“So it seemed.”
Myron couldn’t figure that one out. He asked a few more questions, but there was nothing else to learn. Win offered his hand. Zorra took it and stepped out of the booth. She handled the high heels well. Not everyone does.
Zorra kissed Win on the cheek. “Thanks for not killing Zorra, dreamboat.”
Win bowed slightly. “A pleasure, madame.” Win the charmer. “I’ll walk you out.”
Myron slid into the booth next to Thrill. Without saying a word, she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard. He kissed her back. Win and his mouthwash. What a guy.
When they came up for air, Thrill said, “You do know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Ditto.”
“You also scared the hell out of me.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
She searched his face. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
“Part of me wants to invite you back to my place.”
He said nothing, lowering his eyes. She kept her eyes on his face.
“This is it, isn’t it?” she said. “You won’t call, will you?”
Myron said, “You’re beautiful, intelligent, fun—”
“And about to get the big kiss-off.”
“It’s not you.”
“Oh, that’s original. Don’t tell me. It’s you, right?”
He tried a smile. “You know me so well.”
“I’d like to.”
“I’m damaged goods, Nancy.”
“Who isn’t?”
“I’m just over a long-term relationship—”
“Who said anything about a relationship? We could just go out, right?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t work that way,” he said. “I can’t help it. I go out with someone, I start picturing kids and a backyard barbecue and a rusted hoop in the driveway. I try to size up all that stuff right away.”
She looked at him. “Christ, you’re strange.”
Hard to argue.
She started fiddling with a mixing straw. “And you can’t imagine me in any of those domestic settings?”
“Just the opposite,” Myron said. “That’s the problem.”
“I see. At least I think I see.” She shifted in her seat. “I better go.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“No, I’ll get a taxi.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. Good night, Myron.”
She walked away. Myron stood. Win moved up next to him. They watched her disappear out the door.
“You’ll make sure she gets home safely?” Myron asked.
Win nodded. “I already called a car service for her.”
“Thanks.”
Silence. Then Win put his hand on Myron’s shoulder.
“May I make one observation at this juncture?” Win asked.
“Shoot.”
“You’re a total moron.”
They stopped at the doctor’s apartment on the Upper West Side. He restitched the wound, making a tsk-tsk noise as he sewed. When they reached Win’s apartment at the Dakota building, the two friends settled into the Louis the Someteenth decor with their favorite beverages. Myron chugged on a Yoo-Hoo; Win sipped an amber liquor.
Win flipped channels with a remote control. He stopped on CNN. Myron looked at the screen and thought of Terese on that island by herself. He checked the time. This was normally Terese’s anchor slot. A bad dye job filled in. Myron wondered when or if Terese would be back on the air. And he wondered why he kept thinking about her.
Win turned the TV off. “Need a refill?”
Myron shook his head. “So what did Sawyer Wells tell you?”
“Not very much, I’m afraid. Clu was a drug addict. He tried to help him. Blah, blah, blah. Sawyer is leaving the Yankees, you know.”
“I didn’t.”
“He credits them with raising him out of obscurity. But alas, now it’s time for dear Sawyer to take hold of his reins and motivate more minions. He’s going to start touring soon.”
“Like a rock star?”
Win nodded. “Complete with overpriced T-shirts.”
“Are they black?”
“I don’t know. But at the end of each performance he encores after frenzied fans flick their Bics and shout, ‘Freebird!’ ”
“That’s so 1977.”
“Isn’t it? But I did a little checking. Guess who’s sponsoring the tour.”
“Budweiser, the undisputed King of Beer?”
“Close,” Win said. “His new publisher. Riverton Press.”
“As in Vincent Riverton, former owner of the New York Yankees?”
“The very.”
Myron whistled, processed it, came up with nothing. “With all the buyouts in publishing, Riverton owns half the books in town. Probably means nothing.”
“Probably,” Win agreed. “If you have more questions, Sawyer is giving a seminar tomorrow at the Cagemore Auditorium at Reston University. He invited me to attend. I’m allowed to bring a date.”
“I don’t put out on the first date.”
“And you’re proud of that?”
Myron took a deep chug. Maybe he was getting older, but Yoo-Hoo didn’t have the same kick anymore. He craved a venti-size skim iced latte with a splash of vanilla, though he hated ordering it in front of other men. “I’m going to try to find out about Clu’s autopsy tomorrow.”
“Through this Sally Li?”
Myron nodded. “She’s been in court, but she’s supposed to be back at the morgue tomorrow morning.”
“Think she’ll tell you anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“You may have to turn on the charm again,” Win said. “Is this Sally Li of the heterosexual persuasion?”
“She is now,” Myron said. “But once I turn on the charm—”
“All bets are off, yes.”
“Charm so potent,” Myron said, “he can turn a woman against men.”
“You should print that on your business card.” Win did that snifter circle, palm up and under the glass. “Before our old chum Billy Lee perished, did he reveal anything of import?”
“Not really,” Myron said. “Just that he thought I was the one who killed Clu and now wanted to kill him.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm what?”