Ask for Me Tomorrow

Gilly said, “I thought I’d introduce Aragon to you and tell you exactly why I sent for him, Marco. I’d rather have kept it secret to spare you any worry, but I know you’re bound to hear hints about it from Reed or Violet Smith or one of the maids, or even from me unintentionally. When very little occurs in a house, whatever does occur is repeated and blown up out of proportion. This is a small thing, actually.”

Marco’s right eye blinked. The movement was slow and labored but the expression in the eye itself was clear: Hurry up, get on with it, I haven’t much time.

“I won’t tell you if you’re going to fuss about it because it isn’t that important.”

Hurry, hurry, giddyap, giddyap.

“Now, don’t be upset... I’ve often talked to you about B. J., haven’t I? And I’ve told you what happened. We have no secrets from each other. Well, I’ve been thinking, what if B. J. struck it rich, down in Mexico, I mean rich rich. Some of these developers rake in millions and millions, and while he was always a lousy businessman, maybe this time he struck it lucky. I talked to Smedler. He said I’d be a fool not to try and cash in on it if really big money is involved. He said I should make an effort to find B. J.”

Aragon stared at her. There wasn’t the subtlest change of expression on her face or the slightest quaver in her voice to indicate that she’d just told three lies in three sentences.

“Well, now you know what Mr. Aragon is doing here. He’s collecting material on B. J. so he’ll know where to look first, and so on. I showed him some pictures of B. J. and also the last letter I received from him five years ago. There now. That shouldn’t upset you, should it?”

Marco’s paralyzed eye remained half open but the good one was closed. He might have gone to sleep out of weariness or boredom; he might have died.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you’re sleeping when you’re not, Marco, just to make me go away. I’ll go away in a minute when I’ve finished explaining to you... Listen, he treated me badly, he almost destroyed me. It was a long time ago and everything ought to be forgotten and forgiven by now. But it’s not. He owes me. I want to see him pay a few more damages.”

The wheelchair turned, as it had before, without a sound and faced the patio again, the plants, the birds, the sun.

“All right, Marco, I’m leaving. I won’t bother you anymore.” She opened the door and went out into the corridor. With a final glance at the man in the wheelchair, Aragon followed her. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him but I felt I’d better. He’ll be quite reasonable once he gets used to the idea. If he is or isn’t, I must go ahead with the project anyway. I’ve been considering it a long time and I have no intention of giving it up. You think — you may think I’m doing all this out of revenge.”

“I may.”

“In fact you do.”

“Well, I was just wondering what the going price is for a pound of flesh.”

“The same as it’s always been,” Gilly said quietly. “A pound of flesh.”

Outside, the wind had gone down and all the billowy clouds had broken up and were strung across the sky in shreds. The plastic hose of the pool vacuum was floating in the water where Reed had dropped it. It looked like a giant white sea snake coiled to strike.

Later in the evening he called his wife, Laurie, at the hospital in San Francisco. The background noises and her crisp confident voice indicated she was on ward duty. It was the professional voice she used to intimidate germs and head nurses and to calm frightened children and their parents.

“Dr. Macgregor speaking.”

“Tom Aragon here. Remember him?”

“Vaguely. Describe him.”

“Dark-haired, kind of funny-looking, pale, could probably use some medical attention.”

“Sorry, that’s not the Tom Aragon I know who happens to be very handsome, well-built, healthy, intelligent—”

“Listen, we’re in the money, Laurie.”

“You robbed a bank.”

“No.”

“Blackmailed an old lady.”

“Close. One of Smedler’s clients wants me to find her first husband, who’s somewhere in Baja California. I’m not sure why, exactly. She’s given half a dozen reasons, which is five too many. But I took the job — and her money — and I’m leaving for Rio Seco tomorrow morning.”

“When was your last smallpox vaccination?”

“I don’t recall.”

“Better check it out. You had a tetanus booster this summer after you swam into the jellyfish, so that’s okay.”

“Laurie, for Pete’s sake, you’re not going into your mother-hen routine?”

She ignored the question. “It’s no joke about the water in Mexico. Don’t drink it. Don’t even brush your teeth with it. Use beer.”

“I never heard of brushing teeth with beer.”

“You could start a trend.”

“Hey, I miss you.”