Gene Wolfe - Free Live Free

“Not like you. You, I am certain, have many, many friends.”

Stubb pointed a finger. “Don’t sneer at me. I warn you, it’s the only thing I can’t take. You sneer at me, and sooner or later I’ll get you.”

“Yes, so many good friends, little man!”

He raised his fist, then let it drop. “You know, I’m glad you said that. It reminded me of something. Want to pass me that phone?”

“Hardly.”

“I think you’d better—”

The telephone rang. Stubb reached for it, but the witch was nearer and quicker. “Yes, this is she … . How did you discover … No, do not come; you will not be admitted.”

Stubb leaned toward the receiver and said loudly, “Come on up. I’ll let you in.”

“You fool! You damnable fool!”

“Don’t you think you should hang up before you call me names?”

The handset slammed down. “You are unendurable!”

“Sure. It’s part of my shtick to be unendurable when I want to be. I do bill collecting when I can’t get anything else. On the other hand, I can be as nice as pie when I’m on your side. Wasn’t I nice when I damn near broke my arm carrying your suitcase? Candy helped too. What’d you carry?”

The witch was calm again, but there was no blood in her dark face. “Are you such a fool as to think I cannot curse? I can, and though in the ordinary course of life I would not waste my efforts on such small prey, for you I will make an exception. Wait and see what I shall do!”

Stubb chuckled. “Going to curdle my milk? Madame S., I’m flat broke. I’m nearsighted, and there’s newspaper in these shoes, and I think I’m getting an ulcer. Anything you could do now would just put me in jail or the hospital, and either one would be a hell of a relief. Curse away, and meantime I’ll be cursing you, in my own inimitable fashion. Or would you rather have me working for you?”

“I lost it,” Majewski declared.

Fuentes looked daggers at him as the house telephone rang.

The mystery fan said, “I’m not calling you a liar—there’s no evidence of that. Did I call you a liar?”

Majewski shook his head as the house telephone rang again.

“All I’m saying is seventy dollars of that money belongs to the woman in seven seventy-seven. You lost seventy dollars of her money. You’re going to have to make that up. Ten belongs to ’Cisco and ten to me. You’re going to have to make that up too.”

The house telephone rang yet again, rather pettishly.

“Damn right,” Fuentes said.

A sub-assistant manager called, “Joe, will you please get that phone?”

“Yes, sir!” Majewski answered with unaccustomed smartness, and picked up the handset, happy to escape.

“This the bell captain?”

“Yes, sir,” said Majewski, who was not.

“Captain, I want you to do me a favor. Somewhere around there’s a young lady in a white raincoat. Garth. Gee, ay, are, tee, aich. Garth. Stout. Blond. Look around. You see her?”

Majewski glanced at the overstuffed vinyl furniture and the guests. “No, sir.”

“She’s probably in the lobby, but she might be in one of the bars, or even outside on the sidewalk. I’d try the street-level bar first. Could you have one of your boys find her and tell her to come up to room seven seven seven?”

“Yes, sir, I will, sir. If she’s not around, I’ll give you a ring, sir.”

“She’s around. You got pay booths. Look in them too. She might be making a call. Young, stout, blond, white raincoat, Garth. Got it?”

“Got it, sir,” Majewski said, and hanging up, turned back to his colleagues. “Look, I owe each of you ten, right?”

“Right,” the mystery fan announced firmly; Fuentes nodded.

“Okay.” Majewski drew out a money clip. “If I pay you, we’re square, aren’t we? The seventy’s between the woman and me.”

“Right,” the mystery fan said again, this time more hopefully.

“Fine.” Majewski handed him two fives and Fuentes a five and five singles, emptying the clip. “Now I want you and ’Cisco to do something for me.” He described Candy. “Her name’s Ms. Garth. Find her, and when you do, come tell me.”

“What for?” the mystery fan asked.

“Because I want to talk to her, that’s all. The guy on the phone gave me a message for her, all right? So look around.”

Fuentes went into the bar of the Gourmand Room. It was dark, smoky, and packed with the late crowd. Three bartenders in red jackets sweated behind the bar. A pianist in a midnight blue ruffled dinner jacket grinned and played, the brandy snifter on his instrument well stuffed with bills. Under a blue spot, a busty woman in a low-cut blue gown sang:

“HELL!” shouted a dozen enthusiastic drunks.

“Mees Garth,” sang Fuentes. “Call for Mees Garth!” The pneumatic blonde gave him a disgusted look.

A man in a check suit left the bar. “What do you want with Miss Garth?”

“Got a message for her.”

“Give it to me. I’ll see she gets it.”

“She’s in the powder room?”

The woman near the piano kissed her fingers to her audience.

She hitched up the blue gown, which became a coat that hid most of her startling cleavage. When she stepped out of the blue spot, the coat was no longer even blue. Her audience clapped and whistled, and someone called, “Hey! Finish it!”

“I have to see a man about a bed,” she shouted back.

Another man stepped away from the bar. “How about having a drink with me first?”

“I’ll take a rain check, and I’ll see you real soon. Ozzie, what’s happening?”

Fuentes said, “You are Mees Garth? Go with me to the captain’s desk. We ask there for Joe.”

“Right. You better come too, Ozzie.”

Barnes whispered, “Aren’t you going to tell the piano player he has to split with you? I was watching, and there’s plenty in there.”

Candy shook her head. “Mostly ones and fives. You don’t get big dough in a joint like this, because how the hell are they going to get it on their expense accounts? They’ve got to pad it on, call it a cab ride or something, and the company back home will only stand for so much.”

“You should have had half, anyway. It was more than half for you.”

Fuentes said, “One floor down, Senor, Senorita. In lobby.” He held the elevator doors for them.

“Ozzie, asking isn’t getting. He’d have bitched like hell and ended up giving me twenty bucks, and the next time I wouldn’t be welcome. The way it was, I got a couple of free drinks, and I’ll get star treatment any time I come back. Golden oldies—did you notice? Nothing real raunchy. They loved ’em. If I hadn’t had to leave, I could have taken my pick of four or five johns, and with any luck he would have given me fifty or a hundred.”

The doors slid open, and they crossed the lobby to the bell captain’s desk.

“Joe’s looking for you,” Fuentes said. “I get him.”

Barnes said, “I wonder what she wants?”

“Who?”

“That chicky at the desk. Tam. Tweed skirt.”

“What do you care?”

“When you find out what this Joe’s after, whistle.” Barnes straightened his tie and pulled down his jacket.