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Myron said nothing.
“And don't blame Esperanza. It wasn't her fault. I held on purely for the sake of my kids, and when Esperanza came along-” Bo
“You know how this looks,” Myron said.
“Of course I know how it looks. Two dykes got together and offed the husband. Why do you think we're trying so hard to keep it secret? The weakness in their case right now is motive. But if they find out we were lovers-”
“Did you kill him?”
“What do you expect me to say to that, Myron?”
“I'd like to hear it.”
“No, we didn't kill him. I was leaving him. Why would I throw him out and start filing papers if I pla
“To prevent a scandal that would surely hurt your kids.”
She made a face. “Come on, Myron.”
“So how do you explain the gun in the office and the blood in the car?”
“I can't.”
Myron thought about it. His head hurt-from the physical altercation or this latest revelation, he couldn't say. He tried to concentrate through the haze. “Who else knows about the affair?”
“Just Esperanza's lawyer, Hester Crimstein.”
“No one else?”
“No one. We were veiy discreet.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because,” Myron said, “if I were going to murder Clu and I wanted to frame someone for it, his wife's lover would be my first choice.”
Bo
“It might explain a lot.”
“I didn't tell anyone. And Esperanza said she didn't either.”
Pow. Right between the eyes. “You couldn't have been too careful,” Myron said.
“What makes you say that?”
“Clu found out, didn't he?”
She thought about it, nodded.
“Did you tell him?” he asked.
“No.”
“What did you say when you threw him out?”
She shrugged. “That there was no one else. That was true in a sense. It wasn't about Esperanza.”
“So how did he find out?”
“I don't know. I assumed he became obsessed. That he followed me.”
“And he found out the truth?”
“Yes.”
“And then he went after Esperanza and attacked her?
“Yes.”
“And before he has a chance to tell anyone else about this, before it has a chance of getting out and hurting either of you, he ends up dead. And the murder weapon ends up with Esperanza. And Clu's blood ends up in the car she's been driving. And the E-Z Pass records show Esperanza came back to New York an hour after the murder.”
“Again, yes.”
Myron shook his head. “It doesn't look good, Bo
“That's what I've been trying to tell you,” she said. “If even you won't believe us, how do you think a jury is going to react?”
There was no need to answer. They headed back to the house then. The two young boys were still at play, oblivious of what was going on around them. Myron watched for a moment. Fatherless, he thought, shuddering at the word. With one last look he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 24
Thrill, not Nancy Sinclair, met him outside a bar called the Biker Wa
“Howdy,” Myron said. Tex Bolitar.
Her smile was full of pornographic promise. Totally into Thrill mode now. “Howdy yourself, pardner,” she cooed. With some women, every syllable is cooed. “How do I look?”
“Mighty tasty, ma'am. But I think I prefer you as Nancy.”
“Liar.”
Myron shrugged, not sure if he was telling the truth or not. This whole thing reminded him of when Barbara Eden would play her evil sister on / Dream of Jea
“I thought you were bringing backup,” Thrill said.
“I am.”
“Where is he?”
“If things go well, you won't see him.”
“How mysterious.”
“Isn't it?”
They headed inside and grabbed a corner booth in the back. Yep, biker wa
Thrill was studying his face. “You okay?” she asked.
“Fine. So what happens next?”
“We order a drink, I guess.”
Five minutes passed. “Lonely Boy” came on the jukebox. Andrew Gold. Serious seventies AM bubble gum. Chorus: “Oh, oh, oh… oh what a lonely boy… oh what a lonely boy… oh what a lonely boy.” By the time the chorus was repeated for the eighth time, Myron had it down pat so he sang along. Megamemory. Maybe he should do an infomercial.
Men at nearby tables checked out Thrill, some surreptitiously, most not. Thrill's smile was practically a leer now, sinking deeper into the role.
“You get into this,” Myron said.
“It's a part, Myron. We're all actors on a stage and all that.”
“But you enjoy the attention.”
“So?”
“So I was just saying.”
She shrugged. “I find it fascinating.”
“What's that?”
“What a large bosom does to a man. They get so obsessed.”
“You just reached the conclusion that men are mammary-obsessed? I hate to break this to you, Nancy, but the research has been done.”
“But it's weird when you think about it.”
“I try not to.”
“Bosoms do weird things to men, no doubt,” she said, “but I don't like what they do to women either.”
“How's that?”
Thrill put her palnds on the table. “Okay, everyone knows that we women put too much of our self-worth into our bodies. Old news, right?”
“Right.”
“I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. And unlike my more feminist sisters, I don't blame men for this.”
“You don't?”
“Mademoiselle, Vogue, Bazaar, Glamour-those are run by women and have a totally female clientele. They want to change the image, start there. Why ask the men to change a perception that women themselves won't change?”
“Refreshing viewpoint,” Myron noted.
“But bosoms do fu
Myron looked up, the imagery giving him pause.
“But for women, well, it starts when you're young. A girl develops early. Adolescent boys start lusting after her. How do her girlfriends react? They take it out on her. They're jealous of the attention or feeling inadequate or whatever. But they take it out on the young girl who can't help what her body is going through. With me?”
“Yes.”
“Even now. Look at the glances the women in here give me. Pure hatred. You get a group of women together and a chesty counterpart walks by and they all sigh, Oh, please.' Professional women, for example, feel the urge to dress down-not just because of leering men but because of women. Because of how women treat them. A businesswoman sees a big-chested businesswoman with a better title-well, she got the job because of her tits. Plain and simple. Might be true, might not be. Is this animosity spawned again from dofrnant jealousy or a misplaced feeling of inadequacy or because they unfairly equate bosoms with stupidity? Any way you look at it, it's an ugly thing.”