Read Online Cobalt by Nathan Aldyne - Free Book Online Page B

breeze through the lace-curtained window was warm and fragrant. Their waiter was tall and sufficiently handsome, clad in a white shirt, knee socks, clogs, and chocolate shorts held up by brightly embroidered suspenders. They settled comfortably into high-backed rush chairs, noted with satisfaction that the only other table in the room was unoccupied, and ordered drinks. The illumination was provided by candles only—on the mantel behind Daniel, in sconces behind Clarisse, and in a yellow glass globe on the table between them.
    â€œThank you,” said Clarisse to Valentine when the drinks were brought. She raised her glass. “This is just what I needed after today.”
    â€œI was thinking about taking you to the Forward Pass, but I wasn’t sure you’d be up for waiters dressed like cheerleaders.”
    â€œNo,” she said thoughtfully, “probably not.” She placed her clutch bag on the table, and cautiously lifted the lid of a small box next to the saltcellar. It played a tinny Viennese waltz. She slammed the lid shut. “Candlelight,” she said. “And a large menu, and a waiter who knows what he’s doing—that’s what I needed, having been so recently subjected to the brutal side of human nature.”
    â€œYour customers weren’t that bad.”
    â€œI’m talking about Jeff King.”
    â€œAre you going into your Witness for the Prosecution routine again?”
    The waiter returned. Clarisse said, “Order for me, Val. I’m in no condition to make minor decisions.”
    Valentine spoke to the waiter for a few moments, and when he was gone, leaned forward and pulled back the lace curtain from the window. The last moments of twilight hovered over the garden. Yellow lamps placed in niches carved in the privet hedge lighted the area softly. The murmur of conversation and the discreet clatter of dishes and cutlery was very pleasant.
    â€œThere’s a cutie,” said Valentine, and pointed to a man seated alone at a table in the corner of the garden.
    Clarisse peered out. “How can you tell? He’s got his back to us. And he’s in almost total shadow.”
    â€œSea air sharpens my senses. I can smell a cutie—especially when he’s got shoulders like that.”
    â€œMaybe if I smashed a window he’d turn around and you could get a look at his face.”
    â€œI know those shoulders, in fact,” said Valentine.
    â€œYou would. Who is it?”
    Valentine paused for a moment, considering. “It’s Axel Braun,” he said.
    â€œAt the party? Polyphemus?”
    â€œAnd where’s Ulysses I wonder,” mused Daniel.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Clarisse, “but I’ll bet you he’s not out laying flowers on Jeff King’s grave.” She peered out the window again. “Axel looks depressed.”
    â€œHe’s got his back to us. How can you tell he’s depressed?”
    â€œAll good-looking men get depressed on Sunday night, especially if they’re alone. I know it for a fact.”
    At that moment, Axel Braun, holding a glass of wine, turned in his chair and looked toward the doorway to the interior of the restaurant, as if hoping to see someone there. He turned back after a moment, slightly hunching his recognizable shoulders as he did so.
    Through appetizer, salad, and entree, Clarisse caught Valentine up on Boston gossip, detailed her plans to attend the Portia School of Law in the autumn, and then confided her intention of destroying at least one item a day in the Provincetown Crafts Boutique. “The clowns are easy because they’re plaster. You just sort of push one off on your way to the storeroom. It could happen to anybody. When they’re all gone, I’ll start on the fishermen, but they’re a lot harder, because they’re made out of wood. But what I’d really like to get at are the wind chimes, but that’s almost impossible