"Enough already. Just get on with it."
"Sorry. So anyway, about that time Marty came in. He was happy to see Reba. She introduced us and we chatted for a bit. End of story."
He seemed to watch me from a distance, not yet satisfied. "What'd you chat about?"
"Nothing in particular. I meet the guy. I'm nice. That's all it amounted to. Why do you care?"
"You didn't talk about me?"
"You? Not at all. Your name never came up."
"Then what?"
"What do you mean, 'Then what'?"
"Where'd you go from there?"
I shrugged. "The office. Marty was bragging about the new digs and said he'd show us around, so we ended up doing a quick tour. He said you'd be pissed if you heard. Is that what this is about?"
"I don't believe you've finished. Isn't there something else?"
"Well, let's see now. Oh. Now this is earth shattering. I left my purse on the roof and we had to pop back the next day and go in search of it. What a pain in the ass that was."
Rosie approached with Beck's scotch on a tray. We dropped the topic of conversation and smiled at her blandly while she set down a ceremonial doily and put his drink on it. Beck murmured his thanks without engaging her in further conversation.
She hesitated, hoping for another round of fawning and compliments, but he was intent on me. I was wishing she'd sit down and talk to us the rest of the night. Instead she flicked me a look, suspicious that this was romance a-brewing. Little did she know I was sitting there frantically assessing the situation, trying to guess how much Beck knew and how he'd acquired the information. If he'd seen security tapes, I had to make sure I accounted for all our comings and goings. I was aware my being a wiseass was getting on his nerves, but I couldn't help myself. Rosie manufactured a bit of small talk and then departed. I looked at Beck, waiting for his next move.
He picked up his scotch and took a sip, watching me over the rim of his glass. "Clever. You explain it all so nicely, but somehow I'd swear you're lying through your pearly whites."
"My reputation must precede me. I'm good at lying," I said.
He set his drink on the table, making a circular pattern with the moisture from the bottom of the glass. "So where is she?"
"Reba? Beats me. We're not joined at the hip."
"Really. You've been with her constantly and now suddenly you have no idea? She must have said something."
"Beck, I think you've gotten the wrong impression. We're not friends. Her father paid me to go get her. That's the kind of pal I am. I took her to the parole office and the DMV. She was lonesome. We had dinner -"
"Don't forget Bubbles."
"Big deal. We went to Bubbles. I was feeling sorry for her. She doesn't have any friends, except Onni, who treats her like a piece of shit."
He thought about that briefly and shifted gears. "What's she told you about me?"
I tried to make the big eyes like Reba did when she was feigning innocence. "About you? Well, gosh now. She told me you screwed her brains out in the car the other night. She was going to give me all the nitty-gritty details about the size of your dick, but I begged off. No offense, but I don't find you nearly as fascinating as she does. Except for the current conversation. What are you fishing for?"
"Nothing. Maybe I misjudged you."
"Well, I doubt that, but so what? Sounds like you're the one in trouble and projecting it on us." I might have pushed the line too far because I wasn't that crazy about the look he turned on me.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you're laying out all this bullshit and I don't have a clue what you want. You've peppered me with questions from the minute you sat down."
He was dead silent for about fifteen seconds – a long time in the middle of a conversation of this type. Then he said, "I believe she stole money from me when she was in the office that night."
"Ah. Got it. That's a serious accusation."
"Yes, it is."
"Why not turn the matter over to the cops?"
"I can't prove she did it."
I shook my head. "Doesn't sound right to me. I was with her when we toured the office and she never touched a thing. Me neither, for that matter. I hope you don't think I'm involved, because I swear I'm not."
"It's not you I'm worried about. It's her."
"You're worried?"
"I think she's in trouble. I'd hate to see her hurt."
"Why didn't you just say so up front?"
"You're right. I'm sorry. I went about this all wrong and I apologize. Truce?"
"We don't need a truce. I'm worried about her, too. She's back to smoking a pack a day and god knows what else. This morning, she was talking about booze and poker parlors. Scared the crap out of me."
"I didn't realize you'd seen her."
"Oh sure. I thought I mentioned that."
"You didn't, but that's good. I haven't heard a word from her since I got back. She's usually on the phone first thing, tugging at my sleeve. You know Reeb. She tends to cling."
"I'll say. Look, she talked about us having lunch tomorrow. Why don't I tell her to give you a call?"
He smiled tentatively, wanting to believe me. At the same time, I could sense his scrutiny, testing my comments for any false notes. Happily, since I'm a thoroughly accomplished liar, I could pass a polygraph, disavowing murder with blood still dripping from my fingers. He reached out and tapped my hand, something I'd seen him do with her. I wondered what the gesture meant, a sort of tag… you're it. "I hope I wasn't out of line. You're a good egg," he said.
"Thanks. You are, too." I reached out and tapped his hand in return.
He pushed up from the booth. "Better to let you go. I've taken up enough of your time as it is. Sorry if I was rude. I didn't mean to grill you."
"Hey, I understand. Stay and have another drink if you like."
"Nah, I gotta hit the road. Just tell Reba I'm looking for her."
"What's your schedule like tomorrow? Are you at the office all day?"
"You bet. I'll be waiting for her call."
Good luck, I thought. I watched him crossing the room, trying to see him as I had at first. I'd thought he was sexy and good-looking, but those qualities had vanished. Now I saw him for what he was, a guy accustomed to having his own way. The world centered on him and others were simply there to service his whims. I wondered if he were capable of killing. Possible, I thought. Maybe not with his own hands, but he could have it done. Belatedly, a warm drop of sweat trickled down the middle of my back. I allowed myself a deep breath, and by the time Cheney showed up, I was feeling calm again and slightly bemused.
He slid in next to me and pushed a folded slip of paper in my direction. "Don't say I never did you one. Address is a rental. Misty's been in residence the past thirteen months."
"Thanks." I glanced at the address and put the paper into my pocket.
He said, "What's the smile about? You're looking pleased with yourself."
"How long have I known you? A couple of years, right?"
"More or less. You haven't really known me until this past week."
"Know what I realized? I've never lied to you."
"I should hope not."
"I'm serious. I'm a natural-born liar, but so far I haven't lied to you. That puts you in a category all by yourself… well, except for Henry. I can't remember ever lying to him. About anything important."
"Good news. I love the part where you say 'so far.' You're the only person I know who could say something like that and think it was a compliment."
Rosie reappeared and when she caught sight of Cheney, she shot me a quizzical look. She seldom saw me with one man, let alone two on the same night. Cheney ordered a beer. Once she was gone, I rested my chin on my fist so I could look at him. His face was smooth and there was the faintest web of lines at the outer corners of his eyes. Dark suede sport coat the color of coffee grounds. Beige shirt, brown silk tie hanging slightly askew. I reached out and straightened it. He caught my hand and kissed my index finger.