And he looked like an athlete. Rock-muscled, in contrast to Dwight’s litheness of sinew; fur-covered as opposed to Dwight’s smooth skin; a voice that boomed with masculinity where Dwight’s tones were softly cultured—altogether, manliness to complement the effete aura which characterized Dwight. Yet it was Dwight who was the sexual aggressor in their relationship, and Petey-sweetie who played the role of malleable love object.
Smiling to himself at Petey-sweetie’s modesty in leaving on his jockey shorts, Dwight led the way to the steam room. Outside the door he removed the dressing gown he’d been wearing, revealing that he was naked underneath. Reluctantly, Petey-sweetie followed Dwight’s example and shucked off the shorts. Just as Dwight opened the steam room door, the front door chimes sounded.
“If that’s another reporter—!” Dwight gritted his teeth as he retrieved the velvet dressing gown and slipped into it.
“Poor Dwight. First your sister’s awful death, and now all these newsmen bothering you.” Petey-sweetie stroked him sympathetically.
“You go on in and relax in the sitz bath. I’ll see who it is.” Dwight left him and answered the front door.
“Mr. Venable?” His visitor tried a winning smile. “My name is Regina Blue.”
“Mr. Venable isn’t home.” Dwight tried to shut the door.
“Then you must be his twin.” Regina stuck her foot firmly in the doorway and held up a newspaper.
There was a picture of Dwight on the front page.
“Now, look! I’ve had just about enough of the press! If you don’t --”
‘Tm not a reporter,” Regina told him. “I’m on your side. I work for ATOMICS.”
“ATOMICS?” Dwight stepped back from the door. “The agency Calvin Cabot hired to investigate my sister's murder?”
“That’s right. Now may I please come in?”
“Just for a minute.” Dwight relented. “You caught me at a bad time.”
“I’m sorry.” Regina preceded him into the living-room, leaving him no choice but to follow, and settled herself firmly into an overstuffed armchair. “There are some questions I have to ask you.”
“Look, Miss-—- What did you say your name was?”
“Blue. Regina Blue.”
“Look, Miss Blue. It wasn’t my idea to hire you or your firm. Mr. Cabot did it without my advance knowledge or consent. I don’t want to go on being rude, but there’s really no reason why I should cooperate with --”
“You’re facing a murder charge!” Regina Blue reminded him. “You need all the help you can get. That’s reason enough to cooperate.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Dwight Venable told her calmly. “The police will come to their senses. They don’t really have a case against me.”
“Even if that’s true, don’t you want to find your sister’s murderer?”
“That’s up to the po—-” Dwight broke off and stared at her, suddenly remembering. “Regina Blue! You’re the one whose apartment my sister was murdered in! You’re the one the cops held and let go before they picked me up!”
“Yes, I am,” Regina admitted.
“And most likely you’re the one who killed Faith!”
“I didn’t kill her. That has been proven to the satisfaction of the police. That’s why they let me go.”
“Well, I didn’t kill her. And from where I’m sitting, that leaves you. Which means that you’re the last person in the world whose questions I want to answer. So you can just leave, Miss Blue.”
“No.”
“Miss Blue, if you refuse to leave, I’ll have to throw you out!”
“Then you’ll have to call the police to do it. Just think what a field day the papers will have with that story!”
“I don’t need the police,” Dwight said grimly. He walked over to Regina, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He was stronger than he looked. Firmly, he started propelling her to the door. Regina resisted just enough to make him put his weight into it. Then, suddenly, she doubled over, swung her shoulder into his midriff and heaved. It was a maneuver Regina had learned in the judo classes with which she’d supplemented her lessons in karate. Dwight went flying across the room and landed on his left ear.
Red with rage, he shot to his feet and charged at her. Regina sidestepped neatly, stuck out a delicate foot, and yanked back on his arm as he went past her. Dwight turned a beautiful cartwheel and sat down hard. Considerately, Regina dived to save a Tiffany lamp knocked from its perch by one of his flailing arms.
Just as she replaced the lamp, he came at her again. This time his fists were swinging. She ducked inside a right hook and delivered a short chop to his Adam’s apple. Eyes bulging, Dwight fell to the couch and lay there gasping.
“You’ll feel better in a minute,” Regina assured him. She patted her hair into place and waited for him to get his breath back. When he did, she spoke again. “Now the first thing I’d like to ask you about --” she began.
Dwight got to his feet and managed an attempt at dignity. He drew his dressing gown around him and looked at her haughtily. “I have a friend waiting for me in the steam room,” he told her. “I can’t talk to you now.” He started out of the room.
“Then I’ll go with you,” Regina decided.
When they reached the door to the steam room, Dwight turned on his heel and faced her. With a flourish, he opened the dressing gown and let it slide from his shoulders to the floor. His attitude said that he expected Regina to be shocked, perhaps even to retreat in embarrassment.
“Very nice,” Regina told him calmly. “It isn’t often one meets a man with such a nicely jointed pelvic structure.”
Dwight shot her a look of pure malevolence and went into the steam room. A cloud of steam escaped in his wake. It told Regina that if she was going to follow him without ruining her clothes, she’d better take them off and leave them behind. She stripped quickly and went through the door.
The steam was so thick that she could neither see anything, nor get her breath. Beads of perspiration already glistened from head to toe. She sank to the floor where the vapor wasn’t quite so thick and strained her eyes to see through the cloud.
Across the steam room, Regina could just make out a large tub. The sound of rhythmic sloshing came from it, as if the water in it was being mechanically agitated. The upper torso of a man hazily sprouted from the tub. Behind it was the steam-blurred silhouette of another figure bending over slightly.
Still avoiding the rising heat in the room, Regina crawled towards the tub on her hands and knees. Petey-sweetie saw her coming. “Dwight! There’s a woman in here!” His gruff voice rose an octave. “A naked woman!”
“Ignore her,” Dwight advised. “Maybe she’ll get the message and go away.” He lathered Petey-sweetie’s hack and scrubbed it gently, sensually, with a sponge.
“I won’t go away,” Regina declared. “Not until you answer my questions.”
Dwight ignored her and rinsed off Petey-sweetie’s hack. "Your skin’s beginning to crinkle, love,” he observed. “You’d best get out of the tub.”
“I’m not going to get out with that woman watching!” he told Dwight.
“And I’m not going to leave until you answer my questions!” Regina told Dwight.
“All right, dammit!” Dwight relented. “What do vou want to know?” He shifted the tub around so that Petey-sweetie’s back was to Regina. Then he stood facing her with a leg on either side of the tub, and stroked his lover's head to soothe him.
“You told the police that you arrived after Faith had been stabbed,” Regina began. “Yet when she first came in, while I was still in the shower, she called out that she had her brother with her and I heard his voice. How do you explain that?”