toward the lobby. After counting slowly to ten and wiping his sweating palms on his trousers, Robert followed.
When he reached the lobby, Emerick was standing by himself smoking a cigarette, leaning on the soda machine and looking with some interest at the young girl making popcorn behind the counter. Robert ignored his pounding heart and approached Emerick as casually and quietly as possible.
"I haven't seen you since Memorial Park," he said, because it was the opening line he'd rehearsed over and over.
Emerick turned and looked blankly at him. "Memorial Park?" The man's composure threw Robert for a moment. "Yes, you know!" he almost pleaded. "With the blonde lady."
"Blonde lady?" Emerick asked innocently, but there was electricity in his voice now and his dark complexion paled.
"The blonde lady," Robert said, for the first time looking Emerick in the eye. "It would be a pity if your wife found out."
Ernerick's cigarette dropped to the lobby carpet and he trembled so that he had to support himself for a second on the soda machine.
Robert knew he had the upper hand now and he intended to play it. "Someone always sees," he sneered.
Emerick collected himself admirably. He ground out the dropped cigarette with the heel of his shoe and lit another. Peering at Robert over the flame he asked, "How much?"
How much? Robert flushed and cursed himself inwardly. All his carefully laid plans and he hadn't even considered the amount he would ask. "Five thousand," he said, his mind racing furiously.
Emerick didn't change expression. So five thousand was nothing to him, Robert thought. Of course not, living where he did, driving that big car...
"When and where?" Emerick asked.
"Saturday afternoon. At one o'clock, in the parking lot of the Spoon and Kettle Restaurant on Route 21. And make it ten thousand."
Emerick's mouth dropped open at that, but his surprised expression turned with great effort into a broad smile as he looked over Robert's shoulder. Robert turned to see Mrs. Emerick crossing the lobby toward them. As he looked at the woman close up for the first time, Robert noticed through his sudden embarrassment that she was attractive in a blue-eyed, creamy way. There was a look of friendly curiosity on her face as she wobbled toward them on her high heels.
Robert's palms began to sweat again as he tried to think of a way to take his leave gracefully.
"Darling," Emerick said in a brave, high voice, as if about to introduce them. But Robert had spun on his heel and was walking hurriedly toward the exit.
Â
T he Spoon and Kettle Restaurant was a popular truck stop that shared a large parking lot with a service station. The restaurant was doing its usual brisk Saturday afternoon business, which was exactly why Robert had chosen it for his and Emerick's rendezvous. As he stood with one foot braced against the bumper of his car he was in plain view of at least half a dozen diners on the other side of a large plate glass window about a hundred feet away. Emerick wouldn't dare try anything violent with so many witnesses. The thing that was worrying Robert now, however, was whether Emerick would show up.
It was 1:15 when the shiny black sedan pulled off the highway into the parking lot. Emerick parked on the other side of the lot, then got out and stood squinting against the sun, holding a large dark briefcase. He spotted Robert and motioned him to come over.
Emerick's car was in view of the diners inside the restaurant, so Robert hesitated only a second. Elated and relieved that the risky business of blackmail was about to end profitably, he walked over to meet Emerick.
"The money's in there?" Robert asked, nodding toward the briefcase and trying to sound brisk and businesslike.
"No," Emerick said softly, "there are two things in here, but neither of them is money." He didn't seem at all frightened or resigned as he had in the theater. There was something in Emerick's steady dark eyes that preposterously suggested he was
When he reached the lobby, Emerick was standing by himself smoking a cigarette, leaning on the soda machine and looking with some interest at the young girl making popcorn behind the counter. Robert ignored his pounding heart and approached Emerick as casually and quietly as possible.
"I haven't seen you since Memorial Park," he said, because it was the opening line he'd rehearsed over and over.
Emerick turned and looked blankly at him. "Memorial Park?" The man's composure threw Robert for a moment. "Yes, you know!" he almost pleaded. "With the blonde lady."
"Blonde lady?" Emerick asked innocently, but there was electricity in his voice now and his dark complexion paled.
"The blonde lady," Robert said, for the first time looking Emerick in the eye. "It would be a pity if your wife found out."
Ernerick's cigarette dropped to the lobby carpet and he trembled so that he had to support himself for a second on the soda machine.
Robert knew he had the upper hand now and he intended to play it. "Someone always sees," he sneered.
Emerick collected himself admirably. He ground out the dropped cigarette with the heel of his shoe and lit another. Peering at Robert over the flame he asked, "How much?"
How much? Robert flushed and cursed himself inwardly. All his carefully laid plans and he hadn't even considered the amount he would ask. "Five thousand," he said, his mind racing furiously.
Emerick didn't change expression. So five thousand was nothing to him, Robert thought. Of course not, living where he did, driving that big car...
"When and where?" Emerick asked.
"Saturday afternoon. At one o'clock, in the parking lot of the Spoon and Kettle Restaurant on Route 21. And make it ten thousand."
Emerick's mouth dropped open at that, but his surprised expression turned with great effort into a broad smile as he looked over Robert's shoulder. Robert turned to see Mrs. Emerick crossing the lobby toward them. As he looked at the woman close up for the first time, Robert noticed through his sudden embarrassment that she was attractive in a blue-eyed, creamy way. There was a look of friendly curiosity on her face as she wobbled toward them on her high heels.
Robert's palms began to sweat again as he tried to think of a way to take his leave gracefully.
"Darling," Emerick said in a brave, high voice, as if about to introduce them. But Robert had spun on his heel and was walking hurriedly toward the exit.
Â
T he Spoon and Kettle Restaurant was a popular truck stop that shared a large parking lot with a service station. The restaurant was doing its usual brisk Saturday afternoon business, which was exactly why Robert had chosen it for his and Emerick's rendezvous. As he stood with one foot braced against the bumper of his car he was in plain view of at least half a dozen diners on the other side of a large plate glass window about a hundred feet away. Emerick wouldn't dare try anything violent with so many witnesses. The thing that was worrying Robert now, however, was whether Emerick would show up.
It was 1:15 when the shiny black sedan pulled off the highway into the parking lot. Emerick parked on the other side of the lot, then got out and stood squinting against the sun, holding a large dark briefcase. He spotted Robert and motioned him to come over.
Emerick's car was in view of the diners inside the restaurant, so Robert hesitated only a second. Elated and relieved that the risky business of blackmail was about to end profitably, he walked over to meet Emerick.
"The money's in there?" Robert asked, nodding toward the briefcase and trying to sound brisk and businesslike.
"No," Emerick said softly, "there are two things in here, but neither of them is money." He didn't seem at all frightened or resigned as he had in the theater. There was something in Emerick's steady dark eyes that preposterously suggested he was
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