homes staked to the ground, swarming with those who now lived in their shadows.
She increased her speed. Although the sun had gone down, it was still humid, and sweat poured off her. She had hoped a hard run would be cool and cleansing, but she felt sleazy and dirty, haunted by junk food and junk memories. The pizza slices and hot dogs of the past week oozed out of her pores, while her head was filled with unsettling images. She saw Ava pushing lingerie into her briefcase, saw the big head of Michael Abramowitz, floating on top of his tiny body like some unwieldy helium balloon, bouncing across the Renaissance lobby toward his assignation with Ava.
She had been right in her instinctive dislike for Ava, but she found little pleasure in being right. How had she failed to anticipate this moment? For Kitty had seen it all too clearly. From the first Tess had hoped Ava was up to no good and relished the chance to prove it, thinking it would be a good and lucrative deed to break up Rock’s engagement.She had imagined what it would be like to trail Ava, and she’d come to enjoy doing it. She had killed long hours thinking about what she would do with the money Rock was paying her. But she had never imagined what it would be like to report back to Rock.
The thought of Rock’s face made her run faster still.
She couldn’t do it, not for any sum of money. But she didn’t want to give up the money. And she wanted Rock to know what she had discovered, just not the responsibility of telling him.
There was only one way. Ava must confess, and Tess would have to trick her into it.
Back in her apartment, showered and dusted with talcum powder, Tess dialed Ava’s number. A machine picked up. She started to hang up, then had a quick inspiration. She knew what could get Ava to pick up a telephone, assuming she was there and screening her messages.
“Miss Hill?” she asked in the high, almost too-clear tones of a young college girl, the type of voice that goes higher still at every sentence’s end.
“This is Denise at Nordstrom? I waited on you the last time you were in? Well, I wanted you to know we are having a very special sale on Donna Karan, a two-day preview sale for very special customers, and I just wanted to give you the details? We’re taking up to seventy-five percent off some of the fall suits?”
Ava picked up. “Yes, I’m here. Do you have many things left in a size four?”
Stunned by the success of her plan, Tess realized she hadn’t figured out what to say next. She fell back on the truth.
“I’m not a Nordstrom sales girl. I’m a private investigator—a kind of one, anyway, and I’ve been following you. I think it would be in your best interest to meet with me.”
Ava hung up. Tess called back and got the machine again, but she knew Ava was standing there, listening.
“I have some information, Miss Hill,” she said, hoping her voice sounded cool and experienced. “Information aboutyour…lunchtime activities. Information I plan to provide to my client if you don’t meet with me.”
She could feel Ava waiting, considering, only blocks away. After a week of following her, Tess felt strangely close to her prey. She still didn’t like her, but she sensed something sad and fucked-up in her, which made her harder to hate. She wanted to hear Ava’s side of the story, even as she doubted she would believe it. But she did not tell her any of this, did not say anything more as she hurtled toward the beep and another disconnection.
Ava picked up just before the tape on the machine ran out. “Sunday,” she said. “Eight P.M . I can’t meet until then.”
“Fine. Meet me at The Point.”
“The Point?”
“It’s a bar, also known as Spike’s Place, out on Franklintown Road, near where I-70 dead-ends.”
“I’m sure I can find it. I look forward to meeting you. I’ve never met a female dick before.” And she slammed the phone down again.
Let her have this round , Tess decided. The next
She increased her speed. Although the sun had gone down, it was still humid, and sweat poured off her. She had hoped a hard run would be cool and cleansing, but she felt sleazy and dirty, haunted by junk food and junk memories. The pizza slices and hot dogs of the past week oozed out of her pores, while her head was filled with unsettling images. She saw Ava pushing lingerie into her briefcase, saw the big head of Michael Abramowitz, floating on top of his tiny body like some unwieldy helium balloon, bouncing across the Renaissance lobby toward his assignation with Ava.
She had been right in her instinctive dislike for Ava, but she found little pleasure in being right. How had she failed to anticipate this moment? For Kitty had seen it all too clearly. From the first Tess had hoped Ava was up to no good and relished the chance to prove it, thinking it would be a good and lucrative deed to break up Rock’s engagement.She had imagined what it would be like to trail Ava, and she’d come to enjoy doing it. She had killed long hours thinking about what she would do with the money Rock was paying her. But she had never imagined what it would be like to report back to Rock.
The thought of Rock’s face made her run faster still.
She couldn’t do it, not for any sum of money. But she didn’t want to give up the money. And she wanted Rock to know what she had discovered, just not the responsibility of telling him.
There was only one way. Ava must confess, and Tess would have to trick her into it.
Back in her apartment, showered and dusted with talcum powder, Tess dialed Ava’s number. A machine picked up. She started to hang up, then had a quick inspiration. She knew what could get Ava to pick up a telephone, assuming she was there and screening her messages.
“Miss Hill?” she asked in the high, almost too-clear tones of a young college girl, the type of voice that goes higher still at every sentence’s end.
“This is Denise at Nordstrom? I waited on you the last time you were in? Well, I wanted you to know we are having a very special sale on Donna Karan, a two-day preview sale for very special customers, and I just wanted to give you the details? We’re taking up to seventy-five percent off some of the fall suits?”
Ava picked up. “Yes, I’m here. Do you have many things left in a size four?”
Stunned by the success of her plan, Tess realized she hadn’t figured out what to say next. She fell back on the truth.
“I’m not a Nordstrom sales girl. I’m a private investigator—a kind of one, anyway, and I’ve been following you. I think it would be in your best interest to meet with me.”
Ava hung up. Tess called back and got the machine again, but she knew Ava was standing there, listening.
“I have some information, Miss Hill,” she said, hoping her voice sounded cool and experienced. “Information aboutyour…lunchtime activities. Information I plan to provide to my client if you don’t meet with me.”
She could feel Ava waiting, considering, only blocks away. After a week of following her, Tess felt strangely close to her prey. She still didn’t like her, but she sensed something sad and fucked-up in her, which made her harder to hate. She wanted to hear Ava’s side of the story, even as she doubted she would believe it. But she did not tell her any of this, did not say anything more as she hurtled toward the beep and another disconnection.
Ava picked up just before the tape on the machine ran out. “Sunday,” she said. “Eight P.M . I can’t meet until then.”
“Fine. Meet me at The Point.”
“The Point?”
“It’s a bar, also known as Spike’s Place, out on Franklintown Road, near where I-70 dead-ends.”
“I’m sure I can find it. I look forward to meeting you. I’ve never met a female dick before.” And she slammed the phone down again.
Let her have this round , Tess decided. The next
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