James Cain - The Institute

“How do you know what she thought?” In spite of myself, in spite of liking Sam, I sounded a little peevish.

“All I know is what she said.”

“To you? She discussed her dream?”

“No, not to me. To her mother. And Mrs. Mendenhall, at a certain stage in her day, talks. She kept dreaming Mr. Garrett was dead, and that made her filthy rich.”

“There’s no law against it that I know of.”

“And there’s no reason for it — except one.” I didn’t ask him what reason. I was afraid to. But he saved me the trouble. “She wanted him dead,” he growled.

That kind of put an end to the discussion, at least of Hortense’s dream. Perhaps to change the subject, Sam asked me: “When are you coming to work?”

“Work?” I said. “What do you mean, work?”

“For the Institute. Well, you started it, didn’t you? And you picked Davis who’s making a God-awful mess of it. He’s got the while place in an uproar. All he knows is one scheme after the other. He’s a born troublemaker, not fit to run anything. So, when are you coming to work?”

“I haven’t been asked yet.”

“I’m asking you.”

“And you’re in charge? That’s news to me.”

“O.K., you win. The one person in charge, I’m afraid to ask, God help me. It’s come to that. She’s the only one who can say, and saying something might kill her.”

“Listen, she’s still desperately ill.”

“That’s not all she is.”

He sat shaking his head, but we both knew we weren’t telling it like it was, or any part of what it was. The whole story, the reason she’d popped out with the dream and all the rest of it, was told by the line, “to Teddy Rodriguez, one million.” We sat there for some time, not talking about it. Then I popped out with what was bugging me, sort of crying on his shoulder, as he had been crying on mine. “Sam,” I said, “what’s got into her? All right, she’s ill. She’s weak from what happened to her. She’s not herself. That we know. But it started before that. It started the night he told her, the night Mr. Garrett let her know where she got off, that she couldn’t have a divorce and told her why. That night she disappeared. I fell asleep with her beside me, and when I woke up she was gone. Since then, things haven’t been the same. She doesn’t even know me, not the way she did. Something’s gnawing at her more than the dream she would have — in Wilmington, remember. Once she met me, she didn’t have any such dream, that I promise you.”

“It was handled wrong — the child.”

“How do you mean, handled wrong?”

“Keeping the news from her. That was Mrs. Mendenhall’s idea. At a certain time of day, Mrs. M. isn’t very bright. She should have been told right away.”

“It was handled O.K.”

“Oh? You think so?”

“She shouldn’t have been told.”

“You mean, her condition wouldn’t have permitted it?”

“She was barely conscious, Sam.”

“Then, I take it back.”

“Something’s griping her.”

“By the name of Teddy Rodriguez.”

“Yes.”

This went on for several days, her talking about the dream, how it gave her no peace, how it was going to kill her. Then all of a sudden, she harpooned me with it.

“So they want you back!” she screamed. “Why don’t you go back, then? What’s stopping you? They’ll pay you enough, won’t they?”

“O.K.,” I said after a moment. “Since you put it that way, I have to think about it. I did start it; that’s true. I did persuade Mr. Garrett to name it for you. I’ll let you know.”

“Name it for me? I’m talking about ARMALCO!”

“ARMALCO? I don’t get it.”

“You could be president of it! You could take him off my back — that Sam Dent. He’s sitting right there. You could tell me what I think, and then I could tell him. You could, if you had any consideration.”

“Who says I could be president of ARMALCO?”

“My husband did — Mr. Garrett.”

“He told you? That I am fit to be president of—?”

“Do I have to shout? Are you deaf? He did nothing but talk about how smart you were and how he had ‘plans for you’ and—”

“I have to think about it.”

“There’s one condition, though.”

Sam looked at me. I said: “No conditions, Hortense. If I’m to be president of ARMALCO and tell you what you think, I’ll make the conditions, not you.”

“I’ll make them! I’ll make them.”

“We’re back to Teddy Rodriguez,” growled Sam, in the hall as we walked to the elevator.”

“You think she’s the condition?”

“You’re to knuckle under after accepting the presidency of ARMALCO and refuse to pay that million. It’ll be her way of handling Teddy — and of handling you.”

“I don’t hold still too well for handling.”

“For your million and that job, you might.”

A few days later I got a call at the apartment from Mrs. Mendenhall, telling me: “We bailed out of the hospital. We thought, if we paid for both beds in the room or at least were willing to pay, she could have it to herself, but for some reasons that was impossible, and when they moved another woman in, we decided we’d better get out. So we did. And here we are back in Watergate.”

“I’ll be in — that is, if I’m invited.”

“But, Lloyd, of course.”

I drove down, parked in the basement, and went up. Letting me in, making knicks, was a girl who looked familiar! I realized it was Karen, the one who let me in on my first call to Mr. Garrett in Wilmington. Mrs. Mendenhall was there, as was a girl named Winifred whom I’d never seen but who turned out to be Hortense’s Wilmington secretary. And the baby was there with a nurse, a different one from the one who’d been with Hortense, in the hospital. She sat next to the baby’s crib. Next to it was a small table with nursing bottles on it and next to that was a refrigerator. And, of course, Hortense was there. She didn’t look up when I went in, but instead lay on a lounge chair while everyone sat around watching her, not speaking. She didn’t speak or respond in any way when I gave her a pat. No one asked me to sit, but I sat anyway — and waited. Nothing happened. Sam Dent came in. After she ignored him, he tiptoed to a place near me and sat down. Still, nothing happened. They all just sat there, and so did she. Suddenly I began getting annoyed. I got up, planted myself in front of her, and said: “It’s customary among people with manners for the hostess to speak, to make some kind of gracious remark, so people can relax, talk, and act natural.”

“Are you instructing me in manners?”

“I’m batting you one in the jaw if you don’t say something.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“ ‘Nice weather we’re having,’ will do.”

“Do? For whom?”

“Spit it out, goddamn it, or—”

I stepped in and meant to let her have it whether she was weak or not, whether or not Sam tried to stop me — which he seemed about to do as he jumped up and stepped in between. But she whimpered: “Please, please, please!”

“That’ll do,” I heard myself growl. “I wouldn’t quite call it friendly, but at least we could call it speech — of a human kind.”

“Sam! You’re not going to let him—”

“I’m stronger than Sam. Remember my thick neck.”

“Oh, they called you the Brisket, didn’t they?” Mrs. Mendenhall said. “Someone was telling me. Horty was telling me. It was you, Horty, wasn’t it?”

“Mother, that’ll do.”

For some moments, then, conversation languished. Then Sam Dent cleared his throat and, perhaps to change the subject, got to what he had come about: the naming of cabin cruisers, at the yards up by the Delaware Water Gap. “If you have any ideas about it, Hortense,” he said, “I’d certainly be glad to—”