Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

“My pajamas are in the suitcases someplace.”

“Give me your shirt,” she said.

“A lot that’s going to cover.”

“It’ll do. Give it to me.”

He handed her the shirt and then asked, “Do you want the cuff links?”

“Ha-ha,” she said. She buttoned the shirt and went to the window, pulling the drape over her waist so that it hid her legs where the shirt ended. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Did you order breakfast?”

“I just got up.”

“All right, call down and order breakfast, and then find out if the airport sent over the bags.”

He snapped a salute at her and said, “Yes, sir, right away, sir!”

“If that sun is as hot as it looks, I’ll die in the skirt I wore down.”

“Why don’t you just go out on the balcony with my shirt?”

“I would, darling, believe me,” Eve said lightly, “but then what would you wear, sweetheart?”

He slapped her on the rump and went to the phone. He watched her while she dressed, talking first to Room Service and then to the Bell Captain. When he hung up, she said, “Well?”

“Breakfast’ll be up in a minute, Puerto Rican time.”

“The bags?”

“They haven’t arrived yet.”

“Well, for Pete’s sake!” she said, and then went into the bathroom. When the breakfast arrived, Larry asked the bellhop to wheel the tray onto the balcony. He signed the check, tipped him, and then went to join Eve, who was already sitting at the table.

“Do you want some coffee first?” she asked.

“Leave it in the pot until I’m ready for it.”

“What did you order?”

“A veritable feast.” He began poking around the tray, lifting napkins and covers. “Orange juice, corn flakes, ahhh, hot corn muffins, coffee.”

“No eggs?”

“I didn’t feel eggy.”

“How’s the juice?”

“Haven’t tasted it yet.”

They raised their glasses, and Larry clinked his against Eve’s. “Here’s to a wonderful stay on the Enchanted Island,” he toasted.

“Is that what they call it?”

“Yes.” He drank some of the juice.

“How is it?”

“Canned.”

“No! Are you joking?”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, hell.” Eve thought for a moment. “Call down for a grapefruit, will you?”

“Oh, come on, Eve. Drink the juice.”

“Can’t you call down?”

“Sure I can.” He paused. “Do you really want me to?”

“Well, you know how I feel about canned juice.”

“Yeah, but...” He drank a little more of his own juice. “It’s not so terrible. It’s good and cold.”

“Here. You can have mine.”

“You want me to call down?”

“No, never mind.”

“I will if you want me to.”

“No, it’s all right.”

“It’s just that I can’t see getting a bellhop to come up here just to bring a grapefruit.” He paused. “I will if you want me to.”

“No.” She sliced a corn muffin and began buttering it.

“Aren’t you having any cereal?”

“No.”

“Shall I call down for the grapefruit?”

“No. We don’t want to overwork the bellhops.”

“If you’re going to get angry—”

“No, Larry, honestly. By the time he got here, the coffee’d be cold, anyway. Forget it. I’m not angry or even annoyed.” She paused. “But the longer I live with you, the more I think I don’t know you at all.”

Larry narrowed his eyes. In a low, sinister voice, he said, “You think I’m your husband, don’t you?”

“What?” Eve asked.

He laughed evilly and continued to watch her. “I inhabited your husband’s body a long time ago.”

“Oh, Larry...”

“The Martians are afoot,” he said. “And now that you know, you still can’t stop us.”

“I believe you,” she said, shaking her head. “This coffee is strong.”

“But good.”

“If you like it strong.”

“I like strong coffee and weak women.”

“I think I resent your use of the plural,” Eve said. She drank more coffee and then lighted a cigarette. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I have to make a half-dozen phone calls, people Baxter asked me to see. I don’t imagine I’ll get much else done today. I suppose we can just relax.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say that. Can we go into San Juan later?”

“If you like.”

“I guess I won’t trade you in after all,” Eve said, and she leaned over the table and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

At one o’clock a bellhop brought up their bags. As soon as he was gone, Larry unlocked the one lockable valise and began a frantic search for the traveler’s checks. When he found them, he sighed, held them up, and said, “I was getting a little worried.”

“What for?” Eve asked. “When you’re stranded in a strange land and can’t speak the language, who needs money?”

Larry laughed. “Want to take a swim?”

“Are all your calls made?”

“All but one, and I can make that later. I’ve got two appointments for tomorrow, and I also got us a dinner invite for tonight. Guy named Hebbery.”

“Good. Then let’s swim.”

They changed into their swim suits and took the service elevator down. Following the signs, they walked through the cool basement corridor and emerged in the hot Puerto Rican sunlight. They found chairs for themselves, dropped their towels, and went to the deep end of the pool. Larry dove in first. Eve followed with a clean dive, surfacing again and then breaking into a strong, fast crawl. She touched the tile lip at the shallow end, reversed her body and — as if she were in a high-school swimming match-started back toward the deep water. Larry watched her, pleased with the way she swam. He came up the steps, waited for her, and handed her a towel when she came dripping from the pool.

“Cigarette?” he said.

“Yes. That was good. I feel all tingly.”

She pulled off the cap, and her black hair tumbled to her shoulders. Larry put two cigarettes into his mouth, lighted them, and handed one to Eve.

“Mmm,” she said, inhaling. “Now let’s go back to the chairs and just toast for a while.”

They soaked up sun for a half hour. At the end of that time they both conceded it was a treacherous sun and moved into the shade of a palm. Eve’s lip was beaded with perspiration. She lay in the chair limply and said, “I feel as if I’d been flogged.”

“It’s hot,” he said. He was propped up on his elbows, looking toward the breakwater. “I wonder what that is.”

“What?”

“Over there. All the commotion.”

Eve rolled over. She squinted into the sun. “Looks as if they’re taking pictures.”

“Let’s walk over,” he said.

Leisurely, they strolled to the breakwater. A tripod was set up facing the ocean. Two young girls, a redhead and a blonde, smiled prettily at the man behind the camera.

“She’s a Vogue model,” Eve whispered. “I recognized her.”

“Which one?”

“The redhead.”

“She’s pretty.”

“She photographs beautifully,” Eve said, “but I’m a little disappointed. She’s very thin.”

“I don’t think so.”

A woman wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat went over to the girls and adjusted their dresses. She said something to the photographer then, and both girls smiled more broadly, holding their poses.

“The dresses are pinned in the back with clothes pins,” Eve said. “So that no wrinkles will show in the front.”

They watched in silence for a while. The photographer, the models, the woman in the straw hat, went blithely about their business.

“That sun is beginning to get me again,” Eve said. “Can we go back to the shade?”