Gene Wolfe - Free Live Free

“You can tip us when you leave if you’d rather, Ma’am,” the first bellman said virtuously. “Only you’re right. Here, we usually get the tip when we take the guest to his room.”

“I have only this one hundred dollar bill,” the witch said. “It is too much, I think, even for three.”

“That’s okay, Ma’am. We’ll see you later.”

“Also I have some one dollar bills. They are too small, I think. Is it not so?”

The hundred flashed among the witch’s fingers. None of the bellmen spoke.

“So I will do this. I will give my one hundred dollar bill to you,” she looked into the eyes of the first bellman, “and you will take it somewhere where they will—how do you say? Make small ones.”

“Break it. Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then you will give yourself ten dollars, and to each of these other men who have helped me ten dollars. The rest you will return to me. Will you do that?”

The bellman smiled and came close to making a little bow. “Of course, Ma‘am. Thank you very much.” The others chimed in: “Gracias, Señora.” “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“It will not take you long? Half an hour, perhaps?”

“Less than that, Ma’am.”

“Good.” Suddenly, impulsively, the witch clasped his hand. “I trust you. You will bring seventy dollars back to me.”

The bellman nodded, glanced at the bill, and thrust it into his pocket. “Let us know if you want anything, Ma’am.”

“I will. Oh, I will!” The door had swung nearly shut. She pushed past them to open it. “Thank you again.”

“Thank you , Ma’am.”

When they were gone, she threw the night bolt and hung up her coat. “I like you, room,” she said softly. “I am going to stay with you at least a month. At least one month I shall stay here. Yes.” On the television, a beautifully colored man strangled a beautifully colored woman. She retrieved her purse from the desk and flipped the catch.

Stubb stepped from behind the drapes. “You really give them the hundred?”

She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. You really give them the hundred? Professional interest.”

“I will call the desk. They will have you out at once!”

“Sure. But you’ll be cutting your own throat. A slick worker like you? I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“And why not?”

“See? You’re not all that sure of yourself. If you were, you’d be on the phone right now. Okay, to start with, I’m on to you. Or anyway, I’ll say I am. I may not be working, and I may not have much money, but I’m still a private operative. You get hotel security up here, and I’ll tell them you’re a bunco artist.”

“I can pay for this room, Mr. Stubb.”

“Sure, but you don’t want to. And whatever it is you’re going to try here isn’t going to work if I tell them—they’ll be watching every move you make. You want to phone?”

The witch shrugged. “You are an old friend. Besides, I am curious.”

“Yeah, you and me both.”

“How did you get here, Mr. Stubb? You know nothing of magic, but that was like magic.”

“No trick at all.” Stubb sat on the bed. “When we dumped your luggage outside the hotel—you didn’t give us any hundred, but maybe we were lucky at that—you expected us to split. I didn’t. I waited and followed you in. You were at the desk, and I got on the other side of the big guy next to you. The clerk said your room number when he shoved the key at the bellhop. I got an elevator while he and his buddies were rounding up your computer and the bags you’d brought here earlier. That was bullshit, when you asked us about the closest hotel; you’d already picked this place and got most of your stuff here, but you didn’t want us to know you’d carried it yourself.

“Anyhow, the elevator got me here maybe two minutes before you came. It took me about fifteen seconds to open the spring lock with plastic slip. Your window there is recessed behind the curtain, so that’s where I stood, with my ass pushed up to the glass. I’m a little guy, as you’ve probably noticed, and sometimes that’s handy. Now, how about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me about the hundred.”

“I have already told you, and when you hid behind my drapes you must have heard. I gave them a one hundred dollar bill. They were to take ten dollars each and bring seventy to me. It was my emergency reserve.”

“And you trusted a bellhop with it and gave thirty bucks in tips? Sure you did. Was it queer?”

“I wish this hotel to believe I have a great deal of money. Thus I can stay a long time.”

“Sure.” Stubb patted his pocket. “I’m out of smokes. You got any?”

“I do not smoke.”

“You smoke; I’ve seen you. What you mean is, you don’t smoke much in public. Give me a cigarette, please.”

The witch said nothing, staring at Stubb.

“Okay, forget it—it’d probably be poisoned anyhow. When I jumped out of your curtains, you had your hand in your bag. Want to tell me what it was doing there?”

“Certainly. You are correct. I was reaching for a cigarette.” The witch picked up her purse and took out an oddly shaped box covered with Arabic script. “They are Turkish.” She extended the package to Stubb.

He selected one and lit it with a paper match. “A little dry,” he said, emitting a puff of smoke. “Maybe they were too long on the boat.”

“I am most terribly sorry. You may give it back to me if you do not like it.”

He chuckled. “That’s better. For a minute I was afraid you were going to go ladylike on me. You’re cute, aren’t you? You’re a cigarette psychologist.”

“I fear I do not know what you mean.”

“When I asked you for a cigarette, you said you didn’t have any, because you figured sooner or later I’d go out after some, and you could lock the door. Then when I started on the handbag, the cigarettes came out to take my mind off it. It won’t work, Madame S. If I ever wanted to smoke that bad, I’d quit.”

“So I was condemned for not giving you a cigarette, and now for giving you one. Such condemnations come cheaply. Very well, you wished for a cigarette and you have one, though you do not like it. What else do you wish?”

“I’ve already told you. I want to know your gimmick with the hundred.”

“And I have told you. I gave the porter one hundred dollars—a hundred dollar bill, not counterfeit as you seem to think. He is to return seventy to me.”

“Okay, I’ll guess. Will you let me see that handbag?”

“Certainly not!”

“Any way you want it. It would be better to have some verification, but here’s my guess. When I got my mug out of the curtains, you were at the bag. You might have been going for your lipstick, but if you had been you wouldn’t be so up-tight about it. So I say you were putting the hundred away for next time. Want to comment?”

“I say only that I am going to have you put out of this room.”

“Either you never really gave the bellhop the hundred—just let him see it and switched it at the last minute—or you got it back somehow. If I had to bet, that would be the way I’d go, because you keep insisting you gave it to him. Want to tell me what he did with it? No? When I’m flush, I usually tip bellhops about a dollar, and I’ve never yet seen one get out his wallet and put my buck in there—they don’t want you to see how much they’ve got. What most of them do is stick it in their front pants pocket. For somebody with magician’s fingers, it wouldn’t be much of a trick to get it out of there.”

The witch spit like a cat. “I do not do tricks!”

“Sure you do. We all do. What you mean is you don’t do them on stage or at parties to impress your friends, if you have any friends.”