to have much in common with girls my own age,” Matt said. “And I don’t think that was the first time in the recorded history of mankind that . . .”
“A woman my age took a man your age into her bed?”
“Right.”
“Go change your clothes, Matt. I’ll wait here.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Whatever you say,” Matt said, and got out of the Bug and went to the elevator.
When he reached the top step of the narrow stairway leading into his apartment, he saw the red light blinking on his telephone answering machine. He pulled his sweater over his head, tossed it onto the couch, went to the answering machine, and pushed the PLAY MESSAGES switch.
“Matt, I know you’re there, pick up the damned telephone.”
That was Amelia Payne, M.D. He wondered what the hell she wanted, and then realized she probably wanted a report on Penny Detweiler’s trip home.
Then Brewster Cortland Payne II’s voice: “Matt, Amy insisted I try to get you to call her. She’s positive you’re there and just not picking up. She wants to talk to you about Penny. Will you call her, please? Whenever you get home?”
The next voice was Charley McFadden’s: “Matt, Charley. Give me a call as soon as you can. I gotta talk to you about something. Oh. How was Las Vegas?”
Something’s wrong. I wonder what? Well, it’ll have to wait.
“Matt, this is Penny. I just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for coming out there to get me. I forgot to thank you at the airport. When you have a minute, call me, and I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone or lunch or something. Ciao.”
Oh, Christ, I don’t want to get sucked into that!
“Matt, this is Joe D’Amato. They took your lady friend’s car to the Plymouth place in Upper Darby. I called her house, and there was no answer. If we’d left it at the scene, there would be nothing left but the ignition switch.”
Jesus, why didn’t I think about just calling Joe from her house? Because you were thinking with your dick, again, Matthew!
“Payne, this is Al Sutton. If you were thinking of coming to work this morning, don’t. They want you in Chief Lowenstein’s office at half past one.”
Now, what the hell is that about? Something to do with last night?
He pushed the REWIND button and went into his bedroom and laid out fresh clothes on his bed. He picked a light brown suit, since he was possibly going to see Chief Lowenstein and did not want to look like Joe College. Then he took his clothing off.
The doorbell rang.
He searched for and found his bathrobe and went to the intercom.
“Yeah?”
“You were right, I don’t want to wait down there,” Mrs. Glover said. “May I come up?”
He pushed the door release button and heard it open. She came up the stairs.
“That wasn’t exactly true,” she said. “Curiosity got the best of me.”
“They took your car to the Plymouth place in Upper Darby,” Matt said. “There was a message on the machine. Let me grab a shower, and I’ll take you out there.”
“They don’t open until nine-thirty,” she said.
“Well, we’ll just have to wait.”
He smiled uneasily at her, and then walked back in the apartment toward his bedroom.
"Matt ..."
He turned.
“Was that true, what you said, about you don’t have much in common with girls your own age?”
“Yes, it was.”
“You’re a really nice guy. Be patient. Someone will come along.”
“I hope so,” he said, and turned again and went and had his shower.
When he came out, he sensed movement in his kitchen. He cracked the door open. Mrs. Glover was leaning against the refrigerator. She had a cheese glass in one hand, and a bottle of his cognac in the other.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
“You want one?”
“No. I don’t want to smell of booze when I go to work.”
“When do you have to be at work? Is taking me back to Upper Darby going to make you late?”
“No. I’ve got until half past one.”
She looked at him, and then away, and then drained the cheese glass.
“What I said before,” she said, “was what my father told me when Ken and I broke up. That I was a nice girl, that I should be patient, that someone would come along.”
What the hell is she leading up to? Am I the someone?
“I’m sure he’s right.”
“Now, you and I are obviously not right for each other . . .”
Damn!
“. . . but what I’ve been thinking, very possibly because I’ve had