Тэлмидж Пауэлл - The Girl’s Number Doesn’t Answer

She sat thoughtful. “Does it appear I’m in for much unpleasantness?”

“That depends a lot on you.”

“Any publicity would be dreadful. There is no such thing as favorable publicity in my business.”

She looked at me gravely. “Ed, I need your help. I must have it.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“It’s imperative that I stay officially clean. My name has never been in the newspapers or on a police blotter. I can’t have a thing like that following me.”

“You planning on going somewhere?” I asked.

“I live only for the day when I’ll go. All this” — she made a vague motion with her hand—” this life is only a transitory thing, like a dream, not quite real to me. Reality will begin when it’s all over.”

“You could get out any time, Tillie.”

“No,” she said tightly, “it’s not that simple. You don’t understand.”

“Anybody got a gun at your head?”

“Of course not. But I won’t settle for anything less than everything I have in mind.”

“And what do you have in mind?”

“I’m going to be a lady,” she said.

“I see.”

“No you don’t! You think you do, but there are so many things you don’t know. I grew up hating poverty. It was the one real, crushing thing in my life. You see, my parents were the end products of a way of life that had vanished forever. They never could quite cope with themselves or circumstances. My mother died while I was still in school, and my father drank himself to death.

“I wonder where he got the money for the alcohol. We lived in the remains of an old mansion in South Carolina. I was taught all the niceties, trained to be a lady, in a home where holes in the roof permitted the rains to stain the portraits of the aristocratic dead ones we called our forebears.

“I could speak a little French by the time I was thirteen. I knew a bit of classical literature from the moldering volumes in our home. My mother tutored me in the manners of a lady, even if there were only cowpeas on the table.

“I was the odd chick in a flock of well-fed neighboring farm children, a laughingstock. At times, I hated my mother almost as much as the children for her helplessness, her fragile, bewildered inability to stop going through motions that bore no resemblance to reality.

“A long time ago I made up my mind. There was only one thing I could do. Go ahead and be a lady.

“All I needed was money. Soon now I’ll have enough. One day I won’t be in Tampa any longer. No one will know where I’ve gone or what name I’ll be carrying. It’s a big country, Ed. In some far corner I’ll find a nice little town tucked away. I’ll settle there. I’ll meet only the best people. I’ll entertain most properly and bring them to me. In that town there will be a man. He’ll be respectable and substantial. I’ll find him. I’ll marry him. And I’ll spend the rest of my days presiding over the best social circle in that little town. It may sound dull and stuffy to a lot of people, but it’s what I want and what I intend to have — the reason my picture must never be in an official file.”

She had grasped the arms of the wing chair in increasing intensity as she talked. Now she relaxed and sat looking at me as if disconcerted by the violence of feeling inside of herself.

“Who was the girl, Tillie?”

“I’m bargaining,” she said tautly.

“I can’t speak for the police,” I said. “I’ll promise you all that I can — and that is to point out to Steve Ivey that you’ve helped. If you do help.”

“I want something more than that.”

I stood up. “Then I guess you’ll have to deal with the police directly.”

“Wait!” she said. “I suppose I’ll have to take the best offer I can get.”

“That’s right.”

“The girl’s name is Luisa Shaw.”

“That means nothing to me. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep track of them, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, but she’s moved. I tried to find her. She was living in a motel near the bay. Gave no notice. Left no forwarding address. Simply vanished.”

“When?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“What did she look like?”

“Blonde. Long, blonde hair. Teasing sort of face. Small, lively figure. A really beautiful girl. Almost hauntingly beautiful,” Tillie said.

“Hauntingly?”

“Something inside of her — a kind of morbid fascination for what she was doing.”

“When did you see her last, Tillie?”

“I saw her only the one time the night she came here. They usually have a hard time getting to me and have to be referred by someone I know. I mistrusted her at first. There is always the possibility of a policewoman plant.”

“What made you start trusting her?”

“Ichiro Yamashita called. I gave him her number. I knew I could trust Ichiro.”

“You must have known him well,” I said.

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound as if you liked him.”

“I despised him. I despised them all, Ed. They’re only a means to that little town with its single country club and small group that really counts.”

“Ichiro call you the day he was killed?”

“Luisa Shaw called me the day before,” Tillie said. “She was to meet Ichiro at the Yamashita summerhouse. The parents were to have dinner out. She and Ichiro would dine in the summerhouse and go to a small, card-admittance club for the evening.”

“Neatly laid plans,” I commented. “Luisa Shaw always kept you posted?”

“She proved to be the most trustworthy of the lot. Always mailed my share of the money to me. Plain envelope. Cash. I never had to send anyone around to keep tabs on her or collect.”

I stood mulling it over. Then I said, “Do you know Rachie Cameron, Tillie?”

“Not personally. Only by reputation. Ichiro used to speak of her sometimes.”

“Used to? His relationship with Rachie changed after he met Luisa Shaw?”

“Come to think of it,” Tillie mused, “he hadn’t mentioned Rachie Cameron recently.” She studied me carefully. “What are you driving at?”

“Jealousy,” I said, “bubbling in an undisciplined, sick brain.”

Tillie stared at me, going pale. “You mean...”

“I don’t mean anything,” I said, “as yet. I’m only pointing out that if one unknown person went to the Yamashita summerhouse, that two might have.”

“But Rachie Cameron — a slip of a girl.”

“Lithe, athletic,” I said.

“But these people—”

“One to start with. Ichiro. Then the parents walk in. Ichiro was dissipated, probably had the strength of a bowl of mush. The parents were old. The vigorous strength of youth would have been sufficient.”

“You frighten me, Ed!”

“I’m sorry.”

“So like a battle-scarred old bulldog with a strain of wolf. Use a little of that in my behalf, will you?”

“I’ll keep my word to you,” I said.

“I’m counting on you, Ed.”

“I’ll do for you exactly what I promised,” I told her, a harshness in my voice.

I needed to get away from the ladylike niceness of the thing here in the center of its web.

It had grown dark outside while I’d talked with Tillie. I started down the walk, and he came from a concealing shrub.

The barbered grass deadened his footsteps. I knew he was there when the massive forearm chin-locked me from behind and the knee nearly ruptured the end of my spine.

I was held rigid. I couldn’t see the bandy-legged bulk in the natty clothes, or the pear-shaped, hairless gorilla face. But I felt Prince Kuriacha’s breath on the back of my neck and recognized the guttural voice quickly enough.

“You mind your business,” he said. “Ain’t you got any respect for the dead? You leave the Yamashitas alone.”