It was just too bad that things had been spoiled. It had started out to be such a good day, too, what with Father having died and being buried and all. It was simply the worst kind of luck that Senorita Fogarty had turned up in the will to delay a proper settlement, but no one could be blamed for not anticipating it, except Father himself and old Brewster, for who would have dreamed that Father was in love with a Chihuahua? Now that things had developed as they had, of course, one would think that Homer would devise something effective to do, but all Homer could do was threaten to kill Crump and contest the will, both of which old Brewster would prevent if possible, and it had been left to Hester to make the only sensible suggestion, which was to murder Senorita Fogarty, by getting her run over in the traffic.
Hester was such a dear child. She was not only beautiful, but unexpectedly clever, and it gave Flo a feeling of warmth and pride just to think about her. It would surely be a comfort to talk with her this very minute, and Flo thinking so, sat up on the edge of her bed and picked up the telephone from a table and dialed Hester’s number. Hester’s telephone rang and rang and was not answered, which meant, of course, that Hester had gone out, or had been taken out, and Flo hung up and began to wonder if it might not be a good idea to go out somewhere herself. There was no place she could think of to go alone, though, and none of the several men she usually could rely on to take her places had made any arrangements for tonight because of an absurd notion that she wouldn’t care to go anywhere on the night of the day of Father’s funeral.
Stuck and resigned, she began to think positively that everything would be fine in the end, and pretty soon, because of the positive thinking, she began to feel much more cheerful and to hum a little tune under her breath.
6
Pearl Perkins, to continue the alliteration, was pert. She had a piquant face with wonder in its eyes and a small body that could create wonder in the eyes of others. The sum of her separate parts and talents was an effect of innocent sophistication that was almost perfect dissimulation for one of the most artful minds that ever schemed for next month’s rent. She and Lester, however, had long since reached a stage of comfortable disillusionment. For her part, she had learned that he could rarely be counted upon to pay the rent or anything else, and he, for his, that she was about as innocent as a weasel in a henhouse. This did not, strangely enough, cause their precarious relationship to disintegrate, as might have been expected, but rather to assume a somewhat safer realism in which spades were spades. He was so devilishly good-looking that it was a kind of asset just to be seen with him and removed the tediousness from certain episodes of generosity in which, for economic reasons, she sometimes found it expedient to engage. On the other hand, he simply found her so variously talented and so perfectly rapacious that she had assumed in his affections an elevated place that no one else had or could.
Tonight, having extended his credit a little further at a service station on the way, he parked his MG at the curb in front of her apartment house, and presented himself, a few minutes later, at her door. He rang and waited and rang again, after which, nothing having happened in response, he opened the door and went in. Sure enough, as he had expected, he immediately heard the faint sound of rushing water from a distant shower head, which meant that Pearl was running late with her toilet, not because she had been doing anything of any urgency beforehand, but simply because she had delayed starting until the last minute what had just as well been started earlier. He found a chair and collapsed on the back of his neck, stretching his legs and crossing his ankles, and pretty soon the sound of water stopped abruptly and was followed, after an interval sufficient for a brisk toweling, by the sound of bare feet padding across a carpet.
“Hey,” said Lester loudly.
“Oh,” Pearl said. “Is that you, Lester?”
“Yes, it is. You didn’t answer the bell, and so I just came on in.”
“I left the door unlocked for you.”
“I wish I’d known that. I could have avoided breaking it down.”
“What? What did you say?” Pearl’s head was projected suddenly through a crack in the bedroom door. “Lester, you’re the most insatiable liar imaginable. What makes you tell such whopping big lies for no good reason?”
“It’s a kind of compulsion. I’m sick.”
“Well, it makes you rather interesting, to be honest about it. I’m running a little late, as you can see.”
“My pet, you are always running a little late. I expect it and accept it.”
“That’s sweet. You’re really very sweet, Lester. Why don’t you make yourself a drink or something? There’s makings in the kitchen.”
“I’d rather come in there and talk with you.”
“Sweetie, I’m just out of the shower. I’m not decent.”
“I’m prepared to tolerate a little informality.”
“No, no, Lester. You musn’t be so impetuous. It’s far too early in the evening.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose I had better make myself a drink, then. Do you want me to make one for you?”
“Please do. I’ll be out in just a minute.”
Her head was withdrawn from the crack, and he got up and went into a small kitchen and began looking in cabinets for the makings. He knew from experience that the estimate of time until her appearance in a condition of decency was grossly optimistic, and so he poked about leisurely and found, after a while, a piece of a bottle of brandy and a bigger piece of bourbon. The rest of the makings turned out to be ice cubes and tap water, and he put some of each into two glasses with bourbon and carried the glasses back into the living room. On the back of his neck again, ankles crossed, he sipped from one glass and held the other with his left hand on the arm of the chair.
“There wasn’t any mix but water,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m constantly forgetting to get things.”
“It’s all right. I put bourbon in it. Bourbon and water is a very satisfactory drink.”
“Did you make one for me?”
“I did. It’s ready and waiting for you.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I’m having a little trouble with something. I’ll be out in just another minute.”
She did not specify what it was that she was having a little trouble with, and the possibilities gave him material for pleasant speculation.
“Do you want me to help you with whatever is the trouble?” he said.
“No, no. You needn’t bother.”
“It wouldn’t be any bother.”
“There’s no need now. I’m coming right away. I’m anxious to hear how everything went regarding the funeral and the will and all.”
“I must admit that I am somewhat less than anxious to tell you.”
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, sweetie. I had my dress over my head.”
“I said I’ll tell you when you come out.”
“Well, I’m coming. All I have to do is brush my hair. I wonder if I should have gone to the funeral.”
“Good God, no! Why should you have?”