Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

Her grandfather died the next week.

He died in his sleep, and everyone said it was a natural death for an old man. But Margaret knew what had really happened. Margaret knew that her mother had told him all those things. Margaret knew that her mother had killed Papa.

Her mother did not get the divorce she’d wanted; perhaps the death of the old man really affected her. In any case, she did not go away. She continued to stay in a household that was suddenly filled with strangers. And once, months after the old man had been buried, Margaret walked into the kitchen to find her mother weeping. Her mother turned to her and said, “I’ve lost him, I’ve lost him,” but Margaret knew she was not talking about Papa. She was talking about this other man someplace. And so she turned her back and left the room. After that there were new men. Margaret learned to sense when her mother was leaving the house to meet another man, but she didn’t care by that time.

Her mother had killed the one person Margaret really loved, and now there was no one left to kill, and so she didn’t care any more.

At ten years of age she had learned that you could never love anyone too deeply because you were always left alone.

Alone and afraid.

When Don came home from work that night, she told him about the beating even though she knew this presented a possible danger. The Coles were not truly friends of theirs, and he might wonder how she’d got access to the story. But she felt compelled to tell him, and he listened to the story gravely, and never once asked how she’d learned of the attack.

When it was over, he said, “I don’t believe it.”

“What don’t you believe?”

“That Felix would be stupid enough to do a thing like that.”

“Do you think Eve made up the story?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why should she make up a story like that?”

“I don’t know.” Don was pensive for a moment. Then he asked, “She’s got two kids, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“So how could Felix do anything like that? I don’t believe it. Besides, she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d get into such trouble.”

“But it happened.”

“If it happened, it was Felix’s fault. He must have a dirty mind.”

“Maybe she asked for it,” Maggie said.

“I’m sure she didn’t. She’s a married woman, the mother of two kids!”

Maggie looked at him unflinchingly. “Married women,” she said slowly, “have been known to go to bed with other men on occasion. The idea may come as a shock to you...”

“It doesn’t come as a shock to me, Margaret, but I’m glad I don’t know any women like that. And Eve Cole certainly isn’t that kind of a woman.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know, that’s all. You can tell by looking at her. She’s the mother of two kids, for God’s sake, and I can’t see her getting into a cheap stupid situation—”

“All right.”

“... where a fellow like Felix—”

“All right, Don.”

“... would take advantage of—”

“All right!” Maggie snapped. “You’ve successfully defended her honor!”

“Well, that’s the way I feel.”

“You missed your calling.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should have been a press agent for Mother’s Day.”

“I don’t think that’s funny.”

“I thought it was pretty funny,” Maggie said. She left him and went into the kitchen to do the dishes, wondering what he would do if he ever found out his own wife, a mother , for God’s sake, was one of those women he was glad he didn’t know.

Don sat in his easy chair, picked up the newspaper, and began reading it. After a while, he called, “Do you really think Felix got funny with her?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Poor kid,” Don answered. “I wonder how she feels.”

At first Eve felt nothing but pride.

Responding in a time-worn, timeless, female way, she knew only that her man had gone to her defense. The storm had intensified the protected feeling she’d known. Not only had Larry gone out to defy another man, but he’d casually defied the raging elements as well. The entire concept, she supposed, was completely medieval — the insult, the defense, the victorious return, the comforting, and then the reward. She had made love to him passionately that night. Her own ardor surprised her. Reaching for him, rediscovering him, she wanted to possess and be possessed. She knew pride and passion and ownership that night. That night he was her man.

In the morning everything seemed to have been forgotten.

The bedroom was still cool from the gratifying night breezes. Later in the day the August sun would attack the small ranch and render it insufferably hot. But now it was cool, and she opened her eyes and then sat up and stretched and ran her hands upward on the back of her neck, the long black hair tumbling through her fingers. She smiled contentedly, remembering.

Larry was already out of bed. She got up, went to the closet, and put on a blue peignoir. She hoped the children were already dressed and out of the house. Feeling quite saucy and daring, she went into the kitchen. Larry was standing at the counter spooning instant coffee into their cups. She went to him and stood behind him, her arms around his waist, her cheeks against his back. Then, without warning, she began caressing him.

“Hey!”

“Making coffee?” she cooed innocently.

“Come on, come on,” he said. He caught her hands gently and turned to face her.

“Where are the kids?” she asked.

“Outside already.”

“Did you give them breakfast?”

“Yes. David wouldn’t eat his egg.”

“Come into the bedroom with me,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

“What do you want to show me?”

“Me,” she said.

“Come on, sexy. Get dressed.”

“I’d rather get undressed.”

“I guess I ought to beat people up more often.”

“I guess you ought to.”

“I guess so.”

“I guess so.” They stood looking at each other. Eve winked. “Well?”

“The kids’ll be popping in and out.”

“We’ll lock the doors.”

“Later,” Larry said.

“Why not now?”

“I’ve got some work to do. A letter to Altar about a legitimate extra, and some other things.”

“Oh” Eve shrugged. “Okay.” She turned away from him. “Do you want toast?” she asked, and she hoped her disappointment did not show.

Several times that day she went into the small office and hovered about his board, but he did not give her much attention. And several times that day she found a persistent thought nagging her mind. Now that the episode with Felix was over, she began to wonder just what had provoked it. Unable to find within herself any reasons for Felix’s bald assumption, honestly believing she had never given him the slightest indication of unrest or dissatisfaction or willingness to submit to his advances, she began to wonder just what had given him the idea.

And it was then that she once again thought of infidelity.

And immediately put it out of her mind.

To find it returning again immediately.

She had thought the weekend at Easthampton had banished the idea completely, but here it was back again, seemingly stronger after its short exile. She tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it was not there, but Larry’s indifference strengthened the vague idea until it began taking firmer shape.

Was Larry being unfaithful to her? And had he confided this to Felix? And was this why Felix had assumed he could safely approach her?

The idea was fantastic, of course.

But possible.

Preposterous.

But plausible.

She allowed it to gnaw steadily at her mind.