“I can’t believe there’s actually some kind of monster.”
“It’s been my experience that most monsters are human.” He opened one of the double wooden doors of the Carriage House, and followed Tyler inside.
They stepped toward the deserted hostess station. The gooseneck lamp over its reservations book was dark.
“Dinner?” called a teenaged girl rushing toward them from the dining area. Her brown hair was gathered into a ponytail. She wore a black skirt. Her white blouse was primly buttoned at the throat. “I’m Lois,” she said before Abe could respond. “I’ll be your hostess for tonight.”
“The missing Lois,” Abe said.
“No, I’m not the one who’s missing. It’s my cousin, Janice, and…”
“Your father was looking for you earlier,” Abe told her. “I see he found you.”
She rolled her eyes upward. “Oh, that. He found me, all right. Boy. Now I know how the slaves felt. Too bad Lincoln didn’t free me while he was at it. Anyway, you want a table for two?”
“We’ll get back to you, Lois, after we’ve put away a couple of cocktails.”
“Oh, you’re here for the Happy Hour.”
“Then dinner.”
“I could put you down now, if you’d like, and save you a nice table by a window.”
Tyler smiled. In spite of Lois’s enslavement, she seemed eager to do the job well.
“Okay,” Abe said. “How about two tables for two? We’re with some friends.”
“I’d be glad to seat you together.”
Tyler said, “Separate tables will be fine.”
Abe gave the girl his name, and she entered it in the reservations book. It was the only name on the page. “Fine, Mr. Clanton. Shall I call you in about an hour?”
“Perfect,” he said. “You’re very good at this. I thought your father planned to have you cleaning rooms?”
“He made me do some this afternoon. What a drag. This is much better. This is kind of fun, I guess.”
“Okay. Well, we’ll see you later.”
They stepped around the partition and entered the cocktail lounge. Tyler looked immediately toward the corner booth they’d occupied yesterday. Nora and Jack were there.
So was Gorman Hardy.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“And you without panties.”
Tyler laughed. She felt herself blush, slightly embarrassed in spite of her pleasure that Abe was so aware of the fact. “He’ll never know,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think he’d be interested.”
Abe patted her rump. “Any man would be interested.”
Nora spotted them and waved. Hardy, after a glance over his shoulder, slid his pair of drinks to the end of the table and scooted off the seat. He remained standing while they approached.
“Good evening, Tyler, Abe,” he said.
Tyler nodded but made no effort to smile. Abe shook the man’s offered hand.
She sat down and pushed herself sideways. The leatherette upholstery felt cool through her skirt, then warm when she passed over the place, near the center, where Hardy had been sitting. She moved over until the seat was cool again. While Abe slid in beside her, Hardy took a chair from a nearby table and planted himself at the end.
“We were just talking about you,” Nora said.
Wonderful, Tyler thought.
“Yes,” Hardy told her. “It must have been a terrible shock for you, coming upon your former lover that way.”
She narrowed her eyes at Nora, then turned to meet Hardy’s eager gaze. “It was not one of my better moments,” she said.
“Let me extend my sympathy to you.”
“Thanks.” With a feeling of relief, she saw the barmaid advancing toward their table.
“What would you like to drink?” Abe asked.
“A margarita, I think.”
Abe ordered margaritas for both of them.
“Be kind enough,” Hardy added, “to refresh the drinks of my other friends. And my own, of course.”
A trifle premature, Tyler thought.
Nora was only halfway through her first Mai-Tai, with her free second drink untouched. Jack had just started working on his second stein of beer. Hardy, lifting a stemmed glass, polished off his first martini. He left the olive, and reached for the second glass. His eyes settled on Tyler.
“I am, as you’ve already surmised, writing a book about Beast House. I realize it would be painful to you, but if you’re willing to discuss your relationship with Mr. Jenson and your reactions to viewing his mannequin…”
“I would not,” Tyler said.
“If we could get together later for an interview…”
His persistence made her seeth. “How’s your hearing, Mr. Hardy?”
Nora drew back her head and stared at Tyler wideeyed as if amazed by the retort. Jack looked at his beer and seemed to be struggling against a laugh. Abe studied his folded hands.
“I would be more than willing,” Hardy said, “to pay you for the trouble.”
Abe spoke without looking up from his hands. “The lady said no.”
“Would five hundred dollars change the lady’s mind?”
“Five hundred dollars,” Tyler said, “would not.” She turned sideways, an elbow on the table, and stared at him. “In my opinion, any book you write about Beast House would be just as exploitive as Maggie Kutch and her goddamn dummies. I’ll have no part of it. In fact, since I’m not a public figure, my right to privacy is protected by law and if my name appears in your miserable book I’ll sue your ass.”
Hardy smiled at the outburst. “All right, Tyler. You drive a hard bargain. I’m willing to go as high as eight hundred.”
“No, thank you.”
“A thousand.”
Nora, looking distressed, said, “That’s your rent for three months.”
“I don’t need it that badly.”
“How about throwing some of that money my way,” Jack said.
“I was coming to that,” Hardy told him.
“Well, all right.”
He shook his head at Tyler as if she were a stubborn child more to be pitied than condemned. “Are you certain I can’t persuade you to change your mind?”
“Positive,” she said.
The barmaid arrived with the drinks. Hardy took a bill from his wallet.
“I’ll take care of ours,” Abe told him.
“There’s really no…” Hardy started.
“I’ll take care of ours,” Abe repeated in the same even tone.
They each paid. The barmaid cleared off the empty glasses and left.
Tyler’s hand trembled as she picked up her margarita. Abe turned to her. His face was solemn, but he winked and clinked his glass against hers. A few crumbs of grainy salt fell from the rim, sprinkling the backs of her fingers.
“As I was saying,” Hardy’s voice intruded, “I have indeed been considering a proposition for you.”
“Fire away.”
Looking into Abe’s eyes, Tyler sipped her frothy drink.
“As you know, my associate, Brian Blake, seems to have disappeared.”
Frowning, Abe turned away. “Along with three other people,” he said.
“That’s correct. And the police seem to have no clue as to their whereabouts. In fact, I was speaking to an officer only a short time ago. They’ve been conducting a search of the woods in the vicinity of the abandoned car, but so far they’ve come up with nothing at all. They suspect foul play, though I prefer to think that Brian and the girl simply ran off together and the parents went in pursuit.”
“Your theory doesn’t hold much water,” Abe said. “You’ve written enough mysteries to see it’s full of holes.”
Hardy shrugged elaborately. “Very true. If this were a plot, however, I’m certain I could devise a sequence of events to explain the apparent inconsistencies, to plug the ‘holes’ as you put it. Let me put it before you, instead, that I’ve been a close acquaintance of Brian Blake for several years. To say that he is a womanizer would be a gross understatement. I have no idea what might have befallen Janice’s parents, but the girl herself is probably, at this very moment, in a motel somewhere along the highway with Brian betwixt her thighs.”