“No.”
“That’s good, because I’m not in the mood to listen to any.” He closed the suitcase with a bang, picked it up and turned off the lights. “I’ll drop you off at Barkeley’s so you can pick up your car.”
“Thanks.”
Cordwink didn’t speak again until he got into his car and pulled away from the curb.
“The fact is,” he said, “I’m a very emotional man where women are concerned.”
7
The light of morning coming in through the barred window was dingy, and along the corridor a cool damp wind blew, erratically, first one way and then the other.
Miss Jennings wore a heavy cardigan over her brown dress, and instead of piling her hair high on top of her head as usual, this morning she had let it hang to keep the draft off her neck. As Miss Jennings was in the habit of pointing out, to anyone who was interested and a great many who weren’t, weather never bothered her, she rose above it. The clicking of her heels against the floor was overpoweringly cheerful, and she was humming, off-beat and off-key, but with a good deal of spirit.
Virginia pretended not to hear either the footsteps or the humming. She ignored Miss Jennings right up to the last moment; and then it was no longer possible to ignore her because Miss Jennings took her key-ring and slid it playfully and noisily across the bars of the cell like a child running a stick along an iron fence.
“Hi!” Miss Jennings always addressed her charges in a good loud voice, as if out of a conviction that imprisonment, like age, impaired the hearing. “Well, you’re all prettied up already. That’s good, because someone wants to see you right away.”
“If it’s that greasy little psychiatrist again tell him to go peddle his dreams.”
“Now, really. Now, is that any way to talk about nice Dr. Maguire? Besides it’s not him — he. It’s Mr. Meecham. He has a big surprise for you.”
“I wonder.”
“He has, too. Guess what it is.”
“I don’t like guessing games.”
“Oh, don’t be a little old spoilsport. Go on, guess.”
“I’m going home,” Virginia said.
“Yes! How about that now, aren’t you happy? Aren’t you surprised?”
“My mother sent me a message last night. So did Meecham.”
“Oh. Well, they couldn’t have known for sure, though. The lab reports weren’t in, the blood, and so forth.”
“What blood?”
“Why, he had blood all over his clothes, same as you had. They say he’s a nice young man, no record or anything. What amazes me is the amount of blood in a person, it’s simply amazing.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Well, all right,” Miss Jennings smiled, rising above the blood as she rose above the weather.
She unlocked the cell door and Virginia stepped out into the corridor. She was pale, and the skin around her eyes looked blue, as if bruised by pressing thumbs.
“My, my,” Miss Jennings said. “You don’t look one bit happy. ‘Fess up now, you’re sorry to be leaving us.”
“Oh, sure.”
“You’ve been treated well, haven’t you?”
“Great. Just great. I’ll recommend the place to all my friends.”
Miss Jennings was still wearing her smile but it sagged in places like a worn-out dress. “You’re a sarcastic little snip, aren’t you?”
“So?”
“You think you’re so goddam smart all the time. All the time making smart talk. Oh, I heard your remarks about me to Mr. Meecham yesterday.”
“I knew you were too good to be true, Jennings.”
There was a thin line of white around the edges of Miss Jennings’ mouth. “I know you and your type. Jeering all the time, jeering at decent hardworking respectable people. I hate you. You hear that? I just hate you!”
“Oh, can it,” Virginia said. “Who cares?”
“And I’m sorry you’re leaving. I hope you’ll be back, next time for keeps.” She unlocked the door into the main corridor and the keys on the big key-ring clanked viciously. “You can go from here by yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“The girls that come in here and go out again, I always try to give them a nice send-off. But you, I wouldn’t even say good-bye to you. I think you’re a cold, bad, nasty woman and to hell with you.”
She shut the door between them with a decisive bang. All the way down the corridor Virginia could hear the clanking of metal against metal. It sounded as though Miss Jennings was slamming her keys against a wall in time to some rhythm of rage in her heart.
I’m not, Virginia thought, I’m not a cold nasty woman.
The door of the Sheriff’s office was open, and Meecham was waiting for her inside, with a brief case under his arm. Cordwink was there too, hunched over a desk that was strewn with papers. On a bench along the wall sat a white-faced young man in a gray prison uniform. The young man was staring at Virginia with a curious kind of intensity. She had an uneasy feeling that there was some silent communication in that glance, that he was trying to say something to her, or ask her something.
No introductions were made, no greetings exchanged. Not a word was spoken until Cordwink said, in his low heavy voice, “Do you recognize this man, Mrs. Barkeley?”
“Not by name. I think I’ve seen him before, though.”
“Where?”
“I don’t remember. Anywhere — on the street or at Paul’s office or in a bar. I get around quite a few places.”
“It was in a bar,” Loftus said, very quickly. “Sam’s — Saturday night, you talked to me...”
“Keep out of this, Loftus.”
Cordwink slapped the desk to emphasize the order. Loftus blinked nervously, but he went right on talking: “I’m only trying to help, Mr. Cordwink. What difference does it make if she remembers me? I’ve admitted fifty times that I killed Margolis. All these questions and interviews and tests — they aren’t going to change anything.” He turned to Virginia. “I asked Mr. Meecham to tell you but now I can tell you myself. I’m sorry about your having to stay in jail for a couple of days like this.”
“That’s... all right.” Under the glaring ceiling lights her face was as white as Loftus’, and the half-circles under her eyes made her look old and tired and hard. She whirled suddenly and faced Meecham. “I... couldn’t we get out of here? I want to get out of here.”
“All right,” Meecham said. “That suit you, Cordwink?”
“It has to.” Cordwink stood up. “The papers are all signed, nothing’s stopping you, the door’s open, go on.”
“What about your suitcase, Virginia?”
“To hell with the suitcase,” Virginia said harshly. “I just want to get out of here.”
Her departure was as wordless as her entrance. No one said good-bye, see you again, glad to have met you. Virginia walked out of the door and down the corridor so rapidly that Meecham had to hurry to catch up with her. Even when she reached the main door she didn’t stop to put on her coat. She just held it around her shoulders as she went out, and the arms of the coat flopped back and forth in the rising wind, making silly boneless little gestures.
The sidewalk was dirty with slush and on the road the cars swished by with splatters of mud. Even the wind was dirty. Somewhere, in the north of Canada, it had started out fresh, but it had picked up dirt on its journey, smoke and dust and particles of soot.
They stood in silence, side by side, at the intersection until the light turned green. Then they crossed the road to the parking lot where Meecham had left his car.
The car was locked. With only a slight hesitation Meecham unlocked his own door first and got in the car. Then he leaned across the seat and unlocked the other door for Virginia. The little amenities of politeness seemed as inappropriate and futile here as they had in the Sheriff’s office.