Weep for Me Read Free

wide white collar. I received the impression of slimness. I could think of no reasonable excuse to go over, except merely to introduce myself as a fellow employee, as the guy who asked her to check Merton’s balance.
    Mr. Limebright, the fussy narrow-headed little man who keeps the girls in line and checks their work, was giving me annoyed glances. I moved over to the drinking fountain, tramped on the pedal. Emily Rudolph finished the stack of checks. She totaled the addition, ripped the tape off the machine, wound the tape around the checks, and put a big clip on the bundle. Only then did she lift her head. Her face was very unusual. You could not say she was beautiful. Dark hair framed a face of extreme, almost chalky pallor. Her dark eyes were set very wide apart, with the upper lids so heavy as to give them a tilted look. The nose was small, childish, tilted. Her mouth was deep and vivid red. If Myrna Loy had a Chinese daughter …
    She stood up and came down the aisle toward me, carrying the bundle of checks. Her skirt was navy blue also, and she wore dark, low-heeled shoes. No jewelry. No make-up except the lipstick. She walked toeing in slightly, her shoulders well back, head high. She did not swing her arms. All the movement of walking was from the waist down. She turned left by the water fountain, never glancing at me, leaving behind her a faint spicy odor that made me think of the Orient. I watched her as she pulled open the bottom drawer of one of the fireproof lock files. She balanced easily, sitting on her heels, as she searched for the proper folder. The blue skirt was pulled tight across her hips and flanks. Even in that position, there was a concavity about the small of her back, a line that gave her hips a sauciness.
    Limebright was still giving me those darting glances, but I decided to ignore him. As she came back from the file, I said, “Miss Rudolph?”
    She stopped at once. “Yes?” she said in that low tone.
    “I’m Kyle Cameron. Teller. I … talked with you on the phone today.”
    “Yes?” She was giving me no break at all. Her irises were of a brown so deep that they looked black. She was studying me, and the only way I can describe it was that it was a
dark
look. A look of deep and mocking awareness. Awareness of herself, and a perfect understanding of just what I was. She had the rare ability to stand perfectly and absolutely still. She was slim, as I had seen at first, but sinuously slim, as though the bones were very tiny, buried very deeply under the delicate webs of muscle, the intricate patterning of flesh.
    “I just wanted to see what was on the other end of the line.”
    Limebright came pattering up. “
Mr.
Cameron. I must insist that you take up with me any question regarding work on this floor.”
    She smiled at Limebright. Her mouth turned up just a bit at the corners. She gave the impression that she never smiled more than that, never laughed aloud. “It was my fault. I stopped to ask Mr. Cameron if he could understand me easily over the phone today. Some think my voice too low.” She moved around Limebright, said softly, “Excuse me,” and went back to her desk.
    “How is she working out?” I asked Limebright. We were both watching her walk away from us.
    “Exceptional girl. Fast, accurate, quiet. Hard to believe that she never worked in a bank before.”
    “Not a local girl, eh?”
    He squinted up into my face. “Did you come up here with anything special in mind, Cameron?”
    “It’s all taken care of,” I said blandly.
    As I reached the door, I looked back. Emily Rudolph was sitting absolutely still at her desk. Our eyes met across the roar and bustle of the room. All I could see was her pale face with its vivid mouth. I seemed to watch her in utter silence. Again I felt that awareness. I didn’t know whether she was twenty or thirty-five. She was a truly ageless woman. But I knew that she was, in some odd way, the physical projection of my restlessness on