Donald Westlake - The New Black Mask ( No 3 )

“Of course,” I said, and I moved over to her side on the love seat. I waited, and her lips parted, then closed again. And she looked at me helplessly, apparently unable to find the words for what she wanted to say.

I told her gently to take her time, we had all the time in the world; and then, by way of easing her tenseness, I asked her if she remembered the last time we had been in this room together.

“It was months ago, and I thought I’d lost the pamphlet-writing job before I even had it. So I was sitting here with my head in my hands, feeling sorry as hell for myself. And I wasn’t aware that you’d come into the room until—”

“Of course, I remember!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “You looked like this—” She puffed her cheeks out and rolled her eyes inward in a hilarious caricature of despair. “That’s just the way you looked, darling. And then I said…”

“Lo, the poor Indian.”

“Lo, the poor Indian,” she chimed in unison.

We laughed and smiled at each other. She took my month’s retainer from her purse and gave it to me, and we went on smiling at one another. And she spoke to me in a voice as soft and tender as her smile.

“Poor Lo. How are you, my dearest darling?”

“Well, you know” — I shrugged — “for a guy who’s been shot out of the saddle a few times, not bad, not bad at all.”

“I’m sorry, Britt. Terribly, terribly sorry. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I haven’t been myself. At least, I hope the self I’ve been showing wasn’t the real Manuela Aloe, but I’m going to be all right now. I–I—”

“Of course, you’re going to be all right,” I said. “I pulled a lousy trick on you, and you paid me off for it. So now we’re all even Stephen.”

“Nothing more will happen to you, Britt! I swear it won’t!”

“Didn’t I just say so?” I said. “Now, be a nice girl and say no more about it, and start reading these beautiful words I’ve written for you.”

She said, “All right, Britt,” swallowing heavily, eyes shining too brightly. Then the tears brimmed over, and she began to weep silently, and I hastily looked away. Because I’d never known what to do when a woman started crying, and I particularly didn’t know what to do when the woman was Manny.

“Aah, Britt,” she said tremulously. “How could I ever have been mean to anyone as nice as you?”

“Doggone it, everyone keeps asking me that!” I said. “And what the heck can I tell them?”

She laughed tearily. She said, “Britt, oh, Britt, my darling!” and then she broke down completely, great sobs tearing through her body.

I held her and patted her head, and that sort of thing. I took out my breast-pocket handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, and honked her nose in it. Conscious that there was something a little nutty about performing such chores for a girl who had almost killed me, even though she hadn’t meant to. Conscious that I again might be playing the chump, and, at the moment, not really caring if I was.

I crossed to my desk, and began putting the pages I had written into an envelope. I took my time about it, giving her time to pull herself together. Rattling on with some backhanded kidding to brighten things up.

“Now, hear me,” I said. “I don’t want you looking like this — bawling and honking your schnozzle and being so disgustingly messy. Us Noble Redmen don’t put up with such white-eye tricks, get me, you silly squaw?”

“G-gotcha…” A small and shaky snicker. “Silly squaw always gets Noble Redman.”

“Well, I just hope you’re not speaking with a forked tongue,” I said. “These are very precious words, lovingly typed on top-grade erasable-bond paper, and God pity you if you louse them up.”

“All right, Britt…”

She did sound like she was, so I turned back around. I helped her up from the love seat, gave her a small pat on the bottom, and pressed the envelope into her hands. As I walked her to the front door, I told her a little about the manuscript and said that I would look forward to hearing from her about it. She said that I would, no later than the day after the morrow.

“No, wait a minute,” she said. “Today’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“All day, I believe.”

“Let’s make it Monday, then. I’ll see you Monday.”

“No one should ever see anyone on Monday,” I said. “Let’s make it Tuesday.”

We settled on a Tuesday p.m. meeting. Pausing at the front door, she glanced out to where her own car stood in the driveway and asked what had happened to mine. “I hope the company hasn’t pulled another boo-boo and come out and gotten it, Britt. After all the stupid mix-ups we’ve had in the past, that would be a little too much.”

“No, no,” I said. “Everything is as it should be. I believe that exposure to the elements is good for a car, helps it to grow strong and tough, you know. But since I haven’t been using it these several weeks, I locked it up in the garage.”

“Yes?” She looked up at me curiously. “But you get out a little bit, don’t you? You don’t stay in the house all the time?”

“That’s what I do,” I said. “Doctor’s orders. I think it’s pretty extreme, but…” I shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Again, she gave me a curious frown. “Very strange,” she murmured, a slight chill coming into her voice. “I was certain that the doctors would want you to get a little fresh air and sunshine.”

I said that, Oh, well, she knew how doctors were, knowing that it sounded pretty feeble. Actually, of course, it was not the doctors but Claggett who had absolutely forbidden me to leave the house.

Manny said, Yes, she did know how doctors were. “I’ll say good-bye here, then. I wouldn’t want you to go against orders by walking to my car with me.”

“Oh, now, wait a minute,” I said, taking a quick look over my shoulder. “Of course I’ll walk to the car with you.”

I tucked her arm through mine, and we crossed the porch and started down the steps.

We descended to the driveway and sauntered the few steps to her car. I helped her into it and closed the door quietly.

Mrs. Olmstead was out shopping per usual, so she could not reveal my sneaking out of the house. But I was fearful that Kay might spot me, and come storming out to yank me back inside again.

“Well, good-bye, darling,” I said, and I stooped and hastily kissed Manny. “Take care, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Wait, Britt. Please!”

“Yes?” I threw another quick glance over my shoulder. “I love being with you, dear, but I really shouldn’t be standing out here.”

“It’s just me, isn’t it? You’re afraid of being here with me.”

“Dammit, no,” I said. “That isn’t it at all. It’s just that, I—”

“I told you nothing more would happen to you, Britt. I’m all right now, and there’ll never be anything like that again, and — Don’t you believe me?”

Her voice broke and she turned her head quickly, looking at the scantily populated countryside across the road. There were a few houses scattered over a wide area, and land had been graded for a number of others. But everything had come to a halt with the advent of the garbage dump on former Rainstar property.

“Manny,” I said. “Listen to me. Please listen to me, Manny.”

“Well?” She faced me again, but slowly, her gaze still lingering on the near-empty expanse beyond the road, seeming to search for something there. “Yes, Britt?”

“I’m not afraid of being here with you at all. You said that nothing more would happen to me, and I believe you. It’s just that I’m supposed to stay in the house — not to come outside at all. And I’m afraid there’ll be a hell of a brouhaha if—”