Pizarro waited patiently. “It’s wallets,” he said.
“What?”
“It’s wallets. I got some wallets I sell you for five hunnert dollar.”
Nancy hesitated. He could be high on something or he could be psycho. She said quietly, “I don’t need a wallet, so will you go, please?”
Pizarro shrugged. “It’s okay. You don’t want these wallets, then I got to take them to the goddamn police.” He set the beer case close to the edge and kneeled on it, hunching down closer to her. “These wallets come from a place that was robbed. You understand?”
She had decided there was no sense in trying to understand him; but she wasn’t sure what to say to threaten him, to make him leave. She said, “Yes, you should take them to the police. They’ll appreciate your help.”
“Sure,” Pizarro said, “I can tell them who stole the wallets. Or I can leave the case somewhere the police will find it. With the name of the person written down inside.” Pizarro watched her. “You know what I mean?”
“I know the private police should be here any minute-”
“Hey,” Pizarro said. “No more bullshit about the private police, all right? I been here three hours waiting and this private police you got never come by.” Pizarro grinned, trying to see her clearly through the distortion of the water. “Come out of there, okay,” he said. “So I can tell you something.”
VIRGINIA MURRAY WISHED THE WIRE or whatever it was in the bra didn’t dig into her chest the way it did. She loved the aqua bathing suit. It was neat with the white buttons down the front; it made her look trim. But it was so darned uncomfortable. The edge of the bra support, which curved beneath her right arm, dug in and left a welt you could feel. (The first time she felt it, the first day here, she was scared to death, because when her fingers touched the welt, she thought it was a lump in her breast.) The trouble was, the only other bathing suit she had was the green and yellow print, and with the skirt effect it made her look hippy.
She had already eaten breakfast. She had written to her mother and dad: “Can’t believe it’s Thursday already and almost time to come home. The past two weeks have gone by so fast. Whew! Will leave Saturday morning about ten or so (no hurry) and should be home before two. I miss both of you very much.”
She had combed out her hair, put on the aqua bathing suit, and combed her hair again. She had taken her position on the studio couch to watch the morning begin and had looked through the new Cosmopolitan, which, she had a feeling, was getting awfully sexy lately.
Virginia was surprised when Mr. Majestyk came out to skim the pool instead of Jack Ryan. It was the first morning this week he had not come out about 9:15 or 9:20 with the aluminum pole.
He was probably doing something else. Perhaps raking the beach.
She could walk down to the beach, but if she did, she would have to stay at least for a short while and she didn’t like to lie in the sand, even on a beach towel. It was too hot and she would feel herself perspire. It was strange, though, she had pictured herself with Jack Ryan on the beach. Yes, because she pictured them alone. It was late afternoon and she was lying on her back with her eyes closed beneath her sunglasses, very tan, with the straps of the aqua bathing suit unfastened and off her shoulders. She felt someone near her, she sensed it, and opened her eyes to see Jack Ryan standing over her. She looked up at him calmly, past the muscular curve of his naked chest. Finally he said, “Do you mind if I join you?” She told him please do. He dropped to his knees and she sat up, holding the front of her bathing suit against her chest. While they talked about nothing in particular she could feel that he wanted to tell her something. After a while they swam out into Lake Huron together, side by side, stroke for stroke; out about a half mile they rested and came back in.
They would take her car and go down the beach to a restaurant that looked out over the water and have broiled lake trout and white wine and watch the sun go down. On the way home he would try to tell her. He would sound awkward because he had never tried to express the way he felt. He had never met a girl like her. The girls he knew were out for whatever they could get. But she was different. She was, well, kind. Nice. No, not just nice, more than that. She made him feel, you know, good. Virginia would smile, not laughing at him, but warmly and say, “That’s kind of you, but, really, I’m a very normal everyday sort of girl with no special talents or desires.” He would say, “Well, what is it, then?” And she would say, “Perhaps the secret is that I see goodness in people, which is really God’s love, you know, something everyone can discover in himself”-smiling then a little sadly-“if he would only take the time to look.”
She wasn’t sure what would happen after that.
But, darn it, she was sure of one thing-pulling at the bra where it dug into the side of her chest-she was going to take off the aqua suit and put on the green and yellow print and be comfortable for a change, even if it did make her look hippy.
She went into the bathroom. The green and yellow print was on one of the two outside door hooks, hanging next to her terry cloth robe. The door was a good idea: you could come right into the bathroom from outside without tracking sand all over the house; but you also had to be sure it was kept locked.
Virginia stepped out of the aqua suit. Turning to the door, she saw her reflection briefly in the medicine cabinet mirror. She picked up the aqua suit, glancing at the mirror again. The knock came as she was reaching for the green and yellow suit, as she stood naked by the door with the aqua suit in her other hand-several knocks in quick succession close to her, not two feet from where she was standing.
Ryan drove into Geneva Beach for breakfast.
After walking away from Mr. Majestyk last night, he had gone to his room to wait for Nancy. The car was here and he couldn’t picture her walking home. So he lay on the bed to wait and read an article in True about a guy in Norwich, England, who had hooked, played, boated, and released more than two thousand pike in 15 years. When he realized Nancy wasn’t coming, he thought about driving over to her house. But if Mr. Majestyk was still hanging around, he’d see him or hear him drive off and know where he was going, because Mr. Majestyk knew the car. Then Mr. Majestyk might add it up and decide she was the girl he’d heard outside his window. Maybe it didn’t matter. But why give the guy anything to think about? Parking the car in front of the Bay Vista had been dumb to begin with. He could have left it there and walked down to her house, but he’d see her tomorrow, all day. There was a good article in True about how Early Wynn used to dust batters and once even knocked his own kid down when the kid hit a long ball off him in batting practice. He read it and fell asleep.