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(the ones Rick had given me), his mien grew darker. Dismay must have shown on my face, for
he made an effort and said charmingly, “You look
very nice this evening.”

    “Thank you,” I said warily.
    “I thought we might have dinner here, in the
hotel.” He seemed uneasy.
    “Fine.”
    “Good. Shall we go up?”
    I nodded and we left. It was odd, walking with
Charles. We said the usual commonplace things,
but we seemed more like strangers who are forced
to spend an hour or two together than a man and
woman on a date. The elevator girl regarded us
with frank surprise, and the waiter seemed to have
a hint of contempt in his smile. But perhaps I was
merely oversensitive.
    After we ordered, Charles folded the menus as
my glance rested on his left hand. “I’m single!” His
voice cut across my thoughts curtly. “Don’t tell me
it just occurred to you to wonder?”
    I stared at Charles, appalled by the sarcasm in
his voice. “No, I didn’t think to look before,” I said
quietly, “but then, since I hardly consider you as a
potential boyfriend, that’s not surprising, is it?”
    Charles said, just as softly, “Oh! Then why
accept my dinner invitation?”
    “Why not?” I countered. “You’re an American.
I’m an American. You’re reasonably interesting,
so why not? I would if you were a woman. Should
your sex make such a difference? I hardly thought
you were under the impression that I was madly in
love with you.”
    His eyes met mine and I tilted up my chin. After
a moment, he sighed. “Of course not. I’m well aware of why you accepted. In fact, I’m waiting for
you to ask about my work.”

    I felt myself go white, then red. Stammering, I
said, “Charles, I-maybe we’d better forget it.
Dinner, I mean. Your guess is close enough, and
I’m sorry. It’s not fair. To you or me.”
    He sighed again. “Ellen, I knew it when I asked
you. And I still asked you. As a matter of fact, I’d
like to talk with you later about Rick.”
    So I stayed. It was the strangest meal I’ve ever
eaten. Charles tried to be pleasant and, had
circumstances been different, the evening might
have been a happy one. Finally, over coffee,
Charles leaned back and said, “Now, I’ll tell you
about Rick. I suggest you hear me out and then
register any protest or ask any questions that you
have.”
    I nodded and he went on. “As Rick perhaps told
you, I was called down to investigate problems at
our company’s new computer division here in
Mexico City. What I am sure he did not tell you is
that I was also sent down because the Mexican
police had instituted inquiries about one of our
employees. Inquiries involving smuggling. The
employee was your boyfriend, Rick. This morning, I was informed the investigation had reached a
climax. If all went as expected, Rick was arrested
an hour ago. And you can expect to be questioned
this evening. I suspect your luggage has already
been searched.”
    Stunned, I blurted out, “Me! Why?”
    “Because you were present Friday at the latest
transfer of goods.”
    I just stared at him. My voice, when I spoke, was hollow. “What what are you talking about?”

    Charles’s voice was weary. “At Teotihuacan. I
presume you will agree you were there? Friday?”
    “Yes.”
    “The transfer took place then.”
    “Why are you telling me this?” I asked softly.
    “Because I’m gambling you weren’t really
involved. And because the Mexican police can
be… difficult.”
    “I see.”
    But I didn’t. I couldn’t believe Rick was
involved. Surely, there was a mistake. And yet.
And yet, images of Friday kept filling my head.
Rick disappearing. My waiting for him. The boy
assuring me Rick would be back soon. “How do
you know all this?” I demanded, turning on
Charles.
    He merely looked at me steadily. I started to ask
more, but a message was then handed to Charles
by the waiter. He glanced at it briefly and asked the
waiter for the