Glen Cook - A matter of time

"Sure. You're right. Let's go take a look."

Segasture drove past slowly.

"It's a goddamned mansion," Cash muttered.

"The old boy is worth a mint. And the feeling around here is that he didn't come by all of it legit."

"What do you mean?"

"Koppel… The local cops think he's connected somehow. Little visible means of support. And he has some pretty strange visitors. Mainly foreigners. The couple who work for him are German."

"Who's this Koppel?"

"The guy who owns the place."

"But… the man we want is Fial Groloch."

"Then you're out luck."

"You're sure that's the right house?" All he needed was to have to go back to Hank and admit that he had gone on a wild goose chase.

"That's the address you gave me. Hey! Calm down. It did belong to Fial Groloch. He sold out to this Koppel about forty years ago."

"But she got letters from here!" Cash protested. He shuffled mental files, dredging up everything he had learned about Fial Groloch.

"Perhaps only the name of the owner changed," Tran suggested. "The man in residence might be the same."

"Of course!" Cash jumped on it instantly. "That'd be the perfect way to cover up the fact that you're outliving all your neighbors."

Segasture's expression was dubious. "I vote we go back and party till we get word that she's here."

"What I'd like to know," Beth said, "is why, when we asked you to check the place out, back when, you didn't let us know these things. If Koppel isn't Groloch, then we're out time and money for nothing."

"She always like this, Norm?"

"She doesn't let much get past."

"Yeah. Well. It's like this. I didn't get into it as deep as it might have sounded on the phone."

"I don't think you got into it at all," Beth retorted.

"You faked it?" Cash demanded.

"Well, sort of. I called some people. In the state police, up here…"

"I get the picture. They didn't want to be bothered either. You just wanted me off your back. I'm going to remember this, Frank."

"Hey, I'm sorry, Norm. It just didn't look very important at the time. You know what I mean?"

"I know what I think. But it's too late to cry now. Come on. Let's get back. I need a drink."

Two hours at the motel were all Cash could take. He left the others with the impression that he was going to take a nap, caught a cab to the railway station.

At ten p.m. he finally admitted his folly to himself. He was just working on an ulcer. At the motel, at least, he could share the waiting with friends.

But he had this damned overpowering urge to do something.

It almost conned him into a solo recon of the local Groloch establishment.

For once terror did him a favor. It stopped him.

By sheer chance, as his taxi pulled away, he glimpsed someone through a Windless window. The man was crossing the waiting room, toward the rest rooms, at a trot.

"Damn!" Norm growled. "That Malone is stubborn." He hoped the man's bladder was choking him. Serve him right, hiding, spying on people.

He didn't get upset. There wasn't a thing he could do about it.

He went looking for Frank right away. The bartender told him that Segasture had gone to bed. Tran had turned in too. "Hell, it's still too early. Mix me a rum and Coke in a water glass. Two shots. No ice."

Maybe it was just as well. He wouldn't have to take any crap about sneaking off.

He went through three drinks before announcing, "I might as well sack out too. Ain't nothing else to do." He was dog-tired, but not really sleepy. Too keyed up.

He was about to become more keyed up.

He stepped into his room and ass deep into a "situation."

Beth was in his bed. She had fallen asleep while reading.

She didn't have a stitch on beneath that sheet. One bare, large, dark-nippled breast peeked out at him.

"So this is why she came." He closed the door gently, quietly seated himself in the room's one chair. His knees missed brushing the bed by a scant half inch.

As nervous as she was, how could she have fallen asleep? She should have been too scared to think.

Maybe she had reached the point of emotional exhaustion.

His thoughts went round and round, pecking at the situation from a hundred angles.

It boiled down to a choice between should do and want to do.

God, she looked good.

A half hour passed. The alcohol gradually caught up. He felt on the verge of collapse. He had to get to bed.

He would have to disturb her or stay awake.

He didn't want to endure the inevitable confrontation.

God damn it, it was his bed.

A disinterested fraction of his mind observed, with amusement, that, whenever he began to relax, he reacted in healthy male fashion. The resulting tension invariably caused a detumescence.

He rose, stripped to his shorts, switched the light off, slid into bed.

Beth wakened instantly, sat upright. "Norm? I'm sorry. I don't know why-"

"Shut up. Lay down. Shut up," he said again. He pulled her toward him, cuddling spoon fashion. She remained stiff, but her skin was smooth, soft, warm. She shivered, tried to pull away. "Lay still. And go back to sleep."

They didn't drift off quickly. There was too much tension, too much waiting for someone to make an advance. But the forced silence gradually sapped the fury of the emotional storm.

Cash slept, but awakened with the dawn.

Beth snored fitfully beside him, sprawled on her back. Obviously she was used to sleeping alone.

Cash touched himself. He had one of those throbbing morning erections that a cat couldn't scratch.

He lifted himself onto one elbow, eased the sheet off the bed.

"Nice," he whispered.

She really did have a dynamite body.

His heart hammered. He shook all over. It was like the first time ever all over again.

He was going to do it.

He bent to one of those magnificent breasts.

Frank came pounding on the door shortly after ten. "Hey. Norm. Come on. Get up."

They came out of bed grabbing for clothes.

"In the bathroom," Cash whispered. "What do you want?" he growled.

"Come on. We've got to move."

Norm dragged his shorts on and stumbled to the door. "Man, what's all the racket for?" he demanded as he opened up.

"She's here. Your target. Cabbie just took her out there. She sent him back for a bunch of luggage."

"We've got to grab that. There's a trunk I want."

"I'll call the Rochester P.D. while you get dressed. Want me to get Beth? Tran's already over at the cafe."

Cash's heart hammered. "No. I'll take care of it. Just get somebody on to that trunk. That'll make my case."

"Ah. I see." Segasture hurried off.

What had he meant by that? Cash wondered. And by that sudden little grin?

He understood the instant he turned. Beth had missed her purse and bra in her rush to the bathroom.

"Oh, shit."

But what could he do? The horse had escaped. Better play it cool, say nothing, and hope that Frank did the same. "Hey, babe, I need the shower."

Blushing all over, Beth came for her bra.

They were even more impressive when she was standing.

"Male chauvinist," he murmured.

"See if there's anybody outside," she said softly. "I have to go change."

Cash peeked out. "It's okay."

She started to leave. He stopped her, lifted her chin, kissed her lightly. "Thank you, Beth."

She clung to him momentarily, head against his chest. "Thank you. " She left.

He didn't think it would happen again. Her need had been filled. As once he had filled Teri's need with a refusal.

When would his turn come?

Norm found breakfast awaiting him. "Beginning to look like you're hooked on this one, too, Frank."

"It was the major's idea. He was afraid you wouldn't eat unless you were put under obligation."