More Deaths Than One Read Free Page B

station wagon along Havana
Street to a shopping mall called Buckingham Square where Robert
entered a computer store. He went through a door at the back, came
out a minute later and half-heartedly cleaned the counter and
straightened merchandise on the shelves.
    A young, expensively dressed woman, who
looked about Kerry’s age—twenty-six or twenty-seven—marched into
the store.
    Bob, standing outside the door, pretending to
chat with Kerry, heard Robert ask diffidently, “May I help
you?”
    The woman moved away from him. “Just
looking.”
    Robert made no effort to follow her.
    A young man immediately approached the woman.
He was dressed like Robert, but his shirt was snowy white, his
pants sharply creased, his tie bright. Seemingly unconcerned by the
woman’s lack of interest in his patter, the young man continued to
pursue her.
     
    An older couple hesitantly entered the store,
and Robert went to wait on them.
    Bob drifted away from the door.
    Kerry trailed him. “I thought this would be
fun.”
    “It never is.”
    She blinked. “You’ve done this before?”
    “Yes.”
    A brief silence, then, “You feel no need to
explain that remark?”
    “No.”
    As Bob continued to watch his other self, he
could feel Kerry’s eyes on him.
    “Do you know why you interest me?” she said
at last.
    He glanced at her, wondering if she were
setting him up for a joke. “I haven’t a clue.”
    “I’d like to say it’s because you have hidden
depths, but your depths aren’t hidden, they’re obvious.” She
chuckled. “Maybe you have hidden shallows.”
    The corners of his mouth twitched.
    She drew back in mock surprise. “Is that a
smile I see?”
    A few minutes later, she yawned. “Jeez, I’m
tired.”
    “You should go home and get some sleep,” Bob
said, “but if you don’t mind, I’d like to make a call first.”
    She swept her arm out in a magnanimous
gesture. “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”
    He found a pay phone and called the computer
store. A woman answered.
    “How late does Robert Stark work today?” he
asked.
    “Six o’clock.”
    “Thanks.”
    When Bob returned to his post, he noted with
amusement that Kerry had situated herself so she could see both the
computer store and a dress shop.
    She pointed to the window displaying new fall
fashions. “Which is my color, blue or red?”
    “Deep rose,” he said without hesitation.
    She wrinkled her nose. “Pink?”
    “Not pink. Deep rose. Bold, direct,
courageous, but without the strident aggressiveness of red.”
    Her eyes sparkled, but for once they were not
laughing as she regarded him.
    Then the laughter returned. “It appears that
your hidden shallows have hidden shallows of their own.”
    A tall, skinny man with a receding hairline
and a prominent Adam’s apple approached Bob. “Hey, Hank, how’ve you
been? I haven’t seen you for a long time. You living in Denver
now?”
    Bob nodded.
    The man moved away, walking backward. He shot
both index fingers at Bob. “Call me. I’m in the book. We’ll get
together.”
    Bob glanced at Kerry. She stared back at him,
open-mouthed.
    “That man called you Hank.” She whacked
herself on the forehead with the palm of her right hand. “God, I’m
so stupid when it comes to men. This whole thing has been one big
set-up, hasn’t it? You’ve been messing with me.”
    “No, I haven’t,” Bob said quietly. “He
mistook me for someone else. That’s always happening to me, and
it’s easier to go along than to explain that I’m Robert Stark.”
    The angry flush faded from her cheeks. “You
do have one of those faces. Even I thought you might be somebody I
knew when I first saw you.”
    A huge yawn overtook her. Knuckling her eyes,
she said, “You’re right, I do need to get some sleep.”
    “I’ll be here until six. Do you want to pick
me up, or should I call a cab?”
    “I’ll come back.” She smiled happily, but Bob
could not tell if the tacit permission to leave pleased her, or