Gene Wolfe - An Evil Guest

“I’m not strong, Wally. I’m not clever, either.”

Reis smiled. “Do you really think I want you, Cassie, for the same reason I want Chase?”

The telephone woke Cassie at ten minutes past eight.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and wishing with all her heart that the noise would stop, stumbled out of bed, and at length realized that (this being a hotel) there was a telephone on a nightstand beside the bed.

On the other side.

It had rung ten times, perhaps, when at last she picked up the handset and said a sleepy hello.

“It’s me, Cassie. Sharon. Sharon Bench. Remember me?”

“Yes.” Cassie yawned. “Yes, I do, Sharon. What do you want? I was asleep.”

“Sorry. But you made me a promise, Cassie. I checked my voice mail here at the office, and I checked my answering machine at home. I can dial into it.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you hadn’t called. But you promised me you’d tell me the next time you dated Wallace Rosenquist. You were to let me know and tell me everything about it. And you didn’t.”

“That’s right.” Cassie yawned again. “I didn’t.”

“So tell me now! You owe me.”

“I didn’t date him. I haven’t even seen him.” She paused. “This is crazy.”

“What is?”

“I dreamed about him, and now it seems like you’re still in my dream. I’m awake — I know I am. I’m awake and looking around my room at the downtown Hyatt, but you’re stuck in my dream.”

There was a long pause. “Tell me about it, Cassie. If I’m in a dream I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“I was riding in this enormous white car. It was as long as a bus.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Wally’s head was in there, too, sitting in front of me. Just his head. He kept telling me he was going to make me a queen, and finally he handed me a long narrow box, sort of gold. I thought it was going to be a crown, Sharon. I did! It was going to be a crown, and I would wrap it around my head and fasten it in back. I opened it and there were a jillion huge diamonds in there.”

“Cassie? Are you sure you’re awake?”

“Of course I am.”

“I want you to do something for me. Will you please? I want you to stand up.”

“All right.” Cassie rose.

“You’re standing up?”

“Yes, but I’m going to sit down again in about one second.”

“Answer a couple of questions first. Did you go to the theater last night? Do the show?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Five songs and three encores, and I just about danced my cute big feet off. No wonder I’m so tired.”

“Okay. How did you get back to your hotel?”

“I — ”

“Yeah? How?”

“Maybe I walked...”

“After dancing your feet off?” Even over the phone, Sharon sounded irritated.

“I guess I flagged a cab. That was it. I got a cab, and there was this nice driver who wanted to know how he could get tickets. I said I couldn’t help him, and he said if only he could get tickets he could sell them for four times the box office price. Then... No, that wasn’t last night...”

“I didn’t think so.”

“It’s hot in here, and the windows won’t open. Can you wait a minute while I turn up the air-conditioning?”

“Sure.”

Back at the phone Cassie said, “I think I remember it, but it’s crazy. How do you think I got back here?”

“Let me tell you why I called, Cassie. I’ve got a contact at your show. I can’t tell you who she is — I gave her my word I wouldn’t do that. But I do. I’ve done this person some little favors, and this person does me little favors now and then. Last night this person called and told me that when she left the theater Wallace Rosenquist’s limo was waiting outside. It had to be waiting for you.”

“It was,” Cassie said, “but Wally wasn’t in it. I didn’t date him, so I didn’t break my promise to you.”

“He wasn’t in there?”

“Nope. He’d just sent his driver. His driver’s name is Carlos.”

“That’s not exactly hot news.”

“I never said it was.” Thoroughly awake now, Cassie smiled. “Wally was just being nice. He sent his driver, and I got in and his driver took me back to the hotel and even walked me up to my room. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember that.”

“Neither do I.”

“Now I’m going back to bed, Sharon. Please don’t call again. Not this morning.”

They said good-bye and Cassie lay down once more, but did not sleep.

The telephone rang. She sat up — on the correct side of the bed this time — and lifted the handset. “Casey Answering Incorporated. What can we do for you?”

“This is Zelda, Cassie. Can you meet me for breakfast at nine?”

Cassie glanced at the clock radio. “No.”

“Nine fifteen? Please? I’m buying.”

“ You’re buying? This is a dream. Got to be.”

“I’m buying. Nine fifteen in the coffee shop. Don’t be late.”

“Nine twenty,” Cassie said, but Zelda had already hung up.

After a moment’s hesitation, Cassie pushed the button for the hotel operator. “Please ring Margaret Briggs.”

Beyond the hotel window, the world had turned to gray while she slept. Once — no, twice — rain lashed the glass. Fall, and the show was nowhere near ready for New York.

“Margaret? I didn’t wake you up? I was afraid I would.”

“No, Miss Casey. I always get up at seven.”

“That’s great. Come here? Eleven oh nine. I’m sure you remember, and I’ll buy your breakfast after. No, I’ll make Zelda do it, but it’s the same thing.”

“I’ll be right there, Miss Casey.”

“Wait. Did you call Sharon Bench last night?”

“No, Miss Casey.”

“The truth, please. I won’t be mad, and it may be important? Did you?”

“No, Miss Casey. Honestly, I didn’t.”

“Thanks. Come as soon as you can. I have to get dressed in a tearing hurry, and we’re going to have to search this room before we go. I’ll start without you.”

“MARGARET is a genius,” Cassie said as she sat down. “She should be a detective. Margaret Marple. I didn’t think we’d find it at all, but she found it in about a minute and a half.”

Margaret stared down at her plate.

“Found what?” Zelda looked from one to the other.

“The bracelet from my dream. See, I dreamed about Wally last night. I dreamed he’d given me a bracelet.”

“You have to see it,” Margaret whispered to Zelda. “Miss Sinclair had nothing half as nice.”

“I want to.”

“Only when I woke up this morning,” Cassie continued, “I wasn’t exactly sure it was a dream. I felt like I’d had a box, not very big, and hidden it before I went to bed. And so — ”

Zelda rapped her water glass. “I didn’t think Wallace Rosenquist was here. India would have said something while we were negotiating the recording contract.”

“He isn’t. But I saw him last night in his car and he gave me this bracelet.”

“In your dream?”

“Right. Only when Carlos took me back to my room, I put on all the locks — the security bar and everything — and hid the bracelet box.”

“You ought to get a thing at the bank, Miss Casey. A safety deposit.”

“I will, only back home. Not here.”

“That fits perfectly.” Zelda nodded to herself. “Thank you, Margaret.”

“Fits what?”

“In a minute. Here’s the waitress, and you haven’t even looked.”

Cassie glanced up. “Do you have buckwheat cakes?”

The waitress nodded, and Cassie ordered buckwheat pancakes with a side of bacon.

“I’ve been eating breakfast in here ever since we came,” Margaret told Zelda. “I don’t have to see a menu. Yogurt and fruit, please.”