3 Three oclock In The Afternoon (2/2)

He bent over the glass to smell it. ”Maybe.”

She pointed to the third. ”Cat piss, like from a really angry cat.”

Donovan laughed. ”What do the others smell like?” he asked.

”Dried blood,” Gemma said. ”And that powder you use to clean the carpet. Carpet cleaner.”

”Which one d'you like the best?”

”The dried blood,” she said, picking up the glass and tasting it again. ”Tell me what it's called again.”

”That's the Maker's Mark.” Larry cleared the glasses.

”Oh, and I forgot to mention: a woman was asking about you earlier. Or maybe not you. She might have been confused.”

”What woman?”

”A Mexican lady. Speaking Spanish. She asked about a white American girl with short blond hair, traveling alone,” said Larry. ”She said freckles.” He touched his face. ”On each side of the face.”

”What did you say to her?”

”I said it's a big resort. Lots of Americans. I don't know who's staying alone and who's not.”

”I'm not American,” said Gemma.

”I know. So I told her I hadn't seen anyone like that at the resort.”

”That's what you said?”

”Yeah.”

”That's exactly what you said?”

”Yes ma'am.”

”But you still thought of me.”

He looked at Gemma for a long minute. ”I did think of you,” he said finally. ”I'm not stupid, Ms. Williams.”