The Shadowers

XI

THE COFFEE SHOP had a white tiled floor and old-fashioned-looking tables and chairs, but no booths or jukebox. I seated Olivia at a corner table, acting as if we'd just happened to meet in the doorway by accident.

She was wearing a dress this morning, I noticed. It wasn't much to cheer about, one of the fashionably loose, baggy, blousy jobs that look very smart on a model built like a broomstick, which she wasn't. It was some kind of brownish jersey. They tell me that knitted stuff is very practical for traveling. I'm glad to hear it's good for something. Decoration-wise, it always looks like a variation of burlap to me.

Still, it was a dress and it wasn't tweed. There were other changes.

"For God's sake," I said.

"What is it… Oh."

She blushed a little and looked self-conscious. It was pink and innocuous, but it was real lipstick. Pretty soon she'd break down and powder her nose and everything. It gave me a funny feeling. I mean, after all, it was just a job for me. I didn't really want the responsibility of guiding the woman to a new view of life.

I'd had enough of personal feelings on this job. I could still hear Antoinette's voice: Why, I really liked you! And you set me up for this! Dr. Olivia Mariassy was just another decoy, I reminded myself firmly. Unlike Toni, she knew she was being used, but God only knew what I'd have to set her up for in the end.

"It isn't nice to stare," she said. "It isn't nice to make fun of me."

"Who's making fun?"

"I thought a bride-to-be would naturally pretty herself up a little," she said defensively "We're still getting married today, aren't we? Wasn't that the plan?"

"That's still the plan," I said. "In fact we've got orders from Washington to put it into execution as soon as possible. They want us to separate the sheep from the goats, or the sheep from the goat, singular. Whichever of the two follows, we're supposed to take him and turn him over to the wrecking crew pronto."

She glanced at me quickly. "The wrecking crew?"

"The I-team," I said. "The interrogation team. The experts. That is, unless we want to ask the questions ourselves."

She shivered slightly. "It isn't very nice, is it?"

"Not very."

"I wish there were some other way. I don't think it'll be a nice thing to remember, that I was a party to it and helped lure him into the trap. Whichever one of them it is. No matter if his job is to kill me, it won't be pleasant. Is this man Taussig really so important? What's he like?"

"I've never met him socially," I said. "I gather, if you met him on the street, you might think you were looking at Albert Einstein. Well, Emil is kind of a genius, too, in his own field. As for his importance, that's not a question you're supposed to ask, Doc. What do you want, a long patriotic speech about how the lives of innocent people and the fate of nations all depend on somebody's getting to Taussig in time?"

She sighed. "I know, some things you just have to accept. I'm not always happy about the uses to which science is being put these days, but I don't stop my research for that reason." She paused and said in the same tone of voice, "Talking about sheep-"

"What?"

"Talking about sheep and goats, we have company, Mr. Corcoran." She was looking beyond me. She leaned forward and covered my hand with hers. "Paul," she said, "darling-"

I got the idea. "Sweetheart!" I said, looking into her eyes with adoration.

Then Mooney was standing there with his horn-rims and heavy tweeds, looking as if he hadn't had much sleep. Despite his haggardness, I noticed, he was smoothly shaved. I caught a whiff of some masculine-smelling lotion as I got to my feet. He raised his hand quickly.

"Please! I'm not… I just came to apologize. I just wasn't myself last night."

I said aggressively, "Whoever you were, that guy's got a couple of punches coming."

Olivia was still holding my hand. She pulled me back. "Please, darling. It's such a lovely morning, let's not spoil it. If Harold wants to apologize, why don't you let him?" Her voice was smooth. She smiled at Mooney. "Go on, Harold. Apologize. Tell Paul you're sorry you hit him when he wasn't looking."

I said, "He'd be a damn sight sorrier if he'd hit me when I was looking!"

"Paul! You're not being nice. Please, darling… Go on, Harold."

She smiled at him sweetly until he mumbled something; then she made us shake hands like two quarrelsome boys. Finally she asked him to pull up a chair and join us. It wasn't the most pleasant breakfast I've ever eaten, but she enjoyed it thoroughly. She had a fine time making him squirm. It was a side of her character I hadn't seen before, and it made me feel better. A girl with that much acid in her system wasn't going to be hurt as easily as I'd feared.

Finally she pushed back her chair and patted my hand. "You finish your coffee, darling. I'm going upstairs to pack." She turned to Harold. "Why don't you come up and watch me, Harold. There's something I want to tell you.',

I watched them rise together. Being just a slob of a Denver reporter, I didn't get up. "I'll be along as soon as I've finished," I said.

She leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, "Don't hurry," she said, laughing, "and don't be jealous, darling. I'm perfectly safe with Harold, aren't I, Harold?"

Harold didn't answer. He was taking in the kiss and the endearments. He'd already spotted the unaccustomed lipstick and the way she couldn't seem to keep her hands off me, and he was obviously wishing he'd taken the opportunity to jump up and down on me with both feet last night. Whether he was truly jealous, or whether I was interfering with plans that had nothing to do with love, remained to be seen.

I watched them leave together. Olivia was prattling away happily, making him wait for the big news until they were alone. She obviously had no doubt about the nature of his feelings, and she was getting a big kick out of being able to announce her forthcoming marriage to him and tell him that he really hadn't hurt her a bit. Quite the contrary, he'd helped her, like the ugly duckling, to discover her true, swanlike self in marriage to a fine man like me.

Well, she had it coming. It was her payment for helping us. She'd probably earn every happy, sadistic moment of it before she was through. But it was also revealing, and I couldn't help thinking wryly that Olivia Mariassy was turning out rather different from the cool, detached, scientific personality with whom I'd been expecting to work.

The waitress refilled my coffee cup, but it just wasn't my morning to finish anything, shaving or eating, for that damn instrument invented by Alex G. Bell. I'd just taken a couple of sips when a phone buzzed in the corner. The girl who answered it looked around, spotted me sitting there alone, and came over.

"Are you Mr. Corcoran? You're wanted on the house phone."

I went over fast, but not fast enough to keep from realizing that I'd slipped badly. Daylight and Kroch's continued absence had made me careless, and I'd let Olivia go upstairs without protection, unless you wanted to count Mooney, who might be just the opposite.

"Yes?" I said into the mouthpiece. "Corcoran here."

"Paul?" It was Olivia's voice, but very different from the gay, bright, malicious tone she'd been using when last heard. "Paul, come up to my room right away, please!"

"Sure."

I took the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. I had the little knife in my hand as I approached the door. It's not a switchblade, but there are ways of opening it fast, one-handed, just the same. I knocked on the door and went through it fast and hard when it started to open.

I could have saved myself the melodrama. There were only two people inside, Olivia and Mooney. She was the one who'd let me in. There was blood on her hands. He was lying on the bed with his coat off and his shirt-sleeve ripped away. His face was gray. There was a hotel towel under his bare arm to catch the blood that dripped from a bullet hole in his biceps.