“There will be no trouble, amigo, but you can’t continue to live like this. If there is no trust, there can be no happiness.”
“I’m buying time,” Cade said. “So long. I’ll call tonight.”
Ed Burdick was at the airport when Cade arrived. As they drove along the traffic congested highway, Cade tried to explain about Juana.
Burdick cut him short.
“This is your business, Val. I thought you were serious about Vicki. Okay, you must know what you are doing. After all, you are an adult.” He brooded for several moments, then said, “I hope to God you do know what you are doing.”
“Juana is my wife,” Cade said. “Marriage is important to me. It is something that has to be permanent,”
Burdick moved his shoulders impatiently.
“Nothing is permanent to me, but I’m a cynic. I want to tell you about Weston’s decor. In colour...”
They talked shop and technical details until they reached the offices of the New York Sun. From then on, Cade was too busy to think of Juana. While discussing the sets with Harry Weston, Burdick and the two leads of the show in a down-town bar, Cade glanced at his watch and saw it was 19.55 hours. He excused himself and went to a nearby telephone booth and called Mexico City. He waited in the booth until the call came through.
Creel said, “She is still not very well, amigo. She is in bed. I have a buyer for the car. He will pay a fair price.”
“Can I talk to her, Adolfo?”
“She is sleeping. I went up there five minutes ago to see if she wanted anything to eat, but she was asleep.”
“So she really is ill?”
“That I don’t know. I am here. I sit in the garden. She remains upstairs in bed. I will expect you to call again tomorrow.”
“Get her here as fast as you can.”
“That I have promised to do. There is no need to worry.”
Cade went back to the discussion, more light-hearted than he had been since he had left Mexico.
The following day, he and Burdick worked at the theatre. The assignment went well. Cade spent most of the early evening processing the films he had taken, but his mind kept shifting to Juana. At 20.00 hours he left the final processing to the technical staff and going into one of the empty offices, he put a call through to Mexico City.
While he waited, he began a rough sketch for the layout of the pictures, but his mind was only half on his work.
When the telephone bell rang, he eagerly scooped up the receiver.
“There is no reply,” the operator told him. Cade stiffened.
“But I know someone is there. Please try again.”
He waited. A tense, uneasy feeling making any further concentration on his work impossible.
Finally, the operator again told him there was no reply.
“Give me the airport,” Cade said. What was he getting so excited about? he asked himself. Juana and Creel were either at the airport or driving to the airport. She was on her way to New York.
The clerk at the airport said there was a flight from Mexico City landing at Kennedy Airport in two hours.
She would be on that, Cade thought, replacing the receiver, but it was odd Adolfo hadn’t warned him.
An hour later, after he had sent the finished prints to Mathison, Cade again tried to reach Creel, but again the operator told him there was no one answering. He called the airport and the clerk said that Senora Juana Cade was not booked on the last flight from Mexico City.
Burdick came into the office as Cade hung up. One look at Cade’s anguished expression made him ask sharply, “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t get an answer from Juana,” Cade said, getting to his feet. “I shouldn’t have left her! Goddamn it! Let’s go out and have a drink!”
“Cut it out!” Burdick said. “You’re not starting that again. We’ll go home.”
Cade looked at him, hesitated, then forced a smile.
“Yes. We’ll go home.”
At 06.00 hours the following morning, while Burdick slept, Cade put another call through to Mexico City. Again he was told there was no answer. He called the airport. They told him there was a flight out at 09.30 hours. He threw whatever he needed into a bag and left the apartment.
At 13.00 hours, he got out of the taxi that had brought him from the airport to the little house in the park. As he walked up the path, he saw the garage doors were open and the scarlet Thunderbird no longer there.
He tried the front door and found it unlocked. Moving slowly, he walked into the living-room. The french windows stood open. Beyond, he could see the patio and the lounging-chairs.
He put down his bag and stood listening. He had a premonition of disaster and he had to force himself to mount the stairs. At the bedroom door, he stood hesitating, his heart thumping, then he pushed open the door and walked in.
Creel lay on the bed. He had on a pair of pink and white striped pyjama trousers. In his right hand, he clutched a .22 revolver. Dried blood caked on the side of his face, the small black hole by his temple told Cade how he had died.
The only indication of Juana’s presence was the faint but unmistakable smell of her perfume.
Cade returned to New York late that night. He walked into the apartment where Burdick was anxiously waiting. One glance at Cade’s flushed, sweating face told Burdick he had been drinking.
“Well, that’s it!” Cade said, tossing his overnight bag on the settee. “Short and sour!”
“What happened?” Burdick asked, careful to conceal his dismay.
Cade sat down. As he lit a cigarette, Burdick could see his hands were shaking.
“She’s gone. She’s taken all her things and her car. I guess it was my fault. I gave it to her a little too rough. I guess it was the car that finally decided her. If I had let that alone she just might have come to New York. The car obviously meant a lot to her, but I just couldn’t stomach having her around in a car given her by one of her lovers. Anyway, she’s gone.” He frowned down at his hands. “Apart from the car, I must have scared her with my talk about money. Money means an awful lot to her.”
“I thought Creel was looking after her.”
Cade laughed. The harsh sound made Burdick wince.
“Sure, he was supposed to be looking after her. It’s a damn funny thing, but I really did believe I could trust Creel. The trouble with me is I am a born sucker. She and Creel went to bed together. Messy, isn’t it?”
Burdick drew in a deep breath.
“Are you sure, Val? That’s a hell of a thing! Creel struck me as a pretty good man.”
“I’m sure. I found him in our bed. The stupid bastard shot himself.” Cade put his hand over his eyes. “That’s what he did. He laid her, then he hadn’t the guts to face me... the fat, stupid son of a whore!”
“Good God!” Burdick, shocked, got to his feet and went over to the window, pulling aside the curtain to stare out at the night sky.
“He promised to put her on the plane,” Cade went on, his voice shaking. “He said I could trust him. I bet she had him in the goddamn bed before I even left Mexico. Well, I hope he is burning in hell right now!”
“Oh, shut up!” Burdick said furiously. He turned and faced Cade. “You’re drunk! This is your fault, and you damn well know it! Leaving him with a woman like that! She made a fool out of you enough times! What gave you the idea that Adolfo was stronger and less of a man than you? What made you imagine he was a saint?”
Cade stared at him.
“So you think because he shot himself, the score is even? Well, I don’t. He said he was my friend. Then he does this to me! Friend! The fat greaseball!”
“You make me sick,” Burdick said quietly. He genuinely liked Adolfo. The shock of the Mexican’s end blunted his caution. “You ruined yourself for that woman... and God! what a worthless, vicious, disgusting whore she’s turned out to be! Now, you’re drinking again. You are a weak, spineless mess! It’s time someone told you, and I’m telling you. Okay, you have talent. You can take a photograph, but that doesn’t mean you are anything but a gutless, body loving womaniser! At least Adolfo had guts. She fixed him. She would have fixed me! He knew there was nothing he could do or say that would make you understand it was your fault to have left him with such a woman, so he gave you his life!”