crane.
And brought it down to cover mine.
But Bryce here was no idiot.
Sure he'd shake my hand if that was what Perry Heston wanted. But he'd also grind it into a fine white powder in the process.
His hand clamped onto mine.
I winced. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, of course. I didn't want to wince. I wanted to show him that I was just as tough and crafty as he was. But I wasn't. The pain was singular and astonishing. Finally, thank God, he let go.
And it was then Perry Heston produced, as if she were part of a stage magic set-up, a very beautiful dark-haired woman in a starchy white blouse and designer jeans. "This is my wife, Claire."
We shook. I was tempted to regain my masculinity by crushing her hand the way Bryce had crushed mine, but maybe she was stronger than she looked and would embarrass me.
I shouldn't have liked her but I did. Beyond the somewhat mannered country club beauty, there seemed to be an actual human being. There was both pain and odd fleeting humor in her cornflower-blue eyes. In her white blouse and blue jeans and black flats, she possessed a casual elegance I found very feminine and sexy. She wore an air of melancholy like a very expensive and subtly sexual perfume.
"Bryce told me what happened. I'm really sorry." She looked quite embarrassed about it all and glanced at her friend, the blonde, for guidance.
The blonde was six foot and not slender in the way of ideal beauty but there was a peasant grace and sensuality to the Nordic features and short white-blonde hair that suggested intelligence, competence and a merry familiarity with the carnal arts.
"David has been pestering our husbands, I'm afraid," the blonde said and put forth her hand. "I'm Evelyn Cook, Bryce's wife."
And speaking of Rhodes, where was he? I'd tried to keep him in view, to see what he was doing the rest of the night. But now he was gone.
It took me half a minute or so but then I spotted him. He'd found the boss, who was planting a wet kiss on the cheek of an old lady playing one of the slots.
David was animatedly telling his boss something. He touched his stomach and then his throat. Even though I couldn't hear the words, I knew the story: "I'm sick. The flu, maybe. I need to take the rest of the night off."
The boss didn't look happy about it, nor as if he particularly believed it. But he shook his head sorrowfully and then nodded, and shortly afterwards, David left.
I turned back to Perry Heston. "I'm afraid I'm in a little bit of a hurry"
"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about us, Mr.—. Isn't that funny? I don't even know your name."
I told him my name. "I appreciate the apology." I wanted to get out of there before he had Bryce shake my hand again. "Nice to meet you," I said to the women.
"Thank you." Claire smiled, still looking painfully embarrassed. She did not once look at her husband.
I excused myself quickly and left, moving fast through the casino in search of David Rhodes.
I didn't find him.
I wondered what was going on. He didn't want me to know what the parking-lot scene had been all about and neither did Perry Heston.
David was probably going to go somewhere I'd find interesting. I wondered where that would be.
I hurried to the parking lot.
He was just pulling out as I reached it, intense-looking behind the wheel of a rusty five-year-old tan Ford.
He didn't see me.
A minute later, I was in my rental Chevrolet and following him down the two-lane asphalt toward the main highway.
Chapter 7
T here was fog on the highway, twisting smoky serpents that coiled and uncoiled as I followed the narrow curving road toward Cedar Rapids. The rain had stopped. Rhodes was nothing more than tail-lights that occasionally flared when he tamped the brakes.
We drove a long time this way, passing little towns that appeared then vanished in the fog like images out of nightmares. The neon of tumbledown country taverns was comforting now; at least a little bit of humanity had
And brought it down to cover mine.
But Bryce here was no idiot.
Sure he'd shake my hand if that was what Perry Heston wanted. But he'd also grind it into a fine white powder in the process.
His hand clamped onto mine.
I winced. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, of course. I didn't want to wince. I wanted to show him that I was just as tough and crafty as he was. But I wasn't. The pain was singular and astonishing. Finally, thank God, he let go.
And it was then Perry Heston produced, as if she were part of a stage magic set-up, a very beautiful dark-haired woman in a starchy white blouse and designer jeans. "This is my wife, Claire."
We shook. I was tempted to regain my masculinity by crushing her hand the way Bryce had crushed mine, but maybe she was stronger than she looked and would embarrass me.
I shouldn't have liked her but I did. Beyond the somewhat mannered country club beauty, there seemed to be an actual human being. There was both pain and odd fleeting humor in her cornflower-blue eyes. In her white blouse and blue jeans and black flats, she possessed a casual elegance I found very feminine and sexy. She wore an air of melancholy like a very expensive and subtly sexual perfume.
"Bryce told me what happened. I'm really sorry." She looked quite embarrassed about it all and glanced at her friend, the blonde, for guidance.
The blonde was six foot and not slender in the way of ideal beauty but there was a peasant grace and sensuality to the Nordic features and short white-blonde hair that suggested intelligence, competence and a merry familiarity with the carnal arts.
"David has been pestering our husbands, I'm afraid," the blonde said and put forth her hand. "I'm Evelyn Cook, Bryce's wife."
And speaking of Rhodes, where was he? I'd tried to keep him in view, to see what he was doing the rest of the night. But now he was gone.
It took me half a minute or so but then I spotted him. He'd found the boss, who was planting a wet kiss on the cheek of an old lady playing one of the slots.
David was animatedly telling his boss something. He touched his stomach and then his throat. Even though I couldn't hear the words, I knew the story: "I'm sick. The flu, maybe. I need to take the rest of the night off."
The boss didn't look happy about it, nor as if he particularly believed it. But he shook his head sorrowfully and then nodded, and shortly afterwards, David left.
I turned back to Perry Heston. "I'm afraid I'm in a little bit of a hurry"
"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about us, Mr.—. Isn't that funny? I don't even know your name."
I told him my name. "I appreciate the apology." I wanted to get out of there before he had Bryce shake my hand again. "Nice to meet you," I said to the women.
"Thank you." Claire smiled, still looking painfully embarrassed. She did not once look at her husband.
I excused myself quickly and left, moving fast through the casino in search of David Rhodes.
I didn't find him.
I wondered what was going on. He didn't want me to know what the parking-lot scene had been all about and neither did Perry Heston.
David was probably going to go somewhere I'd find interesting. I wondered where that would be.
I hurried to the parking lot.
He was just pulling out as I reached it, intense-looking behind the wheel of a rusty five-year-old tan Ford.
He didn't see me.
A minute later, I was in my rental Chevrolet and following him down the two-lane asphalt toward the main highway.
Chapter 7
T here was fog on the highway, twisting smoky serpents that coiled and uncoiled as I followed the narrow curving road toward Cedar Rapids. The rain had stopped. Rhodes was nothing more than tail-lights that occasionally flared when he tamped the brakes.
We drove a long time this way, passing little towns that appeared then vanished in the fog like images out of nightmares. The neon of tumbledown country taverns was comforting now; at least a little bit of humanity had
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