He left the booth and started back toward the cocktail lounge. Jim intercepted him.
“Miss Young went to freshen up. She should be back in a minute. George has your table ready for you. Do you want to see the menu or should I just duplicate her order?”
“What did she order?”
“Steak, medium rare, with béarnaise sauce, creamed spinach, Roquefort dressing on the salad.”
He had ordered the same combination many times, and Jim knew it. “With a little prompting from you?”
He grinned. “It didn’t take much. I think you two are operating on the same wavelength.”
There was still no hint of innuendo in the quiet voice. But, obviously, he had detected something more in his attitude towards Elise than he was conscious of himself. Although he had never discussed his marital problems with him, he felt certain that Jim was aware of the deepening estrangement between him and Marie. ‘The Sanctuary’ had opened about six months after they were married. At first, they had been regular customers but; like everything else that they had initially enjoyed doing together; they no longer had any interest or desire to share it with each other. The last time they had been there together had been on their anniversary, six months earlier. It was the last time they had been anywhere together, outside of the house. They simply did not have anything to say to each other anymore and, in a public place, with the conversation and laughter of others surrounding them, their own silence quickly became oppressive.
“I’ll have the same,” he told him.
Jim passed their order on to the waiter, George, who had been standing by patiently while he made up his mind. Turning back, he asked, “I suppose Ben is pretty upset about the accident?”
“I’m surprised you couldn’t hear him. He’s got some wild idea that the driver might have been drugged.”
“Drugged!” The soft voice was heavy with a skeptical surprise.
“That was my reaction when he first mentioned it. But it may not be as far-fetched as it sounds.” He told him how the other witness had described the driver, and also about the vague rumors Ben had heard regarding other drivers being drugged and hijacked.
“It still sounds pretty unbelievable to me,” Jim said as he finished.
“I agree. But the autopsy report should help to establish whether it is or not.”
“Are you going to handle the investigation yourself then?” he asked with the easy familiarity of someone knowledgeable of his business methods.
“Possibly. It depends on what the report does show. If it was a heart attack, or something of the sort, there’ll probably be no need for any further investigation.”
Elise emerged from the ladies room and walked to where they were standing. She looked relaxed and refreshed. Her lips shone with a slightly richer shade of pink. It seemed to be the only makeup she wore. In the subdued but clear lighting of the restaurant it was apparent that there was a naturalness and maturity in her beauty that transcended the usual shallowness and artificiality of many of her contemporaries.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she said, as she came up to them.
A number of replies flashed through his mind, but he did not feel he knew her well enough yet to utter any of them. “You didn’t. I only got through with my phone call a minute ago,” he told her instead.
They followed Jim to the small semi-circular booth he had prepared for them on the far side of the room. All of the dining facilities of ‘The Sanctuary’ were designed to afford the occupants a maximum of privacy. The booths; such as theirs and larger ones for groups of four, that lined three sides of the room; were deep and divided by ceiling height partitions. The tables occupying the rest of the room were widely separated and surrounded by tall wing-backed chairs. At the moment, about half of the booths and tables were in use but not by anybody he knew, or that appeared to know either of them.
The waiter had brought their unfinished drinks to the table but, noticing that the glasses were almost empty, Jim picked them up saying, “I’ll have George bring you fresh drinks. Enjoy your dinner.”
In a few moments the waiter returned with the new drinks.
“Good evening, Mr. Tuesday,” he murmured.
George had waited on him and Marie on most of the occasions that they had dined there together. He was slender and swarthy, of medium height and indeterminate age. He was an excellent waiter-courteous, unobtrusive and with the discreet air of a man with a thousand well-kept secrets. He nodded deferentially to Elise, his face impassive as he inquired if they would like their dinner served right away.
“Oh, yes. Please,” she responded. “I suddenly realize I’m famished.”
“Would you mind if we talked about the accident now?” he asked her, as George left to get their order.
“No, I suppose not.” She smiled. “That is why we stopped here, isn’t it?”
He matched her smile.
“I could come to your apartment tomorrow, if you’d prefer.”
There was a momentary hesitation before she replied, still smiling, “Perhaps we had better talk about it now.”
It was not easy to conceal his disappointment.
“Well, to begin with, the owner of the trucking company seems to think there’s something strange about the accident because the driver was two hours behind schedule. He claims he should have been about a hundred miles west of where he was when he crashed.”
“I’m sure there must be some good explanation,” she replied.
“Probably. But he hadn’t notified his office of any trouble and Ben-that’s the owner, Ben Wozniak-feels certain there was nothing wrong with him or his equipment to account for the way it happened.”
“What do you mean, ‘the way it happened’?”
“Didn’t you hear Mr. Closter describe the way the driver looked and acted before he crashed?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention to what he said.”
“Well, according to Flynn, Closter said the driver looked as if he was already dead as he went by his car.”
Horror began to dawn in her eyes. “How terrible! I guess I just assumed that he had lost control.”
“Then you didn’t see his face or notice anything unusual about him yourself?”
Her eyes were deep blue, almost indigo. Not black as he had originally thought they might be in the shadowed interior of the deputy’s car. She was dressed casually in a short, plaid skirt; that had shown her legs to such good advantage earlier; and a loose cardigan sweater that subtly hinted at the fullness of her breasts, which cradled a cameo on a slender gold chain. A slim gold watch on her left wrist and a class ring on her right hand were the only other jewelry she wore. Her skin had a faint creamy tint rather than the dead-white that usually accompanied her color hair. Glints of copper highlighted the deep natural waves that framed her face and fell about her shoulders.
She slowly turned her glass with her fingers. After a few moments, she raised it to her lips, took a small sip and held the liquid in her mouth before swallowing.
“The deputy also asked me if I had seen his face, but he didn’t say why and I didn’t attach any significance to it. Now that I think about it, I can’t be sure if I did or not. It seems that I must have, but it happened so fast that I couldn’t tell you how he looked even if I did see him. How did Mr. Closter describe him?”
“He said he was just sitting there, staring straight ahead.”
“How awful!” She shuddered and took another sip of her drink.
Instinctively, he put his hand on top of hers where it rested on the table.
“I’m sorry. I should have waited until after we ate to discuss it with you. I hope I haven’t spoiled your appetite.”
She did not try to free her hand, but her fingers moved gently beneath his, like the wings of a trapped bird. He took his away and lifted his glass.
“On, no. Not at all. I’m too hungry.” She forced another smile, and then added pensively, “But, it does seem so much more horrible to think that he.”
She left the thought unfinished as the waiter returned with their food. She ate slowly but steadily; cutting small, almost delicate bites of meat with a minimum of motion, chewing each one gently but thoroughly; alternating with her salad and vegetable, and taking an occasional taste from her drink. The contrast with Marie’s somewhat careless table manners and her lack of discrimination-and enjoyment-in what she ate, was inescapable.
They consumed the meal in relative silence, commenting only on the quality of the food, the comfort of the surroundings and the pleasures of life in Glen Park. She had lived there slightly over two months, having taken an apartment with another girl just before the beginning of the school year. It was in a new complex on the south side of the village. The other girl’s name was Joan Vickers and she worked as a secretary in the city, for an insurancecompany in fact.
“Which one?” he asked.
She pondered for a moment before answering in pleased surprise.
“Why, I believe it’s the same one you said you represent.”
“Mid-Continent Casualty and Life?”
“Yes! That ‘s the name! Do you know her?”
“I don’t believe I do. Do you happen to know the name of the man she works for?”
After a few more seconds of thought, she shook her head, “I’m sure she’s mentioned it, but I can’t think of it just now.”
“Well, Mid-Continent’s a very big company and I know comparatively few of their employees. Chances are, we’ve never met.”
She asked him how long he had lived in Glen Park.
“About six and a half years.”
— And if Cassandra was an only child-
“Yes.”
— But nothing about Marie.
She seemed to have sensed that he did not want her to ask him about his wife. It would have been only natural for her to inquire about the mother of one of her pupils. She had said that Cassandra had told her about him. From the way she had said it, he had assumed that the child’s comments had been flattering. But, what had she told her about her mother? He could not believe it would have been anything derogatory-she was too sweet-natured. Most likely, it was what she had not said that now caused Elise to avoid the subject.
As soon as they finished, George returned, and they ordered coffee. As the waiter left again after serving it, she raised her hands to shoulder height, arching her back in a luxuriating gesture. He took a swallow of the hot liquid trying to dispel the thoughts inspired by the tautness of her sweater.
“Feeling better?” he asked as she relaxed and sat forward again.
“Oh, yes. Much. Thank you.” She smiled warmly. “I’m very glad now that you were so persuasive earlier.”
Suddenly, they were no longer just uneasy strangers. Now it seemed as if they were standing together, tentatively, on the threshold of a bright and beautiful new land that they were both anxious to explore, but apprehensive about what they might find. But, it was too soon-too quick-and he fought the emotion that kept welling up in him every time he looked at her. He had never let himself be ruled by emotions, and even thought that he had successfully eliminated them from his temperament. It was surprising, and annoying, to find that they were still there-lurking in the hidden recesses of his mind-ready and eager to take control of his will.
“Is there anything wrong?” she asked.
He realized he must have been staring again, and hoped that his inner conflict had not been evident on his face. “No. I was only wondering whether I would spoil your dinner by reminding you about the accident again?” She hesitated, and he added, “I know it’s getting late and you must be exhausted. If you don’t feel up to discussing it any more just now, I could come and see you after school tomorrow.”
Her eyes seemed to look at him from somewhere out of the past, probing his as if trying to read the thoughts they concealed. She must have been successful because she replied as he had hoped.
“Yes. Maybe that would be better, after all. You’ve been so thoughtful that I hate to trouble you but, perhaps, I can be more helpful after a good night’s sleep.”
“What time would be convenient for you?”
“I’m usually home by four. You could call me any time after that.”
Elation surged through him like an electric shock. He was glad of the excuse to look away as he wrote down her phone number.
She declined an offer for more coffee and he signaled to the waiter hovering attentively nearby and asked for the check. After he had paid it, they left the dining room and met Jim coming out of the cocktail lounge.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Miss Young?” he inquired.
“Oh, yes! It was delicious. I’m sure I’m going to be a regular customer from now on.”
Jim was obviously pleased. “I’m glad. I’ll look forward to seeing you again very soon.” His eyes were filled with admiration and he shifted his gaze away from her reluctantly. “Are you going to be able to keep our golf date this Saturday, Mark?”
“I’m not sure, Jim. I’ll call you later in the week.”
The restaurant owner walked with them to the front entrance, pulled open the massive door and they exchanged “good-nights.”
He walked in silence with Elise to where he had parked the car. As he got in behind the wheel, he was surprised to see Jim still standing in the doorway. The light from inside cast his enormous shadow across their path as they drove by.