Росс Макдональд - The Instant Enemy

Ruth Marburg must have sensed or shared my feeling. She went to one of the windows and pulled back the drapes. We looked out at the broken necklace of lights along the shore.

“I still can’t believe it happened,” she said. “Stephen has always been so careful. It’s one reason they don’t have servants.”

“What’s Lupe?”

“We hardly think of him as a servant. He’s really the manager of the estate.”

“A friend of yours?”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. We get along.” Her half-smile, and the way she held her body, gave the words a sexual connotation.

“May I talk to Lupe?”

“Not now. He’s a pretty sick man.”

“Should he have a doctor?”

“I’m going to get him one.” She turned and faced me, visibly shaken by her own angry force. “You needn’t take responsibility for things you’re not responsible for. I’m hiring you to get my son back alive.”

“You haven’t hired me yet.”

“And I may not.” She turned back to the window. “What’s keeping him?” She clenched her hands and rapped the knuckles together, making a noise which reminded me that she contained a skeleton.

As if he’d heard it, or felt her impatient will, Sebastian turned up almost immediately. His big car threw its lights up over the pass, came around the dark lake, and stopped under the floodlights.

“You took your time,” Mrs. Marburg said at the door.

“I’m sorry. I had a phone call as I was leaving. I had to take it.”

Sebastian seemed tremendously excited. He was pale and brilliant-eyed. He looked from the woman to me.

“What’s up?”

Ruth Marburg answered grimly: “Come in, I’ll tell you what’s up.” She led us into the library and closed the door emphatically, like a warder. “Your precious daughter has stolen my son.”

“What do you mean?”

“She drove in here with her bully-boy hidden in the trunk of her car. Knocked out our manager with a tire iron. Walked into the house with bully-boy and marched Stephen out to their car and took him away.”

“But that’s insane.”

“It happened.”

“When?”

“Just before sundown. That was about five thirty. It’s after eight now. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Anything. I’ll do anything.”

A delayed rush of tears almost blinded him. He wiped them with his fingers, stood swaying in the light with his hands covering his eyes.

“You’re sure it was Sandy?”

“Yes. My daughter-in-law knows her well. Mr. Archer here virtually predicted it was going to happen. Which brings me to the reason why you’re here. I want Mr. Archer to get my son back for me.”

“This means,” I told him, “that you and I may be on opposite sides. Your daughter has helped to commit a major crime. I’m afraid I can’t protect her from the consequences.”

“But I’ll expect you to cooperate with Archer,” Mrs. Marburg told him. “If you hear from your daughter, for example, you’ve got to let him know.”

“Yes.” He nodded several times. “I promise I’ll cooperate. Thank you for – thank you for telling me.”

She waved him away, out of her sight.

“Well,” she said to me when he had left the room, “do you think he put her up to it?”

“You know he didn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I know. People are capable of anything. Even the nicest people, and he’s not one of them.” She added: “Neither am I, in case you were in doubt.”

“We’re wasting time.”

She had the last word: “You’re on my time. On your way out, will you tell my husband to bring me a double Scotch. I’m as tired as death.”

She slumped into her chair and let her face and body droop like Plasticine. Her husband was in the lighted gallery looking at the pictures. I delivered her message to him.

“Thanks, old fellow. Don’t work too hard on this assignment, will you? If Stephen doesn’t come back, all this comes to Ruth and me. I love good paintings.”

Marburg was half-serious, which was all he’d ever be. I went outside where Sebastian was waiting in my car. He was gnawing at a thumbnail. It was bleeding.

I got in behind the wheel. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“Yes. I was afraid to say it in front of her. That telephone call just before I left my house – it was from Sandy. She wanted me to come and get her.”

“Where?”

“Santa Teresa. She was cut off before she could give me directions.”

“Did she say where she was calling from?”

“No, but it was a collect call and the operator was able to trace it for me. Sandy used the office phone in the Power Plus station on this side of Santa Teresa. We’ve often driven up weekends, and stopped at that very station.”

“I’d better get up there now.”

“Take me along,” he said. “Please.”

I turned and looked into his face. I didn’t like him much, or trust him very far. But I was liking him better as time passed.

“How well do you drive?”

“I don’t have accidents, and I haven’t been drinking.”

“Okay, we’ll take my car.”

Sebastian left his in a Malibu parking lot next door to a drive-in. I had a quick sandwich, which tasted of highway fumes, while he phoned his wife. Then he phoned the Power Plus station in Santa Teresa.

“They’re open till midnight,” he told me. “And the man remembered Sandy.”

My watch said nine fifteen. It had been a long day, and I expected to be up most of the night. I climbed into the back seat and went to sleep.

THE TURNING OFF of the engine woke me from dreams of supersonic flight. My car was standing beside the pumps in the hard white glare of the Power Plus station. A young man in coveralls came out of the office. He had one thin leg and wore a special boot. He moved with great rapidity, though it was late and his face was drawn.

“What can I do for you?” he asked Sebastian.

“I called you earlier. About my daughter.” His voice was low and uncertain, like a beggar’s.

“I see.” The pain and fatigue in the attendant’s face turned into sympathy, and altered the quality of the transaction. “Is she a runaway, something like that?”

“Something like that.” I got out of the car to talk to him. “Was she driving a green compact?”

“Yeah. She stopped it right where your car is standing, asked me to fill the tank. It was nearly empty, it took over nineteen gallons.”

“Did you see the others?”

“There was only the one other, the big fellow with the crew cut. He stayed in the car until he saw her phoning. She said she wanted to go to the ladies’ room. I left the pump running and went to the office to get the key for her. Then she asked me if she could use the phone for a distance call. I said, if she made it collect, which she did. I stayed there to monitor her, like. Then the other one came charging in and made her quit.”

“Did he use force?”

“He didn’t hit her. He put his arms around her, more like a hug. Then she broke down and cried, and he took her back to the car. She paid for the gas and drove away herself, in the direction of town.” He gestured toward Santa Teresa.

“You didn’t see a gun?”

“No. She acted afraid of him, though.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Just when he came charging into the office. He said she was crazy to call her folks, that they were her worst enemies.”

Sebastian muttered something inarticulate.

“Hers, or his?” I said.

“Both of them. I think he said ‘ their worst enemies.’ ”

“You’re a good witness. What’s your name?”

“Fred Cram.”