Patricia Highsmith - The Tremor of Forgery (26 page)

‘
You
’
d better—Well, it
’
s perhaps safer in the hotel where
you are
.’
Ingham said,
‘
but if you have anything valuable, you might as well put it in one of your suitcases and lock it
.’

Jensen listened, expressionless.

‘
Thanks for the tip
.’
Ina said.
‘I’m
pretty lucky, usually. But then I
’
ve never been in old Araby before. They
’
re not famous for —
’
She smiled and looked at Jensen.
‘
What
’
s the opposite of thievery?
’
She turned to Ingham.
‘
You
mentioned a canvas jacket you
’
d lost. I know you
’
re fond of old clothes, darling, but that thing — I remember it
.’

‘
Yes. Oh, that was out of my car, a different matter
.’
Ingham thought of the old Arab in red pants, and shifted in his chair.

‘
That was Abdullah
.’
Jensen put in.

‘
You even know them by name?
’
Ina laughed.
‘
What a place! You must point out Abdullah to me sometime. He sounds like something out of the
Arabian Nights
’

‘
We hope Abdullah is no more
.’
Jensen said.

‘
Oh, he got his come-uppance?
’
Ina asked.

‘
We hope so and we think so
.’
Jensen said.

Did somebody knife him?
’

Jensen was silent for a moment, and Ingham felt relieved, because it meant Jensen at least knew he should not blurt out the bungalow story. Then he said, It seems somebody defended their property for once, and knocked the bastard over the head
.’

‘
How fascinating I
’
Ina said, as if she were listening to a synopsis for a television play.
‘
How did you hear?
’

‘
Oh
—
via the grapevine.
’
Now Jensen laughed.

‘
You mean he was killed?
’

‘
He simply isn
’
t around any more.
’

Ingham could feel Ina
’
s lively interest in the story. She was about to say something else, when Adams appeared at the end of the terrace and stood looking around for a table. Ingham at once got up.
‘
Excuse me a minute.
’

Ingham asked Adams to join them, and as they walked
towards the table Ingham saw that Ina and Jensen were talking again.

‘
Ina,
’
Ingham said,
‘I’d
like you to meet my friend Francis Adams. Ina Pallant.
’

‘
How do you do, Mr Adams.
’
Ina looked very pretty smiling up at Adams, shaking his hand.

‘
How do you do, Miss Pallant! How long are you going to be here?
’
Adams asked.

‘I’m
not sure. A week, perhaps,
’
she replied.

That was cautious, Ingham thought. He signalled to one of Melik
’
s sons to come and take Adams
’
s order.

Adams ordered in Arabic.

‘
You
’
ve been here quite a while, Howard told me,
’
Ina said.

‘
Yes, more than a year now. I like the climate
—
as long as o
ne has air-conditioning. Ha-ha!
’
OWL smiled happily.
‘
But you
’
ve got to tell me all about the States. I haven
’
t been home for a year and a half. All I read is
Time
magazine and
the
Reader
’
s Digest
and a paper from Paris or London now and then.
’

‘
What would you like to know? I
’
m usually holed up in my office, then underground to Brooklyn. I
’
m not sure I
know
what
’
s going on any more.
’

‘
Oh
—
the racial thing. And the Vietnam War. And
—
well
—
the spirit, the atmosphere. You can
’
t get that out of a newspapers.
’

‘
Um.
’
Ina smiled a little at Ingham, then looked back at Adams.
‘
We
’
re having another hot summer, as far as racial riots go. And the Vietnam War
—
well
! I
think the opponents are getting better and better organized. But I
’
m sure you read that, too.
’

‘
And how do you feel, just as an ordinary citizen?
’

‘
As an ordinary citizen, I think it
’
s a waste of time, money and people
’
s lives,
’
Ina said.
‘
Not a waste of money to everybody, of course, because war always lines a few pockets.
’

Adams was silent for a second or two. His lamb dish was served. Ingham filled his wine glass.

‘
Are you in favour of the war?
’
Ina asked Adams.

‘
Oh, yes
.’
Adams said with assurance.
‘I’m
anti-Communist, you see.
’

Ingham was pleased that Ina did not bother saying,
‘
So am 1
.’
She simply looked at Adams with mild curiosity, as if he had said he was a member of the American Legion
—
which he might well be, Ingham supposed.

Jensen yawned widely, covering it with a large thin hand, and stared off into the blackness beyond the terrace.

‘
Well, we
’
ll win, of course
—
even if only technically. How can we lose? But to talk of something more pleasant, what are your travel plans while you
’
re here?
’

‘
I haven
’
t made any yet,
’
Ina replied.
‘
What do you suggest?
’

OWL was full of ideas. Sousse, Djerba, a camel-ride on the beach, a visit to the ruins of Carthage, a lunch at Sidi Bou Said, a visit to a certain souk, in a town Ingham did not even know of, on its market day.

‘
I hope I can get around to some of these places by myself
.’
Ina said.
‘
I think Howard wants to work. He doesn
’
t have to entertain me.
’

‘
Oh?
’
Adams smiled his pouchy squirrel smile at Ingham.
‘
After all your weeks of solitude, you haven
’
t time to show a pretty girl around the country?
’

‘
I haven
’
t said a thing about wanting to work,
’
Ingham said.

‘
I
’
ll be happy to drive you about a bit, if Howard
’
s busy
.’
Adams told her.

‘
And I can show you the Spanish fort
.’
Jensen said.
‘
My trouble is, I have no car.
’

Ingham was pleased that everybody was getting on well.
‘
But tomorrow is mine
.’
Ingham said.
‘
Maybe we
’
ll go down to Sousse or something like that.
’

They went to take coffee at the
Café
de la Plage. Ina loved the Plage. It looked
‘
real
’
, she said.

When it was time to say good night, Adams insisted that Ingham bring Ina back to his bungalow for a nightcap. Jensen went home. OWL left in his Cadillac.

‘
Anders is a
little
sad these days because of his dog
.’
Ingham said. He told her what had happened.

‘
Goodness, that
’
s too bad.
—I
didn
’
t know they were mean like that
.’

c Just some of them
.’
Ingham said.

Ina was enchanted with OWL
’
s bungalow, as Ingham had thought she would be. Adams even showed her his bedroom. The closet was of course, closed, and Ingham knew locked, though the key was not in the door.

‘
A little home away from home
.’
Adams said.
‘
Well, I have no home any more in the States. I still own the Connecticut house.
’
He pointed to the photograph in the living-room.
‘
But practically everything
’
s in storage now, so the place is empty. I suppose I
’
ll retire there one day.
’

After one drink, Ina said she was exhausted and had to turn in. Adams was instan
tl
y sympathetic, and had to figure out exac
tl
y what time it would be for her
—
7.15
‘
yesterday
’
, He almost kissed her hand as they said good night.

‘
Howard works too hard. Make him get out a
little
more. Good night, both of you
!
’

When they were in the car, Ingham asked,
‘
What do you think of him?
’

‘
Oh, a classic
!’
She laughed.
‘
But he looks happy. I suppose they always are. It
’
s the best of all possible worlds and all that
.’

‘
Yes, exac
tl
y. But I think he
’
s a
little
lonely. His wife died five years ago.
—
I know he
’
d get a bang out of it if you
’
d spend a day with him
—
or part of a day, let him take you out to lunch somewhere.
’
Ingham meant it completely, but at once
he
thought
of OWL telling her the Abdullah incident, the events of that night and he felt uneasy. He did not want Ina
to hear the details, even the few details Adams thought he knew. What purpose would it serve? It was only depressing and ugly. Ingham drove the car on to the gravelled area before the front doors.

‘
What
’
s the matter, darling?
’

·Nothing. Why?
’
Could she read his thoughts that well, Ingham wondered, in the dark?

‘
Maybe you
’
re as tired as I am.
’

‘
Not quite.
’
He kissed her in the car, then he walked with her into the lobby where she got her key. He promised to call for her tomorrow, but not before ten o
’
clock.

Jensen was still up when Ingham got home.
‘
She looks like a good sport,
’
was Jensen
’
s comment on Ina.

That was probably high praise, from Jensen, Ingham thought, and as such he appreciated it.