I Will Fear No Evil (48 page)

“Eunice, you would be more woman passed out cold than most can manage at their best.”

“I’m glad you said ‘would be’ rather than ‘are.’ But, Roberto, I’m uneasy. Not about you and me, dear, but about Winnie. Does this affect that thought you’ve been considering? About Winnie, I mean.”

“On the contrary, Eunice, it was Winnie’s idea—her notion of how to celebrate our engagement—”

“Wait a moment! Am I engaged to
you?
”

“Eh? No, no—I’m engaged to Winnie.”

“Oh. Roberto, I would happily marry you, you would make a numero-uno esposo. But I don’t need one, and Winnie does. Did I know this last night? About you two?”

“You seemed to. You said that was why you wouldn’t wait to scrub off your sparklers—you were right-now about it.”

“Roz. I remember being terribly eager but I seem to have drawn a blank as to why. Roberto? Did I spill the news about the ‘Greeks capturing Athens’?”

“I don’t think so, Eunice. Not when I was around. I’m fairly sure Winnie doesn’t know it.”

“I’ll tell Winnie; it’s Jake I want to keep in the dark.”

“Eunice? Did Jake do it? Capture Athens and the Parthenon as well.”

“Watch that Hippocratic Oath, dear. Parthenogenesis might be the answer. Let me keep this up in the air a while longer. You say this was
Winnie’s
idea? After you told her you would marry her?”

“Yes.”

“How did she ever get up her courage to propose? I’ve been urging her to—but she’s so damn’ shy. Dutch courage?”

“Yes. But my own. Sure, she’s shy—but under her blushes Winnie is as rugged as a nurse has to be. She said All right—if I would let her tie it down tight that she is no angel, I told her I had no use for angels, in bed or out. She said she hoped I meant that, because she was about to ask Jake to sleep with her.”

“Roberto, I missed a lot of this. How much champagne did I drink?”

“Who counts? Jake kept opening bottles and we kept passing the loving cup around. While reciting that amphigory. You got your share. We all did.”

“Uh . . . am I engaged to Jake?”

“Not that I know of.”

“That’s good. Because when Jake finds out I’m knocked up, he’s going to be noble. Just as you were, dear, but Jake will be much more difficult. And I’ve discovered that i don’t need a husband; I just want loving friends. You. Jake. Winnie. Some others. People who’ll love me as I am, clay feet and all—not because of a contract. Did Jake make any fuss over the sleeping arrangements?”

“Uh, truthfully I don’t think anyone was displeased with Winnie’s suggestion. Jake picked Winnie up under one arm and announced that he was reenacting the Rape of the Sabines.”

“The faithless old darling.”

“So I picked you up and carried you in and scrubbed you . . . and you squealed and protested and told me that was a hell of a way to run a rape.”

“Mmm, I think I was right. ‘In vino veritas.’ ”

“So now I’m going to put a pillow over your face so that you can’t squeal and protest.”

“You won’t need a pillow; just put your hand over my mouth if I’m noisy. But all these doors are soundproof.”

“You think I don’t know it? When I lived here for most of a year? Miss Johann Smith, I know more about your house than you do.”

“Oh, you bastard! Call me ‘Eunice.’ Or put a pillow over my face so I can’t hear you, Roberto—I’m so
happy
that you’re going to marry our Winsome.”

“So am I, Eunice. Now shut up.”

“Yes, sir.” (
Unh!
Eunice, nobody ever tells me anything.) (Shut up, twin, and pay attention to what you’re doing!)

Joan Eunice reached for the intercom by her bed, tapped it for Cunningham, then reached for Roberto’s hand.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Cunningham, I want breakfast for four, served in my lounge.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Placed in my lounge, rather, with warmers and coolers. No service. I have no idea when Mr. Salomon and Dr. Garcia will wake up, but I want to be hostessish and ready to serve them myself when they do. But Winnie and I want to eat.” She winked at the doctor, squeezed his hand.

“Certainly, Miss.”

“They need their sleep. Tell me, Cunningham—you’ve known me a long time. Have you ever pinned one on?”

“pardon me, Miss?”

“Go on a luau, get so fried you can’t find the floor with both feet. Drunk and disorderly.”

“I have sometimes—in the past—come down with that ailment.”

“Then you know what a delicate condition we are in—Winnie and myself at least and I have reason to believe that the gentlemen will not be in much better shape. But there was excellent excuse.”

“I heard about the trouble, Miss. Too bad.”

“Cunningham, I did
not
mean Charlie. This may be callous of me . . . but he was a bully who picked a fight, and lost.”

“Oh. If I may say so, Miss, he was not liked belowstairs. Uh, we really did not like having him in the house.”

“I know. I would have put a stop to it long ago except that he worked for Mr. Salomon, not me—and I owe Mr. Salomon a great deal. No, the ‘excellent excuse’ was something else. We were celebrating an engagement.”

Cunningham said cautiously, “Should I offer congratulations, Miss?”

“Yes, but not to me. Dr. Garcia is marrying Winifred.”

“
Oh!
That’s fine, Miss. But we’ll miss her.”

“I am hoping that we will not have to miss her. This is a big house, Cunningham, much too large for one person. Or for two whenever Mr. Salomon can be persuaded to honor us. Not often enough, that is to say—but the Counselor is afraid that he will cause gossip about me.”

“Uh, may I speak plainly, Miss?”

“Any time you don’t, Cunningham, I shall be offended.”

“Mr. Salomon is a fine gentleman. But if he worries about that—well, it’s silly, that’s all I can say. The staff do
not
gossip about his presence. They respect him.”

“Perhaps you can tell him, he won’t listen to me. But today I’m simply concerned that he sleep as late as possible. He must go to Washington tonight, you know. When you bring up breakfast, don’t go past his door; go around the other way. You can’t disturb me or Winnie; we are awake. And be certain that Hubert doesn’t come fussing around until Mr. Salomon sends for him.”

“He won’t, Miss; he never does.”

“He used to, sometimes, when he was tending me—be a touch noisy when he thought I should be up. So keep him off this floor. Keep everyone off this floor until I call you—that includes all cleaning, everything. Except, of course, that I want you to bring up breakfast—with whatever help you need—promptly.”

“Yes, Miss. Perhaps coffee and juice at once?”

“No, we don’t want to be disturbed twice; my ears might fall off. You’ll find evidence of the debacle in my lounge—a case lot of empty magnums. Remove them—quietly—for Heaven’s sake don’t bang one against another; I can hear an ant stomp this morning. Pencil ready? We need a simple, nourishing breakfast. At least four cups of coffee each, double orders of orange juice, half grapefruits, either pinks or the big Arizonas, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, some link sausages and breakfast steaks. Better include cold cuts and sliced cheeses. Oh, toast and muffins and jam and such. Flatbread. And a big pitcher of ice-cold milk for cereal, I think this is a cereal morning. Some decent, quiet, wellbrought-up cereal that doesn’t snap, crackle, or pop. That’s all. Unless you know a remedy for a hangover.”

“Well, Miss, when I was tending Mr. Armbrust before I went to work for you, I used to mix something that he thought well of.”

“Yes?”

“Silver fizz, Miss, using vodka rather than gin.”

“Cunningham, you’re a genius. One each, plus largish dividends, in thermos glasses. How soon will breakfast be ready?”

“Can’t be sooner than twenty minutes, Miss, even though Della has started the sausages. But I could still fetch up coffee and juice.”

“One trip only. Then steal quietly away on stocking feet. This is a hospital zone, Cunningham. Winnie and I need at least twenty minutes to put our eyeballs back in, they’re bleeding. I’ll expect you not sooner than twenty minutes, not later than twenty-five. Off.”

She put down the bedside intercom, said, “Doctor, did I handle that?”

“Eunice, sometimes I think you’re not truthful.”

“And sometime I’m going to be a hermit and not have to dodge servants. Where are your clothes, Roberto? In the lounge?”

“Yes. I had better get into them.”

“Better think again. We’ve got twenty minutes of privacy, we’ll use it.”

“Oh, Eunice!”

“Courage, comrade; I’m not a black widow spider. We’ll use it to gather up
all
clothes in the lounge, toss feminine items in here, fast—then take your clothes and Jake’s down to his suite—where I’ll grab a robe and pajamas and slippers for Jake, and a second set of his for you. If you’re a sissy, you’ll stay there and put them on. If you’re not, you’ll stay in skin and come back here with me, and dress when you feel like it. Then I’ll switch on a light that tells Winnie I’m awake—better than phoning the love bugs, they might be love-bugging, and even a bug hates to be disturbed at such times. Come on, you bony, hairy, wonderful man. Sixteen minutes—we can do it in twelve, I’ll bet.”

“Pussy Cat, sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Oh, piffle, I own this house. Although I may sell it and buy a nudist resort in California—then run it just for me and my friends. Roberto, I
like
skin—when it’s the wonderful skin I have now. It’s meant to be seen and
touched
-not hidden away in clothes. Did you like our waitress last night?”

“A healthy young woman, apparently.”

“Oh, piffle twice. I’ll bet you were thinking about her when you took me to bed last night. I know men, darling—I
was
one, much longer than you’ve been alive. Fifteen minutes. Let’s move.”

23

Dabrowski handed her out and Fred locked the car. They escorted her to and into the lift. Joan Eunice looked around. “This must be where it happened.”

Her driver said, “Eunice, I wish you would change your mind.”

“Anton, Tom and Hugo should have driven me today, but I was afraid the poor dears would get upset when they saw the inside of this lift. I thought you and Fred could stand it. Fred, are you nervous?”

“You know damn well I am. Eunice.”

“Over what?
She
entered this lift
alone.
I’ve got the two with me.”

“Well . . . you’re a stubborn one. I don’t know what Ski is going to do but
I
am going to wait outside the door until you come out.” (Eunice, what do you do with stubborn men?) (It’s hard, twin, especially when they love you. You had best use female jujitsu—let them have their own way until it turns out it’s your way.) (I’ll try.)

“Fred, Eunice lived here for years. Utterly safe . . . except for one mistake. I have the radio link and I promise you both, solemnly, that I won’t stir outside. Joe’s door until I
know
you’re waiting for me.”

“We’ll be waiting, all right—all the time. Right, Ski?”

“Right! Eunice, you don’t even know Joe Branca still lives here.”

“But I do. It’s just that he didn’t pay his phone bill, so they cut him off. Joe’s still there, or was at sixteen o’clock yesterday. Look, how does this sound? First, you know that Joe wouldn’t hurt me, don’t you? Anton?”

“Oh, sure. Joe might not want to see you—but Joe Branca would put a fly outdoors before he would swat it.”

“Then I’m safe as long as I’m inside with Joe. But you’re right, he may not want to see me. He may not let me in. Or I may be inside only minutes. So wait an hour, then go home. I’ll call you when I want you to take me home.”

“Two hours?” suggested Fred.

“All right, two hours. But if I don’t come home tonight, you are
not
to come back and buzz Joe’s door. You can come back tomorrow at noon and wait an hour, or even two, if that will make you feel better. And again the next day. But I’ll stay in Joe Branca’s studio a full week if it takes that to make his mind easy. Or a month, damn it! Or anything. Boys, I’ve
got
to do this; don’t make it harder.”

Anton said glumly, “All right. We’ll do it your way.”

“Am I ‘Eunice’ now? Or ‘Joan Eunice’?”

He grudged a smile. “You’re Eunice.
She
would do it.”

“That’s why
I
must. Look, darlings”—she put an arm around each of them—”last night was wonderful . . . and I’ll find a way to manage it again. Perhaps next time Mr. Salomon is away—you know he fusses over me like a mother hen. But you two do also—and you must
not
. . . except when you’re guarding me. Right now I
must
try to find a way to soothe Joe’s soul. But I’ll be your playmate another day. Be darlings and kiss me; the lift is about to stop.”

They did so; she hooked up her veil. They left the lift and headed toward the Branca studio—Joan found she knew the way, as long as she didn’t stop to think.

She stopped at the door. “She always kissed you good-bye? Here, with Joe watching?”

“Yes.”

“If he lets me in, kiss
me
good-bye the same way. Just don’t stretch it out; he might close the door. Oh, I’m shaky!” (Steady down, Boss. Om Mani Padme Hum. Don’t use the button; try our voice on the lock. ‘Open up!’ Like that.)

“Open up!” Joan said. She unhooked her veil, faced the door.

The lock started clicking but the door remained closed. A transparency flashed on the wall: PLEASE WAIT. Joan stood in front of the door peep, wondered if Joe was scanning her. (Eunice, will he let us in?) (I don’t know, Boss. You shouldn’t have come. But you wouldn’t listen to Jake . . . nor to
me
.) (But I
am
here. Don’t scold me—
help
me.) (I’ll try, Boss. But I don’t know.)

Through the door, not as soundproof as her own doors, Joan heard a high voice: “Joe!
Joe!
” (Who’s
that!
) (Could be anybody, Joe has lots of friends.)

The door opened, she saw Joe Branca standing in it. He was dressed in much-worn shorts which had been used repeatedly for wiping paint brushes. His face showed nothing. A girl, a wrapper pulled sketchily around her, looked out from behind him. “See? It’s
her!
”