The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [115]
“So I understand.”
SIXTEEN
Ever since he and Bert had talked about her, Warren Ormont had taken an interest in Melanie Jaeger. At first this consisted of little more than finding a way to drop her name into casual conversations and see where those conversations led. The result was largely a matter of inference. No one actually came right out and said anything, but from a throwaway line here and a raised eyebrow there, Warren was able to piece things together. The conclusion was what he had hoped it would be. In a selective and reasonably discreet fashion, Melanie was offering her ass around all over the place.
On several occasions he managed to be near her, close enough to watch the way she handled herself in public. She did not flirt, he noticed, and she seemed impervious to the casual flattery she frequently attracted. Warren registered this and approved. She was not easy, then, not a mindless little cunt who could be caught on an un- baited fishhook. No, it was Melanie who did the selecting, Melanie who determined the occasions for her adultery. She was looking for something new, he guessed. Something special, something out of the ordinary. Something—if one could countenance the word—something perverse.
This, as much as her unquestionable physical appeal, particularly attracted Warren. While he frequently found women attractive, he was rarely moved to act on his feelings. As comfortable as he was with female bodies, he was rarely at ease with the minds that inhabited them. The thought of living with a woman appalled him. It was difficult enough to live with a man, even a man as temperamentally suited to him as Bert, but with any woman ever born it would have been quite impossible.
On a simpler plane, he had found that the discomfort of intimate female company generally outweighed the pleasure of occasional affairs with women. It was one thing to fuck them, another thing entirely to have them that close to you. The sort of closeness which he treasured with male lovers was upsetting with females.
The more he saw of Melanie, and the more he thought about her, the less he felt such considerations be operative in her case. She wanted thrills—he was sure of this, and no less sure because he had reached this conclusion largely through intuition. He had learned over the years to trust his intuition, had found it more reliable in most instances than reason. His intuition, given free rein, supplied him with a fairly detailed portrait of Melanie before he exchanged a single word with her.
That first exchange took place on a Tuesday morning. They passed on the street, she with a bag of groceries, he en route to the laundry with a half dozen dirty shirts in a paper bag. “Why, it’s Melanie Jaeger,” he said enthusiastically. “Warren Ormont. I believe we did meet once, but I doubt you’d remember.”
“Of course I do,” she said. “And I’ve seen you onstage at the Playhouse.”
“We’ll, I’m sure I was giving a ghastly performance, and I hope I won’t be judged on the basis of that.”
“No, I—”
“I won’t keep you,” he said. He deliberately let his eyes travel down her body, then up again to meet her eyes. She did not flush. He gave her a smile, put a little extra into it. “It’s so good seeing you,” he said.
He had been stopping at Sully’s fairly regularly. Now he made it a point to have a drink there every night, deliberately studying the man behind the bar. If Melanie’s behavior had worked any changes in her husband, Warren was unable to spot them. “He is the same old hairy bear,” he confided to Bert. “I’m told the husband is always the last to know, but it’s hard to believe he doesn’t have an inkling.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care.”
“He does tend to lose interest in his little wedded playmates. But generally he just detaches them and sends them on their way, suitably equipped with a handsome settlement. And there’s never been the slightest breath of scandal. Goodness, hear me talking