“You’d never know it to look at him,” Mrs. Hornsby confided to Stella Spayed, “but I brought him up to have the best manners. Before he got married, you could take him into the finest restaurant and not be ashamed.”
“Now, Mom-—” Archer choked on half the half-cookie and inadvertently sprayed the rest out in crumbs.
“Wipe your mouth!” Mrs. Hornsby shook her head sadly. “He really knows better than to talk when he’s eating. It’s hard to believe how much he’s been changed.”
“Well, marriage does change people.” Stella Spayed smiled at Archer to show she wasn’t really siding with his mother.
“I guess so.” Archer swallowed hard and managed a weak smile in return. He managed to park the dishes on an end table. “Now, Mom, what was it you wanted to see me about?" he asked.
“I’m his mother.” Mrs. Hornsby ignored Archer and spoke directly to Stella Spayed. “Before he started living with that woman, it wasn’t necessary to make an appointment with him like he was a dentist.”
“Did you just want to see me, Mom?" Archer held onto his patience. “Or was it something specific?”
“I know what a busy man you are." Mrs. Hornsby’s sarcasm was about as subtle as an Agnew speech. “But I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to have a visit every couple of months. Only so we don’t give mother-son relationships a bad name, you know. Also,” she added so casually that it was pointed, “I thought it would be nice if you and Stella got acquainted.”
Archer looked blankly at his mother. Then he looked at Stella Spayed with a puzzled half-smile. She looked back at him calmly.
“Stella is a member of my sewing circle,” Mrs. Hornsby added.
“You’re kidding!” Archer exclaimed.
“Don’t be fresh!”
“Well, I mean—sewing circle! I didn’t think women had things like that anymore. I thought they went! out with high-button shoes and French postcards.”
“Archer!”
“That's all right." Stella Spayed chuckled. “It is a sort of an anachronism, Mr. Hornsby. But I enjoy sewing and I enjoy the company of the other women. You see, being a widow can get to be sort of lonely. Anything wrong with that?”
“No. No, of course not. I only meant—Well, you’re a young, attractive woman, Mrs. Spayed. It just didn’t seem the sort of activity that you --”
“Stella sews beautifully. Most young women today think sewing is something for old ladies, something beneath them. But not Stella. She makes all her own clothes.”
Archer took a look at the green frock Mrs. Spayed was wearing. It was deceptive. It looked demure, but it didn’t miss a trick when it came to showing off her curves to advantage. “Did you make that dress? It’s very becoming,” Archer told Mrs. Spayed.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Her eyes said she hadn’t missed either his appraisal, or approval.
“Stella is also a very good cook and an excellent housekeeper.”
“That’s nice.” Archer was bewildered. His mother’s sales pitch was reminiscent of the days before he’d married Llona. But he was married now. And his mother had always been moralistic to an awesome degree. So what the hell was she up to?
The remainder of the visit provided no clue. Mrs. Hornsby made sure that the conversational focus stayed on the virtues of Stella Spayed with occasional side digs directed at Archer. Stella Spayed remained calm and friendly and seemingly unembarrassed by the aura of matchmaking pervading her hostess’ attitude. Archer simply stayed confused.
Finally he got up to leave. He was surprised when his mother didn’t raise any objection, as was her usual way. Instead, she asked him to please drop Mrs. Spayed on his way. Archer, of course, said he’d be happy to oblige. Stella Spayed went to “powder her nose” first, and Mrs. Hornsby took advantage of her absence to sit down next to Archer and dig her elbow in his ribs. “That woman is a gem!” she told her son. “A real lady! There aren't too many of that kind around these days. She’ll make some man a wonderful wife.
“Mom, I'm already married,” Archer reminded her.
“I’m ready.” Stella Spayed’s reappearance cut short Mrs. Hornsby’s rejoinder.
Stella and Mrs. Hornsby exchanged goodbyes and promises to get together soon, Archer kissed his mother on the cheek, and then Stella and Archer were outside. walking toward his car. She took his arm. Archer could feel the soft fullness of her breast against his elbow through the thin material of the green dress. The contact was titillating.
In the car, Archer tried to make conversation. Somehow they got on the topic of Stella Spayed’s late husband. Poor Sammy was killed in the line "of duty,” she told Archer.
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes. He was a private detective.”
“Oh?”
“This girl bashed in his skull with his own camera.”
“What a shame.”
“Indeed it was. The man in bed with her got off scotfree, but the girl got twenty years.”
“She deserved it.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . ”
“After all, she killed your husband.”
“Yes. But to be honest, Mr. Hornsby, if I know Sammy, he probably asked for it. He was completely inept as a gumshoe.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating.”
“No I’m not. Sammy was a short, fat, nearsighted man with bad feet. He couldn’t follow a five-year-old to kindergarten without being spotted. Physically he was no match for a paralyzed old lady with leukemia. When it came to using a gun, half the time he couldn’t find the trigger, let alone the target.”
“Well, then why did he—?”
“He was horny.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He was horny. Do I shock you Mr. Hornsby?”
“Call me Archer. No, you don’t shock me. It’s refreshing. It’s just not the sort of word I expected from— from—”
“From someone in your mother’s sewing circle?” Stella laughed. “Well, there are other aspects to my life besides sewing, cooking, and cleaning. Your mother may be unaware of them and I see no need to enlighten her. Do you?”
“Absolutely none.” Archer shook his head emphatically. “You know,” he mused, “I don’t understand Mom at all tonight. I mean her bringing us together like this.”
“It’s simple enough. She was matchmaking. She figures that since I’m a widow I'm probably in the market for a husband. To be honest about it, she’s right.”
“Well, yeah . . . But I’m already married.”
“I didn’t say whose husband.” 'Stella’s green eyes twinkled at him.
“I meant from her point of view.”
“Well, I didn’t quite understand that either. But there's no doubt in my mind that she had some romantic purpose in throwing us together. To be honest, Archer, opportunities for a widow to meet a man in this town are few and far between. I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe your mother knows something we don’t know.”
“Could be.” They had reached her house and Archer braked the car at the curb. “What did you mean before when you said your husband was a private detective because he was horny?” Archer asked.
“Come in for a nightcap and I’ll show you.”
Archer shrugged to himself and followed her into the house. When they were inside, she offered him a drink and Archer opted for scotch. “It’s in the kitchen. Make yourself at home and I’ll fetch it,” Stella told him. “Here, you can occupy yourself looking at these while I’m gone.” She took a Manila envelope from an end-table drawer and handed it to Archer.
“What's this?”
“Sammy’s souvenirs. Of his cases. You’ll see,” she called back over her shoulder.
Alone, Archer opened the envelope. There were thirty or forty eight-by-ten black-and-white pictures inside it. Archer looked at the top one.
It showed a rather thin, blonde girl with large breasts that were quite out of proportion to the rest of her body. She was completely naked and sitting in an armchair with one of her long legs thrown over each arm of the chair. The position afforded maximum visibility to a pubic area stretching to accommodate a large, unlit candle.