Lawrence Sanders - Tenth Commandment

She rolled around and wiggled beneath the bedclothes, pulled sheet and blanket up to her chin. In a moment, a slim white arm popped out and she tossed brassiere and panties on to the floor.

'Okay, tiger,' she said sleepily. 'The time is now. The moment of truth.'

I stooped to pick up her dress. I shook out the wrinkles and hung it away in the closet. I picked up her lingerie and draped it neatly over the dresser.

When I turned back to the bed, she was asleep, breathing steadily, her head turned sideways on the pillow.

I brought her shoes from the living room, set them neatly beside the bed.

I awoke the next morning with cricks in my neck, shoulders, hips, thighs, and ankles, from a rude bed I had made of two chairs. Sometimes small stature is advantageous. I staggered to my feet and, in my underwear, began to waggle, flapping my arms, shaking my legs, rotating my head on my neck, and so forth. Such is the resilience of youth that I was soon able to walk upright with just the merest hint of a limp.

Perdita still slept tranquilly, head sideways on the pillow, covers drawn up to her chin, knees bent, as I had left her. Only the slow rise and fall of the blanket proved she was not deceased.

I went into the bathroom as noisily as I could, slammed the door, sang in the shower. I brushed my teeth, decided it was unnecessary to shave, and came bouncing out, a towel wrapped demurely about my loins.

'Hello, hello, hello,' I carolled, then peeked into the bedroom. She was still sleeping.

I dressed in fresh linen and clothing, trying to make as much noise as possible. Finally dressed, I went back into the kitchen and banged around, boiling water for instant coffee. I brought two filled cups into the bedroom and set them on the bedside table. It was almost 8.30.

I sat on the bed and shook her shoulder gently. Then with more vigour. Then, I am ashamed to say, violently.

Her eyes suddenly opened. She stared at the opposite wall.

'Wha'?' she said.

'Perdita,' I said gently, 'it is I, Joshua Bigg, and you are in my apartment in Chelsea. Colonel Clyde Manila drove us here. Do you remember?'

'Sure,' she said brightly. She sat up suddenly in bed, the covers falling to her waist, and reached to embrace me. I hugged her gingerly.

'Feel all right?' I asked.

'Marvy,' she said. 'Just marvy.'

'There's coffee here. Would you like a cup?'

'Why not?' she said. 'Got any brandy?'

'I do,' I said.

'Slug me,' she said.

I went into the living room for the brandy bottle. By the time I returned, she was out of bed and in her lingerie. She drank off a little of her coffee and I topped it off with brandy. She stuck in a forefinger, stirred it around, then licked her finger.

She sat on the edge of the bed, sipping her coffee royal. I sat next to her. She turned to look at me.

'Josh,' she said tenderly, 'was I good for you?'

'You were wonderful for me.'

'I didn't make too much noise, did I?'

'Not at all,' I assured her. 'It was perfect.'

'For me, too,' she said, sighing. 'Perfect. I feel so loose and relaxed. We must get together again.'

'Absolutely,' I said.

'I'm always at Mother Tucker's on Thursday. Just drop by.'

'I will.'

'Promise?'

'I promise,' I said, kissing the tip of her nose.

She finished her coffee, took her purse, and scampered into the bathroom for a short while. She came out looking radiant, eyes sparkling, lips wet. She dressed swiftly. We put on our coats and hats.

'Kissy,' she said, turning her face up to me.

I unlocked my door, we went out into the hallway, and there was Adolph Finkel. He stared at us. He coughed once, a short, explosive blast.

'Good morning, Finkel,' I said.

'Good morning, Bigg,' he said.

He goggled at Perdita Schug.

'Hi,' she said brightly.

'Uh, hi,' he said. He nodded insanely, his head bobbing up and down on his thin neck. Then he turned and fled down the steps ahead of us.

'A neighbour,' I explained.

'Unreal,' Perdita murmured.

I had planned to get a cab, but when we came out onto the street, there was a chocolate-coloured Rolls-Royce, and Colonel Clyde Manila behind the wheel, his furred collar turned up to his ears, his black leather cap set squarely atop his gingery toupee. He was sipping from a cut-glass tumbler of Scotch.

It hadn't registered with me that it was a Rolls. I turned to Perdita in disbelief.

'He's still here?' I said. 'Waiting for you?'

'Sure,' she said. 'What do you think?'

Yetta Apatoff was on the phone, but gave me a warm smile and a flutter of fingers as I passed. I fluttered in return.

Workmen were busy in the corridor outside my office, moving a desk, swivel chair, lamp, and other accessories into position. A telephone installer was on his knees at the baseboard, running a wire to connect with my office phone.

I sat at my desk and went over the latest additions to my file of pending requests for investigation. I divided the stack into two piles: those I felt could be answered by Mrs Kletz, and those it would be necessary to handle myself. I then went through those I had delegated to my new assistant and scrawled in the margins the sources where she could obtain the information required.

I had started going through the Manhattan Yellow 231

Pages, but was dismayed by the number of chemical laboratories listed and decided to entrust my new assistant with a sensitive assignment. I left a typed note, asking her to call each of the labs listed and say that she represented the attorneys handling the estate of the late Professor Yale Stonehouse. A question had arisen concerning a cheque the Professor had written to the lab without any accompanying voucher. She was to ask each laboratory to consult their files to establish the date of billing and the purpose for which the money was paid.

On my way out I stopped at Yetta Apatoff's desk to tell her that my assistant would be in at eleven. She giggled.

'Oh, Josh,' she said, 'she's so big and you're so small.

It's so funny seeing the two of you together.'

'Yes, yes,' I said impatiently. 'But I'm sure you and everyone else in the office will get used to it.'

'So funny! ' she repeated, squinching up her face in mirth. I wished she hadn't done that; it gave her the look of a convulsed porker.

I told her I'd return in plenty of time to take her to lunch at one o'clock. She nodded, still giggling as I left. It seemed to me she was exhibiting a notable lack of sensitivity.

I took a cab up to the Kipper townhouse, pondering what I might say to Tippi if I got the opportunity and how I might draw her out on matters not pertaining to my alleged inventory of her late husband's estate. I could devise no devilishly clever ploy, and decided my best approach was to appear the wide-eyed innocent.

Chester Heavens answered my ring at the outside iron gate. 'Good morning, sah,' he said, friendly enough.

'Good morning, Chester. I trust I am not causing any inconvenience by dropping by without calling first?'

'Not at all, sah,' he said, ushering me into the looming entrance hall and holding out his hands for my hat and coat. 'Mom is breakfasting in the dining room. If you'll

just wait a moment, sah, perhaps I should inform her of your arrival.'

I waited, standing, until he returned. 'Mom asks if you would care to join her for a cup of coffee, sah?'

'I'd like that very much.'

Mrs Kipper was seated at the head of a long table. In the centre was a silver bowl of camellias and lilies. She held a hand out to me as I entered.

'Good morning, Mr Bigg,' she said, smiling. 'You're out early this morning.'

'Yes, ma'am,' I said moving forward quickly to take her hand. 'I'm anxious to finish up. Almost as anxious, I imagine, as you are to see the last of me.'