James Cain - The Institute

But she exploded once more; “You’re trying to kill me, that’s what! And you may very well succeed.”

“Hortense, nobody’s trying to do anything but what has to be done by law. Now if you want someone else to take over, if you’ll give him power of attorney—”

“I don’t want anything but peace!”

“Then O.K., but first—”

She screamed at him again, not words, just screams, and I could see him fighting back whatever it was that wanted out of his mouth. He was usually one of the friendliest guys in the world. But now he seemed to have reached the point where he’d had about all he could take. What he might have said, she didn’t hear because just then the phone rang and Winifred went to answer it. She came back, leaned over Hortense, and said something. Then Hortense turned to me. “I asked Miss Rodriguez to call,” she said, “on a business matter we have, but she couldn’t make it today. May I impose on you, then? Would tomorrow be all right?”

“No imposition,” I answered. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Around two?”

She motioned the girl who trotted off, then came back, telling Hortense: “She says that will be fine.”

I got home around five, and at once tried to call Teddy. I found out from Miss Nettie that she’d been calling me, on my own phone and through the switchboard. When at last I got hold of her, she piled right in, asking me what was up, what Hortense wanted. I told her I didn’t know, but it might be about what Garrett would have put in his will if he’d lived long enough to make one. “Not to string it out,” I said, “you fix up your face so it’s pretty, especially how it looks with a smile, and be nice to this dame, nice as you know how to be. Because, get this, Teddy, he made notes for a will which Sam Dent was to be guided by in drawing it up. But he did not make a will. Sam never got that far. He was looking over the notes, to know how to draw the will up, when Inga got in the act, and that rang down the curtain. But, it may very well be, and there’s reason to think it is, that she feels she must do what he wanted — what Mr. Garrett wanted, I mean — and that’s what’s on her mind with this invitation to you. It may be she means to act snotty and tell you she’s sorry she can’t, or won’t, or is not going to pay you the money. But knowing her and how she feels about things, I would say it’s just the opposite. She means to pay over what he wanted you to have so she can have peace of mind. But for some reason she wants to talk or say something to you or whatever. She’s been awfully ill, and ill people do strange things. But from where you sit, a grin on your face may mean the difference between cutting in on the sugar and not cutting in on it. Do you hear what I say, Teddy?”

“Yes, Dr. Palmer, of course.”

“What do you say?”

“I say O.K.”

“There’s to be no saucy talk. Do you promise?”

“Before I say, you say. How much is in it for me?”

“Plenty. He was no piker, Teddy.”

“You mean like six-figure dough?”

“At least that.”

“Then I won’t blow it. Wild horses couldn’t make me.

“Then, O.K. Love you.”

“Likewise. Double.”

The next day when I arrived, a full house was already there — Sam, the secretary Winifred, the nurse with no name, the baby, and Mrs. Mendenhall. And Hortense — still stretched out in her chair and still looking pale, wan, and tragic. I bowed, then took a chair at one side and waited. We all waited, saying nothing. But this time, instead of making a row, I sat there, going along. I suppose a half-hour went by before the buzzer sounded, and Winifred took it. “Send her up,” she said and in a moment went out in the hall. Then Teddy made her entrance, and it was an entrance.

She had on the mink coat, with beige trousers showing below it, a dark crimson band on her hair, and crimson shoes. With her dark hair and black eyes, she was very Spanish-looking, which seems to include a dangerous cut to the jib. I mean, I thought of all the dancers I had ever heard of, that by the look in their eye would just as soon knife you as kiss you. She was nice as pie to Hortense, however, making a little curtsey to her and saying: “So nice to see you again,” and then turning with a smile to the others, seeming to know them all except for the nurse. Hortense asked her to sit down, then began: “Miss Rodriguez, my husband, before he died, wrote up notes for his will, which he didn’t live to sign. But naturally, I feel I should carry out his wishes whether he made legal provision or not — which is why I asked you to come. It was his intention, Miss Rodriguez, to leave you a million dollars.”

“Hey! He did things big, didn’t he?”

“However, I feel I must make a condition.”

“What?”

“The day of the press conference, Miss Rodriguez, I missed the performance you gave, so before handing over this check that I’ve drawn for you” — she got an envelope from her bag and flipped it around in her hand — “I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to repeat it for me here now today?”

Teddy stood there, swallowed two or three times, and at last drew a long breath. “Mrs. Garrett,” she half-whispered, “how’d you like to go to hell?”

“Teddy!” I said. “What about those wild horses!”

“Very well, I’ll forget the check.”

Hortense dropped it back in her bag. “Goddamn it,” I roared at Teddy, “take it back, apologize! So she tried to pee on you. So you knew she was going to, but for one million bucks you can buy enough Listerine to deodorize all the pee ever peed, and if you’ve got any brains, you’ll apologize. Now!”

“Then, Mrs. Garrett, I take it back; I’m sorry.”

“Very well. This exhibition can proceed.”

“It began with a walkover. It’s kind of like a bow.”

“A very nice start, I would say.”

Teddy took off her coat and pitched it on a chair. Then she put her hands on the floor, lifted one leg behind her, let it drop over her head, lifted the other leg, let the first leg touch in front, and while the other leg was flipping down, pushed up with her hands to come standing again. “Very nicely done,” said Hortense. “I applaud.”

She patted her fingertips together, and Teddy went on: “Next off, for the reporters, I did a handstand facing them, on account of one dame said that a earth-shaking thing had not been invented yet, to get my front end where my face was and my hind end where my patches were, in the same shot at the same time. This way—”

She repeated that handstand she had done that other time, and Hortense gravely told her: “Beautifully done. I applaud one more time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Garrett.”

She stood there a moment, then went on: “Then, of course, there were the handstands I did for your husband.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I knew him quite well, Mrs. Garrett.”

“I didn’t realize you did handstands for him.”

“All the time. The idea was that he get inspired to do unto me that which I hoped for always. It didn’t work out that way, as he was under a thrall, he called it. I still don’t quite know what a thrall is. I think it’s some kind of hex that a woman had on him. At the time I suspected that the Swede was the one who plugged him. I must have been right. Mrs. Garrett, I hope I didn’t upset you?”

“It’s quite all right. Go on.”

“If I did get out of line, I’m sorry—”

“She said go on,” I told her.

“Yeah, I’d do handstands for him and then walk on my hands, past him — always without any clothes on. And as I went by, I’d drop one leg forward and the other leg behind, for the upside-down split, which he liked. This way — but first I’ve got to take off some clothes.”