At the sound of her voice-with its unmistakable note of love and longing as she recognized his-the irritation caused by the missing Marie was completely dissipated and the ominous ramifications of the past two days faded into the background.
When he asked her to have dinner with him again, she suggested cooking it herself at her apartment, advising him that Joan had called to tell her she would not be home until later. He had been going to suggest ‘The Sanctuary’, but her invitation assured them of more privacy for conversation-and for just being together. He told her he would be there by six-fifteen and, retrieving his coat from the closet, quickly left the office. As he emerged from the rear entrance and walked to his car, he noticed that the humid air had turned cooler again and that the clouds hung low and heavy with the promise of more rain later in the night.
Driving down the entrance ramp to the freeway to join the squirming, crawling mass of rush-hour traffic snaking its way westward out of the city, he realized that-incredibly, fantastically-it had been just forty-eight hours ago-almost to the minute-since he had left the office the last time to drive to the scene of the accident. In the brief, crowded, astonishing four-dozen hours since then he knew that his life-and the way in which he lived it-had undergone a radical and irrevocable transformation. Even without the discovery of Elise-if she had not been one of the witnesses; or had not been what she was or become what she now meant to him-he felt certain that the chain of death, deceit and duplicity that he had uncovered would have had the same profound effect on him. He could no longer indulge himself in the role of spectator of the game of life-aloof and alone on the sidelines; interested, even intrigued, in the techniques and skills of the players, but uncaring of how they fared individually or even if they survived.
His involvement in the investigation of the Central States hijacking and the death of the driver had been a contributory factor-perhaps, even more directly than he cared to admit-in Closter’s murder. And his half-hearted pursuit of the truth in the Beamer affair two years earlier, had undoubtedly been the catalyst that had led inexorably to Wanda’s present predicament. After persuading her-albeit, reluctantly-to tell her story of the sex and drinking party preceding the accident, he had been wrong to turn his back on her and walk away when it failed to accomplish what he wanted. Obviously, she had already made a good start-even then-at ruining her life and he was not sure what , if anything, he could have done at the time-or now-to dissuade or prevent her from continuing to do so. But, he had not tried-and the idea that he should, had not even occurred to him. And, because it had not, he knew now that he had been mistaken when he had told her in the restaurant that whatever had happened to her since was her own fault. Nor, he realized, should he have abandoned the Beamers to their fate after obtaining the token settlement from their insurance company. Having intervened on their behalf, and convinced that they were being victimized, he should have persisted until he had obtained justice and adequate compensation for them. And, recognizing his failure to do so, he now added the responsibility of getting Mrs. Beamer out of the county home to his commitment to Closter’s memory and Wanda’s future.
He remembered once having seen a television program showing hundreds of thousands of snow geese in their annual migration from northern Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. He had marveled at their ability to avoid interfering with one another in flight, although at times, their numbers and proximity to each other seemed to blanket the sky. It occurred to him that he had been like one of them-flying his own course; following his own instincts; oblivious to the fate of others in the flock; not touching, and untouched by those around him. But, he could see now, that life could not be performed like the flight of the snow goose. While it was possible to isolate oneself physically still a word, a look, an idea, a random thought could change the course of a life, and the lives of all those whom it reached. Already, the instant recognition that he and Elise had seen in each other’s eyes had unalterably changed their lives, and would eventually change Marie’s and Cassandra’s, and all those others in the present, and in the still unknown future, who cared about or depended on either of them. To the same extent, he hoped that his decision to pursue the investigation of the death of the Central States driver would lead to a drastic and permanent change in the lives of Bentley, Bucheck, Flynn, Grossman and anybody else involved in the hijacking-smuggling operation.
He drove into the parking area at the side of Elise’s apartment building, and walked back to the front entrance. Mounting the steps, and entering the lobby, he quickly found and pressed the button for apartment 3E. In a few seconds, he heard her voice on the intercom and, after identifying himself-to her undisguised pleasure-was admitted and rode up in the elevator with the anticipation of seeing her again pounding in his chest. As he stepped out at the third floor, he heard her call softly, “This way, Mark”, and turned to see her standing framed in the apartment doorway twenty feet to his right.
As he walked to her, she stepped back inside and he followed. She closed the door behind him and then-naturally, unhesitatingly-stepped into his arms, her lips eagerly searching and finding his waiting as eagerly for hers. They clung together for long, breathless moments, finally separating to stand looking, and marveling, in silent wonder, at the love in each other’s eyes. As he continued to hold her, and to kiss her again, and again, and again, the sweet, joyous laughter of pure happiness welled up in her and she pressed even closer to him, tightening her arms about him.
“My darling. My darling. Elise, my darling,” he murmured over and over between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you, my darling.”
The flood of emotion that she had loosed in him the night before; but which had receded behind the mounting shocks and surprises of the long day; now surged through him again. And again he was astonished-almost unbelieving-at this newfound ability to love, and to be loved, and to say all the old words with all the excitement, delight, wonder-and fear-of a man on a seemingly deserted island suddenly discovering other footprints in the sand. Finally, she put her hands gently on his shoulders and stepped back, flushed and breathless, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her thin blouse.
“Oh, Mark, my darling! I’ve been wondering all day if.. .if last night had really happened and if it was true, and possible, that.that we could really love each other so soon and so much.”
Her voice was soft and husky with her emotion, and her eyes searched his face, seeking reassurance-and he knew that her need was as great as his own.
“It was-and is-and will be-always. True and real, Elise.”
He held her to him again briefly, with less urgency, before she pushed herself away, smiling up at him.
“But, if you don’t let me go, my darling, I’m afraid the lamb chops will be truly and really well done.”
He laughed and released her. She took his coat and hung it in the closet and he followed her in to the living room of the apartment. It was a large pleasant room, comfortably-if femininely-furnished with gay, brightly covered chairs, a long deep sofa behind a freeform, glass-topped cocktail table, and flowered, floor-to-ceiling draperies, partially drawn back across a sliding glass door opening onto a small balcony. A bucket of ice and a bottle of the hundred-poof bourbon that they had discovered they mutually enjoyed that first night, stood on top of a small, wheeled serving cart at the side of the sofa.
“Pour us a drink, darling, while I go check on our dinner,” she said, kissing him lightly before disappearing through one of the two doorways framing the sofa which he could see led into the kitchen.
Selecting two short glasses from the lower shelf of the cart, he dropped two ice cubes in each and filled them one-third full with the bourbon. He carried both to the kitchen doorway and stood silently and pleasurably watching the lithe, supple movements of her body as she moved about the room. As if sensing his eyes on her she turned and, blushing slightly, walked to him and took her drink from his hand. They touched glasses and their eyes met and held each other as they raised them to their lips. No toast was necessary-their faces clearly showing what each wished for the other, and for them both.
“Can I help?” he asked.
She smiled and shook her head, her ebony hair shimmering like black satin. “The most help you could be for now would be to not get too close to me-or let me get too close to you-until dinner’s ready.”
“Isn’t there anything easier I could do-like standing on my head?”
She laughed. “That wouldn’t be any help at all and it could be almost as distracting. Now, go sit down somewhere and relax. You look tired.”
With one last parting kiss, he turned back to the living room and seeing the phone on a small table at the far end of the sofa, he was reminded that he wanted to call Mrs. Closter and that he should return Ben’s call.
“Do I have time to make a couple of phone calls, Elise?” he called out to her.
She came to the kitchen door. “Yes, darling. Dinner won’t be ready for another ten minutes or so.”
Sitting down alongside the phone, he dialed the Closter number, and recognized Mrs. Closter’s voice when she answered on the third ring. She sounded almost pleased to hear from him again and; after inquiring and being assured that her sister had arrived safely, and that she had had no difficulty locating her at the airport; he explained the reason for his call. While he waited, she left the phone to go check the camera and returned in less than a minute to say that the small, white tab sticking out of the side bore the number ‘four’. He thanked her and hung up, feeling satisfied that; unless Closter had changed film packs-which seemed unlikely; the three Polaroid matrices he had left with Phil represented the only pictures that had been taken of the hijacking.
He picked up the phone again to call Ben and; in between his alternating bellowing and awestruck growls-liberally interspersed with an amazing variety of epithets describing the ancestry, lineage and sexual proclivities of the hijackers; managed to assuage his curiosity about the latest developments and status of the investigation, while still avoiding any further mention of Wanda or the pictures. With a final roaring admonition to “keep after the bastards” still ringing in his ear, he replaced the receiver and turned to see Elise standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a quizzical but wryly amused smile on her face.
“Good heavens!” she said. “Who on earth was that?”
“That, my darling, was Mr. Ben Wozniak, owner of Central States Motor Freight,” he told her. “As you could hear, he has the voice of an enraged bull elephant and the vocabulary of a drunken sailor in a house of ill-repute. But; as you will find out one of these days; he also has the instincts and the conscience of a saint.”
“He sounds fascinating. Loud-but fascinating.”
“If your ears are not too sensitive to withstand the volume and the vocabulary, you’ll find he’s one of the best.”
“I can’t wait to meet him. But, give me some advance warning so I can bring my earmuffs along.”
She held out her empty glass and he took it, and his own, and refilled both as she returned to the kitchen. He carried hers out and set it down beside her on the counter next to the small electric range. She stood with her back to him, stirring something in a small pot, and he pulled her hair back and inclined his head to kiss her on the neck. He felt a small shudder pass through her and she leaned back against him.
“Keep that up and you won’t get any dinner,” she said huskily.
Slipping his arm around her just beneath her breasts, he murmured, “What will I get?”
Turning in his arms, she took his face in both her hands and kissed him warmly. Then, with a knowingly mischievous look said, “Thinner!”-and gently pushed him away.
Laughing, he retreated again to the living room and, picking up the latest copy of ‘Time’ from the cocktail table, idly leafed through it until she called out to say their dinner was ready. She had set the table-a small, round one-in the alcove adjoining the kitchen and living room, just to the right of the door leading to the balcony. It was covered with a heavy white cloth and the china, crystal and silverware gleamed richly in the soft, indirect light from the small chandelier overhead. He was glad to see that; while she had obviously striven to provide an attractive and romantic setting, she had omitted the sham of the lighted tapers.
In the slightly more than an hour since he had called, she had prepared an almost unbelievably delicious dinner. A lobster cocktail and a crisp, green salad, with an excellent, lumpy, blue-cheese dressing; was followed by lean, thick, double-rib lamb chops with just a hint of pink still showing in the center-just the way he liked them, although she had not even asked-and fresh broccoli topped with a light, tangy hollandaise sauce. He ate with relish, suddenly realizing how hungry he was despite the excellent lunch with Mrs. Closter. They talked inconsequentially of their likes and dislikes-of small, past happenings and childhood memories-of books, and music, and art-of places he had been and she hoped to go. But, through it all; like an electric current; their love charged their words with an illuminating intensity, revealing their innermost thoughts and secret longings-and welding them even closer together.
Finally; as they finished and she cleaned away their empty dishes and poured a second cup of coffee for them both; they grew silent and sat looking at each other across the table, briefly lost again in the wonder and awe of their mutual discovery. With evident reluctance, she broke the spell by asking what else he had learned during the day about Closter and his possible involvement in the hijacking of the Central States truck.
He told her of the meeting that afternoon in his office and of what Hollander had told him of the history and increasing frequency of the hijackings, and what the FBI man and Atterbury combined had told him of Closter’s background and past record. Backtracking, he recounted his earlier conversation with the coroner and their mutual certainty that Closter had been murdered-his phone call to Wanda and the conversation with her sister leading to the stunning revelation that she was in the hospital, apparently the victim of a beating at the hands of the two deputies-his visit, and lunch, with Mrs. Closter and her astonishing discovery of the Polaroid matrices which he had subsequently left with Phil. But, he did not say anything about Marie’s inexplicable absence. It did not seem to have any bearing on the rest of it and, besides, he did not want to bring her into their conversation at the moment.
Elise listened with growing amazement and mounting horror, which gradually turned into an over-riding concern for his safety as he made plain his intention of continuing to act on his own. Recognizing her fears, and their cause, he tried to explain his new sense of responsibility-for what had happened to Closter, and Wanda, and even the Beamers-that he now believed, compelled and justified his doing so. He listened patiently as she tried to dissuade him and, reaching across the table, took both her hands in his.
“Elise. Darling. In the past two days, since meeting you, I’ve come to realize some very profound; and not very pleasant; things about myself. For one thing, I know now that, like Closter, I’ve been a loner most of my life. Not as withdrawn; not as anti-social, perhaps, as he had apparently become; but certainly headed in the same direction. For all my adult life, I’ve acted-and decided-and lived, independent and uncaring of the wishes or needs of those who cared for, or needed, or depended on me. I’ve used and tolerated people-my parents; my few friends; my business associates; even my wife and daughter-as it suited my purpose. I.I’m certain now that I never loved Marie-never needed her-never even physically desired her very strongly-and, in marrying her, I deceived and cheated her far worse than if I had indulged myself in the usual extra-marital parlor games.”
He could see her protests forming on her lips, but stifled them as he continued. “Don’t say it Elise. The me you know now-the man you’ve.. .begun to love and, I hope, will continue to love-is not the same person that existed in this body before we met. I don’t know; and can’t even pretend to understand; how or why it should be so, but, from the moment I first saw you, I began to see myself for what I really was, and realized that I had been living in a virtual vacuum. Now, I feel like I’ve been reborn, and everything around me-even my senses-seems to have a new clarity and meaning. I know that, up until now, I’ve been a failure as a human being and, I only hope that it’s not too late to.. .to make amends. I.I can’t change how I feel about Marie-not because it’s too late, but because there was never anything there to begin with. But, I don’t want you to be deceived, and cheated, and victimized, by the same indifference, and thoughtlessness, and selfishness that I inflicted on her-or deprived of the love and devotion that you want.. .and deserve.”
She tried once more to interrupt, but he held up his hand to stop her. He had never been able to talk to anyone in his life as he was talking to her, and he wanted to go on, as if afraid that in the next minute his life might end and he would never have the chance to tell her everything that was now in his heart. “I’m certain that I love you, Elise, and that I’ll go on loving you-always. I’m as certain of that as I am of how wrong I was in marrying Marie. But, part of loving you-of being able to love you-is somehow, strangely and.. .and even, incomprehensibly-entangled with a.a realization of.of a neglected response, and responsibility, to all those others who have formed a part of my life-or whose lives have been influenced, or intruded upon by me.”
She managed to free one hand from his grasp and place her fingertips lightly on his lips to shut of the rush of words. “But, Mark darling, don’t you see that what you’re doing is really no different than what you say you’ve been doing all your life-only your motivation has changed. If you were.. .a ‘loner’ before, it was because you were unwilling to share your life with anyone else-even those closest to you. But, in insisting on going ahead on your own, you’re still being a ‘loner’, my darling. Only now, you seem willing to throw your life away, if necessary, to help someone you hardly know-and who, possibly, wouldn’t understand or appreciate what you’re doing. And you’re not even considering what that life means to me now.”
Her eyes showed what it meant, and the logic of her reasoning was inescapable. But he felt committed, and determined, to be personally responsible for the apprehension of, at least, Bentley and his two deputies. He had never been a champion of ‘law and order’, or a great admirer of those who enforced it. He acknowledged that policemen were, unfortunately, the only viable alternative to total anarchy, and that it was a dangerous, thankless job for most of them. But, he was also aware that, too often, the authority of their uniform was misused and abused; and he felt particularly angered and reviled at the way the sheriff and his minions had callously and calculatedly, desecrated and betrayed their public trust.
But he did not tell her any of this. Instead, he only tried to reassure her. “There is no real danger, Elise. If I thought there was, I would have told Dan and Hollander about it and had them come with me to see Wanda. But, there isn’t-and, besides, I’m confident I can get her to talk more freely to me alone, than she would if the others were present.” He put his hand gently on the side of her face. “And I’m not about to throw my life away, my darling. It means more to me now than it ever has before, because of you-and I intend to take verygood care of myself, for you.”
She looked at him silently for a few moments, her eyes probing his as if searching for an opening into his mind. Then, as if having found it, she tightened her grip on his hand, saying softly, “A few years ago, I did something very much like what you’re doing now-and for almost the same reasons.”
And she told him then of Tommy-of having given herself to him and, subsequently, coming to doubt her love for him-of his death and her guilt for feeling freed of the necessity of having to tell him of her change of heart-of her rejection of family and friends, and involvement in the anti-war, anti-everything movement-and finally, of the destruction, and drugs, and sex culminating in the horror of that final, and nearly fatal, weekend.
Still tightly grasping his hand in hers-and with her cheeks wet with tears-she finished, “I know now that I was only trying to vindicate myself-to prove that I had been worthy of his love. But, in doing so, I almost succeeded in proving that I wasn’t worthy of anybody’s love-and very nearly lost my life in the effort. What I did was far worse, and infinitely more foolish, than what you’re doing. And, knowing what I did, I wonder if you can still love me.”
The words of assurance were already on his lips, but she continued quickly before he could speak them, “But, Mark darling, surely you see that-like me-you’re only trying to vindicate yourself-to prove that you were worthy of your parents, of.. .Marie, of Cassandra, of.. .me, despite what I’ve just told you about myself. And, in the end, your sacrifice could be even more meaningless than mine would have been.”
A tear dropped from her cheek onto the back of his hand. He got up and went around the table to her and she rose to stand in the circle of his arms. He kissed the warm, salty wetness from her face as she lifted it to look at him. “You’re right, of course, Elise. I am just trying to make up for past neglect and selfishness. But.. .don’t you see, my darling.. .I’m the only one who can. Nobody can do it for me. The responsibility is mine and, knowing that, I can’t simply turn away and ignore the consequences as I have in the past. I have to-at least-make the effort to.to do something positive.something constructive for a change.” Taking out his handkerchief, he dabbed it in the corners of her eyes, as he added “But, I will promise that; regardless of what I learn from Wanda tonight, or how the pictures turn out; I’ll tell Dan and the FBI everything I know tomorrow and let them handle it from then on.”
He knew he was dissembling again since if he did not learn anything significant from Wanda; and if the pictures did not prove as useful as he hoped-there would be no point in trying to continue on his own. But, he really did not believe there was any danger to himself, and he had to say something to try to relieve her apprehension. He seemed to have been, at least, partially successful as-making no further attempt to talk him out of his resolve-she sighed deeply, put her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down to her lips. They kissed tenderly, lingeringly and, as they continued to cling together, he slowly became more aware of the pressure of her body against his and, uncontrollably, felt the rising response of his body to her touch. His hands slipped lower on her back and tightened around her. She moaned softly, thrusting herself against him. Their mouths ground hungrily together, forcing their lips apart, tongues emerging, meeting, exploring.
Then, suddenly, she pulled back and buried her face against his chest-her body quivering in his continued embrace. They stood silently, as one, until their breathing slowly returned to normal. He relaxed his hold on her and she looked back up at him, smiling ruefully.
“I’m sure there is one way I could keep you here-and I came very close to using it just now. But, it wouldn’t have been fair-to either of us-if I had.”
He was amazed again at her astonishing insight, and her instinct for saying and doing, just the right thing at just the right time.
“You’re an incredibly good and beautiful woman, Elise,” he responded, “in more ways than one. And tomorrow, I’m going to start concentrating exclusively on doing everything possible to see that you never get away from me.”
She leaned back in his arms. “Oh. How are you going to do that?”
“By marrying you as soon as possible, and devoting every minute of my life to keeping you happy.”
“I will marry you Mark, but I don’t want you to make promises that we both know you can’t keep.” She smiled, tightening her arms around him again. “I’ll be content with every other minute.”
Their lips joined again-blending more gently and less demandingly than before-and separated slowly, reluctantly. He glanced through the doorway into the kitchen and saw that the electric clock over the range indicated it was eight thirty-five.
“I’m going to have to leave, Elise,” he said loosening his arms from around her.
She made no attempt to detain him and walked with him to the front door. Retrieving his coat from the closet, she watched silently as he put it on. Stepping close to him again, she put her hands on his shoulders.
“Mark, darling. You’ve had so much on your mind the past couple of days and.and everything has happened so fast that.well, maybe-if you haven’t said anything yet-maybe it would be better if you waited; just a little while-until all this was over-before saying anything to your.. .to Marie.”
He put his hands lightly on her slender waist. “There’s no need to wait, Elise. I’m sure if you are.” She nodded wordlessly. “Then I’ll tell her as soon as I see her. The only trouble is, I’m not sure when that will be. She seems to have disappeared.”
“Disappeared!” She was obviously both startled and alarmed by the word.
He shrugged, pretending an indifference that he suddenly realized was not totally true. “Yes. She went out sometime yesterday afternoon and hasn’t been home since, as far as I know. But, I don’t think there is any reason to worry about her.”
Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and foreboding. “Do.do you think it could have anything to do with.. .with your investigation?”
The suggestion again surprised him, but not as much as it had the first time-although it still did not seem credible. “My neighbor, Phil Adamson , asked me the same thing, but I don’t see how it’s possible for the two to be connected. I doubt that she knows anything more about the accident Monday night other than what I told her before leaving the office-or, if she does, that it means anything to her. I’m sure she doesn’t know anybody involved. It’s just a coincidence.”
She was not convinced. “Do you think it’s possible that someone saw us together and toldher about it?”
He had not intended to mention it just yet, but did not want to leave her feeling guilty, “On the contrary, Elise. I’ve been almost certain, for the past few months, that she’s been having an affair of her own, and that’s probably what’s keeping her away from home now. So, don’t waste your time worrying about her. If anything, she may be just making things easier for us.”
She seemed almost as startled-and puzzled-by both his reference and attitude towards Marie’s possible affair. But, she also apparently recognized his reluctance to discuss it any further at the moment.
“All right, Mark. I’m sure you know best,” she replied. It was almost the same reply that Phil had made, and he hoped they were both right.
They clung briefly together once again and then she walked with him to the elevator and waited until it arrived and he descended from view. It was raining again when he came out of the building and he ran around the side to get his car. Getting in, he sat remembering the feel of her in his arms; the soft, living sweetness of her lips on his; the sound of her words of love for him; and was tempted to drop the whole investigation then and there. It would be so easy to go back upstairs; call Dan, tell him about Wanda and the pictures; and stay with her-have her, as he knew she would let him. But, if he did, he knew he would only be doing-once more-what he had done so often before in his life-taking what he wanted, and giving nothing in return. And now that he was aware of his grievous and gratuitous past attitude towards the fate of his fellow man-and woman-he doubted that he could face himself, or the future, if he took advantage of her love in such a calculated and unfeeling manner. At least-before he came to know and understand himself he had had the understandable, if unacceptable, excuse of just plain thoughtlessness to condone his actions, and console his conscience. But, there was no turning back now. No more self-serving excuses. He knew himself and knew what he had to do.
He started the car and, as he drove past the front of the building, he thought he saw her outlined in the balcony window and knew also that she was right. He was only trying to vindicate himself, but he did not know how else to prove that he was worthy of her love.