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I’m on your side.
    Her voice was harsh: "I had some people on my side once, long ago at the time of my trial; a lot of nice, friendly, helpful people. I have them to thank for my conviction. It made me, let’s say, a bit mistrustful of folks claiming to be on my side.” She drew a long breath. “That girl said she was there—they were all there—on account of you.”
    It was an odd way of putting it, but this wasn’t the time to analyze it. I grinned. “That just means you didn’t hit her hard enough, or often enough, sweetheart. It would be interesting to know what other stories she’d have come up with.” I regarded her for a moment, rather grimly. "No matter what anybody said, you don’t really believe I’d send a bunch of creeps to harass you without a word of warning, do you, Madeleine?”
    There was a little silence as we faced each other. I’d forgotten—I’d made myself forget—what a lovely thing she was, if you like your lovely things brave and brainy. At last her glance dropped away from mine. She licked her lips before speaking.
    “I had to be sure. ” Her voice was soft. “The man I knew five years ago was on my side, but you could have changed.”
    “I’m hurt. Whatever happened to faith and trust? Come on, let’s get back inside. . . . No, not you, you big mutt; you stay out here and pretend you’re a savage watchdog.”
    I closed the French doors behind us. Madeleine was busily brushing herself off as if she’d covered several miles of trackless wilderness instead of about twenty yards of fenced yard. She looked down at herself ruefully.
    “Damn, it doesn’t matter how nicely you’re dressed, just one little run in your nylons makes you look as if youd been sleeping in your clothes."
    That was an exaggeration, but the slight damage was a breach in the businesswoman armor, an intriguing hint that severe and untouchable as she looked, she wasn’t completely invulnerable.
    She went on without looking up: ‘ ‘You never came, Matt."
    She licked her lips. "I thought maybe, when you heard about the divorce . . ."
    I cleared my throat. “You picked the other guy, remember? Am I supposed to spend my life chasing after dames who don’t know their own minds? If you wanted me, all you had to do was grab a phone. You knew that.”
    “Yes, I knew. I guess I was . . . just too proud to admit I’d made a terrible mistake.” She looked up at last. ‘‘He was a mouse, darling! A sweet mouse, but still a mouse.”
    “Hell, you knew that when you married him.”
    “I thought you’d come. I told myself, when you learned of the divorce you’d surely come. And then . . . and then I realized at last that I was kidding myself and I’d have to be the one, but I kept waiting. . . . I guess I was waiting for a good excuse. Well, I got it. These Spookies, as you call them. So I came down here and put on my silly act because I’m a proud bitch who has a hell of a time admitting she was wrong. Matt, I—” Then she stopped, and drew a long breath, and asked with sudden anger, “Are you just going to stand there? Well, if you’re too stiff-necked to come six feet to me, after I’ve driven four hundred miles to you, I suppose I can manage to make it the rest of the way!”
    She did.
Chapter 4
    At the last moment before the reaction went critical I closed the drapes and blinds at her request. No neighbors can look into my little rear patio or the bedroom window at the side of the house without doing some tough fence climbing, but I guess she was feeling shy in that respect, although in no other. Later, after a long time had passed—after our breathing had returned almost to normal—she stirred in my arms as we lay on the big bed in the vague, soft daylight that sneaked into the room in spite of the obstacles I’d put in its way. I heard her laugh softly.
    “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I’m so tired of being respectable, darling! I’m so tired of being the smart and well-groomed