Aces and Knaves

helps the ambiance to have a handsome young man seated across the table from me."
    "Thank you. Er, did Ned have any friends in San Francisco—other than James?" I asked, trying to sound offhand.
    "None that I know of. Why do you ask?"
    "No Asian friends, then?"
    "No. Why do you ask?"
    Even if the police had told Elma about the gun Ned had, they wouldn't know where it had come from. I couldn't very well say to Elma, "Did Ned have a female friend who he knew well enough to leave a gun with?"
    Whoever this mysterious woman was, nobody but Pat Wong's uncle would even admit to knowing her, and even he wouldn't give her name. I was at a dead-end on that alley.
    A live piano player tinkled the tune "Born Free" in the background. Although I had brought Elma here, intending to try to convince her to revoke her proxy to my father, somehow, the more wine I drank the less important that seemed.
    I picked up my wine glass and said, "I would like to make a toast to a beautiful woman with a ton of courage."
    With a impish grin, Elma said, "I'm afraid I don't know the lass you be toasting, but I'll drink to anyone with those attributes." And she drank from her own glass.
    At least I could tell James I had tried. "James, I took her out to dinner, but she beguiled me the same way she beguiled you 30 years ago. Since you know what I mean I'm sure you will understand."
    "I understand, Karl. I understand that you're a worthless shit. Stan, give your men the signal." Bang. Bang. All's well that ends well.
    ***
    When I escorted Elma to her door she invited me in. I had enjoyed being with her and savored the prospect of a few more minutes. We had conversed easily on many topics, something Esther and I didn't do, and she didn't talk business, like Arrow. In fact, I had been so entranced conversing with her about non-business subjects I had never found a way to bring up her proxy.
    "Sarah's on a sleep-over at a friend's house," Elma said as she ushered me in. "Tomorrow is a school holiday for some reason or other—perhaps it's national political correctness day. Why don't you sit in the big chair and I'll make us some tea."
    She indicated the chair I had seen her sitting in before. I protested mildly, but she playfully shoved me into it. Since I was feeling no pain I went easily. I was glad I had driven the few miles back to her house very slowly and reflected that I could use the additional time and tea to sober up for the drive home.
    Elma was back in five minutes with a tray, a teapot, cups, saucers, etc. She set them down on the table in front of me and said, "It's a big chair. Do you mind if I share it with you?"
    I was in no shape to protest, but even if I had wanted to she sat down before I could open my mouth. There was just room for the two of us as long as we nestled together and I kept my left arm behind her on the back of the chair.
    I sipped my tea, using my right hand while Elma used her left. Her right arm was half on my leg. We sipped in silence for a few minutes. My heart beat like that of a teenage boy the first time he is in close proximity to a girl.
    After a while I twisted my head so I could see Elma's face. I had to pull my head a few inches away from her to prevent her from being a blur to my farsighted eyes. There were tears running down her cheeks.
    She saw me looking at her and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. It's just...I miss him, Karl. I miss the feel of him; do you know what I mean? He was such a physical person."
    I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Elma turned her body toward me and buried her face in my neck. I felt the wetness of her tears and I faintly smelled a delicious perfume that I realized even then I would always associate with her.
    I put my left hand on her shoulder and patted her right arm awkwardly with my right hand. It was a scene I wouldn't mind lasting for a long time. We became still and I almost drifted off to sleep.
    Then Elma lifted her face to mine. I started kissing away her tears, my lips roaming over her eyes and cheeks and lips. Our kisses grew more passionate and my right hand discovered a gap in the top of her dress. It fit easily inside. Her skin was surprisingly soft and smooth. I found out she was as excited as I was.
    "Come to the bedroom," she whispered, starting to get up.
    "Are you sure?" I asked. We shouldn't be doing this.
    "Very sure," she said. She stood and with a firm grip on my arm, pulled me toward the bedroom.

    Chapter 28 GEORGE AND MARTHA
    I ran