Part 10 (1/2)

Kathie sat at the counter in the small kitchen and watched us without understanding.

The house was small and lovingly done. The kitchen was pine-paneled and the cabinets were new. The adjoining dining room had an antique table and on the wall a pair of antlers, obviously home-shot. The living room had little furniture and a worn rug. Everything was clean and careful. In one corner was an old television with the screen outlined in white, giving the illusion of greater screen size. There were three small bedrooms upstairs, and a bath. One of the bedrooms was obviously a room for boys, with twin beds, two bureaus and a host of wildlife pictures and stuffed animals. The bathroom was pink.

It was a house that its owners loved. It made me ill at ease to be here with Hawk and Kathie. We had no business in a house like this.

Hawk went out and bought some beer and wine and cheese and French bread, and we ate and drank in near silence. After supper Kathie went up to one of the small bedrooms, filled with dolls and dust ruffles, and went to bed, with her clothes on. She still wore the white linen dress. It was getting pretty wrinkled but there wasn't a change of clothes. Hawk and I watched some of the Olympic action on CBC. We were on the wrong side of the mountain to get U.S. stations and thus most of the coverage focused on Canadians, not many of whom were in medal contention.

We finished up the beer and wine and went to bed before eleven o'clock, exhausted from traveling and silent and out of place in the quiet suburb among artifacts of family.

I slept in the boys' room, Hawk in the master bedroom. There were early bird sounds but the room was still dark when I woke up and saw Kathie standing at the foot of the bed. The door was closed behind her. She turned the light on. Her breath in the silence was short and heavy. She wore no clothes. She was the kind of woman who should take her clothes off when she can. She looked best without them; the proportions were better than they looked dressed. She did not seem to be carrying a concealed weapon. I was naked and on top of the covers in the warm summer. It embarra.s.sed me. I slid under the sheet until I was covered from the waist down and rolled on to my back.

I said, ”Hard to sleep these hot nights, isn't it?”

She walked across the room and dropped to her knees beside the bed and settled back with her b.u.t.tocks resting on her heels.

”Maybe a little warm milk,” I said.

She took my left hand where it was resting on my chest and pulled it over to her and held it between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”Sometimes counting. sheep helps,” I said. My voice was getting a little hoa.r.s.e.

Her breath was very short, as if she'd been sprinting, and the place between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s was damp with sweat. She said, ”Do with me what you will.”

”Wasn't that the t.i.tle of a book?” I said.

”I'll do anything,” she said, ”You may have me. I'll be your slave. Anything.” She bent over, keeping my hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and began to kiss me on the chest. Her hair smelled strongly of shampoo and her body of soap. She must have bathed before she came in.

”I'm not into slaves, Kath,” I said.

Her kisses were moving down over my stomach. I felt like a p.u.b.escent billy goat.

”Kathie,” I said. ”I barely know you. I mean I thought we were just friends.”

She kept kissing. I sat up in bed and pulled my hand away from her sternum. She slid onto the bed as I made room, her whole body insinuated against me, her left hand running along my back.

”Strong,” she gasped. ”Strong, so strong. Press me down, force me.”

I took hold of both her hands at the wrists and held them down in front of her. She twisted over and flopped on her back, her legs apart. Her mouth half open, making small creature sounds in her throat. The bedroom door opened and Hawk stood in it in his shorts, crouched slightly, bent for trouble. His face relaxed and broadened into pleasure as he watched.

”G.o.dd.a.m.n,” he said.

”It's okay, Hawk,” I said. ”No trouble.” My voice was very hoa.r.s.e.

”I guess not,” he said. He closed the door and I could hear his thick velvet laugh in the hall. He said through the closed door, ”Hey, Spenser. You want me to stay out here and hum 'Boots and Saddles' sort of soft while you're, ah, subduing the suspect?”

I let that pa.s.s. Kathie seemed uninterrupted.

”Him too,” she gasped. ”Both at once if you wish.” She was almost boneless, sprawled on the bed, arms and legs flung out, her body wet with sweat.

”Kathie, you gotta find some other way to relate with people. Killing and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g have their place but there are other alternatives.” I was croaking now. I cleared my throat loudly. My body felt like there was too much blood in it. I was nearly ready to paw the ground and whinny.

”Please,” she said, her voice now barely audible ”please.”

”No offense, honey, but no.”

”Please,” she was hissing now. Her body writhed or the bed. She arched her pelvis up, as she had when Hawl searched her in Amsterdam. ”Please. ” I still held her hands.

The more I held her and denied her the more she seemed to respond. It was a form of abuse and it excited her. Embarra.s.sing or not, I had to get up. I slid out from unde the sheet and slipped off the bed, rolling over her legs as I did. She used the s.p.a.ce I'd left to spread out wider in a position of enlarged vulnerability. One of the animal behaviorists would say she was in extreme submission. I was in extreme randiness. I took my Levis off the chair and put them on. I was careful zipping them up. With them on I felt better.

Kathie was alone now, I think she wasn't even aware of me. Her breath came in thin hisses as it squeezed out between her teeth. She writhed and arched on the bed, the sheets a wet tangle beneath her. I didn't know what to do. I felt like sucking my thumb but Hawk might come in and catch me. I wished Susan were here. I wished I weren't. I sat on the other bed in the room, both feet on the floor, ready to jump if she came for me, and watched her.

The window got gray and then pink. The bird sounds increased, some trucks drove by somewhere outside, not many, and not often. The sun was up. In the other half of the duplex, water ran. Kathie stopped wrenching herself around. I heard Hawk get up next door and the shower start. Kathie's breathing was quiet. I got up and went to my suitcase and took out one of my s.h.i.+rts and handed it to her. ”Here,” I said. ”I don't have a robe, but this might do. Later we'll buy you some clothes.”

”Why,” she said. Her voice was normal now but flat, and very soft.

”Because you need some. You've been wearing that dress for a couple of days now.”

”I mean why didn't you take me?”

”I'm sort of spoken for,” I said.

”You don't want me.”

”Part of me does, I was jumping out of my skin. But it's not my style. It has to do with love. And, ah, your, your approach wasn't quite right.”

”You think I'm corrupt.”

”I think you're neurotic.”

”You f.u.c.king pig.”

”That approach doesn't do it either,” I said. ”Though Lots of people have used it on me.”

She was quiet, but a pink flush smudged across each cheekbone.

The shower stopped and I heard Hawk walk back to the bedroom.

”I guess I'll shower now,” I said. ”You ought to be out of here and wearing something when I'm through. Then we'll all have a nice breakfast and plan our day.”

22.

My s.h.i.+rt reached nearly to Kathie's knees and she ate breakfast in it, silently, perched on a stool at the counter with her knees together. Hawk sat across the counter, splendid in a bell-sleeved white s.h.i.+rt. He was wearing a gold earring in his right ear, and a thin gold chain tight around his neck. The Bouchers had left some eggs and some white bread. I steam-fried the eggs with a small splash of white wine, and served the toast with apple b.u.t.ter.

Hawk ate with pleasure, his movements exact and sure, like a surgeon, or at least as I hoped a surgeon's would be. Kathie ate without appet.i.te but neatly, leaving most of the eggs and half the toast on her plate.

I said, ”There's some kind of clothing store down Boulevard St. Laurent. I saw it when we came up last night. Hawk, why don't you take Kathie down there and get her some clothes?”

”Maybe she rather go with you, babe.”