Chapter Thirty-one
Linda's reply came around nine-thirty.
'It looks good enough to me, Ed. Other minds may differ, but I don't foresee any problems about anything at present. A Wednesday departure is fine if nothing else comes up before then.'
I was about to dive back into my book when my door chime sounded.
"Steph, who's out there?"
"Inspector Price."
"Does she look officious? Distracted with details?"
"I'm unable to determine such things, Ed. Yet."
I chuckled. “Yet. I like that, Steph."
I got up and loudly said, “Just a minute, Price."
When I opened the door, she looked at me oddly and asked, “How did you know it was me? The vid panel didn't come on."
She was out of uniform, wearing what I'd guess you'd call a sundress and sandals and carrying one of those big, drawstring-top bags some women try to call purses.
"It's magic. What's up? Where's Williams? Did Caitlin send you to arrest me?"
"I just came by to see you on my own. I don't know what Caitlin is going to do."
I stood aside and gestured her into the room. She took a seat at the table—the same seat she'd used earlier in the evening—and then took a moment to sweep her hair back and anchor it in place with one of those comb-clamp gizmos.
"It just seems to me,” she said, “That you went through a lot because of Brinks in the last couple of days, and that you shouldn't be put up against the wall for what happened this evening. I believe that you did what you believed that you had to do, even though I'm not sure how you did it."
"I hope they listen to you, then, because that's exactly what happened. I didn't think he could be stopped by normal methods, so I stopped him another way."
She nodded. For a time, neither of us said anything, and the silence grew somewhat awkward. About the time I'd decided to ask her if there were anything else on her mind, she started to speak, so naturally we started speaking at the same time.
"Sorry,” I said. “Go ahead."
"No, you."
I shrugged and said, “I was just going to ask you if there was anything else."
She nodded again, but said nothing for a moment as she traced circles on the table top. I was about to prompt her again when she looked up and fixed me with a rather direct gaze.
"Yes, there is something else. I wanted some company."
I sat down next to her and said, “Well, I guess I can be company for a while. Want to go out for a while or stay here and talk?"
"I don't want to go anywhere. I brought this with me."
She opened her bag and brought out a paper bag that contained two others. In each was a pint-sized bottle of gin. She then brought out another bag that contained a few bottles of bitter lemon and a few more of tonic and fixed me with that gaze again.
"Don't worry, I'm not an alcoholic. I've just never had an experience like today's. It needs some sort of closure."
I laughed softly and said, “Price, if we try to drink all that booze, I can pretty much guarantee some sort of closure, but we'll be too damned drunk to know when it happens. Do I have to keep calling you Price? What's your first name? I'm Ed."
"I'm Jackie. Jacqueline, but call me Jackie."
"Good. Jackie, you took the lead by coming here, so I'll take the lead on making the drinks. One shot or two? Tonic or bitter lemon?"
"One shot and tonic. Not much ice."
"Good enough. Now to see if I have any glasses."
"What?"
"Glasses. I've never looked to see if there are glasses in the cupboards. Didn't need ‘em. We may wind up swigging from the bottles."
"Look in the top left cupboard. All these rooms come with dishware, Ed."
I found glasses where she said to look and dropped some ice in two of them, then returned to the table. In a few moments, I handed her a gin and tonic. She waited for me to mix my own gin with bitter lemon.
"Your file said you drink that stuff. I've never had it."
"My file said that? Damn. Sip it and see if you like it.” I held it out to her.
Jackie sipped and pursed her lips.
"Not bad, but I like the tonic better."
I nodded and sipped my drink as she sipped hers. It seemed to me that we were silently evaluating each other. I was certainly evaluating her, anyway. Slender, more so than I'd favor, really, but solid. It didn't look like the kind of slender that women get from dieting. It seemed to belong to her frame.
Nice skin, fitted well over a nice structure. Smallish breasts, unless the sundress was somehow concealing more. When she put her drink down, her watch ticked against the table. My gaze followed the length of her arm from her wrist to her shoulder, then rested a moment on her hair, and then her eyes caught mine.
"You know what I like best about you, Jackie?"
"You can't tell me what you like best about me,” she said. “Not yet, anyway."
"Sure I can,” I said. “What I like best about you is..."
I again studied her face, arms, shoulders, and peeked under the edge of the table, then returned my evaluating gaze to her face. She rolled her eyes in a 'here it comes' sort of expression, then leveled her head and gazed back at me. I grinned at her.
"What I like best about you is that you're sitting at my table, Jackie. That'll have to do for the time being. I like to know a woman some before I get all sloppy on her."
She chuckled softly and said, “I see. Cautious, huh?"
"Very. I hate to commit myself without a thorough recon of the terrain."
That made her laugh.
"Well, I was definitely feeling reconned. Ed, I came here because I knew you wouldn't come to me. How do you feel about that?"
"Well, you're right, for one thing. It never would have occurred to me that a woman who looks like you wouldn't have a boyfriend."
"Oh, I had one until last week,” she said. “He wasn't working late in the lab. He was playing late in the lab. I don't share and I don't hand out second chances."
I nodded. “I came here with a girlfriend of sorts, but she became clingy. It was the last damn thing I expected from her. We were supposed to be just having fun."
"Leslie?"
"Yup. We were playing like puppies in the morning, but by that afternoon she was telling me that we needed to talk about things. Three days isn't long enough to have anything to work out, Jackie. Three days is like a fingerful of cake icing, to me."
"Cake icing?"
"Yeah. One swipe makes you want more, and the icing is usually the best part of any cake. Not all of them, but most of them."
"Uh, huh. Flitting from flower to flower like a big bee?"
She held out her empty glass. I mixed her another gin and tonic.
"Kind of,” I said. “It's always been that kind of job, y'know. Moved around a lot."
Jackie giggled, then laughed.
"Right,” she said. “Oh, yes, it's the job! I've used that one, myself, Ed. 'Sorry guy, but I have to go, now. Duty calls.' That one's gotten me out of some boring dates and a couple of really tiresome relationships."
Unless she was faking, she really didn't seem to be much of a drinker. That first drink seemed to have gone straight to her funny bone at light speed. I wondered if maybe two drinks was her limit as I mixed myself another one.
Jackie shook her head and giggled again.
"It's always like this for me,” she said. “I bitch about the kind of men I've been cursed with, then I seem go out looking for a new one who's just like the last one."
"Well, maybe what you ought to be bitching about is the fact that they stay with you too long. Maybe you look for what you like, but you keep them until they spoil."
"You mean like a fish? Catch a real beauty. Cook it and it doesn't last long, but it tastes good. Do nothing and it rots."
Wow. She gets right chatty when she drinks, too.
"Uh, yeah. Like that, I guess. Sort of."
"You're sayi
ng that I should just flit from bee to bee, then? Is that what you're saying?"
"No. You're saying it. You just want me to agree, I think."
"Well, you're the bee. Why shouldn't you agree?"
"Because the flower is starting to make me nervous. I don't want to be accused of taking advantage of a drunk, Jackie. Slow down if the booze is really hitting you."
She froze for a moment, then tossed back the rest of her drink and pulled her dress down in front. Between her small breasts were two livid red marks.
"See those? That's what's hitting me, Ed. They hit me today in the woods and they're still hitting me. Every time I rub them because they itch, I relive that moment that I found myself flat on my back, trying to breathe and not scream from the pain because I'd already found out how much that hurt. One of them went all the way through my chest, Ed. It staked me right to the ground. That's being hit."
The medics had done a good job. Except for the redness of healing skin, there were no other signs of her injuries.
"No argument, there, Jackie. That's being hit, all right."
"You weren't hit at all, were you? Neither time today."
Her sharp gaze and the edge to her words held a hint of accusation.
"I took my first hits about the time you were born, ma'am, but don't worry. You'll damn well catch up with me someday at this rate."
She looked down at the red spots for some moments and said, “They're really too small, aren't they?"
Before I could seem stupid by saying, “Huh?", I realized she was referring to her breasts. For lack of better at the moment, I said, “They say a handful is all you need."
"Yeah, I've heard that. Who the hell is 'they', anyway? My glass is empty again."
"Let it stay empty for a few minutes. Pretend you don't need it to be here. If you can do that, I'll mix you another later."
Jackie's gaze narrowed a bit. “I've had a big day. I want another drink."
"Did you come here to relax and get laid or did you come here to pour booze down your throat until you pass out?"
"Yes."
"One or the other. Not both."
Jackie grabbed the gin bottle and started to open it. I grabbed it back and set it down across the table from her.
"I'm not kidding, Jackie. I don't like sloppy drunks. If you're gonna get blitzed, do it somewhere else."
Her gaze became a glare that lasted for some moments, then she said, “You didn't know any of the people who died in the woods today, did you, Ed? I did. One of them was my best friend."
I didn't give her any 'been there' anecdotes or 'survivor guilt' stuff. She needed to hear her own story, not mine. I sat quietly and waited. I went for the paper towels when the tears began. They ran like hell for a while and eventually stopped. So did the words; all about her friend and how they'd signed up together for the great adventure. After a while, the words stopped, too, and she just sat there looking drained.
She didn't need to hear that her story was as old as humanity and hardly unique. I didn't try to tell her how often I'd heard the same words over the years.
"I ... Uh, I guess I'll go now...” she said, rising from her chair. “Keep the gin."
"No, take it with you if you go, Jackie. I'll never drink it all in two days."
She laughed feebly. “If I go? How the hell could I stay, after all that?"
"Easy. Sit down. Stay. Now it's time to say, 'fuck it, he'll be gone on Wednesday and I'll never see him again'."
She looked at me a moment and repeated my words, then asked, “Okay. Exactly what did that accomplish?"
"That time? Nothing. Try it again. Put some passion into it this time. Yell."
She said the words louder and more distinctly, but stopped short of yelling.
"Hmm. Better, but not good. One more time. Make ‘em hear it in Cleveland."
"Oh, come on, Ed. These rooms aren't soundproof. Leslie's probably already wondering what the hell's going on in here."
"So what? It's none of her business, right? Go ahead. Scream it."
"I..."
"Do it!” I yelled at her like a drill sergeant.
Jackie startled ferociously and screamed, “Fuck him, he'll be gone on Wednesday and I'll never see him again!"
Then she immediately assumed the demeanor of a schoolgirl who'd caught herself saying a nasty word.
"Oh, God. I..."
"See? It's all conditioning. Tell me something, now. How do you feel? Other than vastly embarrassed, of course."
She seemed to take stock of herself for a moment. “Better, I think."
"Good. Now you can decide whether to go or stay."
My door chime sounded, followed by a rapid pounding.
"Yes?"
"It's me, Ed. Leslie. What the hell are you doing in there?"
Jackie snickered and said, “Oh, jeez. I told you, didn't I?"
"Open,” I said. The door slid back just as Leslie was about to pound again. The motion carried her into the room with us. She took in the scene and straightened.
"What's going on in here? Someone screamed. Her?"
"Yeah. I made her do it."
"I have no damned doubt of that, Ed."
"It's all right,” said Jackie. “Really. He was trying to help me."
"Trying to help? I think I succeeded, Jackie. You even admitted it just now. Want a drink, Leslie? We're having gin and mixers."
Leslie looked skeptically at me and then examiningly at Jackie, who gave her a smile and nodded vigorously.
I seated the ladies and made three more drinks, then joined them at the table. What had begun as Jackie's explanation of why she screamed turned into much more than that as she digressed into her feelings about everything that had happened that day and to whom it had happened.
Soon there were two tearful women in the room and the glasses had run dry again. I refilled them and leaned back with my pad as they picked through the rubble of Jackie's day and stacked the salvageable bits to one side.
Around chapter twenty-three of the ebook I was reading, I realized that one of the ladies was calling my name and looked up from my pad.
Leslie was saying, “Ed ... Yeah, you. You just tuned out on us a while ago."
"Yup. You were doing fine without me."
"Jackie, we ought to take the gin and leave him to his damned pad."
"Why? He's right. We didn't need him, did we?"
"Never let them know they're right about stuff like that. It sets a bad precedent. One of the others may try it if even one of them ever gets away with it."
Jackie giggled. “Okay. Scratch that, Ed. Leslie says you were wrong."
I nodded. “Okay.” I looked at my watch. Ten-thirty. “I think I'm gonna crash, ladies. Why don't you two take the gin next door."
Leslie tried to look shocked. She may have been startled, but that's all I'd grant her. Jackie looked slightly chagrined.
Leslie asked, “You're throwing us out? Just like that?"
"Yup. Unless one of you wants to stay over, I'm throwing you out."
Maybe Leslie was a tad shocked at that statement. Jackie blushed, and when Leslie saw it, she blushed too, although her next question made me think it may have been for reasons other than embarrassment.
"Oh, so now you think someone owes you something for using your table?"
I gave a little wave and said, “Bye, girls. See ya. Don't forget to write."
Jackie glanced at her watch said, “Actually, I should be getting back, I guess. I haven't eaten anything since lunch. That's why the gin hit me so fast. I think I'll fix something quick and go to bed, myself."
Leslie looked at her own watch and said, “Yeah, me too. I guess."
Uh, huh. And I could see the train wreck already. The one when they'd collide in the corridor in fifteen minutes or when one showed up after the other.
I walked to the kitchen, opened the soup cabinet, and asked, “Jackie, would you like a bit of soup? You, too, Leslie, if you want. I wouldn't mind a snack
, either."
It was as close as I intended to come to declaring a preference. I'd invited Jackie, first and specifically, to stay, then included Leslie out of deliberately obvious politeness. Jackie could accept or decline. Leslie could accept or decline. Both appeared to recognize the offer for what it was.
After a moment, Leslie said, “Soup, huh? No, I'll pass, I guess. I'll see everybody later. Goodbye, all."
"Okay,” I said. “G'nite."
Jackie said, “Yeah. Goodnight, Leslie. And thanks. I feel a little better."
Leslie turned to go. Jackie looked at me. I let my small wave become a reach into the cabinet and asked, “Veggie beef or chicken noodle?"
The door closed behind Leslie before Jackie said, “Beef, I guess. That was it for you two, wasn't it, Ed?"
"Yup."
I opened the soups and decanted them into bowls, then swept a warming field through them and added spoons before delivering them to the table. Jackie looked at her bowl oddly, then at me, and started to say something as she reached for the bowl.
Her eyes blinked wide in surprise at the heat as she touched the bowl and she pulled her hand back quickly.
"It's hot!"
"Supposed to be, isn't it? More magic, miLady. Dig in. I'll get napkins in case you're a messy eater. Like rye bread? It's all there is, so say 'yes'."
"Sure. Rye's fine. How'd you cook the soup, Ed?"
"I didn't. I just warmed it up. To answer your other question; yes, I think this was the end for Leslie."
"Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Yes. When I leave, she stays. I leave Wednesday. Not much there to build on, anyway. She wants what I can't give her."
"And that is..?"
"That is history, as is Leslie."
"And I'm the present?"
"Only if you want to be, Jackie. If not, eat your soup so it won't go to waste and then say goodnight."
After a moment, she picked up her spoon and began eating. For a long few minutes, neither of us said anything, then she asked me how I heated the soup again. I told her I had a special PFM that I sometimes used for unofficial purposes. She giggled and agreed that heating soup might be considered an unofficial use.
When I put our dishes in the sink, I told her that I needed a shower before bed and that I'd much appreciate her assistance. She smiled slightly and nodded slightly and without a word left her sundress on the chair.
Book 2: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 33
