After the First Death - Lawrence Block [36]
“I’m being framed,” I said.
“Tell me more.”
“Somebody set me up the first time around. It worked so well I even believed it myself. Then I got out. You know about that.”
“So?”
“So they worked the frame again.”
“Who did?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
The fear was leaving her now. Her eyes met mine, cold, brittle. There was an odd light in them. I wondered if she had been drinking.
“Do you expect me to believe all this?”
“I don’t honestly give a damn what you believe. I just want some answers to some questions.”
“Like what?”
“Russell Stone.”
“Gwen’s husband.”
That’s right”
“What about him? You want to kill him?”
“No.”
“He’s not much. He’s a stiff. Very proper, very much the company man, the Protestant ethic, that whole bag.” Laughter. “Goodlooking, but I bet he’s a drag in the hay. I threw a pass at him on their last trip east. He wasn’t having any. I don’t think he approves of his sister-in-law.”
“When did Gwen meet him?”
“I don’t know. You’re giving me a headache, killer. You want a drink?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s right You don’t drink, do you?”
“I—”
“You don’t drink and you don’t kill girls. You just get framed by evildoers, is that right?”
I drew a breath. “You ought to humor me,” I said. “Get nasty with me and I might take after you with a knife.”
“I’ve decided I’m safe with you, killer.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a whore.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“I never sell it I only give it away.”
“That’s all it’s worth.”
The eyes flashed. “Go easy, killer. I’m bitchier than you, you’ll come out second best.”
“I didn’t come here to fight Linda.”
“I know. You want in-for-ma-tion.”
“That’s right.”
“What I want” she said, “is a drink. Just a small one, because I am nicely up on bennies and too much would blunt the edge. Sure you don’t want one?”
“Positive.” I wanted one desperately.
“Then I drink alone.” I followed her into the kitchen. She poured Scotch into a water tumbler. “Get me some ice, will you? Right behind you.”
I turned toward the refrigerator, then heard her move. She was making a grab for the wall phone. She had the receiver off the hook and her finger in the “O” hole. I hit her open-handed across the face. She reeled away, and I pulled the phone out of the wall.
Her face was white, with red marks from my fingers. “Superman,” she said.
“Don’t try it again.”
“Not with that phone, I won’t.” She picked up her glass. “What would happen if I threw this in your face?”
“I’d beat the crap out of you.”
“Uh-huh. Well, the hell with the ice.” She drank the straight Scotch all the way down and put the empty glass on the counter. “You hurt me, killer.”
“You had it coming.”
“I know.” She stood for a moment, thinking. “The hell with it I don’t want to get hurt any more. The killer plays too rough. I just want you to get the hell out of here. I don’t suppose it would do me much good to scream, would it?”
“None.”
“I didn’t think so. So let’s go back to the living room and sit down on the couch, and you can ask me your precious questions about Russ Stone, All-American Boy. And I will answer them and then you will go away. All right?”
“Fine.”
We went back to the living room. There was a phone there, and I ripped the cord out of the wall.
“I don’t think you trust me.”
“I don’t trust anybody.”
“That’s probably a good policy.” She settled herself on the couch, folding her long legs under her little rump. “You want a cigarette?”
“I have my own.”
We lit cigarettes. She inhaled deeply, sighed the smoke out, and shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“I think Gwen was having an affair with someone while we were married. Whoever it was, he’d have a good motive for framing me. The only motive I can think of. I want to know who it was.”
“You honestly think Gwen was playing around?”
Did I? A difficult question. “Yes.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want to know who the man was.”
“Don’t you have it mixed up? You were the cheater, lover.”
“Forget that.”
“You think my little