Once a Widow Read Online Free PDF Page B

me?”
    “Yes, indeed, sir, I certainly will.”
    “Thank you, Maggie. Now please don’t get upset. I’m sure she’s all right.”
    “I hope so, sir.” Maggie paused, and then said hesitantly, “Would—would you call me, when she comes home, so I won’t worry?”
    “Of course. Is everything all right there?”
    “Fine, sir.”
    “Swell. Tell Albert I said hello. Goodbye, Maggie.”
    Richard hung up, crushed out his cigarette, carried his drink to the long living room overlooking the lake, where he reclined in a deep armchair with his feet on an out-sized ottoman of soft leather. He sipped the drink, finished it, made another, and another. By midnight he was pleasantly drunk. He didn’t turn on the radio or television; he felt pleased with himself and just wanted to sit quietly and contemplate his future with Rose Ann. He wished he could be with her, but it wouldn’t be smart for him to see her tonight, or even leave the house. There was plenty of time to see Rose Ann, all the years of his life.
    At one o’clock in the morning he went to bed, leaving the lights burning, including the lonely beacon on the end of the dock. He slept soundly.

 
CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Richard awakened a little before nine, early for him, and after a breakfast of orange juice and coffee he lit a cigarette and telephoned the coast guard station. His conversation with the officer who answered went pretty much as he’d rehearsed it in his mind. As he talked, he crushed out the cigarette, which tasted like burning straw (how much gin had he taken aboard last night?). The officer listened sympathetically, asked questions and promised to alert all patrols. Richard thanked him, assured him that he’d be at home all day in case they had any news for him and that he’d call immediately if his wife returned. Richard hung up, smiling. Everything was under control, working according to his plan, very professional. Alex Kamin would approve.
    But it was a long day for Richard. He couldn’t go down to the beach, for fear of not hearing the phone. He wandered around the house drinking bourbon straight from the bottle, but not too much. There was a chance they’d find Karen’s body or the boat, and he wanted to be alert. He thought constantly of Rose Ann, knowing that she would be half expecting him to meet her, in spite of what he’d told her on Friday afternoon. But it would be too risky; he was supposed to be a worried husband waiting at home for news of his missing wife.
    At noon he made a ham and cheese sandwich on rye and poured a glass of milk. As he ate, he became aware of the darkening sky and the rising moan of the wind. He went to the kitchen window and gazed out over the lake. Whitecaps were breaking on the beach, and far across the rolling water, toward the Canadian reefs, the sky was an angry gray broken by vivid flashes of lightning. It began to rain and he hurried to close the windows and doors. Then he ran out to the drive and drove the Corvette into the garage beside Karen’s white Cadillac. Back in the house he stood for a moment, wiping rain from his face. In spite of the sound of the wind and the drumming of the rain on the windows and roof, the house seemed oddly silent, almost lonesome.
    He stretched out on his bed, his head on his folded arms, and listened to the sounds of the storm. He felt safe here, secure, safer than he’d ever felt in his mother’s flat in Sacramento. For the first time in many years he thought of his mother, who had died when he was sixteen. He had never known his father. He’d been killed in a dock strike in ’Frisco before Richard had been born. He closed his eyes, trying to recall a childhood he’d never really known, and presently he slept.
    The ringing of the phone awakened him. He sat up, waited a moment until his head had cleared, and then picked up the phone from the bedside table. “Hello,” he said.
    “Mr. Barry?”
    “Yes.”
    “This is Lieutenant Prentice, at the coast guard