Jack, won’t you?”
She took an attitude on the couch and patted the place next to her. I said, “Thank you,” and sat down on an easy chair.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said. “Everything go all right?”
“Yes. So far.”
She pulled her shoulders up for a moment, slid her hands up her sleeves, then let her shoulders relax again, soft and casual. I liked that sight so much, I was now very suspicious.
“When’s Walter coming, Jack?”
None of this made very much sense, unless she wanted Lippit to catch me in flagrante delieto so to speak. Not that I knew what the term really meant, except that it was something no good, and Pat, with her hands up her sleeves, wasn’t up to any good either.
“You look extremely sleepy, dear Pat. Really. You should go right back to bed.”
“Sure, Jack.”
What a compliant girl, I thought, and so suddenly. Except that I didn’t know what she was compliant about. Lippit, I hoped, would be here any minute.
She leaned forward and got a cigarette out of the crystal thing on the table and then she closed her robe again. “Was nice before, wasn’t it?” she said.
“Oh yes. You want a light?”
“Please.”
I had to come around the coffee table and unless I wanted to stand there like a jackknife and look down where her robe didn’t make it and she was holding it closed just under the breasts so that they curved in the damnedest half-naked way—I sat down on the couch and held the lit match up between us.
She made no fuss about lighting up and got it on the first drag. I think she wanted to talk.
“I want you to know that I had a very good time on this couch here,” she said, “and I want you to know that doesn’t mean a damn thing for the future, Jack.”
It was a fine time to make this point, the way she was sitting there.
“Really, Pat,” I said. “I wouldn’t presume.”
“When you get formal like that,” she said, “I know you’re lying.”
“I’m under a strain, is all.”
She liked that and shifted a little, just to show how live everything was and how real. Then she laughed.
“I love seeing you strained like that. It shows how you’re loyal to Walter, how you’re devoted to me….”
“That’s not the word, Patty. Devoted isn’t the word.”
“….and how you’re not at all flip and distracted.”
“You want a drink? I’m going to get me a drink.”
“No. I’m going to bed soon, Jack.”
“That’s right. Yes.”
“And with all those qualities,” she went right on, “I understand how you and Walter are making out so well.”
“Yes, Patty.”
“And have a lot in common.”
I almost said, “Like whom?” but I said, “Like what?”
“Business. Because you’re in business together.”
“Of course we’re in business together.”
“Really, Jack,” she said, “don’t be so nervous,” and she folded her robe across in front and held it that way.
Then she put her cigarette out and kept holding the robe while she leaned over the table. She looked serious and off-handed all at the same time.
“I just thought about it,” she said, “because of what you mentioned.”
I had no idea what I had mentioned and was getting nervous about it. When she explained herself, it didn’t make me feel any better.
“I’ll just have to ask him about it,” she said, “Walter, I mean. Because he never said anything about Blue Beat before.” She looked at me with no guile whatsoever, or with none of it showing. “Because he does talk to me about things which have to do with his business.”
I sighed and said, “Yes. With me too,” and wished he was here to talk business. About mayhem, extortion, gang war, and beatings. Anything like that.
“And of course he knows about my singing career, it goes without saying, and what it needs to get helped along. So it’s strange he never said anything about Blue Beat, don’t you think?” Then she looked at me and said it again. “Don’t you think,