Bill Pronzini - Schemers

Back inside, she put the shelving and the other hardware items in the kitchen and then went around the flat straightening up. Lucas hadn’t said anything, but she had a feeling he liked things tidy. Mama’s influence, probably. She wondered again what Mama was like, how come a stud like Lucas lived with her and talked about her nonstop with that little glow in his eyes. Couldn’t be anything kinky going on there, could it? Oh, come on, Tamara. Don’t let the job make you suspicious of everybody. Man just loves his mother, that’s all.

The flat was pretty clean, everything in the moving boxes put away the day after she took possession. Hadn’t been much-clothing, computer equipment, books, CDs, personal items. When she’d packed it up she’d been surprised at how little she owned. Not much to show for twenty-six years of living. Well, so what? She’d never been all that materialistic. Money was nice, possessions were cool, but living was what mattered.

Making changes-that was important, too. Funny how one positive change could start a chain reaction. For her it’d been the decision to finally haul her booty out of that Horace-haunted apartment. Then she’d gone and gotten herself firearms qualified with Pop’s help, as a safety precaution and so she could start doing some fieldwork again. Then, after weeks of hunting all around the city, she’d found just the right new place. And one week after that, she’d met Lucas and put an end to the long, frustrating months of unsatisfying sessions with battery-operated Mr. V. Next positive change: dump the Toyota for a new set of wheels, one that suited her and not that celloplaying chump in Philadelphia.

Happy again, life cool again? Yes! For the first time in over a year, maybe for the first time period, because now everything was in sync, coming together at last. The new Tamara. Tamara Corbin, reinvented.

She put on a Dixie Chicks CD. “Not Ready to Make Nice”-God, she loved that song. Into the bedroom then, to put clean sheets on the bed. Nothing like clean sheets when you had somebody to snuggle down with. She dabbed some Chanel Allure under her ears and in the hollow of her throat. Not too much, just a sexy hint. Put on a nightie and a robe? Too obvious. Just let the evening play out like it had on Sunday.

She was sipping a glass of wine, listening to the Chicks, when the bell rang. Lucas came in with two sacks of Chinese takeout and a big smile. Kissed her, but easy, not aggressive. He wasn’t in any hurry, either-something else she liked about him. Big and easy. Big all over, oh yeah! She always had been partial to big men. Ugly handsome. Blocky head, hook nose, hair starting to recede a little, but he had nice quiet eyes and a bushy mustache that felt like fur sliding over her skin. Thirty-four, he’d told her. Not too old. Mature. Exactly the kind of man she wanted and needed right now.

They ate in the kitchen, making small talk. Easy there, too-none of that awkward second-date stuff. She was curious about his work, what kind of sales job he had, but he didn’t have much to say about it. Didn’t ask much about her profession, either. Okay with her. Bill had taught her it was best to keep casual talk about the detective business to a minimum, except when you were dealing with professionals. So what they talked about, mostly, was Lucas’s mama. Didn’t bother Tamara, though it probably would if they’d been moving toward a long-term relationship. So the man loved his mother, so what? Kind of refreshing. Not too many thirty-four-year-old studs with slow, slow hands had a sentimental side.

“She’s out on a date tonight,” Lucas said, still going on about Mama. “I don’t like the guy, but that’s her business.”

“How come you don’t like him?”

“He’s not good enough for her. Dresses cheap, talks cheap.”

“Serious between them?”

“No, I don’t think so. Casual.”

“Like you and me.”

“God, I hope not. I mean, you know, sex. I don’t like thinking about her going to bed with that guy.”

“Her business, like you said.”

“Well, anyhow, it doesn’t matter. He’ll be gone before long and there’ll be somebody else.”

He said that last like it bothered him. Well, maybe it did, if Mama had herself a string of boyfriends. But she was entitled, wasn’t she? Woman had been a widow a long time. A heart attack had snuffed Lucas’s father twelve years ago, he’d said.

“I’d like to meet her sometime,” she said.

“My mother? Why?”

“You talk about her a lot. She must be pretty special.”

“Special. Yes, she’s that.”

Something in his voice again, but Tamara couldn’t quite get a handle on what it was. Jealousy? Disapproval?

“Be all right with you?” she asked.

“What? Meeting Alisha? I don’t know, I suppose so. We’ll see.”

Reluctant. She had the feeling he wouldn’t allow it to happen.

A thought popped into her head. What if Alisha wasn’t his mother, what if she was his wife? He’d told her he was single, never been married, and she’d accepted that without thinking too much about it. If Alisha was his wife, the reason he talked so much about her might be guilt working on him. Well? Come right out and ask him, he’d just deny it and spoil the mood. Did it really matter? On a casual hookup like theirs… no, it didn’t.

Yeah, right. But good detectives were always looking for answers, something else Bill had taught her, and it was the detective in her that made her push it a little in spite of herself. “Okay if I ask you a personal question, Lucas?”

“If it’s not too personal.”

“Can’t help wondering how come you still live at home. I mean, your mama doesn’t sound like she needs somebody to look after her…”

Whoops. Pissed him off. His face clouded up and he said, “Why I live where I live is nobody’s business but mine and my mother’s.”

“Hey, I was just curious-”

“Well, don’t be. We have a good little thing going here, Tamara. Don’t screw it up by being nosy.”

“Okay, sure. Sorry.”

Took a few seconds for the anger to fade out of his eyes. Then he shrugged and the smile came back. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to growl at you.”

“No problem.”

“Why don’t we take another glass of wine into the living room?”

“Bedroom’s closer,” she said.

“On a full stomach? How about we just sit for a while, let the digestive juices do their thing.” Slow wink. “Then we’ll let the other juices do theirs.”

“Cool.”

The word reflected how she felt right now. Not as eager for those clean sheets as before. Another glass of wine, and if he didn’t conjure up Mama again, she’d be ready-sure, she would. But there wouldn’t be too many more nights like this one. She didn’t care for that angry, private side of his. And Alisha kept cropping up and getting in the way.

Alisha.

Mother? Wife? Who was she and just what kind of relationship did Lucas have with her? Now she couldn’t get the questions out of her head.

Well, there was an easy way to answer a couple of them, at least. Tomorrow at the agency.

Bad, girl, wanting to check up on a casual lover. Better not do it. Be smart. It’s not important, it might put an even quicker end to the hookup. Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t really want to know.

Good arguments. She listened to them as Lucas poured wine, and nodded to herself, and made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t do it-and knew she’d break the promise two minutes after she walked into the agency tomorrow morning.

JAKE RUNYON

Harmony was nothing more than a break in the two-lane county road. He came out of dense timber and there it was, like the appearance of a mirage-a scatter of buildings and a few hundred yards of surrounding meadowland. More thick forest walled it in on the east. Four miles in that direction, according to the directions Tamara had sent, an old logging road branched off and wound up to where the Hendersons’ hunting camp was located.