Rita answered the door in a pair of sweats and a white V-neck undershirt. She wore no makeup. Her hair was down and damp from a recent shower.
Hastings thought of the first time he’d met her. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had thought she looked plain then, like a college student. He didn’t see her that way anymore.
Rita said, “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Come in. Please.” He followed her into the apartment and she said, “Would you like something to drink? I don’t have any tea.”
“No. Nothing, thank you.”
She went around the corner.
Hastings looked at the daybed. Saw clothes folded and luggage packed. He looked around the apartment. “Are you moving?”
He heard her voice from the kitchen. “Yeah, I think so.”
He walked to the kitchen doorway and looked in. She was standing in front of the sink, washing glasses.
Rita said, “Maybe you’ve heard. I’ve become famous.”
Hastings had seen it in the morning paper at the coffee shop and read it after Carol had left. On the cover of the St. Louis Herald: CALL GIRL KILLS SPRINGHEEL JIM. Her photo in a black dress and overcoat, near the front of Lindell Towers.
Hastings said, “I saw it in the paper. And on the news. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and kept her focus on the kitchen sink. “What are you sorry for? I’m the most popular girl at school.”
“That’s why you’re leaving?”
She turned and gave him a look. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I see. Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“I came here to thank you. For helping us and for, well, for saving my life. And to tell you I’m sorry.”
“You already said you were sorry.” She turned off the taps. “It’s like you told me the other night—you use what you can.”
“Yeah, I said that. And the truth is, I’d probably do it again. Well, I mean, I’d probably try to do it better.”
She smiled at him. “Yeah, I would hope so.”
For a few moments neither of them said anything.
Then she relaxed and said, “Oh, what the hell. I wanted to get out of St. Louis anyway. It’s an okay town, but it’s not for me.”
“Where will you go?”
“Chicago. I’ve got friends there and I can finish school there too. Start over.” She looked around the place. “You know, I’ll miss this apartment, though.”
“It’s a nice apartment.”
She walked out of the kitchen and into the living area, her shoulder brushing his as she went by. She took a seat on the daybed.
Hastings turned and leaned against the doorway.
She said, “I guess you’d tell me that it was worth exposing me to stop him from killing other women.”
“I didn’t want to expose you.”
“I know you didn’t. But at least you got rid of him.”
“I didn’t.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, I’ll accept the gratitude for helping you catch him. But I didn’t save your life. I saved my own.”
“Okay,” Hastings said. “Well, thanks just the same.” He started moving to the door.
“Hey, are you leaving?”
“Yeah, I’ve got . . . stuff.” He turned to look at her. “I wish you the best, Rita.”
She smiled at him from her place on the couch, her legs tucked up underneath her. A smile he’d never seen from her before, a friendly warmth in her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay awhile?”
Oh God, Hastings thought. For she had never looked more desirable to him than she did now. Her face and figure, real. The woman, real. Real to him now.
“Ahhh, I gotta go.” He opened the door. He turned to look at Rita Liu one more time before he went out.
“You know, George,” she said, the smile still in her voice. “You’re not so cool.”