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She pursed her lips and blew out a stream of air in a soundless whistle. She had half a glass of wine left but she didn't touch it, reaching instead for my glass of Perrier. She took a sip and put the glass back where she'd found it. The act managed to be curiously intimate.
"You mentioned Richard Thurman," she said.
"Well, that's the thing," I said. "See, I had Arnie's tape, but what was I going to do with it? The devious bastard never got to the point of saying who the people were. Here I got a tape the principals would be happy to get back, and it would be very much worth my while to perform them the valuable service of recovering it, but how do I find them? I went around with my eyes and ears open, but short of bumping into a man walking down the street in a rubber suit with his dick hanging out, how was I going to get anywhere?"
I picked up my Perrier and turned the glass so that I was sipping from where her lips had touched the glass. A kiss by proxy, you could call it.
"Then Thurman turns up," I said. "With a dead wife, and public opinion pretty much divided as to whether or not he had anything to do with it. I run into him in a ginmill and because he's in television we get on the subject of Arnie, who worked for one of the nets before I ever knew him. And strangely enough your name came up."
"My name?"
"You and your husband. Very distinctive names, easy to remember even after a long night in a saloon. Thurman put away more booze than I did, but he got very cute, lots of hints, lots of i
"It's very sad."
"And tragic, like you said over the phone. The same day he got killed I was out in Maspeth. I was going to meet him at the fights and he was going to point out your husband. Thurman didn't make it, I guess he was already dead by then, but I didn't need him to point out your husband, because I recognized the two of you. Then I went downstairs and recognized the floor. I couldn't find the room where you made the movie, but maybe it was one of the locked ones. Or maybe you redecorated since the taping session." I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter what Thurman was getting at, either, and it doesn't matter what kind of help he might have had going out the window. What matters is I'm in the fortunate position of being able to do something useful for someone in a position to make it all worth my while."
"What do you want?"
"What do I want? That's easy. I want basically the same thing Arnie wanted. Isn't that pretty much what everybody wants?" Her hand was on the table, inches from mine. I extended a finger and reached to touch the back of her hand. "But I don't want to get what he got," I said. "That's all."
FOR a long moment she sat looking down at our hands on the tabletop. Then she covered my hand with hers and fastened her eyes on mine. I could see the blue of her eyes now, and the intensity of her gaze held me.
"Matthew," she said, testing my name on her tongue. "No, I think I will just call you Scudder."
"Whatever you like."
She stood up. I thought for a second she was going to leave, but instead she came around the table and motioned for me to inch over to my left. She sat down beside me on the banquette and again put her hand on top of mine.
"Now we're on the same side," she said.
She was wearing a lot of perfume. It was musky, which was no great surprise. I hadn't figured her to go around smelling like a pine tree.
"It was hard to talk," she said. "You know what I mean, Scudder?" I don't know that she had an accent, but there was the slightest European inflection to her speech. "How can I say anything? You could be tricking me, all wired up so that anything I say would be recorded."
"I'm not wearing a wire."
"How do I know this?" She turned toward me and put her hand on my necktie just below the knot. She ran her hand the length of my tie, slipping it inside the front of my suit jacket. She stroked my shirtfront thoroughly.
"I told you," I said.
"Yes, you told me," she murmured. Her mouth was close to my ear and her breath was warm on the side of my face. Her hand dropped to my leg and swept upward along the inside of my thigh. "Did you bring the tape?"
"It's in a bank vault."
"That's a pity. We could go upstairs and watch it. How did it make you feel when you saw it?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? What kind of an answer is that? Of course you know. It made you hot, didn't it?"
"I suppose so."
"You suppose so. You're hot now, Scudder. You're hard. I could make you come right now, just by touching you. How would you like that?"
I didn't say anything.
"I'm all hot and wet," she said. "I have no underpants on. It's wonderful to wear tight leather pants and no underwear and get all wet inside the leather. Do you want to come upstairs with me? I could fuck you stupid. You remember what I did to that boy?"
"You killed him."
"You think he had it so bad?" She moved closer, took the lobe of my ear between her teeth. "For three days we fucked his brains out, Bergen and I. We fucked him and sucked him and let him have whatever drugs he wanted. He had a lifetime of pleasure."
"He didn't like the ending much."
"So he had pain. So what?" Her hand stroked me in rhythm with her words. "So he didn't live a hundred years, he didn't get to be an old man. Who wants to be an old man?"
"I guess he died happy."
"That was his name, Happy."
"I know."
"You knew that? You know a lot, Scudder. You think you give a shit about the boy? If you care so much about him, how come you got a hard-on?"
A good question. "I never said I cared about him."
"What do you care about?"
"Getting money for the tape. And living long enough to spend it."
"And what else?"
"That's enough for now."
"You want me, don't you?"
"People in hell want ice water."
"But they can't have it. You could have me if you wanted. We could go upstairs right now."
"I don't think so."
She sat back. "Jesus, you're tough," she said. "You're a hard case, aren't you?"
"Not particularly."
"Richard would be under the table by now. He'd be trying to eat me through the leather pants."
"Look where it got him."
"He didn't have it so bad."
"I know," I said. "Who wants to be an old man? Look, just because you can give me a hard-on doesn't mean you can lead me around by it. Of course I want you. I wanted you when I first saw the tape." I picked up her hand, put it back in her own lap. "After we've done our business," I said, "then I'll have you."
"You think so?"
"I think so."
"You know who you remind me of? Bergen."
"I don't look good in black rubber."
"Don't be so sure."
"And I'm circumcised."
"Maybe you can get a transplant. No, you're like him on the inside, you both have the same hardness. You were a cop."
"That's right."
"Did you ever kill anybody?"
"Why?"
"You did. You don't have to answer, I can feel it in you. Did you like it?"
"Not particularly."
"Are you so sure that's the truth?"
" 'What is truth?' "
"Ah, an age-old question. But I think I will sit across the table from you. If we are going to talk business it's better if we can look at each other."
I told her I wasn't greedy. I wanted a single payment of fifty thousand dollars. They had paid that much to Leveque, although they hadn't allowed him to keep it. They could pay the same to me. "You could be like him," she said. "He had a copy, even though he swore he didn't."
"He was stupid."
"To keep a copy?"
"To lie about it. Of course I've made a copy. I've made two of them. One's with a lawyer. The other's in the safe of a private detective. Just in case I get mugged in an alley, or fall out a window."