Whirling away, Susan rushes to a window. She hammers it with the revolver. The glass bursts. She grabs a long, jagged shard. 'Stay back! I'll kill you!'
Schreck laughs with disdain as he approaches, 'If you're so fond of glass, perhaps you would like to eat some. I can arrange that. I can arrange many delights featuring glass.'
With both hands, she suddenly presses the shard to her throat and tugs it sideways, ripping a deep gash across her skin.
Schreck steps closer. Her blood sprays his face and robe, 'I had such plans for you.'
He stomps his foot, splashing blood.
'You spoiled them!'
He raises the switch.
Before he has a chance to strike, Susan drops to her knees. Schreck steps out of the way as she falls forward. Her face thuds on the floor.
THE END
CHAPTER TEN
On Friday, Connie waited in agony for Dal to come home from work. She had wanted to tell him before, but couldn't. Now, time was running out.
No more delays.
God, if only there was some way out of it!
Finally, the front door opened.
She went to Dal. 'How was your day?' she asked.
'Not bad, not bad.' He tossed his sport coat onto the couch and turned to her, expecting a kiss.
She kissed him quickly.
'How'd you do today?' he asked.
'Not as well as I'd like.' Her writing had gone badly because of her worries. Rather than let the day go to waste, she spent most of her time typing without trying to force herself to concentrate.
She followed Dal into the kitchen. He mixed a batch of martinis for himself. While he worked on that, Connie made a vodka gimlet. 'Want some potato chips?' she asked.
'Sure. What's for dinner?'
It's coming!
She breathed deeply. She felt numb, 'I thawed out a steak for you.'
'Yeah? What are you having?'
'I'm… going out for dinner.'
Dal looked confused.
'I have a date,' she explained.
His face went red. 'A date?'
'I'm sorry, Dal. I meant to bring it up earlier…'
'With a man?'
She nodded.
'What are you talking about?'
'I met him Wednesday. At the library. He asked me to have dinner with him tonight.'
'Well Jesus Christ!'
'I'm sorry, Dal.'
'What am I supposed to do?'
'Have the steak.'
'Oh, that's what I need, funny answers. You think this is funny?'
'Not at all.'
'Boy, I thought… Never mind. Jesus! Well, go out and have a ball. Want to bring him back here, later, for a little slap 'n tickle?'
'Dal, please.'
'It's a little short notice for an eviction, don't you think?'
'You don't have to go.'
'But it'd be nice if I would.'
'I didn't say that.'
'Well just exactly what are you saying?'
'I don't know. It's just a date, Dal.'
'Yeah, my ass.' He turned away.
'Dal!'
Ignoring her, he picked up the martini pitcher and left the kitchen. She followed him into the living-room. He opened the front door.
'Dal, don't run off.'
He glanced back at her. 'Have a ball,' he said.
'Where are you going? Dal!'
He stepped outside, and jerked the door shut.
Connie felt the impact of its slam.
***
The door opened. Elizabeth looked up at him with deep, green eyes, and smiled.
'Martinis, anyone?' asked Dal.
She pulled the glass pitcher down to her lips, and sipped.
'Mmmm. We must have olives, though. Come along. Herbert's out by the pool. Why don't you join him? I'll get glasses and olives.'
He watched her walk toward the kitchen. Her feet were bare. He could see through the thin, white fabric of her caftan. She wore nothing under it. For a moment, he considered following her into the kitchen, raising the caftan above her waist, and stroking the firm smooth curves of her buttocks.
But she had asked him to join Herbert at the pool. Best do as she asked. Plenty of time, later on, for the other.
He went out to the pool. Herbert's wheelchair faced the table, almost as if it hadn't been moved since Wednesday. He wore a different shirt, though. A bright red. flowered shirt. It made him look like a Hawaii vacationer.
A withered, paralyzed tourist. More corpse than man.
Dal turned away from the staring eyes. The pool was still in sunlight. He thought back to Wednesday, and the slick feel of Elizabeth 's skin as they grappled under water.
'Having a nice chat?' she asked, coming out with a tray. On the tray were two long-stemmed glasses, a jar of green olives, and a cheese board with Brie and crackers. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she walked. Their tips were dark through the fabric. She sat down beside Herbert.
'So,' she said, 'how did you slip away from Connie?'
'We had a little quarrel.'
'How clever. You picked a fight, and walked off in a huff.'
'Something like that.'
'Nothing too drastic, I hope. You didn't tell her about us?'
'No.'
'That's fortunate. You wouldn't want to spoil such a fine opportunity.' She plucked olives from the jar, and dropped them into the empty glasses.
Dal poured the martinis.
They picked up the glasses.
'To you and Connie,' said Elizabeth.
'Why should we drink to that?'
'Because you're going to marry her, of course.'
'I am?'
'Certainly.'
'You're joking.'
'My dear, I have expensive tastes, you would be completely incapable of satisfying on the meager salary of a sales clerk. If you're interested in pursuing this relationship, you simply must be able to afford me.'
'But you're rich.'
'Herbert is. I'll be rich when, alas, he passes on. That, however, doesn't relieve you from the necessity of seeing to my needs, once we're together.'
'But marrying Connie… Her money wouldn't be mine.'
'Half of it would, I believe. Think it over.' She again raised her glass. 'To you and Connie, and wealth.'
'I don't know…'
'You want me, don't you?'
'More than anything.'
'In that case, your decision shouldn't be difficult.'
Dal hesitated, then clicked his glass against Elizabeth 's. They drank.
***
'So, how did you get to be a private eye?' Connie asked.
'I started out with the L.A.P.D.'
'I should've guessed.'
'How's that?' Pete, across the table from her at Victoria Station, grinned as he sliced into his prime rib.
'Oh, you all have that clean-cut, Steve Garvey look.'
'Just like Reed and Molloy.' He took a bite of beef. 'When did you leave the force?'
He chewed for a moment, and started to answer.
'I can't hear you,' Connie said. 'If you talk and chew at the same time, it comes out gobble-dee-gook.'
Pete laughed. After swallowing, he said, 'How's this?'
'Just fine. I'll eat while you talk.'
'Thanks!'
'So, how come you left the police?'
'We had a disagreement. Well, no, not really. My beef wasn't with the department. More with the public. We'd been under a lot of pressure about officer-involved shootings. This was a couple of years ago. I was cruising along Sunset, one fine night, and saw this black woman running up the middle of the street with a knife. She was chasing a kid. My first thought was that the kid had snatched her purse, or something. But he came right to my car, yelling for help. I got out, and the kid sort of ducked behind me. "She crazy, man," he says. And the gal is yelling too, about cutting off the kid's private parts. I'm between the gal and the kid, though, and she keeps coming. She doesn't obey
my command to stop. It's this wicked-looking hunting knife, you see. So I draw down on her, and she ignores it and keeps coming, and I'm thinking about all the heavy times I'll get from the bleeding hearts if 1 drop this gal. I mean, she's black, she's female, and she's unarmed except for a harmless little knife. So I hold off firing. And in the meantime, she throws the knife. I dodge it, and it kills the kid. The kid, it turns out, is her homosexual son.'
'You're the one,' Connie said.
'I'm him.'
'You cuffed the gal to the body-'
'Yeah.' He grinned. 'I cuffed both her hands to both the dead guy's hands, and walked away.'
'I wondered what kind of a man would do that.'
'Now you know. Here he is, Dirty Pete in the flesh.'
'Pleased to meet you, Dirty Pete.' She reached a hand over the table and shook his. 'Better eat, now, before your dinner gets cold.'
'Okay. I'll eat and you do the talking. How did you get to be an author?'
'It all began with a rotten social life.'
***
'It's quite simple, really,' said Elizabeth. 'Haven't you ever proposed before?'
'No.'
'That surprises me, I must say. You seem so impulsive. Be a dear, and push me off.'
Her air mattress had drifted, foot first, against a side of the pool.
Dal, sitting on the end of the diving board, got to. his feet. He turned around carefully, and walked, the board springy under his feet. He climbed down. The concrete was still warm, though the sun no longer hit it. He liked the feel of the breeze.
And he liked what it did to Elizabeth. It was the breeze, he assumed, that made her nipples stand rigid.
He glanced at the martini glass she balanced on her belly. 'Would you like a refill, while you're beached?'
'I would adore one.' She lifted the glass, tipped it to her mouth, and sucked in the olive.
Dal pulled her mattress alongside the wall, and took the glass from her. He retrieved his glass from the end of the diving board, and carried them to the table. 'Fix you one, Herbie?' he asked.
He smiled, realizing that the man's silent presence no longer unnerved him.
'Herbie,' he said, 'you're a good fellow.'
'He was never that,' Elizabeth called.
Dal finished pouring the drinks. He returned to the pool. He climbed down the tile steps at the shallow end, and waded out to Elizabeth.
He placed the glass on her belly. 'Thank you, dear,' she said. 'Think little of it.'
'Now. pretend I'm Connie.'
'Why'd I do that?'
'You're going to propose to me.'
'Huh?'
'You said you've never proposed before. Here's your chance.'
'Oh, I don't know.'
Elizabeth raised her head slightly off the inflated pillow, sipped her martini without spilling, and rested the glass on her belly. 'You start by taking her to a nice restaurant. Have a few drinks.'
'Ply her with liquor.'
'Precisely. Have a marvelous meal. Lobster, perhaps.'
'I can't eat seafood.'
'Then steak. Chateaubriant would do nicely. When you're done, order after-dinner drinks. Cognac- '
'Connie likes Irish Coffee.'
'Fine. Have that. And now, it's time. You're both full, slightly high, and happy.'
'Okay.'
'I'm Connie.'
She started to drift away. Dal caught her by the foot, and pulled her back to him. 'Connie, I want to marry you.'
'Marry me? Oh, Dal! Are you sure? Why would you want to marry someone like me?'
' 'Cause Elizabeth told me to.'
'That won't do at all.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They stepped out of the restaurant. 'That was very nice,' Connie said. 'Thank you.' She took Pete's hand.
'The night's young. Anything special you'd like to do?'
'Yes, as a matter of fact.'
'Shoot.'
'Let's go to a movie.'
'A movie.' He looked at her, grinning, as if he thought it a fine, rather childlike idea. 'Anything in particular?'
She shrugged. 'I don't care. Just so it's dark.'
'Do you like scary films?'
'Do you?'
'They're my favorite. I know just the place. I don't know what's playing there tonight, but it'll probably be good.'
'Bet I can guess. The Haunted Palace.'
'You've been there?'
'Not since it changed hands. It used to be the Elsinore.'
'It's a far cry from that, now.'
***
In the darkness of the car, they didn't try to talk.
Connie fastened her seatbelt. She thought it would be nice to open it. and scoot across the seat, and snuggle with Pete. She hadn't done anything like that in years. Tonight, though, she felt as eager and daring and uncertain as a teenager. She hesitated. Pete might think she was acting silly, or possessive.
On the other hand, she felt so far away from him, strapped into the seat way over on this side of the car.
With a trembling hand, she unfastened the safety harness. Pete looked at her, and smiled. She slid across the seat. He put an arm around her. Connie snuggled against him, and rested a hand on his thigh.
A block from the Haunted Palace, Pete eased his car to the curb. They walked to the theater, holding hands.
***
On the marquee, Connie saw that Dracula, Down Under was showing with The Town that Dreaded Sundown.
The girl in the ticket window smiled at Pete. 'How are you, tonight?' she asked.
'Not bad. I see you haven't found a new hairdresser.' He handed her the money.
'The Town that Dreaded Sundown is just starting,' she said. 'Too bad you didn't get here half an hour sooner. You missed tonight's Schreck.'
'He's a little tacky for my taste.'
The girl laughed. 'Oh, you'd have loved this one, Schreck the Inquisitor.'
'Sounds charming.'
***
Inside, Pete gave the tickets to a fat man in bloody clothes.
'Evening, Bruno.'
Bruno growled through the nylon stocking he wore over his face.
'Do you hang out here?' Connie asked.
'Only been here once,' Pete said. 'Last week.'
'It is a little tacky.'
'So are most of the movies. Fun, though.'
'Yeah. Like a carnival.'
'Popcorn?'
'I couldn't eat a thing, at the moment. Maybe a drink, though.'
The auditorium of the theater was just as Connie remembered it: the castle walls, the battlements and turrets, the ceiling like a starlit sky.
She had spent a lot of time in movie theaters, after the Tucson incident. Too much time. First in Tucson, then in Los Angeles.
Hardly a day passed that she didn't find herself alone in a dark theater, eating popcorn and hot dogs and Good 'n Plenty, staring at a screen where silent people struggled through tragedy, fought to survive, laughed, and fell in love.
She went to the movies, though she knew she shouldn't. She should be writing more pages than the two or three she managed daily. She should be reading. Most of all, she should be out in the world, doing something, meeting people, not hiding in the darkness of a movie house.
One day, two years ago, she went to a noon showing of The Island. When it was over, she stayed in her seat and watched Jaws II, though she had seen it before. When that ended, she went out to the lobby to leave. Beyond the glass doors, the afternoon looked sunny. A young couple strolled by, holding hands and happy.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes filled with tears.
After buying a Pepsi and a fresh bucket of popcorn, she returned to her seat. She watched The Island again. She watched Jaws II again. When The Island started for a third time, she stayed in her seat.
She felt sick with herself. Cowardly and self-destructive. But she couldn't force herself to walk out.
Finally, a man sat down beside her. He smelled strongly of sweat and onio
ns. He put a hand on her knee.
She was wearing a skirt.
The hand moved under its hem.
She lifted the hand. The man smiled at her. His lips moved, blowing stench into her face.
She broke his forefinger, and walked out of the theater.
The next day, she didn't go to a movie. Nor the next day. She was certain, if she went back even once, she would fall again into the pattern. She was like an alcoholic, afraid to take a single drink because it would lead to another and another.
She read voraciously.
She finished her novel, Bayou Bride, in three months.
She took a course in self-defense from a tough, scarred ex-Marine who claimed to be a mercenary-and proved it to Connie's satisfaction by disappearing one day. She assumed he'd gone to Rhodesia. She never saw him again.
One of the men in the class dated her, and she found that she could go to movies safely as long as she didn't go alone.
Then she met Dal. He took her often. He knew how she loved movies, though she never told him about her bad years as an addict.
It was really mean of him, leaving her home last week when… She didn't want to think about Dal.
Not tonight.
She could worry about him later-how to tell him…
She took Pete's hand, and didn't let go.
***
When The Town that Dreaded Sundown ended, the lights came on.
'How'd you like it?' Pete asked.
'I'll probably have nightmares.'
He smiled. 'You up for another one?'
She glanced at the clock. Nearly eleven. Dal was probably back at the apartment, waiting for her. She didn't want to face him. She wanted to stay here with Pete, holding his hand, and never leave.
'Sure, let's stay,' she said.
'Ready for some popcorn now?'
'That'd be great.'
***
Dracula, Down Under began soon after Pete's return.
It was an Italian film about a vampire among the Australian aborigines.
'Oh no,' Connie said.
Pete looked at her.
She shook her head. 'Nothing,' she whispered, and took a handful of popcorn from the tub on his lap.
It was enough, being with him.