into his pants pockets and walked over to the window overlooking the street. Traffic had picked up and the sun had come out full strength and spoiling for a fight with the city’s air-conditioning resources. It was glaring off the windshields of cars and causing pedestrians to squint or shield their eyes. Summer was getting down to business, too.
Turning away from the window, he glanced in the direction Deirdre had gone, then began idly wandering around the living room. He knew so little about her, and he wanted to know so much more. He ran his fingertips over the threadbare back of an armchair, lifted a book,
He went over to the desk by the window, switched the green-shaded lamp on and off as if to test it, lifted the phone, and listened for a dial tone. As he replaced the receiver, he noticed that one of the desk drawers was open about four inches. He hooked a forefinger in it and gave a gentle tug. The drawer slid easily and silently on its runners. He opened it wider. Inside was a worn shoe box. He touched the cardboard lid, then began to lift one end of it to peer inside.
The floor creaked behind him and he knew she was in the room. Letting the shoe box lid drop closed, he shoved the drawer shut with his hip, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
But it slid closed just as easily as it opened, and made a noise as if it had been slammed. He turned around.
Deirdre was fully dressed now, wearing a green dress almost exactly the shade of her robe, and black spike high heels. Her face was a furious mask that shocked him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was level but full of rage.
He was embarrassed at having been caught, but he was puzzled by the intensity of her reaction. After all, he’d only been nosing around to kill time, not removing pearls from a wall safe.
“I was, er, just looking around,” he said. “Passing time while I waited…”
“You mean snooping!”
Chumley wanted desperately to defuse this. “Hey, take it easy, Deirdre. I didn’t mean anything by it. I mean, I didn’t think you’d mind, considering what we are to each other…what we’ve…Hell, I’m sorry! I’m genuinely sorry!”
She let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling, then back at Chumley. She seemed calmer now, more in control.
“I’m sorry too,” she said. She ran her hand through her thick hair.
“Look, Deirdre-”
“It’s just that I’ve got this thing about people who snoop. Always have felt that way. It’s not because I have anything to hide.”
“Of course not. Never thought you did. I don’t even know what I was looking for…if I was looking for anything. I suppose I was curious because…well, I don’t know much about you, Deirdre. Not really.”
She stared hard at him. “All you need to know, I hope.”
Another tender spot, Chumley thought. He shrugged. “All right. That’s okay, I understand. You happen to be a private person. Hell, I admire that.” He was always on the defensive with her.
She seemed to have regained her composure completely now, as she crossed the room toward him, smiling apologetically. She kissed him lightly on the lips, surprising him.
“I really am sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. Can you forgive me?”
“Easily,” Chumley said, relieved. “Let’s forgive each other.”
“Done!” she exclaimed. She kissed him on the mouth again, this time with more passion. “There! Sealed and delivered with a kiss, like so many things in life.”
Chumley licked a minty taste from his lips and grinned down at her. “You taste like toothpaste.”
She reared back and pretended to be offended. “You don’t like it?”
“Toothpaste never tasted so good,” he told her. He was off guard again, though. You couldn’t press certain women. Not women like Deirdre, anyway. And why should he press her? Why should he be impatient? “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “why don’t you take the day off? Enjoy the beautiful morning.”
“But why?”
“The morning’s my gift to you. If you feel like it, come in to work later.” He touched her shoulder gently. “I want you to, Deirdre. Really”
Her smile was wide. “If you’re certain, Craig…”
“I am.”
“Okay, but I
“You don’t have to promise, Deirdre.”
She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth again.
He didn’t mention toothpaste.
Almost everyone was seated for the ceremony at Halstadt Funeral Home in Brooklyn. David and Molly sat in one of the pews toward the back of the narrow, hot room, far away from Bernice, resting as if asleep in her coffin near the altar in the front of the chapel. Though it was still early, the chapel was warm, and David could feel perspiration at his white collar. He reached up and straightened his tie, turning his head slightly as he did so.
And saw Deirdre standing in the doorway of the chapel behind him.
He stopped breathing. What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she at work?
She was wearing a green dress and black spike heels, standing with her feet far apart so it pulled the material of her dress taut across her muscular thighs. She smiled at him.
He looked away. Swallowed, aware of Molly sitting beside him and staring toward the front of the chapel.
He couldn’t help it. He turned his head again to look back at Deirdre.
She was gone.
Not far, though, he was sure.
What was in her mind? What kind of trouble might she cause?
David decided he’d better see if he could find her and talk to her, try to prevent…whatever might happen if he didn’t.
He nudged Molly with his elbow. “Gotta get out of here for a few minutes,” he said. He smiled at her. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, perhaps assuming he was uncomfortably warm, or that he had to use the lavatory.
He stood up and excused himself as he slid past the knees of the mourners seated between him and the aisle.
The plushly carpeted, hushed main room and reception area of the mortuary was deserted. David looked around for Deirdre but didn’t see her.
He walked to one of three small rooms with quiet conversation areas, “consolation rooms,” he’d heard one of the mortuary employees call them.
In the first room was a woman trying to comfort a sobbing teenage boy. David withdrew awkwardly, then more cautiously stuck his head into the second room. It was identical to the first, with the same plush green
