A leg bumped mine momentarily, then drew away. A hand dipped into the vat of popcorn and brushed my hand before closing around a fistful of popped kernels.
I watched the movie and listened to chewing sounds.
Then came an urgent whisper. “You were right, Bern. This is really dynamite popcorn.”
Throats were cleared and programs rustled in the row immediately behind ours. I put a finger to my lips and glanced at Carolyn, who mimed a wordless apology.
And, side by side, we ate the popcorn and watched the movie.
On the way out, the ticket-taker gave me a big smile and the guy with the goatee flashed me a thumbs-up. “They’re happy for me,” I told Carolyn. “Isn’t that nice?”
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “One of those heartwarming little New York vignettes. Imagine if they knew you spent the past two nights at my apartment.”
“Please,” I said. “They’d start wondering when I’m going to make an honest woman of you.”
Across the street they had tables set up on the sidewalk, and it was a nice enough night to sit at one of them. I ordered cappuccino and Carolyn asked for Caffè Lucrezia Borgia, which sounded as though it might be poisoned but turned out to be the house special, a production number consisting of espresso with a slug of Strega in it and a topping of whipped cream and shaved chocolate. She pronounced it excellent and offered me a taste, but I passed.
“Not even a taste? It’s not going to get you drunk.”
“Without principles,” I said, “where are we?”
“I’ve got to give you credit,” she said. “Of course you’re going to be way out of shape by the time all this is over. Anyway, I’m starting to wonder if I’m in better shape than I ought to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I kept the store open until I finished ‘A’ Is for Train, and I only had one drink at the Bum Rap after I closed up, and I swear I didn’t even feel it, and afterward I ate a full meal at the Indian place, but even so I’ve got to admit I had trouble following the movie tonight.”
“No one can follow it,” I said. “It’s Beat the Devil. I think they must have been making it up as they went along, and I’m positive they didn’t have any prissy little rule about not having a drink when they had work to do. No worries about getting out of shape, not on that set.”
We talked some about the film, and I gave her a rundown on the first feature, King of the Underworld, which she was sorry to have missed. “Except I like it better when he doesn’t get killed at the end,” she said. “You know me, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”
“In King of the Underworld,” I said, “the ending’s not happy until he dies. But I know what you mean. Maybe that’s why they usually show the older picture first. He tended to be alive at the end of the later ones, when he was a bigger star.”
“Makes sense. What’s the point in being a star if you’re just going to get killed the same as always?” She sipped her fancy coffee. “I brought your flight bag.”
“So I see.”
“Ray came to the store. He was actually pleasant to me, which made me a little nervous. It was him sitting in your lobby, but I suppose he told you that himself.”
I shook my head. “I never asked.”
“Well, he won’t be sitting there anymore, so I thought you might want to sleep at home. There’s stuff in there you might need if you do. But I’m not trying to get rid of you, Bern. If you want to stay downtown, I’ll just take the bag home with me. Or we’ll go together.”
“I’ve got a late appointment.”
“Oh.”
“And if Ray was sitting in my lobby, who was in the car outside?”
“I didn’t ask about that.”
“Maybe it was a couple of other cops. And maybe it was somebody with no interest in me whatsoever.” I frowned. “And maybe not.”
“So you’ll sleep at my place. Why be silly about it?”
I hefted the flight bag, put it on the ground next to me. “It was a good idea to bring this,” I said. “I’ll hang on to it.”
“But you’ll sleep at my place, right?”
“Who knows where I’ll sleep?”
“Bern…”
“There’s always a little furnished room on East Twenty-fifth Street,” I said. “The accommodations are on the Spartan side, but I know for a fact that the bed’s comfortable.