I backed away under Mrs. Newman's bright-eyed inspection. No need to put an ad in the paper saying that I'd invited the postmistress out to dinner. The Mrs. Newmans of Hudson would eventually get the word back to Blaze Franklin. And if Hazel was right about who was calling the shots for the loving pair, an acceptance from Lucille would mean that Blaze had okayed it. That would be an interesting situation in itself.
I drove out east on Main Street, and for six hours I beat my way up and back two dozen monstrously tangled dirt roads, old logging trails, and footpaths, a few of them no more than twenty yards apart. I sweat gallons. I lost my temper. And I found nothing.
I went back to the Lazy Susan and showered, then stretched out on the bed for a couple of hours. I couldn't sleep, although I was tired. The continual frustration was beginning to do things to the hair-trigger of my temper. If it continued much longer, a little shove from one direction or another might send me careening off on a course not necessarily the correct one, just because action itself would be a release.
I was still in a bad mood when I whistled up Kaiser and headed for the Dixie Pig and dinner. The first three minutes there compounded it. I walked in to find Jed Raymond in the corner booth wearing the khaki shirt and red-piped uniform trousers I'd come to associate with Blaze Franklin. It jarred me. "Where's the masquerade?" I asked Jed. He looked at me curiously. I didn't like the sound of my voice myself.
"I told you I was a jackleg deputy in an emergency," he said in his usual cheerful manner.
"So what's the emergency?"
His grin was sheepish. "Opening of a new supermarket. I'm on traffic."
I '..it down in the booth. "You must be younger than I thought, playing cops and robbers."
"Cut it out, will you? Around here a guy's expected to do this or go into politics. This takes less time and money."
"Suppose you had to arrest a real estate prospect, Jed?"
"Now you know no prospect of mine could ever be involved in anything requirin' me to arrest him."
"But suppose?"
"If I didn't have the deposit, he just might have a little runnin' room," Jed grinned.
Kaiser padded over to Jed's side of the booth and rested his muzzle on Jed's thigh. Jed reached down and scratched him between the ears. Kaiser took Jed's arm in his mouth. Jed growled at the dog, and Kaiser growled back. I could tell the dog wanted to play, and Jed reached the same conclusion.
"You want a little roughhouse, boy?" he asked. He slid out of the booth and got down on his knees. In seconds the big gray and brown dog and Jed's ginger-colored head were locked in mock combat. They rolled around the floor in a ferocious-sounding battle so real the bar customers scattered like quail. One customer climbed on a table.
Jed got to his feet finally, laughing. He brushed the floor dust from his uniform. Kaiser wagged his big tail appreciatively. Jed sat down in the booth again. "That's a lot of dog," he said, then continued in the same breath, "I hear you're dating Lucille Grimes."
"She hasn't said yes."
"lint yon asked her, according to a dear lady who can give a large mouthed bass cards and spades. You know, I feel a little guilt in the matter. Are you tryin' to prove somethin' to me because I threw you smack dab up against the shark-toothed widow?"
"Shark-toothed?"
"I live in this town, Chet. Do you need a blueprint?"
"I asked the woman to dinner. Does that enlist me among her love slaves?"
"It enlists you on Blaze Franklin's shit list," Jed said soberly.
"How come Franklin's got this whole town buffaloed?"
Jed spread his hands. "You've met the gentleman."
"I've met him," I agreed. "And I size him up about twenty-five cents on the dollar."
"Goddammit, you're askin' for it with that attitude!" Jed bristled. "Look, I'm just concerned my big mouth pushed you into somethin' with a stinger attached."
I pulled up on the reins. The kid meant all right. "Forget it, Jed," I said. "She hasn't said yes. If she does, we'll have dinner. It's a big deal?"
His expression was still serious. "Would you believe a couple of guys who've gone out with our beauteous postmistress have had—ah—accidents? I don't believe she's had an invitation in a year. Until yours."
"Why doesn't Franklin have any accidents, Jed?"
"Who likes to go up against a badge?"
"Okay, okay. You told me. Thanks. Now can I buy you a drink before you leave to show off that Boy Scout uniform?"
"I'll have to ask you to speak with more respect to this minion of the law, suh. I'll take a raincheck on the drink." Jed reached down under the booth to pat Kaiser on the head before he got up and left by the back door.
For the first time since I'd known him I was glad to see him go. It's strange what the sight of a uniform does to me. I was happy to see Kaiser take to Jed so quickly, though. If the cards fell so I had to pull stakes in a hurry, I wouldn't be leaving the big dog high and dry.
I went to the phone booth and looked up Lucille Grimes' home phone number. "Chet Arnold, Lucille," I said when she answered. "How are we fixed for Wednesday night?"
"Oh, ah—" There was a five-second pause. She hadn't repeated my name. I wondered if Franklin was with her. Not that I gave a damn. "Would five o'clock be too early? You could pick me up at the post office, Chet." Lucille's voice sounded a bit breathless.
"Five o'clock will be fine." She didn't want me picking her up at her home for some reason. "See you then."
"I'm looking forward to it."
I replaced the receiver. She'd almost cooed the last words. Something about the way she said it—it was almost as though she'd suddenly turned up the voltage. She was definitely an attractively long-legged female, yet there was usually nothing soft about her. In Dixie Pig conversations I'd surprised an occasional feral gleam in the eyes under the long-lashed lids. Unless I missed my guess, she was a dandy little cutting tool. And now she was sounding cuddly. Interesting.
Hazel was at the booth when I returned to it. "Is Jed coming back after he finishes with his deputy routine?" I asked.
"No. He said he was going courting."
"I wonder what it feels like," I said before I thought.
"What's that?"
"Oh, sitting with a girl on her living room sofa." I tried to say it lightly. "Object: matrimony, if you can't get it any other way."
"I imagine you never tried it." It was a statement, not a question. I didn't try to reply to it. Neither of us said anything for a couple of minutes.
"I've been thinking " I began.
"Do you suppose " Hazel started to say at the same time.
We both laughed.
"You've got the floor, Horseman," Hazel said.
I searched tor the right words. "Maybe we ought to try it again some flight."
"There's a point to it?" She reached across the table quickly and captured my hand. "No, no; I didn't mean that lie way it sounds. Why do you want to try it again?"
"Maybe because you don't have 'Chet Arnold is an impotent slob'up on the front of the building in neon lights."
"What the hell do you think I am?" she began indignantly, and then she started to laugh again. "Can the corn, man. Why d'you want to try it again?"
"It offends my miserly soul to see such a brick pagoda going to waste."
"I suppose even a left-handed compliment is more than I rate most days around here," she said good-humoredly. Then she turned serious. "The fact you want to is what counts with me. I've been around enough gamblers to know that a lot of the time they're wired into different sockets." A glass bottom rapped on the bar. "I'll be back."
I watched her walk away from the booth, and suddenly I knew it was going to be all right.
I never know how I know.
I just do.
The bar stayed busy, and Hazel couldn't get away. I went over finally to one end of the bar, away from the customers. "I'll be back at lock-up time," I told Hazel when she joined me.