Melvin’s phone rang three times before he picked up.
“Who’s this?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Who the hell is this?”
She pressed a hand to her pounding chest and said, “Vicki.”
“Vicki? Hi!”
“Melvin, I called to apologize. I…” She sucked a shaky breath into her lungs. “I’m sorry about the way I behaved this morning. I was tired and upset, but I shouldn’t have…”
“No sweat. Honest.”
“Well, I’d feel better if you’d let me make it up to you. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? My treat. I was thinking about the Fireside Chalet.”
“Yeah? Just you and me?”
“Just you and me.”
“Great. Uh…what time you want me to pick you up?”
She’d planned for that one, and had a story ready. “I need to run over to Blayton Memorial this afternoon, so…”
“Want a lift?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ve got Ace’s car. It’d be a lot more convenient for me if I just meet you at the restaurant.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That way, I can just stop in on the way back from the hospital.”
“Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”
“So why don’t we meet at the restaurant at about six o’clock? Is six all right for you?”
“Sure. Great. I’ll get dressed up real nice for you.”
“Me, too. See you then, Melvin.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
She hung up. Her heart was racing. Tilting back her chair, she folded her hands behind her head and took slow, deep breaths. I did it, she thought. I actually did it. I’m committed now. I should be committed. To an asylum.
But if it works, I’ll be rid of him. Maybe for good.
When her calm returned, she looked up Jack’s name in the directory. She found two numbers, one for his rooms and one for his office. She dialed the office.
After the second ring, a woman answered the phone. “Good afternoon, Law Offices of Jack Randolph.”
“Is Mr. Randolph in?”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Vicki Chandler.”
“Just a moment, please.”
Seconds later, Jack said, “Hi. How’s it going?”
The sound of his voice suddenly made her feel a lot better. “Not as bad as I expected. Thelma canceled most of the appointments, so it’s nothing I can’t handle. The thing is, I’ll have to be a little late tonight. I should be able to make it over by about nine, if that’s all right.”
“I guess I can live with that,” he said. “We’ll eat fashionably late.”
“I’ll have to eat before I come over. I’ve got a dinner engagement.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“It’s nothing. I just…have to do it. I’ll explain when I see you.”
“You don’t have to explain anything, Vicki.”
“Don’t worry, I will. It should be interesting. If I survive.”
“Now I am worried.”
“It just won’t be any fun, that’s all. I’m not exactly looking forward to it. But we’ll be in a public place, and I’m driving myself, so nothing’s going to happen.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”
“Vicki.”
“I really can’t go into it right now. It’s a long story, and I’ve got a couple of patients waiting. I’ll see you at nine, okay? Earlier if possible.”
“Well…Fine. See you then.”
“Bye, Jack.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Melvin’s heart quickened when he spotted the red Mustang in the parking area alongside the Fireside Chalet.
Vicki had actually come.
All afternoon, he’d wondered about the invitation. Was it for real? Maybe it was just a dirty joke. In school, he’d been the butt of plenty. Darlene Morgan herself had asked him to be her date for the junior prom. But that was right after the movie Carrie played for two weeks at the Palace Theatre, so Melvin didn’t fall for it. There on the phone, right in front of his mother, he told Darlene to eat shit. And always wondered, afterward, if the bitch really would’ve gone through with the date.
But Vicki was here. She really intended to have dinner with him.
It seemed so incredible.
I knew it would happen, he told himself as he swung into the parking lot.
But not this soon.
Or ever, really.
He realized this was like his experiments. He had known he would succeed, but deep inside he’d expected failure. Which made the success all the more sweet.
She knows I killed Pollock for her. That’s why she’s doing this. It’s her way of thanking me.
Unless she wants to get me for it.
Either way, I better not tell her the truth.
He pulled into a space two cars away from Ace’s Mustang, and climbed out. He’d been sweating, even in his airconditioned car. Now, the heat seemed to bake him. His face dripped. Trickles of sweat slid down the nape of his neck and soaked his tight collar. Beneath his sport coat, his shirt was plastered to his back and sides. His underwear was stuck to his rump.
He wanted to look good for her, not like a sweaty pig.
When he opened the restaurant door, cool air rushed out against him. He entered the dimly lighted foyer. Ahead, a gal in old-fashioned clothes stood behind something that looked like a speaker’s stand. She was busy talking on the telephone. Looking around, Melvin noticed a sign that read “Restroom” over the entrance to a recessed area. He hurried that way, and pushed through the door marked “Gentlemen.”
Instead of towels, it had blowers. He hated those things. Stepping into a stall, he used toilet paper to dry himself. Then, he went to a sink and checked himself in the mirror. He thought he was fine except for his necktie being crooked.
Until now, he hadn’t been able to see how he looked in his jacket and tie. To keep Patricia from being upset—she would’ve thrown a fit if she knew he was having dinner with Vicki—he’d told her that he needed to work at the station tonight. He’d carried his good clothes out to the car earlier, while she was watching television. When he kissed her goodnight and left the house, he was wearing his greasy coveralls. Alone in the garage, he stripped and dressed himself for dinner.
Melvin straightened his tie. He ran a comb through his slicked-down hair, gave himself a wink, and left the restroom.
He walked up to the girl behind the lighted stand. She was a slender brunette, a few years younger than Melvin, and pretty in spite of the expression on her face. She looked at him the way she might look at a pubic hair floating in her soup. “I’m supposed to be eating with Dr. Vicki Chandler,” he said. “She here?”
“This way.”
He followed her. She walked fast as if trying to get away from him.
The bitch.
He wondered how she’d enjoy having cellophane wrapped around her face.
Then, he saw Vicki. She was seated in a high-backed booth along the wall. She smiled up at him, blushing. He sat across the table from her.
To Melvin, she always looked beautiful. Tonight, however, she was more stunning than he had ever seen her. Her golden hair seemed to float around her face. Her eyes were as blue as the sky on a cloudless summer morning. She wore a single thin gold chain around her neck. Her pale blue blouse, gleaming like silk, was open wide at the throat, open all the way down to a button just lower than her breasts. Between the folds, he could see the shadowed slope of her left breast.
“You look very nice this evening, Melvin,” she said.
“You too. You look great. Gosh.”
“Thank you.” She lifted a half-empty glass and took a drink. When she set it down, a few grains of salt speckled her lower lip. She curled her lip in over her teeth and licked the salt off. “Would you like something from the bar?” she asked. “I’m having a margarita.”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“I got here a little early,” she said.
“Figured you’d better get a drink in quick before I showed up?”
“Don’t be silly.”
A waiter stepped up to the table. Melvin was glad it wasn’t the bitch, but he didn’t look at the man’s face. Instead, he watched Vicki smile up at him and say, “We’ll have two margaritas.”
When the waiter was gone, he said, “I bet he wonders what you’re doing with a guy like me.”
“You shouldn’t put yourself down all the time, Melvin.”
“Beauty and the beast.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were a beast.”
“How come you are here?”
Her head tilted slightly to one side. “Because I want to be. I think…I haven’t been very nice to you.”
“You been okay. You been fine.”
One shoulder shrugged a fraction. Her blouse, Melvin noticed, didn’t cling smoothly to it. As if she wore a pad of some kind between the shiny fabric and her skin. Some kind of a female underthing, he supposed. But the other shoulder didn’t seem to have it.
“To be honest,” she said, “I really was a little frightened of you, at first. The night I came into town, for instance. I mean, the last time I’d seen you was the Science Fair and that pretty much freaked me out.”
“Freaked everyone out,” he said.
“But I’m not frightened of you, anymore. Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I’ve seen that you’re sensitive and thoughtful.” Smiling, she shook her head. “Nobody ever gave me a car before.”
“You made me take it back.”
“But the thought was very generous. And I can understand how…It seems like everybody’s always dumped on you. So it makes sense if you might feel the only way to gain affection is by giving things to people.”
She does understand, Melvin thought. He felt a tightness in his throat.
“You don’t have to give me gifts, though. I like you for who you are, not for what you give me.”
“That’s…real nice.”
The waiter arrived with the drinks. He set them on the table, a small napkin under each glass. “Would you like to enjoy your drinks for a few minutes,” he asked, “before I bring the menus?”
“I think we’d like to see them now,” Vicki said. She smiled at Melvin. “I’m starving, how about you?”
He nodded.
Maybe she’s starving, he thought. Or maybe she just wants to hurry things up and get finished and get away from me.
If that’s it, why’s she here at all?
The waiter handed a menu to Vicki, then gave one to Melvin. “Would you like a few minutes to look them over?” he asked.
“A couple of minutes,” Vicki said.
He went away.
Vicki didn’t open her menu. She set it aside. So maybe she’s not in a big hot rush, Melvin told himself as he set his own menu down.
She lifted her margarita toward him. Her hand wasn’t steady. The surface of the drink trembled. “To knights in shining armor and damsels in distress.”
Didn’t Pollock say something about knights when we were at the Riverfront?
That’s what she’s getting at, Melvin thought. She’s toasting me for nailing the bastard.
He clinked his glass against Vicki’s, and took a sip through the grainy salt on its rim.
“Do you like it?” she asked. “The drink?”
“It’s a little like lemonade.”
“It’s strong, though. It has tequila and Triple Sec.”
He nodded as if he knew that.
“Well,” she said, “shall we see what they’ve got?”
They studied their menus. The prices stunned Melvin. He had never eaten at a restaurant this nice, and never imagined that the food could cost so much. The price of the top sirloin was almost ten times the amount he spent for one at the grocery.
She can afford it, he told himself. She owns the whole clinic now. Thanks to me.
Still, the prices made him feel uneasy.
Maybe I’ll pay for us, he thought. That’d make it all right. She said this was her treat, though. It might be rude if I try to pay.
“Their steaks are very good here,” Vicki said.
“Is that what you’re having?”
“I think I’ll have the prawns.”
The prawns, he saw, were less expensive. “Go on ahead and have a steak,” he said, keeping the menu in front of his face so she couldn’t see him blush. “It’s on me.”
“Melvin, no. I’m paying. I insist.”
“Hey, I got money I don’t know what to do with.”
Her fingertips suddenly curled over the top of his menu and eased it down. She looked him in the eyes. His embarrassment fled as he felt a soft warm glow spread through him. “My treat,” she whispered.
“But if you want a steak…”
“I don’t even want to look at one.” She drew her arm back slowly. In the dim light, it was dusky and sleek. “I want prawns. You may have whatever you wish. Have steak and lobster, if you like. Don’t think about the cost.”
“Okay. I just wanted to…”
She touched a finger to her lips. “You’ve given me so much already.”
“You made me take the car back.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, “and you know it.”
The waiter stepped up to the table. “Are you ready to order, now?”
“I think so,” Vicki said. She glanced at Melvin. “Have you decided?”
He nodded. He hadn’t decided. He raced his eyes down the menu while Vicki talked to the waiter, didn’t know what half the dishes were, didn’t know if he should go ahead and order steak.
“And you, sir?” the waiter asked.
“I’ll have the same as her,” he said, and felt a wonderful sense of relief when the waiter took his menu.
“And bring us a bottle of the Buena Vista Sauvignon Blanc,” Vicki added.
“Very good.” The waiter left.
“We having wine?” Melvin asked.
“Don’t you like it?”
“Sure.” Grinning, he rubbed a hand across his mouth and felt crumbs of salt fall off his lips. “We ain’t careful, we’re gonna get snockered.”
“We’re celebrating,” she said.
She trying to ge me drunk? he wondered. Or trying to get herself drunk?
She was already near the end of her second margarita, and her face had a rosy hue that wasn’t there earlier.
She’s just nervous, he thought. He remembered the way her hand had trembled when they clinked glasses. It’s our first date, she has a right to be nervous. I’m pretty shaky, myself. But if she keeps putting down the booze…
She won’t be in any shape to drive home.
I’ll get her into my car.
Melvin’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard he wondered if she might hear it.
“What’re we celebrating?” he asked.
She finished her margarita, sighed, set down the glass, and licked the salt from her lips. “What’re we celebrating?” she asked, as if questioning herself. She leaned back. She stretched her arms across the top of the booth’s cushion. The movement made her blouse pull slightly against the undersides of her breasts. “Us,” she said. Her voice was soft, solemn. “We’re celebrating us.”
“That’s…real nice.”
“A friend like you is very rare. I know you’re too modest to admit you took care of Pollock. But that’s all right. The thing is, I appreciate it. He was terrible to me, and you made him pay for it. It isn’t just that I’m grateful. I am grateful. But it’s more than that. It’s that you cared so much. You actually risked your life for me. He might’ve killed you, or the cops might’ve got you…” She pressed her lips together. She looked as if she might begin to weep. “I’ve never known anyone so gallant.”
Melvin swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. “I…I’d do anything for you.”
/>
Leaning forward, Vicki reached her hand across the table. Melvin covered it with his hand, felt its gentle squeeze. He saw her look away. She drew her hand back moments before the waiter arrived with salads and a basket of bread.
Damn it! Why’d the bastard have to show up and ruin things?
When he was gone, Vicki stared into Melvin’s eyes for a moment. Then, she began to eat.
Melvin picked at his salad. The white, lumpy dressing had a sour taste. He didn’t like it, but the way he felt, he doubted that he could eat anything right now. His thumping heart made him light-headed. He felt hollow inside, and aching. Pushing the salad aside, he took a drink.
“You don’t like the salad?” Vicki asked.
“The stuff that’s on it.”
“Bleu cheese dressing. It’s my favorite.”
He sipped his margarita and watched her eat. After a few bites of salad, she took a roll from the basket and ate half of it before returning to her salad. She barely spared him a glance as she worked on the food. And she ate so slowly.
Melvin wanted her to rush and get done and talk to him.
She was almost finished when the waiter arrived again. This time, he had the bottle of wine. He showed the label to Vicki, and she nodded. Then he uncorked the bottle. He poured a dab into her glass. She tasted it, said, “Very nice,” and he filled both glasses. He set the bottle on the table.
Then, he was gone.
Vicki ate a big chunk of the bleu cheese. She set her fork down on her salad plate, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and lifted her gaze to Melvin. “I’m sorry you didn’t care for the salad.”
“That’s okay.”
“You should try a roll.”
He shrugged.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“I didn’t upset you, did I? What I said about…my feelings for you.”
“No. Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.”
“You’re not angry, are you?”
“Gosh, no.”
She drank the last of her margarita. “I hope you’re not worried that I might tell. I mean, it’s our secret. I wouldn’t breathe a word about it to anyone, not even to Ace.” Smiling, she shook her head. “No one would believe me, anyway. They’re all certain the nurse did it. Patricia something?”