The Horse You Came in On by Martha Grimes

States.” Vivian’s glowing complexion glowed more ardently. “Some American girl, that I’m supposed to have met or seen, called him up. Did he tell you?”
    Jury was surprised. “No. Who?”
    â€œI don’t know, do I? Agatha said I saw her at Victoria. All I saw at Victoria was Marshall Trueblood pasting a cutout of Dracula to my trunk.” She started to laugh, bit it off. Serious again. “So all I can say,Richard dear, is some American floozy rings him up and he’s off so fast you could play cards on his coattail.”
    â€œEllen? Ellen Taylor?” Seeing Vivian’s expression, he was sorry he’d named her, thereby showing he too knew her. “Just some kid with a Bronx accent. For God’s sake, he’s probably bored, what with you going off again to Venice. Vivian, come on! Toss the guy overboard, into the canal, or something. Hell, marry me .”
    She stopped munching the biscuit, even stopped being irritated with him. “Is that a proposal?”
    Jury studied his coffee cup. He smiled. “Of course.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Of course.’ ” She laughed. “You know, I honestly think you would. Marry me, that is. Just to keep me out of the clutches of the blood-drinking count.”
    â€œI’m very fond of you.”
    â€œWell, I think we’ve finally got something sorted out here.”
    â€œThing is, you don’t love me.”
    â€œOh, stop being stupid.” Her smile at him was nonetheless loving.
    â€œAnd I still say, you don’t place enough importance on that trip they made to Venice.”
    Vivian leaned forward, saying very deliberately, “ ‘They.’ The operative word is they. It’s all a game. Playing silly buggers.” She tapped her foot impatiently against the beautiful cabriole leg of her coffee table. Vivian’s house was filled with antiques that made Trueblood salivate. “Thank goodness you at least are serious.”
    There was a silence. Jury glanced at the chair in the hall where his raincoat was lying.
    â€œAnd what is that silly smile for?”
    Quickly, Jury wiped the silly smile from his face.
    â€œAt times I think you’re as bad as they are.”
    Jury smiled again.
VII
    â€œSo we can go together,” said Jury, fairly collapsed in the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. The dinner that Plant’s cook had just served up rivalled Jenny Kennington’s. Jury was thinking about the previous evening.
    Melrose was thinking about flying. They were sitting, whiskies in hand, before a blazing fireplace, in front of which slept his dog of uncertain breed. “It requires so much effort .”
    â€œYou liked her, as I remember.”
    â€œ Liked her? Of course I liked her. I like Mindy here, too.” The dog, hearing its name, let out a slumbery woof .
    â€œAnd Vivian?”
    Melrose frowned over at him. “Vivian? Well, naturally. One of my favorite people.”
    â€œYet, she’s going off to Venice yet again. Why the hell don’t you stop her?”
    â€œStop her? My God, we’ve been stopping her for years. One way or another.” He grinned. He chuckled.
    Jury sighed. “Then I think you should go to America. Both of us can go.”
    â€œYou mean you really are?” Melrose considered this.
    â€œTo Philadelphia. How far’s Philadelphia from Baltimore?”
    â€œI don’t know. Several thousand miles, probably. The damned country is so big.”
    Jury shook his head. “They’re not that far apart—one, two hundred is my guess. Don’t you have a map of the States around here?”
    â€œOh, there’s an atlas somewhere.” Melrose motioned vaguely with his hand at nowhere in particular. He yawned. “What airport?”
    â€œDon’t know. Kennedy? LAX?”
    â€œThat’s L.A. , for God’s sake.”
    Jury shrugged. He had told Plant about his conversation with