O Is for Outlaw

cigarette smoke, taking my measure with her eyes. She paused and leaned forward to tap off a cylinder of ash into a cut-glass dish on the coffee table in front of her.
    "What's your theory, Miss Dixie, if I may be so bold as to inquire?" I said, affecting a Southern accent.
    "Take advantage of them before they take advantage of you," she said, her smile as thin as glass.
    "Nice. Romantic. I better write that down." I pretended to make a note on the palm of my hand.
    "Well, it's not nice but it's practical. In case you haven't noticed, most men don't give a shit about romance. They want to get in your panties and let it go at that. What else can I say?"
    "That about covers it," I said. "May I ask, why him? There were dozens of cops at the Honky-Tonk back then." She hesitated, apparently considering what posture to affect. "He was very good," she said, with a trace of a smile.
    "I didn't ask for an evaluation. I'd like to know what went on."
    "Why the attitude? You seem so, belligerent. In the end, you'd have left him anyway, so what do you care?"
    "Indulge me," I said. "For the sake of argument."
    She lifted one thin shoulder in a delicate shrug. "He and I were an item long before the two of you met. He broke it off for a while and then he came back. Why attach anything to it? We were not in love by any stretch. I might have admired him, but I can't say I liked him much. He had a rough kind of charm, but then again, you know that. I wouldn't even call it an affair in any true sense of the word. More like sexual addiction, a mutual service we performed. Or I should say, that's what it was for me. I don't know about him. It's a question of pathology. He probably couldn't help himself any more than I"
    "Oh, please. Don't give me that horseshit about sexual addiction. What crap," I said. "Did it ever occur to you that wedding vows mean something?"
    "Yours didn't seem to mean much. Until death do us part? At least I'm still married, which is more than you can say. Or am I wrong about that? Rude of me. You might have married someone else and had a whole passel of kids. I would have asked before now, but I didn't see a ring."
    "Were you with him the night Benny Quintero died? "
    Her smiled faded. "Yes." Flat. No hesitation, no emotion, and no elaboration.
    "Why didn't he tell me?"
    "Did you really want to know?"
    "It would have helped. I'm not sure what I'd have done, but it might have made a difference."
    "I doubt that. You were such a cocky little thing. Really, quite obnoxious. You knew it all back then. Mickey wanted you spared."
    "And why is that?"
    "He was crazy about you. I'm surprised you'd have to ask."
    "Given the fact he was screwing you," I said.
    "You knew his history the day you married him. Did you seriously imagine he'd be monogamous.
    "Why'd you take it on yourself to tattle when Mickey asked you not to?"
    "I was afraid he'd get a raw deal, which he did, as It turns out."
    "Did Eric know about Mickey?"
    There was the tiniest flicker of hesitation. "We've come to an accommodation."
    "I'm not talking about now. Did he know back then? "
    She took a long, deliberate drag on her cigarette while she formed her reply. "Life was difficult for Eric. He had a hard time adjusting after he got back."
    "In other words, no."
    "There was no emotional content between Mickey and me. Why inflict unnecessary pain?"
    "How about so your respective spouses knew the truth about you? As long as there's no love, as long as it's simply sexual servicing, as you claim, why couldn't you tell us?"
    She was silent, giving me a wide-eyed stare.
    "The question Isn't hypothetical. I really want to know," I said. "Why not be honest with us if your relationship meant so little?" I waited. "Okay, I'll help. You want the answer? Try this. Because we'd have kicked your respective butts and put an end to it. I don't know about Eric, but I have no tolerance for Infidelity.
    "Perhaps there are things about loyalty you never grasped," she said.
    I closed my eyes briefly. I wanted to lift her front chair legs and flip her backward, just for the satisfaction of hearing her head thud against the stone floor. Instead, I silently recited what I remembered of the penal code: An assault is an unlawful attempt, coupled with a present ability, to commit a violent injury on the person of another.... A battery is any willful and unlawful use of force or violence upon the person of another.
    I smiled. "You think it was okay to make fools of us? To gratify your