Out on the Cutting Edge

"No, you didn't. 'This person was drinking, which was fairly natural under the circumstances. There's no reason to think they have a problem with it.' This person, they— you don't make that kind of grammatical error, not unless you're trying to avoid saying she."

I laughed. "You should have been a detective."

"No, it's the printer in me. It gives you a wonderful awareness of syntax. You know, it doesn't really matter how much she drinks, or whether she's got a problem with it. It's what the effect is on you."

"I know."

"You ever been with a woman who was drinking?"

"Not since I've been sober myself."

"I didn't think so."

"I haven't really been with anybody aside from Jan. And the few dates I've had have been with women in the program."

"How'd you feel this afternoon?"

"I enjoyed being with her."

"How'd you feel being around the booze?"

I thought over my answer. "I don't know where the woman stopped and the booze started. I was nervous and excited and edgy, but I might have felt a lot of that if there hadn't been a drink anywhere in the building."

"Did you have the urge to drink?"

"Sure. But I never considered acting on it."

"You like her?"

"So far."

"You on your way to see her now?"

"We're going out for a bite."

"Not the Flame."

"Maybe someplace a little nicer than that."

"Well, you've got my number."

"Yes, Mother. I've got your number."

He laughed. "You know what old Frank would say, Matt. 'Lad, there's a slip under every skirt.' "

"I'll bet he would. And I'll bet he hasn't looked under too many skirts lately. You know what he did say?

He asked me if Eddie died sober, and when I said he did, he said,

'Well, thank God for that.' "

"So?"

"He's just as dead either way."

"That's true," he said, "but I've got to go along with Frank on this one. If he had to go, I'm glad he went out sober."

I hurried back to my hotel, grabbed a fast shower and shave, and put on a sport jacket and tie. It was twenty to eleven by the time I rang Willa's bell.

She had changed, too. She was wearing a light blue silk blouse over a pair of white Levi's. She had braided her hair, and the braid was coiled across the front of her head like a tiara. She looked cool and elegant, and I told her so.

"You look nice yourself," she said. "I'm glad you're here. I was getting paranoid."

"Was I very late? I'm sorry."

"You weren't more than ten minutes late, and I started getting paranoid forty-five minutes ago, so it had nothing to do with the time. I just decided you were too good to be true and I was never going to see you again. I'm glad I was wrong."

Outside, I asked if there was any place special she wanted to go.

"Because there's a restaurant not far from here I've been wanting to try.

It has a sort of French bistro atmosphere, but they have more ordinary pub fare on the menu, too, along with the French food."

"It sounds good. What's it called?"

"Paris Green."

"On Ninth Avenue. I've passed it but I've never been inside. I love the name."

"It gets the feel of the place across. The French atmosphere, and all the plants hanging from the ceiling."

"Don't you know what Paris green is?"

"Evidently not."

"It's a poison," she said. "It's an arsenic compound. Arsenic and copper, if I remember right, and that would account for the color."

"I never heard of it."

"You might have if you were a gardener. It used to get a lot of use as an insecticide. You would spray it on plants to kill chewing insects.

They absorbed it through their stomachs and died. They don't use arsenicals in the garden these days, so I don't suppose it's been around for years."

"You learn something every day."

"Class isn't over yet. Paris green was also used as a coloring agent.

To color things green, predictably enough. They used it primarily in wallpaper, and consequently a lot of people have died over the years, most of them children with a bent for oral experimentation. I want you to promise me that you won't put chips of green wallpaper in your mouth."

"You have my word."

"Good."

"I'll try to find other channels for my bent for oral experimentation."

"I'm sure you will."

"How do you know all this, anyway? About Paris green?"

"The party," she said. "The Progressive Commies. We learned everything we could about toxic substances. I mean, you never know when somebody's going to decide that it's tactically correct to poison the municipal water system of Duluth."

"Jesus."

"Oh, we never did anything like that," she said. "At least I didn't, and I never heard of anyone who did.

But you had to be prepared."

The tall bearded bartender was behind the stick when we walked in. He gave me a wave and a smile.

The hostess led us to a table. When we were seated Willa said.

"You don't drink and you've never eaten here, and you walk in and the bartender greets you like a cousin."

"It's not really all that mysterious. I was in here asking some questions. I told you about that young

woman I've been trying to find."

"The actress, and you told me her name. Paula?"