*
‘Satisfied, Detective?’
It was 9pm and the car was back in idle outside the Theodore Roosevelt. Rish’s eyes were still bright and her cheeks flushed from the excitement and exertion of the performance.
‘It all seemed pretty harmless,’ said Furn. ‘Did Catlett behave himself as much as me?’
Rish shrugged her shoulders. ‘Yes and no.’
‘Go on.’
‘You don’t get why I took him to all those places. Guys wait till they’ve bedded a girl before introducing her to their friends. Girls introduce him first, just to see if he tries to bed them as too.’
‘He didn’t fare too well?’
Rish shook her head.
‘How did I do?’ Furn asked.
‘You didn’t take your eyes off me.’
He gave all his suspects that kind of scrutiny: it seemed a worthwhile point to make until he found Rish’s lips all over him. He was much happier to return that than a smart remark. Her lips were the softest thing he had ever known. A very nice place to land if only it didn’t require falling head first.
Pulling out of it he realised it wasn’t the kind of kiss he couldn’t just pack in the back with the spare tyre.
‘Do you live with Catlett?’
Rish turned sharply to the steering wheel. ‘You’re still thinking about him?’
‘Only logistically.’
‘I work at his residence three mornings a week. I do a bit of cleaning and tidying up.’
‘In your swim suit?’
‘There are cleaners you hire with ads in the newspaper classifieds and those you pull off stage of the Men’s Gallery. I have my own flat. But what I’m wondering about is whose bedroom had the most panties lying around the floor, yours or mine.’ She deliberated a moment and started the engine. ‘Kissing isn’t what I’d call a lie detector test, but it gives you a certain brand of truth. Put your seatbelt back on.’
Furn hadn’t been wearing it in the first place. He didn’t wear seatbelts for the same reason he didn’t wear wristwatches.
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