Chase: Roman

that Judge had not just chosen Blentz's name out of the phone book when he used it with Brown. Perhaps he knew Blentz or even more likely, had once worked for him. And even if Blentz could provide no new lead, Chase could go back to Glenda Kleaver, the girl at the Press-Dispatch morgue room, and question her about anyone who had come into her office the previous Tuesday - something he had not done right off, for fear of making a fool of himself or arousing the interest of the reporters in the room.
        He began with a call to the newspaper morgue, but he found it was not open for business, as he had suspected might be the case. In the phone book he found a listing under the girl's name and dialled that, received an answer on the fourth ring.
        ‘Hello?’ she said.
        He had forgotten how tiny and soft and feminine her voice was, so breathless that it almost seemed contrived.
        He said, ‘Miss Kleaver, you probably don't remember me. I was in your office yesterday. My name's Chase. I had to leave while you were out of the room getting information for one of your reporters.’
        ‘I remember you quite well,’ she said.
        He said, ‘My name's Chase, Benjamin Chase, and I'd like to see you again, today, if that's at all possible.’
        She hesitated a minute and said, ‘Are you asking for a date?’
        He said, ‘Yes,’ though he had not been aware that such a thought was even part of his motive.
        She laughed pleasantly. ‘Well, you certainly are business-like about it, aren't you?’
        ‘I guess so,’ he said, afraid that she would turn him down - and at the same time frightened that she would accept.
        ‘When were you thinking of?’ she asked.
        ‘Well,’ he said, ‘actually, I was thinking about today. This evening. But now I realize that isn't much notice -’
        ‘It's fine,’ she said.
        ‘Really?’ His throat was tight and his voice sounded a bit higher than usual.
        ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘One problem, though.’
        ‘What's that?’
        ‘I was planning fondue for supper, and I cut all the meat and seasoned it. I've got everything set out for the rest of the dishes too.’
        ‘Perhaps we could go somewhere after dinner,’ he said.
        She said, ‘I like to eat late. What I was thinking -could you come here for supper? I've more than enough beef for two.’
        ‘That sounds fine,’ he said.
        She gave him the complete address and said, ‘Dress casually, please. And I'll see you at seven.’
        ‘At seven,’ he repeated.
        When the connection was broken, he stood in the booth, trembling. In the back of his mind, swelling ever larger, was the memory of Operation Jules Verne, the tunnel, the descent, the terrible darkness, the fear, the grate, the women, the guns and, last of all, the blood. His knees felt very weak and his heart beat much faster than it should have done. When he felt dangerously close to being overcome, he leaned back against the glass of the booth and forced himself to reason it out. Accepting a date with Glenda Kleaver was in no way a rejection of his responsibility in the deaths of those Vietnamese women. A long time had passed, after all, and a great deal of penitence had been suffered. And suffered alone. Besides, this was to be only little more than an innocent business meeting, an attempt to learn more about Judge. If Judge could be swiftly located and disposed of, Chase would be able to return to his former hermetic existence much sooner than he had anticipated. Instead of behaving wrongly, therefore, he was taking the surest move toward an end to his present condition and a return to his former, respectable retreat from a way of life that he felt he no longer deserved.
        He left the booth.
        The day was terribly warm and humid. The back of his shirt stuck to him like Saran Wrap.
        Driving to the Gateway Mall Tavern, he almost slammed into the rear of three separate automobiles, distracted by the ugly memories which had for a long time been given vent only in his nightmares. The fear of hurting another motorist in an accident and thereby acquiring an even heavier load of guilt had quickly served to sober him and drive the distracting memories down, beyond the veil of recognition.
        At the shopping mall, Chase browsed in the bookstore until shortly after noon, then walked up the carpeted slope of the main promenade to the tavern.