“I know you did. You admitted you did.”
“In that moment! I lost my head for a moment. But I woke up quick enough, and when I did I ran out of that place practically naked, just to get away.”
“It was more than a moment. When I was unbuttoning your pants, who was it helping me? Who pulled your blouse off? And who was it unbuttoned my cuffs? Unless there was a third person in there with us that I didn’t notice, it was you, Joan.”
Step by step, he took me back over what I had done, from the day of Ron’s funeral on. “You want me to say it plain?”
“All right, all right, all right-I wanted you, I admit it. I’m human, and the way you touched me I couldn’t help it. I-”
“O.K., O.K., O.K., now we’re getting somewhere. So the question is why did you run? Why didn’t you hold still for what you wanted, what I wanted, what we both wanted? I’ll put it in three little words: Earl, K, White. I’ll add a fourth and fifth if you like-”
“… The Third.”
“The Third. A worn-out, washed-out scarecrow, old enough to be your father and then some, ugly to look at and I bet worse still to touch-but, he’s got money.”
He stopped then and waited for me to say something. And finally I did. “Don’t knock money. I need it. You need it. Show me the person who doesn’t need it.”
“I wouldn’t sleep with an old man to get it.”
“Yes you would. If he’d have you. If he knew the governor and could get you that contract for the goddam nettles. You know you would.”
A half hour must have gone by, with him at the window, just standing there, looking out. The phone didn’t ring once.
Then suddenly he said: “I was going to suggest we get some dinner, but as I feel now, I don’t want to. If you need me, let me know. I’m in the book.”
And he left.
16
Around seven, I went over to the Royal Arms, had something to eat, then drove back and went to bed. I spent an utterly miserable night, still worried sick over the situation, still up in the air about Lacey, and in pieces at what Tom and I had said to each other. I woke at three and then again at six, at which point there was no sense trying to fall asleep again, so I sat in the living room looking out at the street until the sun came up.
Tom had tried phoning everyone he could think of the day before, except for one person, leaving her out for an excellent reason-but as nothing had come of any of his calls, it was the only thread left to pull. I had myself some breakfast, put on a dark suit, combed my hair back and pinned it up, then pulled the White Pages from the cabinet and flipped through until I reached the Ls. I was afraid they might not be in the book, what with his being something of a public figure, but there they were. I copied out the address, got into my car, and just thirty minutes later was pulling up in front of their house, a modern split-level home with tile roof and towering shrubs framing the porch.
The door opened before I even shut off the ignition. The woman standing behind it was thickset and middle- aged, I would say perhaps fifty, with gray hair, and light blue eyes that sized me up as I approached. I said: “Good morning. Mrs. Lacey?”
“… Yes, I’m Pearl Lacey.”
“I’m Joan Medford, Mrs. Lacey. You husband and I have-”
I’d been about to say
“You can’t, as it’s not anything like-”
“I’ve heard it before, dear, and from ones that looked prettier than you. What happened, he’s not taking you with him? Is it your fragile constitution, you just can’t bear the tropical heat? Or tell me, did he cheat on us both …?”
I was taken by surprise, not so much by her anger, as I’d prepared myself for her drawing the same conclusion Deputy Harrison had, as by her recognizing my name. But her next remark explained it: “You poor thing- standing his bail and then nothing to show for it but the brush. And after all those evenings you two must have spent together when I thought he was working on his sewer projects. Well, I suppose in a way he was.”
“Mrs. Lacey, I’ll have you know there were no evenings together, or nights, or days. I only met your husband once, and the only thing that passed between us that time was a handshake.”
“There’s no need to lie anymore, dear, certainly not to protect him.”
“I’m not.” Something in my voice stopped her, made her look at me differently.
“… But you went my husband’s bail!”
“Yes I did, Mrs. Lacey.”
“Why would you go his bail if you weren’t …?”
As I’ve said, my temper’s my greatest weakness, and I wanted to tell her it was none of her business why, but I made myself remember the one great object today was to find out all that I could, and that to do it I’d have to be friendly, even to this woman. Especially to this woman, as she seemed to know something about where Lacey was, judging from her remark about tropical heat.
“I did it to please a friend,” I told her, after swallowing one or two times.
“What friend?”
“It’s what I was about to tell you when you cut me off before. Your husband and I have a friend in common, Mr. Thomas Barclay.”
“Tom? You know him?”
“I’ve said: I count him a friend.” At least, until last night, I thought; but I didn’t say this to her.
She stepped back a bit, not enough to let me inside, but enough so that it no longer felt like she was trying to use her rigid body to block the doorway. “Jim thought Tom would sign his bond himself. Why didn’t he?”
“He couldn’t.”
“He could have put up his house, as I gather you did.”
“It’s mortgaged.”
“I never heard that before.”
“It’s what he told me.”
“And you signed just to please him?”
“… Perhaps-I had other reasons.”
“You mean you’re sleeping with him?”
On that, I flashed hot, and at once I saw her take note. Then: “O.K., then you’re sleeping with Jim. It’s the only other reason you could have.”
“It’s not my other reason!”
I was having a battle with myself by now, to keep from going over and letting her have it, as I’d let Tom have it twice now. I stood there blinking at her, so she had to repeat once or twice before I heard what she asked: “What was your other reason?”
“I wanted to do something, something nice if I could, for Tom. Because… I’m marrying somebody else-or at least I think I am.”
“Who is this somebody else?”
“That’s where your business ends, I’m afraid. I’ve told you all you need to know: your husband and I were nothing to each other, not friends, not even acquaintances; I helped him to help a friend, and now it’s backfired and I stand to lose something I can’t easily bear to lose, unless you can help me get on your husband’s trail-as I’d think you’d be glad to do, if you know where he is or where he’s going.”
