Mr. X by Peter Straub Page B

of extremity. “Don’t guys hate the idea of waking up beside someone they don’t know? Or get disgusted with themselves, because they think the woman’s cheap? It’s a mystery to me. I haven’t had sex in a year. Thirteen months, to be exact.”
    Ashleigh Ashton was a small, athletic-looking woman with short, shiny-blond hair and the face of a model for Windfoil parkas in an Eddie Bauer catalog. She had spent years proving to the men who took her for a cupcake that she was capable, smart, and tough.
    “Why is that?” I asked.
    “The charming process of getting divorced from my husband, I suppose. I found out he was screwing half his female clients.” An ironic light shone in her eye. “Guess what kind of practice he had.”
    “Divorce law.”
    She pressed her palm to her forehead. “Ashleigh, you’re a cliché! Anyhow, I asked you those questions because I’m thinking about going back to my maiden name. Turner. Ashleigh Turner.”
    “Good idea,” I said. Her divorce was probably no more than a week old. “The bad boys won’t smirk at you. But if you weren’t looking to get picked up, why did you go to the bar?”
    “I thought I was waiting for you.” She glanced away, and the corner of her mouth curled up. “Sal and Jimmy asked me on a tour of their favorite Sinatra bars. The kid in the beer shirt, Ray, invited me into his room to do coke. He has a
lot
of coke with him, and he’s on his way to Florida. Isn’t that the wrong way around? Don’t people go to Florida to get the stuff and bring it back here? Those bikers, Ernie and Choke, wanted…. Forget what they wanted, but it sure would have been adventurous.”
    “If Ray wants to make it to Florida, he better not hustle Ernie and Choke,” I said.
    She snickered, then looked chagrined. “I’m in this stupid mood.”
    “Did your divorce just come through?”
    This time, she pressed both hands over her eyes. “Okay, you’re perceptive.” She lowered her arms and turned in a complete circle. “I knew that, I really did.”
    She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her nice lady-lawyershoes. “The other reason I’m in a funny mood is that I can see my case going down the drain. Now that I’m being indiscreet, you’ve probably heard of the guy we’re after. He’s one of Edgerton’s leading citizens.”
    “Probably not,” I said. “I left when I was a kid.”
    “His name is Stewart Hatch. Tons of money. His family sort of runs Edgerton, from what I hear.”
    “We didn’t move in those circles.”
    “You should be grateful, but I’ll never understand why a guy with so much going for him would decide to turn into a crook.” She efficiently buttoned herself out of her pin-striped suit.
    About a quarter to six in the morning, I jumped out of bed before I was fully awake. Nettie’s sixth sense was operating at full strength. The only thought in my head was that whatever was going to happen to my mother was rushing toward her, it was
already on the way
, and I had to get to Edgerton in a hurry. Still foggy, I fumbled around for my clothes and saw a naked woman on the disarranged sheets. One of her legs was drawn up, as if in midstride. Her name came back to me, and I put a hand on her shoulder. “Ashleigh, wake up, it’s time to go.”
    She opened an eye. “Huh?”
    “It’s almost six. Something’s happening, and I have to get to Edgerton, fast.”
    “Oh, yeah. Edgerton.” She opened the other eye. “Goo’ morning.”
    “I’m going to take the world’s fastest shower, change clothes, and check out. Should I come back here to get you?”
    “Get me?” She smiled.
    “You’re still willing to give me a ride?”
    She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms. “Meet me outside. I’m sorry you had bad news.”
    A speedy shower and shave; a scramble into clean khakis, a blue button-down shirt, a lightweight blue blazer, loafers. I was going to see all my relatives, and for Star’s sake as well as my own, I wanted to