Swimming to Catalina

him drive by in the Bentley.”
    She shook her head. “Nope. Vance and Arrington bad dinner last night at the Bel-Air Hotel with some Centurion stockholders; I made the reservation.”
    The lie wilted Stone inside. “Must have been my imagination.”
    “Not really; there are two other green Bentleys just like Vance’s around town. You saw one of them.”
    “Oh, well; I’m glad she’s back.”
    “Vance thinks you’re in New York,” she said. “He dictated a thank you note to you this afternoon.”
    “I wanted him to think that, after being followed from the restaurant last week. I wanted everybody but you to think I was back in New York.”
    “I understand,” she said. “Shall we order?”
    They both ordered a Caesar salad and the osso bucco, and Stone ordered a bottle of the Masi Amerone ’91. “It’s a big wine,” he said. “I think you’ll like it.”
    “You seem a little depressed, baby,” she said, rubbing the inside of his thigh with her toe.
    “It always depresses me when I’ve wasted a lot of time,” he said.
    “I hope it wasn’tall a waste of time.” She pushed her toe into his crotch.
    He smiled. “Certainly not. In some ways, this has been an extremely lovely trip.”
    “Well, if this is going to be our last night together, I’ll have to make it a special one,” she said.

    “They’ve all been special,” he replied. “Especially the weekend at Tiptop.”
    “I’d give you their unlisted number,” she said, “but I wouldn’t want you going there with anyone but me.”
    Their food arrived, and Betty returned her toe to her shoe.
    “I left a couple of messages for you at Le Parc,” she said. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
    “I’m sorry; I haven’t been by the desk, I guess. I tend to go straight from the garage to my room. Was it something important?”
    “I just wanted to tell you about Arrington.”
    “Why didn’t you call my portable number?”
    “I always feel as though I’m interrupting something when I do that.”
    “Oh.”
    “Stone, something’s really wrong, I can tell. Why won’t you talk to me?”
    Because I might as well whisper it into Vance’s or Ippolito’s or somebody’s ear, he thought. “There’s nothing, really.”
    “It’s Arrington; you’d hoped to see her again, hadn’t you?”
    He shrugged. “Maybe.”
    They finished their dinner in silence. He paid the check, and she took his hand on the way out.
    “I’m going to make you forget her,” she said.
    “Sounds good.”
    “I’ll meet you at Le Parc in fifteen minutes.” “No,” he said, “meet me at the Bel-Air Hotel. I’ve moved.”
    “See you in the parking lot there,” she said.
    He followed her all the way, checking his rearview mirror to see if anyone were following him. As far ashe could tell, there was no one behind him.
    She walked ahead of him into the suite, shedding clothing as she went. Stone allowed himself to be undressed, then she went into the bathroom and came back with a bottle of body lotion.
    “Where does it hurt?” she asked, kneeling over him on the bed.
    “All over,” he said.
    She warmed the lotion between her palms and began rubbing his chest. “I watched you having your massage at Tiptop,” she said. “There was a peephole for that very purpose. I saw the effect Lisa had on you.”
    “And what effect did watching have on you?” he asked.
    “It made me want you both,” she replied, pouring more oil into her hand.
    “Then why didn’t you have us both?”
    “I didn’t think I should tamper with the staff.”
    “My impression was that Lisa would have enjoyed being tampered with,” he said.
    “Would you have enjoyed it?”
    “What’s not to enjoy?”
    She laughed. “I like your attitude. Maybe the next time you come out here I can arrange something like that.”
    “What an exciting idea.”
    She had his genitals in both hands now, and they were both unbearably excited. She lay down beside him and took him into her, throwing a leg over his body. From that time until morning they did not speak again.
     
    “So, you’re leaving today?” Betty asked over breakfast.
    “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll stick around a little longer.”

    “What for? Last night you sounded determined to leave.”
    Tired of cat-and-mouse, he decided to go for broke. “Ippolito interests me,” he said.
    “The banker? Why?”
    “I think he’s behind all this.”
    “Behind what?”
    “Affington’s disappearance.”
    “That doesn’t make any