Trouble in Paradise

Twenty-Nine

Mrs. Campbell was wearing a tailored brown suit with a vertical blue stripe. It was tight on her but tight in a good way, Macklin thought. It didn’t look like it was too small; it just fit her close.

“Just wanted to be sure it would be okay to bring a couple of guys over. My contractor and maybe one of his people?”

“Of course, Mr. Smith,” Mrs. Campbell said.

“Harry.”

Mrs. Campbell smiled. “People do it all the time, Harry. We realize it’s a large investment, and we encourage them to take their time, make sure they’re happy. Satisfied customers are our best marketing tool.”

“I’ll bet most of your customers are satisfied,” Macklin said.

Mrs. Campbell met his look. Her face looked a little flushed to him. He could smell her. Soap, shampoo, perfume.

“Most,” she said.

“May I call you Marcy?” Macklin said.

“Please.”

“Marcy, I’d like to try the restaurant on the island, and I hate to eat alone. You free for lunch?”

“As a bird,” Marcy said.

The restaurant was called Stiles’. They got a table by the big picture window and ordered drinks. Looking out at the ocean, Macklin could see what Freddie had meant. The sea burst in upon a random scatter of rust-colored boulders that littered the coast of the island in both directions. The water among the boulders was creamy with foam.

Marcy had a glass of white wine. Macklin ordered a martini.

“Be tough sailing off this side of the island,” Macklin said.

“Certainly would be,” Marcy said. “It’s why the docking facilities are on the harbor side.”

“Do any sailing?” Macklin said.

“No.” Marcy smiled. “I’m a dry land girl, I’m afraid.”

“Indoor sports, so to speak,” Macklin said.

Again Marcy met his look. Her face still had a lot of color to it. Maybe she was just naturally high colored. And maybe he was going to get her. More than maybe. Faye would understand. Marcy Campbell would be useful. He’d understand if it were the other way.

“So to speak,” Marcy said.

They both smiled. The spray from the turmoil below them spattered up sporadically against the stained glass. The dark paneled dining room was nearly empty, and the people that were there spoke quietly.

“What’s your husband do, Marcy?” Macklin said.

“Ex-husband,” Marcy said.

“Ah,” Macklin said.

“Ah, indeed,” Marcy said. “How about yourself — how’d you make your money?”

“Liquor stores, mostly,” Macklin said. “Couple banks.”

“Always interests me,” Marcy said, “how some people have a knack for making money and others don’t. What’s your secret?”

“Mostly it’s not caring if you do or don’t,” Macklin said. “Mostly you just got to enjoy the game. How about you — you enjoy real estate?”

“Get to meet some interesting people,” Marcy said. “I like interesting people.”

“And you enjoy the game?”

“Very much,” Marcy said.

They ordered lunch. Yeah, Macklin thought, I’ve got her. It was business, but that didn’t prevent him from getting that nice ratchety feeling he always got as he circled in on a woman he’d never slept with. Faye was always curious. How did you know? How can you tell? He watched Marcy as they ate lunch. When he told Faye about it, she’d want to know. What did you talk about? How did she act?

After lunch they went back to the real estate office. When they went in, Macklin could feel the tension. They were alone together in a private place. Marcy turned and looked at him. He was silent, looking back at her. He knew it would happen. He could feel it spread through him.

“What game are we playing now?” Marcy said.

“I’m not sure,” Macklin said. “But I’m enjoying the hell out of it. You want to go someplace?”

Marcy walked over to the front door and turned the lock. Then she went to the little picture window and closed the venetian blinds.

“No need to go someplace,” Marcy said and sat down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her.

“No need at all,” Macklin said.

It had been a smart move to leave his gun in the car. He sat beside her.

“You knew when you came in here, didn’t you?” Marcy said.

“Uh-huh.”

“How?”

“Something about you,” Macklin said, “I can always tell.”

“Me too,” Marcy said.

“With men, it’s easy,” Macklin said.

“Good point.”

Naked beneath him on the couch, Marcy thought how much stronger he was than he looked with his clothes on. Like Jesse was. Above her, Macklin thought that she wasn’t better than Faye, but she was nearly as good. Like Faye, she moved a lot and was noisy. Nothing beats enthusiasm in a woman, Macklin thought. He loved Faye. But this hadn’t anything to do with Faye. It didn’t mean anything to him, and he knew it didn’t mean anything to Marcy. She was like him. She liked a good time. And then he let himself go and didn’t think about much of anything for a little while.