Sweet Liar Part 11

Samantha wasnat embarra.s.sed in the least. aHe thinks Iam four years old and that heas my guardian and my protector. He throws fits if I so much as go out shopping by myself.a Before Abby could say a word, Mike said softly, aOne of Docas men tried to kill her.a That statement, that one statement that told so much, wiped the smile from Abbyas face. For a moment she lay back on the pillow and did nothing but concentrate on trying to breathe. The needle on the machine fluctuated wildly, moving from one side of the dial to the other then back again. After a while, a time during which Samantha stroked her hand and held onto her firmly, Abby lifted her head again. aYes, thatas Michael Ransome,a she said softly, her voice weak. She took a few breaths and tried to sound cheerful. aAnd now Iam glad Iave been able to solve the mystery for you. Maxie died over a year ago. I have your mailing address, young man, and Iall send you the letter I received from the nursing home saying Maxie died.a Her tone was a dismissal, but neither Sam nor Mike acted as though they understood.

aWhat was her real name?a Samantha asked.

aMaxine Bennett,a Abby shot out, frowning.

aI wish I could have met her,a Samantha said, stroking Abbyas hand, her eyes with a faraway look in them. aI heard so much from Granddad Cal about her and from my father.a aCal,a Abby said softly, her frown disappearing and a slight relaxed, peaceful smile taking its place. aMaxie spoke of him. Was he all right after Maxie left or did he die in a place like this?a aNo,a Samantha said brightly, happily. aHe stayed with us, with Dad and me, the last two years of his life. I was going to school so we had to hire a nurse/housekeeper for him.a aWas his nurse nice?a aNo, she was dreadful and Granddad Cal made her life miserable.a Abby smiled but didnat say anything, so Samantha continued.

aShe was a horrible, bossy woman and she treated Granddad Cal as though he were a stupid child. He would have fired her, but he said that getting her back gave him a reason to live. He used to do awful things to her, such as putting salt in her shampoo so itad sting her eyes. One day while she was outside mowing the lawn he made a big pitcher of iced tea for her, only it wasnat iced tea. It was Long Island tea, you know, that stuff thatas all liquor. She drank three big gla.s.ses of it then pa.s.sed out on the kitchen floor. While she was pa.s.sed out, Granddad Cal shaved her mustache.a Both Abby and Mike laughed.

It was at that moment that the nurse reentered the room. First she scolded Samantha for sitting on the bed and not on the chair, then she scolded Abby for making her machine fluctuate.

aThey love patients who are in comas,a Abby said. aTheyare the only ones who obey all the rules.a aNow, now, Abby, you donat mean that. Say good-bye to the nice people.a Abby looked around the nurseas bulk toward Samantha. aThink electrolysis,a Samantha said, and Abby grinned so hard her needle bounced. The nurse shooed them out of the room.

20.

aW here are you taking me for dinner?a Samantha asked happily as they left the nursing home. aI saw an Italian restaurant, Paper Moon, on Fifty-eighth, and it looked very pretty.a Grabbing her elbow, he said, aWeare going home for dinner,a then narrowed his eyes at her. aWeare going home and youare going to show me the box of things your father left you.a aBut, Mike, Iam hungry.a aYou can order in, like you always do. Call up Paper Moon and order, whatever you want to do, but tonight, youare showing me that box.a As Mike hailed a cab, Samantha couldnat resist a little smugness. aIt doesnat feel very good to have people keep secrets from you, does it?a His hand on her arm, he squeezed hard. aDo you realize that the secret to why whoever tried to kill you may be in that box?a aNoaa she said slowly.

As he opened the taxi door, he asked, aWhat is in the box?a When she was silent, Mike gritted his teeth. aYou havenat looked inside it, have you?a aGoing through a dead personas effects is not my idea of a good time. Maybe youare ghoulish that way, but Iam not. I opened the boxa"itas the old hatbox you carried downstairs for mea"saw the photo on top, took it out, and thatas all. The box looked to be full of old clothes, clothes that belonged to someone who might have run away with a gangster.a aA box full of things that may tell us a lot. It might tell us something that could keep someone from again attempting to kill you.a In spite of herself, Samantha put her hand to her throat. aYou donat think Iam still in danger, do you?a aYes,a he said softly. aI think that with every person we talk to, youare more in danger than you were before.a His voice lowered. aI think itas possible that youare in so deep now that even if you went to Maine youad still be in danger.a Samantha turned away, looked out the window, and took a deep breath.

Thirty minutes later they were in Mikeas house, and he had the hatbox on the breakfast table. Sam had insisted upon ordering dinner before they opened the box, and Mike had reluctantly agreed. Had she tried, Samantha wouldnat have been able to explain her reluctance to open the box. She knew it was full of her grandmotheras possessions, and in other circ.u.mstances, she would have been curious to see what was in it, but she wasnat at all sure that she wanted to see the contents of this box. Pandoraas box full of the worldas evils. Somehow, she was sure if they opened this box, they would start something that would have to be played through to the end.

When Mike reached out to pull the lid off the box. Samantha put her hand on the top.

Watching her. Mike waited while she took a few deep, calming, breaths. After a while, she nodded and stepped back, holding her breath while Mike lifted the lid.

Standing over it, he peered down into it, a frown on his face, until Samantha, curious, stepped forward. aWhat is it?a she whispered.

aI donat believe it,a he said, his voice sounding apprehensive.

aWhat?a Stepping close to him, she looked down into the box. When Mike grabbed her arms and said, aGotcha!a she jumped two feet. Her hand to her heart, her face red, she hit him on the shoulder. aYou!a Laughing, Mike reached into the box. aI donat know what youare afraid of, itas just an old dress.a He pulled out a red silk dress and handed it to her.

At first Samantha didnat want to touch the dress, but when Mike moved his hand, she saw something sparkle. Taking the dress from him, she slowly let it unfold, holding it up by the shoulders to look at it. aLanvin,a she whispered in awe, reading the label at the back of the neck, speaking in reverence of the Paris couturieras name.

It was a beautiful dress, red moir with a fitted bodice, narrow shoulder straps, and a heavenly draped bias-cut skirt that was hemmed to midcalf in front with a bit of a train in back. On the right side of the waist was a sunburst design done in diamant.

aLooks like you got over your fear,a Mike said sarcastically, but she ignored him as she looked at the dress, admired the way it flowed when she moved it.

Mike took a pair of shoes from the box. They had been made to match the dress: red moir T-straps with diamant running down the vertical strap and Louis heels. Samantha knew the moment she saw them that they were exactly her size.

aLook at this.a Mike handed her a small box covered in blue velvet. Resting on the velvet inside were a pair of earrings, but not just any earrings: These were long and pear shaped, diamonds from the earlobe to the base, with three large pearls hanging off the bottom edge.

Mike gave a low whistle.

aDocas earrings,a Samantha whispered. aThe ones he said he gave Maxie the night she disappeared.a Mike pulled underwear from the box: a peach silk crepe de Chine bra trimmed with delicate ecru lace and matching panties. A tiny s.e.xy garter belt and flesh-colored silk hose were folded together.

In the very bottom of the hatbox were tossed a long string of pearls and two diamond bracelets. Holding the bracelets to the light, Mike examined them. aIam not a jeweler, but itas my guess that those are real,a he said as he handed them to Sam, then ran the pearls across the back of his fingernail. Rough enough to use for emery boards, a roughness found only in genuine pearls.

aReal?a aAbsolutely,a he said, adding the pearls to the pile on the table.

Samantha put the bracelets down, and the two of them looked at the articles on the table: the red evening gown, the matching shoes, the fabulous earrings, the bracelets, the necklace, and the underwear. It was obviously everything a woman had been wearing from the skin out on a night in 1928.

aIf these things were in your fatheras possession,a Mike said, ait removes any doubt that your grandmother was Maxie.a aYes,a was all Samantha could answer, but she didnat have to make another comment because the doorbell rang and the food arrived. They sat at one end of the table eating, not saying much as they looked at the pile of clothes and jewels draped across the other end of the table.

Both their minds were on that night in 1928 when, for whatever reason, a young woman, clad in silk and diamonds, had walked out of a bloodbath and not been seen again. Pregnant, shead traveled to Louisville, Kentucky, and three days later had married a man who could not have children. She stayed with her husband, bore a child, had seemed to be happy, then in 1964 she had once again disappeared.

aMike,a Sam said, awouldnat you like to know what happened that night? Wouldnat you really, truly like to know?a aYeah,a he said. aI really would.a aDoc said Maxieas baby was his, but Abby says Maxie loved Michael Ransome.a aIad put money on Uncle Mike. I canat see Doc sharing even sperm with someone.a aMike!a she said, not liking his crudity. aMaybe he did love her. She could have been Docas mistress but in love with Michael Ransome too. Maybe she loved both of them.a Mike didnat answer as he was looking at the dress, at the way it was reflecting the light. aDid you see the stain on the dress?a aYes,a Samantha said quietly, looking down at her plate of food. Shead seen the stain and instinctively knew what the discoloration was.

Leaving the table, Mike picked the dress up and held it to the light. aItas blood, isnat it? It looks like someone tried to wash it out, but you canat remove blood.a aNo, at least not that much blood.a aWonder whose it is?a aFrom your accounts of the ma.s.sacre, it could belong to any of several people.a Mike kept looking at the gown under the floor lamp. aDoc said Maxie was in the back of the club when Scalpinias men opened fire and she didnat come out again. If thatas true, it couldnat be Uncle Mikeas blood; he never left the dance floor. He was shot there and stayed there until the medics took him away. And, according to Doc, he was in the john most of the time.a Mike looked up at Samantha. aIam going to send this to Blair and have her have it a.n.a.lyzed. If we get a type on this blood, maybe we can match it with hospital records of the people who were shot that night.a Samantha got up and took the dress from him. aWill they cut the dress up?a she asked sadly.

Mike wanted to point out that shead had the box for months and not opened it, had even seen the dress and not cared enough to take it out and look at it. Now she looked like a child whose teddy bear was being donated to charity, but he didnat point that out to her.

aNaw, they wonat hurt it, but I donat think we should let it out of our sight until weave made a record of it.a aRecord? Oh, you mean photograph it. I guess I can hold it up for you, or we could tape it to the wall.a aThat wonat work,a he said, frowning, as though trying to figure out a solution. aI know. Why donat you put it on? Would you mind? The whole outfit looks as though it might fit you.a A couple of hours ago the idea of looking inside an old box had repulsed Samantha. She wouldnat have been able to think of anything shead like to do less than rummage through old clothes. Except maybe put on a blood-stained dress.

Then again, thinking of musty old clothes stained with blood was one thing and being presented with Paris couture and diamonds and pearls was something else again. She touched the lace on the peach-colored underwear. aDo you think it would help you with your biography if I put the clothes on?a Mike had to put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. aIt would be a personal favor to me if youad wear them. Just for a few minutes. Why donat you go put them on while I get the camera? Iall have to set it up on a tripod so take your time.a He hadnat finished speaking before Sam gathered the clothes in her arms, put everything back into the box, and headed for the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom she hurriedly stripped off her own clothes and put on Maxieas bra and panties. The silk against her skin seemed to change her. Standing up a little straighter, she pulled her stomach in a little tighter and tilted her chin up, then moved just a bit to feel the silk slither against her skin. When shead first come to New York, during the time she stayed alone in her room, she had listened to her fatheras music, the old blues singers. Now, standing in Maxieas underwear, she began to hum an old Bessie Smith song.

The garter belt came next; propping her foot on a chair, she rolled the silk hose ever so slowly up her legs. When one leg was silk clad, she stretched it out, adjusting the seam down the back. After opening the door to Mikeas closet, she moved the chair before the full-length mirror and watched herself slide the second stocking up her leg. Peach silk bra, loose-legged panties, silk hose, bare thigh between silk and silk.

What was it about a garter belt and hose that was so incredibly s.e.xy? she wondered, straightening, turning this way and that to look at herself and liking what she saw. Panty hose that encased a woman in nylon from waist to toes didnat feel s.e.xy; they made a woman feel as though she were a sausage encased in a wrapping. But with several inches of bare thigh above the silk, she felt seductive, alluring, as though she were a vampy singer in a Harlem nightclub and handsome young men were coming to hear her sing.

In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing that her face was too clean, too much the young-lady-I-met-in-church, and her hair was too modern, too fluffy with hair spray.

Turning on the tap, she wet a comb and ran it through her hair, and once she began, she couldnat stop. Parting her hair on the left side, she wet it thoroughly and plastered it to her head, forming stylized curls in front of her ears, then, to make sure her hair stayed in place, she coated it with spray. She used her darkest eye pencil to heavily outline her eyes, then drew a sharp line through her brows, strongly emphasizing them. With a lip pencil she managed to make her lips sharply pointed on top, as shead seen in pictures of Clara Bow.

Stepping back from the mirror, she studied herself and nodded. She could almost imagine herself as Maxie, getting ready to go on stagea"and her lover and the man who bought her diamonds were both waiting for her.

When she slipped the dress over her head, the silk slid over her skin, and she wriggled to make it fall into place. For a moment she stared at herself in the mirror. aMaxie,a she whispered, seeing not herself, but another woman, a woman who was sure that she was of interest to men. When she buckled on the shoes, she tossed her foot onto the countertop then ran her hand up her leg.

aSam!a Mike yelled. aArenat you ready yet?a aKeep your shirt on, buster, this babyas worth the wait,a she yelled through the door. She fastened Docas earrings on her ears, slipped the diamonds on her wrists, then wrapped the pearls twice about her neck.

As she was about to leave the bedroom, she glanced at a couple of Balinese puppets Mike had on the top of the dresser, noticing the foot-long carved stick attached to the hand of one puppet. Carefully, she unscrewed the stick, then used the little brush in a bottle of Mikeas white typewriter correction fluid that head carelessly left in the bedroom to paint four inches of the end of the stick. When she was finished, she had what was a good facsimile of a cigarette holder complete with fake cigarette. Putting it to her carmined, bee-stung lips, she opened the door enough to tell Mike to turn out all the lights except for the single floor lamp and had to ignore his country-boy cry of aAlll riiiight.a When she left the bedroom she was no longer the innocent, respectable Samantha, but Maxie, a singer who had men fighting each other to have her.

When Mike saw her slinking down the stairs, he gave a low whistlea"and completely forgot about taking a photograph. The Samantha he knew, his Samantha, didnat walk the way this woman was walking with her hips pushed forward and her body undulating in seductive movements as she made her way toward him, the diamonds in her ears and on her wrists sparkling. This woman was as different from the woman he knew as Daphne was from an Indiana housewife. Mike found himself backing away from her, for this woman was a bit intimidating; she made him feel as though he should be wearing a tux and offering her gifts that came in long black velvet boxes. When Samantha put the fake cigarette holder to her newly shaped lips, Mike sat down on one of the chairs by the breakfast table and watched this woman who he felt that head never seen before.

When Sam was a few feet in front of Mike, she began to sing an old blues song shead heard Bessie Smith sing.

Bad luck has come to stay Trouble never ends My man has gone away With a girl I thought was my friend Many people seem to think that an ability to sing the blues comes from skin color, but it comes from having experienced misery in lifea"and Samantha had had more than enough heartache and sadness in her short life to be able to sing the blues as well as any other person on earth. Her voice, albeit untrained, was strong from inherited talent, and it was filled with emotion.

Lordy canat you hear my prayers Lady Luck, Lady Luck, wonat you please smile down on me Thereas a time, friend of mine I need your silver feet Mike watched her and she made him feel the words she was singing, made him feel the sorrow of a woman whose man had been stolen by another woman. She was saying the words as only someone who had experienced the emotion could sing them; she sang them the way they were meant to be sung, the way they had been written. It wasnat as though she were a modern folk singer enraptured with the cute songs the blacks used to sing and trying to imitate them for an audience of WASPs. Samantha was the type of woman for whom the song had been written and she sang it with her heart as much as with her voice.

Iave got his picture turned upside down Iave sprinkled slough-foot dust all around Since my man is gone Iam all confused Iave got those Lady Luck Blues The mournful song was short. When Samantha finished, all Mike could do was stare at her, blinking in confusion, feeling that he was looking at a stranger in a slinky red dress that slithered over her curves.

To his consternation, Samantha walked toward him in a way head never seen any woman walk and put the tip of her high-heeled foot on the chair edge between his legs, leaned toward him, and inhaled on her cigarette holder. He was sure he actually saw the smoke she blew out the side of her mouth.

aWell, honey?a she said, and it was not Samanthaas voice. This womanas voice was lower, raspy almost, and it was very, very provocativea"bewitching, the voice of a siren who was quite capable of luring men to their deaths.

aSamantha?a he whispered, and to his embarra.s.sment, his voice broke like a teenageras.

With a sultry laugh that would have done justice to Kathleen Turner at her throatiest, she moved her foot and turned away from him. As she walked away, he couldnat take his eyes from the undulating back side of her, the skin of her back glowing and perfect in the soft light of the single lamp.

aSam,a he said, calling out to her when she started back toward the bedroom, but she didnat turn. aMaxie,a he whispered and drew in his breath when she smiled at him over her shoulder, and it was a smile of a seductress, a woman who knew what effect she had on men.

When Samantha disappeared up the stairs into the bedroom, Mike let out his breath, then rubbed his arms. Head been holding his breath and his muscles were tense. Trying to ease the tension in his body, he walked to the gla.s.s patio doors and looked out at the night. The woman who had just appeared in this room was one he hadnat known, a woman who had many secrets, a woman who was capable of all manner of thingsa"and Mike wasnat sure she was a woman he especially liked. Maybe she was a woman head like to take to bed, since every pore of her body oozed s.e.xuality. Then again, maybe head rather not go to bed with her, for the woman whoad just sung for him probably knew more about s.e.x than he did. She was the kind of woman who would fake an o.r.g.a.s.m, would fake love for a man. She was the exact polar opposite of Samantha with her openness, her sweetness, her ability to give.

aWell?a Samantha said from behind him.

When he turned, she was Samantha again, face washed shiny clean, hair a tangled mess, her nifty little body concealed under his bathrobe. On impulse, he went to her, surrounded her in his arms, and kissed her soundly, not a kiss of s.e.x or pa.s.sion, but a kiss of relief, a kiss of welcome home.

aMike?a she asked. aAre you all right?a He was holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe, and it was a while before he could recover himself enough to speak. With a chuckle that even to him sounded forced, he said, aYou make me believe in split personalities.a Holding her away from him so he could see her face, he searched it. aAre you all right? You were soaso different. You wereaa aMaxie,a she said. aI put the dress on and I seemed to become her. Did I do a good job?a He pulled her head back down to his shoulder. aToo good. Much, much, much too good.a aMike! Is something wrong? All I did was sing a song and, well, maybe vamp it up a bit.a He wouldnat release his tight hold on her. aIt was more than that. You changed. Really changed.a aA little change never hurta"a Kissing her again, he silenced her. aSammy, I donat want you to change. I like you just the way you are.a As she snuggled against him, Samantha was not at all sure what had upset him so much, but she rather liked his concern. And she liked his compliment. aMike,a she said softly, aI like you too.a It wasnat until later that she realized the extent to which he was upset because, for the first time, when they went to bed, he didnat try to get her to spend the night in bed with him. Something about his reluctance made her smile as she glanced at herself in the mirror over the dresser. Maybe she should be Maxie more often, she thought. Maybe she should not be so predictable, so very boring, a woman without surprises. Stroking Maxieas dress that was draped over a chair, she smiled, then, on impulse, she took her new pretty sheer white nightgown from where she had hidden it in the bottom of one of Mikeas drawers and put it on. Maxie would have worn a white nightgown if shead wanted to White or black, lace or satin, big and transparent, or tiny and skin-exposing, Maxie would have worn any nightgown in the worlda"if shead wanted to.

21.

A t five minutes to nine on Sunday morning, Samantha was sitting in the center of Mikeas bed, knees to her chest, wearing her new white nightgown and trying to give herself a pedicure. The fact that the implements she was using had been in her possession since she was ten years olda"they were fitted into a pink plastic case printed with tiny white poodles with blue ribbons on their tailsa"didnat help the process. So far she hadnat heard a sound from Mikeas room, so she a.s.sumed he was still sleeping.

At nine, she picked up the remote control off the bedside table and flicked on the TV to watch Charles Kuraltas aSunday Morning.a Shead been watching the show since they had taken Mr. Kuralt off the road and nailed him to a chair in New York. It interested Samantha to see if he was ever going to get that melancholy look off his face, the look that said, Iad rather be on the road.

In the first few minutes of the show Charles went over the stories that they were going to do that morning, giving each one his special tone of, Can you believe this? Samantha didnat pay much attention to what he was saying until she heard the word Jubilee, then her head came up sharply, and her eyes widened as she hung on every word Charles Kuralt was saying.

The Jubilee Ma.s.sacre isnat as well known as the St. Valentineas Day Ma.s.sacre, but then nothing that happened in New York during Prohibition is as well known as what happened in Chicago. Maybe itas the cynicism of New Yorkers, but what happened that hot Sat.u.r.day night on May the twelfth, 1928, wasnat even called a ma.s.sacre by New Yorkers. Some wita"dare we say half-wita"dubbed it the Changing of the Guard as one gangster mob boss killed the gangsters of a man who would be boss. The shoot-out backfired and the sympathy of the peoplea"crooked cops and sucha"went with the man who had been shot at. Doc Barrett, then a twenty-eight-year-old hoodlum, took over control of illegal liquor sales after that night, after that dreadful shootout in which seventeen people were killed and more than a dozen wounded. Doc gained but he also lost, for his childhood friend, the man he said was the only man he would ever be able to trust, a man with the colorful name of Half Hand Joea"we are told he lost half his left hand saving Doc from a bullet when they were kidsa"was killed that night.

It all happened in a glamorous speakeasy in Harlem known simply as Jubileeas Place. Doc may have gained that night, but Jubilee lost everything he had. His club was destroyed by over three thousand bulletsa"and by a few thousand souvenir seekers over the next few days.

While the newsman was talking, the camera showed pictures of the exterior and interior of a falling-down old building in a horrible area of Harlem. Rats scurried across the floor as the camera zeroed in on bullet holes in the walls.

aJubilee still owns his club,a Charles Kuralt continued, abut what with property values as they are today, he hasnat been able to sell it or rent it, so today it sits empty.a Charles put down his paper and gave his Mona Lisa smile to the camera.

And some people say haunted. But weare not here today to talk about a ma.s.sacre, even a ma.s.sacre as violent as that one sixty-three years ago. Weare here today to talk about Jubilee Johnson and his music, for not even a ma.s.sacre that took everything he owned could keep a man like Jubilee down. Today heas a hundred and one years old and still playing, still singing,aand still jubilant.

Leaping out of the bed, Samantha tore through the bathroom and into Mikeas bedroom where he was on his stomach, buried under the covers and about six fat down-filled pillows. aMike! Wake up. You have to come see whatas on TV.a He didnat stir so she knelt on the edge of the bed and touched all of him that she could see, which consisted of about a quarter inch of bare shoulder and a curl of black hair.

aMichael! Wake up! Youare going to miss it.a He didnat so much as move a muscle; if he hadnat been so warm, she would have thought he was dead. Climbing into the bed with him, she grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him. aJubileeas on television. Maxieas Jubilee is on Charles Kuralt! Get up!a One minute he seemed to be sound asleep and the next minute he had grabbed her, pulling her into the bed beside him and began rubbing his sharp-whiskered face into her neck, making her squeal in laughter while he held her down.

aWhat are you doing waking me up?a he growled in mock fierceness. aItas Sunday and a man should be allowed to sleep.a Laughing, Samantha was trying to get away from him as his whiskers sc.r.a.ped her skin. aMike, Jubileeas on television.a It was then that Mikeas face changed and he pulled away from her, moving from hugging her and holding her close to not touching her at all.

aWhatas wrong?a aGet out of here.a There was no more play in his voice; he was in dead earnest now.

She could tell that he was very angry, but she didnat know why. Was he angry because shead waked him up? Some people took sleep seriously, but she hadnat realized that Mike was one of those people. Backing off the bed, she began to apologize. aIam sorry. I guess I shouldnat have awakened you, but I wanted you to see the show, but maybe Iall go upstairs and set the recorder and you can see it later.a He turned his head away from her. aTake off that gown.a It took Samantha a moment to understand what he was saying, for at first she thought he was demanding that she strip, but then she realized that she had on her brand-new, very pretty, very thin, very, very white nightgown. Even as the feeling of pleasure began to flow through her, she felt rotten about not remembering his aproblema with white, well, maybe not too rotten, but a little bit bad. Had the sight of her in this plain cotton gown affected him that much, to make him turn pale, to make him unable to continue looking at her?

aIaI wasnat thinking, Mike,a she said slowly, but even to her own ears the apology sounded insincere. Any man who looked as Mike did, who was as s.e.xy as Mike, who was as sweet and kind and as much fun as Mike was, who was as smart as Mike was, who was as all round wonderful as Mike was, could have his choice of any female on earth. Yet, she thought, he was turned on by hera"so much so that he couldnat even look at her while she was wearing white.

aI came in here to tell you about the TV show and I forgot what I had on. I didnat meana"a She stopped because he had turned to look at hera"and what she saw in his eyes made her take a step backward, for his eyes were filled with something she wasnat sure she understood. There was need and desire and longing in his eyes, but also desperation, as though he were in need of something she had and head die without getting it.

Putting her hand to her throat, Samantha took a step backward. It had been a long while since shead been afraid of Mike, but she was now. As he moved across the bed toward her, she took another step backward. aMike,a she began, but he didnat speak, just looked at her with those eyes and kept coming toward her with the stealth of a wolf.

Samantha, in a cowardly move, gave a little squeal of fright and ran from the room, shutting the bathroom door behind her, then the bedroom door. She leaned against it, her breast heaving. Maybe Maxie could handle young, handsome men stalking her, but Samantha wasnat quite ready.

It took her a moment to calm her breathing, then she tore her new nightgown off and put on her jeans and a long-sleeved, high-necked shirt that covered most of her skin and went to the library to watch the TV in that room.

It was nearly twenty minutes before Mike appeared in the library and when she looked up at him, she started, for his skin and lips looked nearly blue.

aAre you all right?a she asked, going to him to feel his forehead. His skin was as cold as a salamanderas. aMike!a Pushing her hand away, he sat on the couch. aCold shower,a he murmured, obviously embarra.s.sed by everything that had happened that morning. aHas the segment come on yet?a aNo,a she said, trying not to smile, but his reactions to her made her feel good. Of course, she thought, this was how all men felt before they went to bed with a womana"especially before they went to bed with her. It was much better to allow Mike to fantasize about her than to do what he seemed to think he wanted her to do and go to bed with him, because if she did, head probably ask her to leave his house forever. Or maybe head just fall asleep during the process of bedding her.

aNo,a she said, ayou havenat missed it. I think itas on next.a She handed him half a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese, which shead had delivered.

Sitting beside her on the couch, he ignored the bagel and, instead, took her chin in his hand and lifted her mouth to his. He kissed her for a long time, sweetly, not aggressively, no thrusting tongues, no tearing at her clothes, no hands on her body except those warm fingers on her chin, and that long, long kiss of yearning was almost her undoing. Turning to him, she put her hand on his shoulder and opened her mouth under his. Her body seemed to liquefy, to turn into something warm and soft and yielding as her neck bent back into what should have been an impossible position, but she wanted to blend into him, to lose herself in him.

When he pulled his lips away from hers, she was too weak to sit up and would have fallen back against the couch if Mikeas hand hadnat caught her.

aWhy, Sam?a he whispered. aWhy do you tell me no? How much longer am I supposed to wait? You want a marriage proposal first? Because if you do, then willa"?a She put one finger over his lips, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. She didnat want to talk about her reasons behind what she did, didnat want him to know the truth about her, at least not yet, not when what they had was still so fragile. Maybe someday, maybe later, she could tell him the truth about herself.

Uttering a curse word, Mike grabbed the bagel that was still in her hand, except that now the bagel was a bit crushed from where Samantha had clutched it during Mikeas kiss, and there was as much cream cheese on her fingers as on the bread. She had the disconcerting experience of Mike picking up her hand and slowly, languorously, sensuously, licking every morsel of cheese off her fingers.

aYour showas coming on,a he said, her little finger in his mouth.

aHuh?a aYour show. Jubilee, remember?a aHuh?a He was licking her palm.

aMaxie. Jubilee. Death. Destruction. Ma.s.sacre. Remember?a aHuh?a Putting her now-clean hand on her lap, Mike turned her to face the TV, but it was some minutes before she could focus clearly enough to see the program about the life and career of the ancient musician. The camera showed Jubilee, who, for all his hundred and one years, looked energetic and spry, and his mind was obviously as good as it ever had been.

Mike pulled her back against him as they watched, as they saw the trashed-out building that had once been an elegant nightclub done in blue and silver in the Art Deco style. Jubilee talked some about the club, about the entertainers, about how the ladies had worn their furs and the men had brought their mistresses, but it had ended after the ma.s.sacre, and head never had the money to rebuild the place.

At the end of the segment, Samantha put the mute on the TV and turned to Mike. aIs Harlem very far away?a aIn philosophy or miles?a She grimaced. aMiles.a aNew Yorkas an island, remember? Nothingas very far from anything else.a aSo if I told a cab driver that I wanted to go to Harlem, head know where to take me?a Mike didnat say anything for a moment, just looked at her. aTell me youare not thinking what I hope you arenat.a She got off the couch. aIam going to visit Jubilee, if thatas what you mean. And Iam going to do it now, before anybody else realizes that the man is still alive.a Standing in front of her, Mike put his hands on her shoulders. aYou mean the man who tried to kill you, donat you?a She pulled away from him, not wanting to think about that time. aMaybe Mr. Johnson knows something about that night, about why my grandmother had to leave her family, about what justified her causing so much unhappiness in our family. Maybea"a aIs there anything in this world I can say to persuade you not to go?a She shook her head. aNo, Mike, thereas not. I would like it if you went with me, but if you donat want to, Iall go by myself.a aTo Harlem? Tiny blonde you to that area of the city by yourself?a aIs it as bad as on TV?a aYes.a She swallowed then took a deep breath. aYes, Iall go by myself if I have to.a Even as she said it, inside, she was begging Mike to go with her. There was a limit to a personas bravery.

aOkay, get dressed. Wear something plain, not something with a label.a Nodding, she turned away and went upstairs to change.

There was already a crowd outside Jubileeas brownstone when she and Mike arrived, not in a taxi but in a car that Mike had hired that was to wait for them. The driver of the car was a very large man with skin the color of coal and a long pink scar that started on the back of his neck and disappeared into his shirt, and he seemed to be a friend of Mikeas. Nervously, Samantha just smiled at him a lot, which seemed to amuse him a great deal.

On the trip north to Harlem, Samantha did not look out the window, for it was much too frightening. Poverty on such a scale, poverty so close to such immense wealth as there was in midtown Manhattan, was not something that she could really understand.

When they at last arrived at Jubileeas house, the only nice-looking house on the block, Samantha gave a sigh of frustration, for it looked as though a riot were about to begin. It seemed that most of New York watched Charles Kuraltas television show, and theyad come to see Jubileea"or come to borrow money from him or sell him something or get him to look at the songs theyad written.

In the doorway stood a big, tall woman with iron gray hair and a look of fury on a face that had once been handsome. Holding aloft a broom as though it were a weapon, she was trying to discourage the watchers from climbing the front steps. Samantha saw two men get smacked in the face with the broom.