"I don't recal giving a fuck."
We stared at each other. "If you've finished, I won't keep you. The Cocteau's over there."
He went over to the table and picked it up. "I get the frame as wel , do I? I am a lucky boy."
"Not real y. It's ugly and rather tasteless. Like the sketch. I imagine it wil suit you perfectly." He smiled, relaxed again. "Now, now, Donald. Sticks and stones. Can I at least have a carrier bag? You forgot to gift-wrap it."
"The arrangement was for the picture. Nothing else."
"You real y are a petty-minded old bastard, aren't you?" He tucked it under his arm and went into the hal way. I fol owed him.
"Before you leave, I'd like my cheque back. It wil save me the trouble of cancel ing it." He reached into his pocket. "Slipped my mind." He crumpled the cheque and threw it on to the floor. I opened the door, not out of politeness, but for the satisfaction of closing it on him.
"Wil you be seeing Anna when you get back?" I asked.
He pretended to frown. "Who?"
"In that case I needn't ask you not to come to the gal ery again."
"I can't think of anything I'd like less. Except you." Zeppo went down the steps. "Have a nice life, Donald." I shut the door.
I did not go into the gal ery until the middle of the week. I telephoned Anna with the excuse that I was il . It was strange speaking to her. She sounded the same as ever, unchanged. I felt as though she were someone I used to know wel , but who I had now lost touch with.
By Wednesday I knew I could no longer put her off from visiting me, and went in. I preferred to face her at work rather than in the intimacy of my home. She was very solicitous.
Smotheringly so. It was an effort not to be terse.
"What happened with your friend's col ection?" she asked. "The one who was burgled," she added, when I looked blank. It took me a moment to realise what she was talking about.
"Oh … it wasn't as bad as he thought," I said, vaguely.
"Have the police found anything out yet?"
"No, not yet."
As soon as I could, I shut myself in the office. Anna seemed to sense my mood and left me alone. But I could not stay there for ever. After a while I went back downstairs, forcing a smile as I reassured her that I was al right. She went back to her work, and I cast surreptitious glances at her as she bent over her desk. She had on a thin vest that did little to disguise her breasts. They hung loosely under it, swinging ponderously as she shifted her weight. Her thighs were flattened on the seat, meaty and ungainly. She wore shorts, and I could see the tightness of cloth at the crotch. I thought of the undignified patch hidden there, and looked away.
When she stood up and crossed the room, I watched as the flesh of her moved. Legs, arms, breasts. There seemed a heavy, bovine quality about her that I wondered how I could have missed before. Suddenly, I could see her mother waiting behind the youthful facade, could detect the sagging fleshiness of the woman she would become. She turned and saw me watching her, and smiled. Her mouth stretched, and I remembered how it had slobbered over Zeppo. It struck me that it was too large for her face. Her lips were too wide, almost rubbery. I smiled back.
The anxiety I had felt about seeing her again faded. I wondered why I should have been so bothered. She was just a girl. Only her persistent intimacy prevented me from withdrawing into my old, now attractive isolation. It was a nuisance, but I was soon able to respond mechanical y, without being touched by it. Even her frequent references to Zeppo left me unmoved.
Like her, he belonged to the past. And that was something I chose not to dwel on.
"Have you had a postcard from him yet?" she asked one day.
"No." Then, because I felt obliged to, I added, "Have you?" She tried to sound casual. "No. I expect he's been too busy. Or it'l arrive after he gets back."
"I expect so." Later, she said, "Donald, is everything al right?"
"Of course it is? Why?" She shrugged. "Oh, I just wondered. You just seem a bit … I don't know. Distant, lately."
"Do I? I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."
"Anything I can help with?"
"No. Thank you." On impulse, I added, "One or two little financial problems. That's al ."
She looked worried. "Bad?"
"Wel ... let's see what happens, shal we?" I gave a brisk smile, and moved away. I felt a smal grain of self-congratulation. I had prepared the ground. Now, if I decided to, I could always take it further. She was only an assistant, after al . There had been others before her. There would be others after.
One day she came up to me with a bright smile on her face. "Guess what? A friend of mine's started work at the Barbican, and she can get us complimentary tickets for the Russian bal et this Saturday! If you can make it, of course." I looked disappointed. "This Saturday? Oh, I'd love to, but I've already arranged something."
"Oh. Oh, wel , never mind." She smiled and shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just thought you might like to go."
"Another time, perhaps." I waited one more week before I cal ed Charles Dryden.
"Good to hear from you," he said. "Are you buying or sel ing?"
"Buying," I answered.
ALLIS ON & BUSBY CRIME
Denise Danks Frame Grabber
John Dunning Booked to Die
Chester Himes Al Shot Up The Big Gold Dream Cotton Comes to Harlem The
Heat’s On A Rage in Harlem
H. R. F. Keating A Remarkable Case of Burglary
Ted Lewis GBH
Get Carter Jack Carter’s Law
Ross Macdonald
The Barbarous Coast
The Blue Hammer
The Far Side of the Dol ar
The Galton Case
The Goodbye Look
The Ivory Grin
Meet Me at the Morgue
The Moving Target
The Way Some
People Die
The Wycherley Woman The Zebra-Striped Hearse
The Lew Archer Omnibus Volume 1: The Chil , The Drowning Pool, The
Goodbye Look
Margaret Mil ar
Ask for Me Tomorrow
Mermaid
Rose’s Last Summer
Richard Stark Deadly Edge The Green Eagle Score The Handle Point Blank
The Rare Coin Score Slayground The Sour Lemon Score
Donald Thomas
Dancing in the Dark
Marilyn Wal ace (ed.) Sisters in Crime
Donald Westlake Sacred Monster The Mercenaries
Fine Lines Page 26