Perchance to Dream

    The pulse jumped wildly in her throat Her voice tried to say something and couldn't. She swallowed.

    "From a distance of five or six feet," I said. "Cute little thing isn't she? Too bad I had loaded the gun with blanks." I grinned nastily. "I had a hunch about what she would do-if she got the chance. "

    She brought her voice back from a long way off. "You're a horrible man," she said. "Horrible."

    "Yeah. You're her big sister. What are you going to do about it?"

    "You can't prove a word of it."

    "Can't prove what?"

    "That she fired at you. You said you were down there around the wells with her alone. You can't prove a word of what you say. "

    "Oh that," I said. "I wasn't thinking of trying. I was thinking of another time-when the shells in the little gun had bullets in them."

    Her eyes were pools of darkness, much emptier than darkness.

    "I was thinking of the day Regan disappeared," I said. "Late in the afternoon. When he took her down to those old wells to teach her to shoot and put up a can somewhere and told her to pop at it and stood near her while she shot. And she didn't shoot at the can. She turned the gun and shot him, just the way she tried to shoot me today, and for the same reason. "

    She moved a little and the gun slid off her knee and fell to the floor. It was one of the loudest sounds I have ever heard. Her eyes were riveted on my face. Her voice was a stretched whisper of agony. "Carmen!-Merciful God, Carmen!-Why?"

    "Do I really have to tell you why she shot at me?"

    "Yes." Her eyes were still terrible. "I'm-I'm afraid you do."

    "Night before last when I got home she was in my apartment. She'd kidded the manager into letting her in to wait for me. She was in my bed-naked. I threw her out on her ear. I guess maybe Regan did the same thing to her sometime. But you can't do that to Carmen. "

    She drew her lips back and made a halfhearted attempt to lick them.

    It made her, for a brief instant, look like a frightened child. The lines of her cheeks sharpened and her hand went up slowly like an artificial hand worked by wires and its fingers closed slowly and stiffly around the white fur at her collar. They drew the fur tight against her throat. After that she just sat staring.

    "Money, "she croaked. "I suppose you want money. "

    "How much money?" I tried not to sneer.

    "Fifteen thousand dollars."

    I nodded. "That would be about right. That would be the established fee. That was what he had in his pockets when she shot him. That would be what Mr. Canino got for disposing of the body when you went to Eddie Mars for help. But that would be small change to what Eddie expects to collect one of these days, wouldn't it?"

    She was as silent as a stone woman.

    "All right," I went on heavily. "Will you take her away? Somewhere far off from here where they can handle her type, where they will keep guns and knives and fancy drinks away from her? Hell, she might even get herself cured, you know. It's been done."

    She got up slowly and walked to the windows. The drapes lay in heavy ivory folds beside her feet. She stood among the folds and looked out toward the quiet darkish foothills. She stood motionless, almost blending into the drapes. Her hands hung loose at her sides. Utterly motionless hands. She turned and came back along the room and walked past me blindly. She was behind me when she caught her breath sharply and spoke.

    "He's in the sump," she said. "A horrible decayed thing. I did it. I did just what you said. I went to Eddie Mars. She came home and told me about it, just like a child. She's not normal. I knew the police would get it all out of her. In a little while she would even brag about it. And if Dad knew, he would call them instantly and tell them the whole story. And sometime in that night he would die. It's not his dying-it's what he would be thinking just before he died. Rusty wasn't a bad fellow. I didn't love him. He was all right, I guess. He just didn't mean anything to me, one way or another, alive or dead, compared with keeping it from Dad."

    "So you let her run around loose," I said, "getting into other jams."

    "I was playing for time. Just for time. I played the wrong way, of course. I thought she might even forget it herself. I've heard they do forget what happens in those fits. Maybe she has forgotten it. I knew Eddie Mars would bleed me white, but I didn't care. I had to have help and I could only get it from somebody like him.-There have been times when I hardly believed it all myself. And other times when I had to get drunk quickly-whatever time of day it was. Awfully damned quickly."

    "You'll take her away/' I said. "And do that awfully damned quickly."

    She still had her back to me. She said softly now, "What about you?"

    "Nothing about me. I'm leaving. I'll give you three days. If you're gone by then-okay. If you're not, out it comes. And don't think I don't mean that. "

    She turned suddenly. "I don't know what to say to you. I don't know how to begin…"