CHAPTER 11

When Carolyn reached the corner, she searched frantically for a glimpse of Angie. The sidewalk appeared deserted in both directions as far as she could see. She had no idea which way Angie had gone but she knew she couldn't have gotten far. Without her purse, which she had left in the apartment, Angie would have to walk wherever she was going. And that was no problem. Angie had never willingly walked three consecutive blocks in her life.

But, worried as she was about the girl's state of mind, Carolyn was even more concerned about Angie wandering alone through the neighborhood. Hovering as it did on the edge of a crime-ridden slum area, it was no place for a woman to take an early morning stroll. The development they lived in had round-the-clock guards. Yet she knew that Angie, who rarely stopped to consider anything, had never questioned why the guards were there. Her mind already filled with visions of stumbling across Angie's raped and mutilated body, Carolyn hurried up the block to the little Renault.

She drove down Columbus Avenue slowly, peering ahead and into the shadows on both sides. At Eighty Sixth Street she stopped for a red light.

On her left, running out in the street, turning as she ran to look behind her, was Angie, apparently headed for Central Park. As a cab came up the street toward her, Angie waved. The cab made a sharp U-turn and halted beside her. Angie climbed in.

Carolyn couldn't be bothered waiting for the light to change. She veered around the corner and took off after the cab.

They did not go into the park but turned right on Central Park West, heading downtown. The street was empty except for a bus and an occasional cab and, lagging two blocks behind, Carolyn kept the green and white vehicle easily in sight. She could see Angie's curly head silhouetted against the back window, rigid, staring straight ahead.

At the Museum of Natural History, the cab slowed and pulled over to the corner. A block behind, Carolyn drew in to the curb but left the motor running, not knowing what the girl might do next.

Angie leaped out of the cab on the park side and, without looking, ran across the street and disappeared into the tree-shaded entrance to the drive. The cabbie leaned out the window and shouted to her. If she heard him at all, Angie did not stop. The driver got out and stood beside the cab, peering after the girl.

Carolyn eased the car away from the curb and drove up beside the man. She leaned across to the far window, a dollar bill in her hand.

"Here," she said, shaking it at him impatiently. "It's for her."

He stared at her for a second, scratching the bald spot on top of his head, then smoothing a few hairs to cover it.

"Bunch of queers," he muttered disgustedly. He took the bill.

Carolyn turned into the park and onto the drive beside the lake. It was dark under the trees. She glimpsed the pale pink of Angie's cotton dress as the light of a street lamp touched it. She moved in just close enough to keep the girl in full view.

Angie walked rapidly, as though she had been used to doing so always. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, not hesitating once in her headlong course. Finally, at the very end of the lake, she turned off the sidewalk and strode into the brush. She vanished into the darkness as though into a cave.

Afraid that if she left the car beside the road it would attract attention, Carolyn speeded up around the bend and into the parking lot a hundred yards further on. She leaped out of the car and ran back towards the lake. From the top of a huge rock jutting out over the water, she peered into the moonlit shadows until she found Angie just stepping out of the woods.

For a moment she stood indecisively, then crouched down to watch.

Angie stepped deliberately out onto a broad, flat stretch of ground, right down to the edge of the water. She posed there dramatically, her face turned to the starlit heavens, hands clasped to her breast. Then, instead of hurling herself into the lake, she sat down on a stone and began to take off her shoes.

Watching her, Carolyn suddenly laughed aloud and clamped her hand over her mouth so that Angie would not hear.

It was typical of Angie, somehow. She realized that the girl had come to this secluded spot to take the fatal plunge.

Yet she also knew that she had carefully chosen to do so in three inches of water. She should have known better than to take her seriously. Even as a suicide, Angie could not be sincere.

Angie folded her stockings ceremoniously and tucked them into the toe of one shoe. Then she set the shoes straight, as though lining them up in a closet. Still sitting, she stretched a leg toward the water, slowly, almost as though it pained her.

Instantly she withdrew her foot. She hugged her legs close to her chest and her head sagged against her knees. For a long time she sat there, stooped, defeated. Then, still slumped and obviously miserable, she unrolled the stockings and began to dress.

Carolyn got up stiffly and dusted her hands on her skirt. For an instant, she paused. She knew that whatever fit Angie had had was subsiding now into depression. And she felt reasonably sure that Angie would never go through with a suicide, that the water would always be too cold or the ground too far away. Still she felt guilty about what she had done to her. Once she had loved the girl. She started climbing down the side of the rock.

Picking her way carefully over loose stones, Carolyn got down to the edge of the lake. She could see Angie quite clearly now, standing, gazing out over the water. As quietly as she could, she moved along the water toward the girl.

Out of the shadows behind Angie emerged the figure of a man. Carolyn started to shout a warning. Then the words stuck in her throat as she recognized the blue uniform of the park patrolman.

The policeman called out to Angie before he reached her. Angie whirled, then answered him. They stood close together, talking quietly. Side by side they started back toward the road.

Carolyn could not hear what either said, but glancing ahead of them, she saw the prowl car with another cop seated in it parked beside the walk.

When they were out of earshot, she turned and made her way quickly out of the brush and ran to the parking lot.

She kept a safe distance behind the prowl car as it drove slowly toward the Fifty Ninth Street exit. The policeman put out his hand and hailed a cab. She didn't know what story Angie had told him, but it must have been a good one.

Almost before it stopped, Angie had jumped out of the patrol car and was opening the door of the taxi. It took off like a shot, with Carolyn close behind.

By now it was after three and traffic was light. Even as they drove through Times Square, Carolyn had no trouble keeping Angie in sight. She had no idea where the girl might be going but as long as she had started this chase, she was determined to see it through. If the girl went to Jimmy, she would not worry any more about her. But in the condition she was in, she might be going just about anywhere.

Finally the cab pulled up in front of a dingy side street bar. Carolyn parked half a block behind.

The cab waited while Angie went inside. She was gone for quite some time. When she came out, she handed money to the driver, then flounced back into the bar.

Carolyn stayed in the car for a long time, watching the door of the bar. A couple of drunks staggered out and reeled off down the street. A guy stopped out front and peered in the window, then went on his way. The bartender came out for a breath of air. There was no sign of Angie.

She found a stale cigarette in her purse and lit it. It burnt her throat and she stubbed it out in the ashtray. A pulse beat steadily in her right temple and her palms were slippery with sweat. She glanced at her watch, then held it to her ear to make sure it was running. What the hell could Angie be doing in that bar, anyhow? She never drank, except occasionally at home. And it didn't look like a place where Jimmy would take a girl.

Finally she could sit still no longer. She slammed the door of the car behind her and crossed quickly in the middle of the block.

Leaning close to the soot smeared windows, Carolyn peered into the bar. It was like dozens of others she had seen, a long, smoke-filled room with a wooden bar and half a dozen tables. There was an open phone on the wall in the corner, right next to the ladies' toilet. The man she had seen in the doorway stood behind the bar, polishing glasses on a dirty towel. The only light came from a cluster of bulbs framing a mirror above the cash register.

But she could make out easily enough the figures lined up along the bar, hunching forward over their drinks. There was only one woman and she wasn't Angie.

Carolyn pushed open the swinging door and went inside. The bartender glanced up and stopped polishing the glass.

One quick look reassured her that Angie was nowhere in the room. She hesitated, seeing the bartender eye her curiously, then walked through to the john.

The door was locked. She allowed herself one second of hope. If only Angie were inside...

Leaning against the wall, she waited, keeping an eye on the bar and the front entrance. The bartender went back to polishing glasses.

After what seemed like hours the door creaked open. A frowsy blonde with puffy eyes and vomit stains down the front of her red satin dress sagged out of the john almost into Carolyn's arms. She reeled back against the wall, standing in Carolyn's way.

Carolyn held herself away from the woman as best she could and peered past her shoulder into the cubby hole. It was a one-seat affair with a tiny sink and no paper, the floor slippery with the mess the blonde had left behind her.

Angie was certainly not there.

Gagging from the smell of the toilet and of the woman, Carolyn tried to ease past the drunken blonde. The woman would not let her go. She leaned across the narrow passage and propped herself against the wall.

"What's the matter, honey?" she mumbled. "Stinks too much for you?"

Carolyn took another step forward. "Let me through, please."

"You're in a hurry? Why're you in a hurry, honey?"

Carolyn tried to keep a tight rein on her temper. She knew the woman was too drunk to make sense. "I'm looking for somebody," she said. "A girl."

"Well, well, well!" The blonde laughed raucously. "You don't say!" She put her arms around Carolyn's neck and hung there like a stone.

Carolyn put her hands against the blonde's shoulders and gave a shove. The woman did not move.

"Let me go," Carolyn said desperately. "I have to find somebody."

The blonde laughed again. "What for?" she said. "You have me."

Carolyn stared at her stupidly, not knowing what to say.

" 'Sall right," the blonde mumbled. "I play the field. Not particular." She winked.

In any other mood, Carolyn would have laughed. But right now she did not feel like wasting time on a drunken whore. Glancing past the woman, she looked around for someone to help her get rid of her. She saw the look on the bartender's face and the faces of the others along the bar, all of them turned to watch. She knew that none of them would help, that they were getting too much of a kick out of her distress. Besides, they obviously thought she was enjoying it. She realized instantly that she could not get away from the woman without causing a scene. For the moment the lesbian stopped amusing them, the men would side with the blonde.

Carolyn sighed. Angie made unpleasant complications even when she wasn't around.

She put her hand on the woman's arm. "Look," she said. "Let's get out of here. This is no place..."

"Buy me a drink first," the woman said.

Carolyn shook her head.

"Buy me a drink." Her voice got louder with each word.

"You've had too much already," Carolyn said quietly, trying to calm her down.

The woman opened her big mouth and spoke in a roar. "No drink, no..."

Carolyn clapped her hand over the woman's mouth and held it there. "All right, all right," she said. "I'll buy you a drink. Just shut up, will you?"

She followed the woman to one of the tables along the wall. She heard one of the men laugh, a nasty, obscene sound that sent shivers along her spine. She sat down on a chair with her back to the lecherous, laughing faces.

The woman made a sign to the bartender and he reached for a bottle of scotch.

She sat down next to Carolyn and leaned forward, her heavy breasts flattening against the table top. She took Carolyn's hand. "You're a nice girl," she said. "A real nice girl."

Carolyn drew away from the woman's touch, slowly, gently, so that the siren wouldn't scream again. She watched the woman watching the bartender pour their drinks. It occurred to her then that the blonde had probably been at the bar when Angie came in. She was not sure that the woman would remember Angie or tell her if she did. But maybe, if she got her into an agreeable mood, the woman could tell her what had happened to the girl. As long as she was stuck for the time it took the woman to down her drink, she might as well get something out of it.

The bartender served them and brought Carolyn change. He didn't say a word more than he had to but it was obvious enough what he thought. The blonde whore he knew from way back. And he figured he had Carolyn pegged, too.

She ignored the expression on his face and turned her attention to the woman. She watched glumly as the blonde sipped from her drink. She knew that a couple more would put the blonde out cold. And before things got that far, she had to find out what she could about Angie.

The woman took another swallow, then burped. She put the back of the hand across her mouth and giggled. Then she leaned forward, ready to turn on the charm, to start paying for her drink. Carolyn forced herself not to retreat from the stench of the woman's breath and tried to ignore the leering smile and blackened teeth.

She felt the woman's hand on her leg, fumbling at the edge of her hem. She did not reach to stop her. Instead she said, "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm feeling fine, honey," the blonde croaked hoarsely. "How about you?" Her hand went under Carolyn's skirt, caressing her thigh.

Carolyn hunched forward over the table, hiding her face from the men at the bar. She knew she was flushed. She felt feverish and ready to retch. The hand crept up her leg.

"I could make you feel better," the woman whispered.

Carolyn put her hand under the table and grabbed the woman's. "Not here," she said, "for God's sake."

"I have a place. Down the block."

"In a minute," Carolyn said. She took a swallow of the straight scotch. It burned all the way down. She blinked the tears out of her eyes. "I'm waiting for someone. I told you. A girl. I was supposed to meet her an hour ago."

The woman's eyes narrowed to tiny slits in the puffy lids. "What for?"

"She's... a friend, that's all." She paused. "Maybe she came in before I got here?"

The woman's head rolled on her fat neck. "Nope." Her fingers started creeping once more along the inside of Carolyn's thigh. "Nobody came in before you got here, baby. Nobody." Her voice was husky.

She could stand it no more. Angie or no Angie, leering men or no leering men, she knew she was going to be sick if she didn't get away from this smelly slob.

She pushed roughly away from the table, slopping the scotch out of her glass. The blonde blinked up at her stupidly.

For a moment, Carolyn hesitated, not wanting to face the men watching her along the bar.

Then she flung herself away from the woman and out of the barroom.

On the street she slumped dismally against the side of a building and gasped for air until her stomach began to settle. It was the first time she had been exposed to that kind of a woman. She hadn't known they existed. She remembered how revolted she had been by the man on the barge. Her reaction to the woman had been no different.

She almost laughed to think what a fool she had been to believe that all women were gentle and good. God!

She had learned something in that bar tonight. But it was not what she had gone there to find. That was still missing.

Nervous, frightened, confused, she walked slowly back to the car. She might just as well leave. Angie had disappeared.