Judge Me Not by John D. MacDonald Page B

cover up the traces of someone else. That’s the only other answer. Probably some righteous wife who can’t manage to restrict it to her own bed.”
    “Don’t be so bitter, Barbara.”
    “Why not? Aren’t professionals in any field bitter about amateur competition?”
    “Please don’t ever tell anyone what I asked you to do.”
    She laughed flatly. “That’s funny. You said that as though you believe you can actually trust me.”
    “Strangely enough, I do.”
    She rested her fingers lightly on his arm. “Teed, we’ve got to stop hacking at each other. Got any ideas?”
    “Sure. Try this idea for size. You’re a girl I’ve known for years. I’ve talked you into a picnic and a moonlight swim, and we’re telling each other that’s all there’s going to be. But I have some pretty advanced ideas, and you’re wondering just how hard you’re going to fight for your honor. O.K.?”
    “Gosh, I don’t know whether I like that game or not.”
    “You’ll love it. Say, remember old Albert?”
    “Albert?”
    “Sure. The guy you stood up so you could go on the sleigh ride with me. You remember
him!
”
    “Oh, Albert! The one with the pimples. The one that looked like a startled owl. Whatever happened to him?”
    “He’s got a job sitting on public buildings to scare away the pigeons. Making a big success of it, too.”
    “I always knew Albert was going places. I just
knew
it!” she said.
    She moved so close to him that her thigh was warm against his. She threw back her head and laughed with delight. In the onrushing darkness of the mountain road her laughter was young, warm, heartbreakingly vulnerable.
    They discussed the mythical mutual acquaintances of their imaginary past, and then he slowed for a familiar narrow lane, shifted into second, finding to his relief that there was no car there, meaning that Rogale had finished, had left.
    She carried the bag of groceries and he took the overnight case. “Better wait at the foot of the steps until I get some lights on, Barbara.”
    “Doesn’t the air smell wonderful up here? I’m going to be hungry as a wolf.”
    As he had hoped, Armando Rogale had left the key in the door. He found the light switch. She walked in, put the groceries on the drain board, turned and smiled at him. Once again they had become cautious strangers, tasting their reaction to each other in this new environment.

Chapter Six
    Teed sensed her uncertainty. “It’s—quite cozy,” she said hesitantly.
    “For guests,” he said, “I have to give up the master bedroom. You will note that it also serves as the living room, dining room and rumpus room. Come here.”
    He took her over, opened the door onto a bedroom so tiny that the double bed almost filled it. He said, “This is my bedroom, and I shall give it up as a dressing room as soon as I get swimming trunks on.”
    “Hey, did you mean that about a moonlight swim? I saw the moon coming up but … say, isn’t that lake cold?”
    “Still contains heat from the summer. It’s just the air that’s cold. I don’t suppose you have a swim suit.”
    She frowned. “No. But the undies are nylon. They’ll dry fast. We going to have a fire?”
    “Sure.”
    “Well, go put on your trunks. And then go get in the lake. Those steps I saw when you turned on the light. They go down to the water?”
    “Down to a dock. You can dive off it.”
    “If I get up the nerve.”
    “I’ll put you in, if you start to chicken out.”
    He changed to shorts in the small bedroom, grinned at her as he went through the living room and out the door. The night wind was frigid. He trotted down the steps, wasted no time getting into the water. It took his breath at first, but it was much warmer than the air. The moon was above the southern horizon, its gold paling to silver blue. Wind ripples lapped against the oil drums on which the dock floated.
    When he saw her coming down the steps, he swam in toward the dock. His eyes were used to the moonlight and he