"Didn't I just do that?" Susan said. "Except for the airplane part?"
"Yes," I said, "and brilliantly."
"I know."
"However," I said, "I don't think we've ever done it in Georgia."
"Well, if you insist on going down there," Susan said, "what's a girl to do?"
"What she does best," I said.
"In which case we'll never be able to eat lunch in Lamarr again," Susan said.
THREE
I SHOWED UP in Lamarr with some clean shirts and extra ammunition in my black Nike gym bag, checked into the Holiday Inn on the highway outside of Lamarr, and set out to visit my employer.
Lamarr was one of those towns you read about but no one you know ever lived in. It was probably like the town that Jack Armstrong lived in with his sister Betty, when he starred at Hudson High. The downtown was three-story buildings, mostly brick, along the main street, with some stores and restaurants, a pool hall, a movie theater, and a railroad station. There were two cross streets, where more business was done during daylight hours. In the center of the town was a square with a statue of a man on horseback, and some benches. As I drove through the downtown, the streets were lined with trees, and behind the trees were lawns on which sat some nice-looking southern-type houses, mostly white, with verandas. Often vines grew over the verandas and made them leafy.
At two in the afternoon I was ringing the bell at the Clives' front door. They lived in a white mansion with a wide pillared veranda across the front, which sat in the middle of something that looked like the world's largest putting green. A sprinkler system was producing a fine spray to protect the lawn from the East Georgia summer, and the sun shining through the spray made it iridescent.
Penny Clive, in white shorts and a blue top that didn't quite conceal her belly button, answered the door. All of her that I could see uncovered was a smooth tan. Not the deep-cured kind, but a gentle healthy-looking one that seemed casually acquired, though the evenness of it made me wonder just how casual the process was.
"Well, hello," she said.
She had a light voice with some kind of rich undertone, which made everything she said imply somewhat more than it seemed to. I had a moment when I thought maybe it wasn't so bad that Susan couldn't be here. I thought about whether I should feel guilty about that and decided I should not since I was simply being human, albeit male human.
"Hello."
"Please come in. Do you have everything you need at the hotel?"
We stood in a vast, high central hallway with dark floors that gleamed with polish.
"Bed, television, a/c, running water, what more could there be?" I said.
"What indeed?" she said, and the little smile lines at the corners of her wide mouth deepened. "I was just having some iced tea on the terrace-would you have some with me?"
"Of course," I said, and followed her the length of the corridor and out through some very large French doors onto a wide white-brick terrace under a green-and-white-striped canvas canopy.
"Daddy's not here," she said.
"You're more fun anyway," I said.
"It depends," she said.
She gestured at a couple of comfortable-looking patio chairs. We sat. There was a big glass pitcher on a serving table and some glasses and ice in a bucket and sugar and lemons and fresh mint.
"On what?" I said.
"On whether
you're a business partner or a sex partner," she said.
She put ice in a tall glass, added a lemon wedge and a mint leaf, and poured me some iced tea. I added some sugar.
"It's probably not the business partners who are voting for fun," I said.
"No," Penny said. "Speaking of fun, we're having a little welcome party for you tonight. I hope you don't mind."
"Most employers hold one when I leave," I said.
"Daddy thought it would be a convenient way to introduce you to everybody. Very informal, starts around seven."
"Wouldn't miss it," I said.
The backyard, if one could call it that, was being sprinkled too. It stretched dead level toward some sort of outbuildings in the middle distance. Beyond them was a tennis court and, beyond the courts, a paddock and what I assumed were stables. As we sat, a Dalmatian came sniffing around the corner of the terrace, paused, looked up, put his ears back, and came over toward me, moving more slowly, with his head lowered a little and his tail wagging tentatively.
"That's Dutch," Penny said.
Dutch kept coming until he was in pat range. I put my closed fist out so he could sniff it. Which he did for maybe a full minute, quite carefully sniffing all aspects of it. Then he was satisfied. His ears came back up and his tail resumed full wag. He put his head on my leg and stood while I stroked his head.
"Tell me more about the horse shootings," I said.
She was turned half sideways in her chair, one leg tucked under her, giving me her full attention. She was clearly one of those especially likable women who made you feel that you might be the most interesting creature they had ever encountered. I knew that everyone she talked to felt that way, but it was no less pleasing for that. Right now it was my turn.