Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [114]
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Lee was at home later that day when the phone rang. It was Kathy, and he knew immediately from her voice that something was wrong. She hadn’t spent the night with him on Saturday either, and he thought she had already gone back to Philadelphia.
“I need to see you.”
“Is it about your cat?”
“No, it’s—I need to see you in person.”
“You’re still in town?”
“Yes. I leave for Philly later today.”
“Why don’t you come here?”
There was a pause, and in that single window of silence, despair crept into the room and nestled quietly beside him, warming itself in the fire of his passion.
“Can we meet somewhere else?”
“Sure.”
“I’m still at Arlene’s place in Murray Hill. Can you meet me at the Waterfront?”
The Waterfront was a friendly neighborhood joint on Second Avenue with a nautical theme, a long narrow room with dark wood floors and pictures of sailing boats on the walls. The elaborate mahogany bar sported a great selection of microbrewery beers, and the menu selections included ostrich burgers and rabbit stew. Lee had been going there for years, and when he took Kathy, she had loved the place as much as he did.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said.
He hailed a cab and was there in twelve.
Kathy was sitting at a square wooden table farthest from the bar, where the regular customers were perched on their barstools, shrouded in a blue haze of cigarette smoke. Lee’s father had smoked, and he hated being around smoking of any kind.
She looked nervous, and the smile she gave him was fleeting, flitting across her face in the space of a second. He bent down to kiss her, but felt her stiffen.
He sat across from her, resting his elbows on the wooden surface, deeply scarred with the carved initials of previous patrons. In front of him the phrase Kilroy was here was written in large block letters.
“What are you drinking?” he said, glancing at the glass in front of her.
“Scotch,” she answered. She seemed to be avoiding looking at him.
“Want another one?”
She nodded and drained her glass in a single swallow. Bad sign, he thought—normally she wasn’t much of a drinker.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
He threaded his way through after-work crowd. They looked to be mostly office workers, men with their ties undone and suit jackets over their shoulders, the women at the bar slipping off their pumps to wiggle their toes under the bar stools. Everyone was in a festive mood. Even though it was Monday, the place was crowded. Waves of laughter crested and fell among the various groups; people flirted and gossiped, leaning into one another and then suddenly throwing their heads back to laugh at the punch line of a joke.
He ordered two Scotches, carrying them back to the table carefully through the crowd to avoid spilling them. She accepted the drink and took a large swallow. She put down the glass and looked at her hands, which were fidgeting with the drink straw, twisting it into tight knots.
“Okay,” he said, his stomach slowly filling with dread, “what did you want to talk about?”
“This is really hard,” she said, looking away.
“Waiting to hear it is harder—just say it.”
“Okay.” She looked up at him. In the rosy rays of the setting sun, her eyes were the color of caramel cream. A single lock of curly black hair fell over her forehead, and Lee’s stomach went hollow. He forced himself to look away.
The words, when they came, hit him like a body blow.
“I think we should have some time apart.”
“All right,” he said calmly, though what he wanted was to yell and scream as loud as he could. “Why couldn’t you tell me this over the phone?”
“Because it’s not the kind of thing you say over the phone.”
“Okay.”
“I … I’m having trouble