‘What’s that about?’ Dylan asked.
‘It’s why I’m here. I think it’s a warning to leave her alone.’ I looked at the girl behind the counter. ‘The chambermaids didn’t find a body in her room, did they?’
She stared at me as if I was the crazy one. ‘No, Mr Blackstone,’ she murmured uncertainly.
‘That makes a change,’ I told her.
‘Another cold trail,’ said Mike, grimly.
‘Not necessarily.’
I walked through a door to the left of the desk, back out on to the street. What passed for a doorman was on duty there, a guy with a West Indian look, wearing a long jacket and a leather pork-pie hat. ‘Were you here at noon?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, mon,’ he drawled, confirming my guess about his origins.
‘A woman left here then; striking, tall, with long dark hair.’
‘I remember the lady. I got her a cab.’
I gave him twenty bucks, up front: I didn’t want him making up a story just to get his hands on it. ‘Do you remember where she went?’
‘Sure, mon. She asked for Penn Station, that’s Thirty-third and Seventh.’
I slipped him another twenty. ‘Thanks, mate.’ He’d told me where she was going.
40
Dylan ducked out of dinner: he said he was knackered, but I wasn’t sure. I reckon he’d been at enough tables with Prim and me.
I told him that if he wanted to be part of the continuing adventure, he should meet me at the Algonquin at ten thirty next morning, with an overnight bag as we’d be going on a trip for a day or two.
‘In at the death, eh?’ He grinned. ‘You don’t think I’d miss that, do you? Make it eleven thirty, though. I’m not an early riser these days.’
‘Me too,’ Prim piped up. ‘I’m coming.’
‘I know you are,’ I told her. ‘You might have a part to play in this unfolding drama.’
Dylan headed for the subway, while my good buddy on the door got Prim and me a cab. We went back to the hotel and to the Round Table restaurant. The Oak Room had been our favourite when we had been there before, but there’s no cabaret in July, and that’s why you go there.
We both knew what we wanted without looking at the menu: lump crab cocktail and spring chicken pot pie, with a bottle of Ruffino Pinot Grigio. The waiter gave us a nod of approval, always a good sign. That was how it worked out.
‘Well, Tom’s mum,’ I said, as the last of the chicken disappeared from her plate; Prim could eat for Scotland. ‘How do you feel?’
She looked at me. ‘Now I’m properly back in the world?’ I nodded. ‘Settled,’ she replied. ‘Oddly content. I don’t know what the rest of my life holds for me, but I don’t give a damn because I’ve got my son and I know he’s well loved and looked after even when he’s not with me. There’s more too.’ She laid her hand on mine. ‘The way things are, it keeps me involved in your life. I really hated it when I wasn’t; that’s how I got so bitter and twisted and vengeful. I’m sorry for that, but please, love, don’t shut me out again. You can’t deny it, we share something, you and I. We’ve got a bond. We’re joined in. .’
‘Wickedness,’ I finished it for her. ‘You’re the bad cherub and I’m the devil.’
‘That’s a bit hard on both of us.’
‘If that were only true, baby. Remember that man in Geneva.’
‘That was different: he was trying to kill us.’
‘More fool him, then.’ Our eyes met and we both smiled. . wickedly: we were talking about the death of another human, and grinning.
‘Hold on, though,’ she said, ‘we can’t be all that bad. We made Tom, after all.’
‘That’s true. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on that boy as he grows up.’ I finished the Pinot Grigio.
‘What about you and the girl in Singapore?’ Prim asked suddenly. ‘You were taking a chance, with Mike around.’
‘I didn’t take any chances. Nothing happened. It’s all in Dylan’s lurid imagination. I’m giving Marie a part in the movie of his book.’
‘He said you had her on the casting couch.’
‘He’s dreaming.’
‘You fancied her a bit, though; admit it.’
‘No. I fancied her a lot, but she’s a nice, proper girl and nothing happened.’
‘My God,’ she chuckled, ‘am I listening to Oz Blackstone?’
‘You are now.’
She looked at me for a while. ‘You want to know what I think?’ she whispered, as if someone was eavesdropping, although there were no other occupied tables within earshot.
‘Would it matter if I said no?’
‘Not a bit. I know you love Susie; that’s beyond question. But one of the reasons you do is because she’s safe, sound, solid, loyal and reliable. Did I say safe? Well, I’ll say it again, because that’s what you crave the most these days, safety. But in truth, you’re going against your nature: you might not be the devil, but you’ve got some of him in you. You can act the wholesome home boy all you like, my love, and show the world your funny, user-friendly face, but you can’t hide the other one from me.’
I said nothing as we walked to the lift to go up to our rooms. But I knew full well that she was right. And so I stopped trying.
41
Next morning, after a deli breakfast in the Stage, just along from the Carnegie on Seventh Avenue, we went for a walk in the park; Central Park, that is. The place used to have a bad reputation, and maybe you still shouldn’t venture in too deep after dark, but on a sunny Saturday morning in summer, as Manhattan is rising into wakefulness, it’s an absolutely beautiful place to be.
I looked around, and upwards: it’s important to look up as you walk at the spectacular skyline that surrounds it, a jagged line of buildings like the Essex House, the Plaza Hotel and, most recently, the towers at Columbus Circle.
I was wearing jeans and my last T-shirt. Prim was in a halter top, her midriff bare, and in a pair of shorts so tight that she couldn’t have slid a postage stamp into the pockets. At some point I realised that we were holding hands, and in public too, but I wasn’t bothered. It didn’t mean anything in the greater scheme of things, and Primavera had hit the nail on the head about that bond between us. I’ve had three wives, and my relationship with each has been special and unique in its own way.
I found myself telling her the truth that I’d discovered about Jan. I don’t know why I did that, for what I was doing was adding to the power that she had over me. Maybe I wanted that. Maybe I needed an excuse for giving in to her and her whims. She wasn’t shocked when I told her. All she did was shrug her shoulders and say, ‘Mac’s a very attractive man, even in his mid-sixties. Forty years ago he could probably have pulled half of Fife if he’d had a mind to. If he was anything like you, he probably did.’
Prim wanted to take a ride in a buggy, but I vetoed that for two reasons. We didn’t have time, although we could have kept Dylan waiting, but most of all I had no desire to spend any part of my day staring at a horse’s arse, watching it fill the bucket, which, in New York, they tie to its tail. I wonder if that was an election pledge of Mayors Bloomberg or Giuliani: ‘Vote for me and I’ll keep the streets shit-free.’
We’d both checked out of the hotel when Dylan arrived, and my wardrobe had been swelled by a few items I’d bought in a clothing store on Sixth. They were packed away in a new cabin bag: I may possess a world-record number of small suitcases on wheels, such is the unpredictable nature of my life, but my inherent Fife instinct never allows me to throw anything out while there’s another mile left in it.
There were more than a few miles left in the car that the boys from Hertz delivered. It was a Cadillac De Ville, complete with satellite navigation, something I never go without in the US.
‘So, where are we heading?’ Mike asked, from the back seat.