The Last Quarry by Max Allan Collins Page B

not,” she said, taking care not to over-water. She was using a little red watering can from thekitchen. “Dave’s on the library board—when my application came in, he recognized the name of course, and helped me get the job. His wife is great, too.”
    “Lisa,” I said.
    She frowned at me. “How do you know Lisa?”
    “I don’t. You mentioned her, before.”
    “Oh.”
    And on to the next plant.
    “Where are the Winters?”
    She flicked me a longing little glance. “Nassau. A little month-long getaway.”
    “Must be nice.”
    Sighing, she moved to a corner where a palm-treelike number waited; from the size of it, this triffid could have walked to the kitchen to get its own goddamn water.
    She was saying, “Hard not to envy Lisa and Dave— swimming and sunning and swimming and sunning and eating wonderful food and swimming and sunning some more.”
    “Wouldn’t that suck,” I said.
    She finished her rounds and I followed her to the kitchen, where she replaced the watering can under the sink. Turning to me with a lilting smile, she asked, “I bet you like to swim. You’re a swimmer, aren’t you?”
    I frowned with my forehead and smiled with my mouth. “What are you, psychic?”
    “No.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Maybe I’ve got you under surveillance....”
    The swimming pool room seemed even larger when you were in there, an echoey cavernous dark-wood space with the lighted swimming pool a blue shimmering centerpiece.
    Janet, in a light blue one-piece bathing suit, balanced at the tip of the diving board, bouncing a little, dark-blonde locks flouncing when I came in from the dressing room in a suit two sizes two small for me. Well, it made the package look bigger, anyway, even if it did cut off my circulation. Of course, cutting off the circulation would eventually not do the package any favors, either.
    She didn’t say anything just grinned and bounced and laughed and bounced and laughed and grinned.
    “Glad you’re having such a good time,” I said.
    “Sorry....Dave’s not...not a big man.”
    “Just in business,” I said, eyeing the vast chamber. I was standing at the edge of the pool like a guy on a building ledge contemplating suicide. I pointed casually toward her. “That Dave’s wife’s suit?”
    “Yes. Lisa and me, we’re about the same size.”
    “She has a nice figure.”
    “Lisa thanks you, I’m sure.”
    With this, she dove in, an admirable, even elegant dive.
    Even so, she splashed me some, doing it; but Ididn’t mind. The flecks of water were quite warm, really, even inviting.
    I dove in.
    The pool was as warm as a bath, lulling—actually, I prefer it a little crisper, but this was nice. Very nice.
    For a while we swam, doing a few laps together, sometimes underwater or on our backs, and splashed and clowned around, the kind of capering kids get in trouble for from the lifeguard, only there was no lifeguard present. We laughed and teased and talked, enjoying the usual pleasing swimming-chamber hollow effect.
    We were treading water, facing each other, when I said, “Nice perk, for semi-housesitting.”
    “Swimming’s the best.”
    “Oh yeah,” I agreed sincerely.
    A little out of breath, face droplet-pearled, she could hardly have looked more lovely, even though the long hair was matted down with moisture, the makeup mostly gone from her heart-shaped face, an indicator of just what a striking woman this was.
    Paddling there, blinking the big brown eyes, she said, “Nothing quite relaxes you like a nice swim. Really takes you somewhere else.”
    “Couldn’t agree more.”
    Treading doggedly, maybe a little tired now and having to work at it some, she said, “I mean, I don’t envy Dave and Lisa much, but to have this handy,right in your own house? To be able to—de-stress any time you like, and just feel...really free ...”
    “You know,” I said, a tiny bit out of breath myself, “you shouldn’t swim here by yourself. Dangerous.”
    She laughed,