Murder by Candlelight by John Stockmyer Page A

sure indication that something she wasn't talking about was bothering
her.
    The service was slow, Rembrandt's
boast about fresh food meaning that, even now, someone in back was
chasing the pig intended to provide Z's pork chop. Maybe, if Z had
ordered a more easily catchable chicken ....
    "... trouble is that, with women of
talent able to have exciting careers today, the leftover jobs like
secretary get the dregs. It used to be that a hotshot secretary
could out think -- to say nothing of out type and out spell -- her
boss. Now, we've got nothing but sweet young things who can't spell
CAT, to say nothing of being able to find it in a dictionary. If
they don't ...."
    Worker inferiority, was a Susan theme.
Verbal diarrhea, Z's father would have called it. Running off at
the mouth.
    Z's love affair with Susan was
increasingly difficult. They rarely saw each other -- where it
counted. Until recently, they'd been able to alternate weekends,
one Saturday or Sunday at Susan's apartment, the next weekend at
Z's place. (Z's apartment was crummy, sure. Purple linoleum had
gone out of style sometime in the 50's. What counted, though, was
being together.)
    Z didn't much care for Susan's
apartment, either.
    Too clinical.
    Too modern.
    Too cold.
    But once in bed ....
    Thinking about bed
reminded Z of Jamie Stewart, the girl rating quite a number of second
thoughts to be truthful. And about her threat to meet Susan, to say
nothing of Jamie's outrageous demand to see the very bed where Z
and Susan made love.
    Z had also been trying to make sense
of what he'd discovered in Howard Kunkle's house. Funny, how a
number of little things that escaped you when you first saw them,
came back to haunt you later. For instance, Howard Kunkle's money.
Z had put it back in the secret drawer. (All of it except what he'd
taken to defray Bud's expenses for hiring Z.) Far from big money,
but .... And yet, Teddy Newbold had said that no money was found in
the house.
    Leading to the next, logical question.
Who swiped the dough? The sensible answer: the cops who'd tossed
the place.
    It was the rest of the items he'd
found in the secret drawer that troubled him. In the first place, Z
had to ask himself why Kunkle had taken the time and trouble to
conceal what looked like mixed junk. A bunch of card decks -- new
and old. A tiny mirror. Super glue. "Sunglasses." A bottle of wood
alcohol.
    An odd assortment, Z
thought.
    "Z? ... Z!?"
    "What?" It hurt Z's mind to be reined
in that hard.
    "You weren't listening.
You never listen
to me."
    "That's not true." And it
wasn't. Z sometimes listened to Susan, though it was a fact that he'd
rather look at
her. What man wouldn't? She was gorgeous. Rich, brown skin. Fiery
blue eyes. Shiny, rumpled-curly, medium-length hair. White teeth,
just crooked enough to put a man at ease. And that was just her
face. She had a neck to wake up a vampire who'd been dead a
thousand years. Plus a figure, one sight of which would clean out
monasteries. Today, she was wearing a white, raglan-sleeve sweater
dress, large white buttons down the front. (Z liked dresses that
announced what you had to do to get them off.) Below, he could feel
Susan's knee against his, Susan's legs long enough to foster under
the table conspiracies.
    "What I was telling you," Susan was
saying, "was why I'm having salad today. It's not so much the
calories you eat that make you put on weight, it's the fat
content."
    Glorious Susan was talking
about dieting ? "I
like you the way you are."
    Susan frowned and shook her
head.
    If that wasn't the right thing to say,
what was ?
    "Speaking of losing a little weight,
you could stand to take off some flab," Susan countered, rounding
on him.
    "Me?"
    "Big surprise." Susan scowled
again.
    Z had gained a few pounds over the
years but found the extra weight useful for intimidation. "It's not
how much you eat, it's what you eat," Susan lectured. "You practically live
on peanut butter. Do you know what the fat content of peanut