Three by Cain: Serenade, Love's Lovely Counterfeit, the Butterfly (23 page)

“Yes, just so. You look much like little jackass.”

That got a shout. Winston looked up, kicked his heels, and let out a jackass bellow. It was a little funnier than it sounds.

“Then you get little stick, for
espada
, and little red rag, for
muleta
, and practice with little jackass.” Somebody dug up a silver-headed cane, and she took it, and the cape, and the two of them began doing a bullfight act in the middle of the floor. The rest of them were screeching and yelling by that time, and I was sitting there, wondering what the hell was up. The buzzer sounded. Somebody went to the door, came back, and touched me on the arm. “Telegram for you, Mr. Sharp.”

I went out in the hall.

Harry, one of the bellboys, was out there, and shoved a telegram at me. I opened it. It was nothing but a blank form shoved in an envelope. “Is the messenger still there? He’s given you nothing but a blank.”

Harry closed the door to the apartment. You could still hear them in there, screeching over the bullfight. “Let me talk quick, Mr. Sharp, so you can get back in there before anybody thinks anything. I had to have a telegram in my hand, so it would look right.… There’s a man down there, waiting for you. I told him you were out. He went up to your apartment, then he came down again, and he’s down there now.”

“In the lobby?”

“Yes sir.”

“What does he want?”

“… Mr. Sharp, Tony put through three calls today for this new party, Mr. Hawes. They were all to the immigration service. Tony remembered the number from a year ago, when his brother came from Italy. Tony thinks this man is a federal, come to take Miss Montes away.”

“Is Tony on?”

“We’re both on. Get back in there, Mr. Sharp, before this Hawes gets tipped off. Get her out of there, and have her press the elevator button twice. Either me or Tony will get her out through the basement, and then you can stall this guy till she gets under cover. Tony thinks his people will take her in. They’re fans of yours.”

I had a wad of money in my pocket. I took it out and peeled off a ten. “Split that with Tony. There’ll be more tomorrow. She’ll be right down.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And thanks. More thanks than I know how to say.”

I stepped back in. I took care to be stuffing the telegram in my pocket as I came. Winston jumped up from where he was still galumphing around the floor, and came over. “What is it, Jack?”

“Just some greetings from Hollywood.”

“Bad?”

“Little bit.”

“Well, what is it? By God, I’d love to wake the sons-of-bitches up and tell them where they get off.”

“Wouldn’t wake them up, that’s the trouble. It’s only ten o’clock there. To hell with it, I’ll tell you later. And to hell with bullfighting. Let’s dance.”

“Dance we shall. Hey, professor—music!”

Pudinsky began to bat out more jazz, they grabbed each other, and I grabbed Juana. “Now get a grin on your face. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Yes, here is nice grin.”

I laid it out for her fast. “This Pudinsky thing is nothing
but a smoke screen. He’s turned in an anonymous tip against you, then you’re to be taken to Ellis Island, then I’m to run to him for help, then he’s to move heaven and earth—and fail. You’re to be sent back to Mexico—”

“And then he gets you.”

“So he thinks.”

“So I think, too.”

“Will you for God’s sake stop that and—”

“Why you tremble?”

“I’m plenty scared of him, that’s why. Now listen—”

“Yes, I listen.”

“Get out of here, quick. Get out on some stall so he thinks you’re coming back. Change your dress, pack, as fast as you can. If the buzzer rings, keep still and don’t answer. Go to the elevator, ring twice, and the boys will take care of you. Don’t call me. Tomorrow I’ll reach you through Tony. Here’s some money.”

I had palmed the wad, and slipped it down the back of her dress. “And once more, step on it!”

“Yes, I step.”

She went over to Winston. He was sitting with Pudinsky, the fern leaves still in his hair. “You want to play
real
bullfight, yes?”

“I just thirst for it.”

“Wait. I get things. I come back.”

He showed her out, then came over to me. “Lovely girl.”

“Yeah, she’s all of that.”

“I’ve always said there were two nations under every flag, male and female. I wouldn’t give a damn for all the Mexican men that ever lived, but the women are marvelous. What saps their painters are, with all that beauty around them, to spend their days on war, socialism, and politics. Mexican art is nothing but a collection of New Masses covers.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”

“Who would? But if they could paint her face, that would have been different. Goya could have, but those worthy radicals, no. Well—they don’t know what they miss.”

I went over, sat down and watched them dance. They were getting lit by now, and it was pretty raw. I wished I had fixed up some signal from the boys, so I would know when she was out. I hadn’t, so all I could do was sit there. I was going to wait till he missed her, then go down to the apartment to find her, then come back and say she didn’t feel well, and had gone to bed. It would all take time, give her a start, but I had to take the play from him.

I had looked at my watch when she went. It was seven after one. After a hell of a time I slipped back to a bathroom and looked again. It was eleven after. She had been gone four minutes: I came back and sat down again. Pudinsky stopped and they all yelled for more. He said he was tired. The buzzer rang. Winston opened, and I began thinking of a stall in case it was the detective. Who stepped in was Juana. She hadn’t changed her dress. Over her arm was the cape, in one hand was the
espada
, and in the other the ear.

They had got a little sick of bullfighting, but when they saw the ear they began to yell again. They passed it around, and felt it, and smelled it, and say “Peyooh!” Winston took it, held it up to his head and wobbled it, and they laughed and clapped. He got down on the floor again and bellowed. Juana laughed. “Yes, now you are no more jackass. Big bull.”

He bellowed again. I was getting so nervous I was twitching. I went over to her. “Take that stuff back. I’m fed up on bullfighting, and that ear stinks. Take it back where you got it, and— ”

I grabbed for the ear. Winston dodged. She laughed and wouldn’t look at me. Something hit me in the belly. When I looked around I saw that one of the fags in woman’s clothes had poked me with a broomstick. “Out of my way! I’m a picador! I’m a picador on his old white horse!”

Two or three more of them ran back and got broomsticks, or mops handles, or whatever was there, to be picadors, and began galloping around Winston, poking at him. Every time they touched him he’d bellow. Juana drew the
espada
, and spread the cape with it, like it was a
muleta
. Winston began
charging it, on one hand and his knees, still holding the ear with his other hand and wobbling it. Pudinsky began to rip off the bullring music from Carmen. There was so much noise you couldn’t even hear yourself think. I walked over and leaned on the piano, with my back to it, till she would get the clowning over and I would have another chance to get her out.

All of a sudden Pudinsky stopped, and this “Ooh!” went around the room. I turned around. She was standing there, like a statue, the way they do for the kill, with her left side to Winston, the sword in her right hand, up at the level of her eyes, and pointing right at him. In her left hand, down in front of him, she held the cape. He was down there looking at it, and wobbling the ear at it. Pudinsky began to play blue chords on the piano.

Winston snorted a couple of times, then looked up at her, like he wanted a cue on what to do next. Then he jumped up, and back, but a sofa caught him. A man yelled. I jumped for the sword arm, but I was too late. That
espada
thrust isn’t something in slow motion, like you maybe have thought from reading the books. It goes like lightning, and next thing I knew the point of the steel was sticking out the back of the sofa, and blood was foaming out of Winston’s mouth, and she was over him, talking to him, laughing at him, telling him the detective was waiting to take him down to hell.

It flashed over me, that mob at the novelladas, pouring down out of the
sol
, twisting the tail of the dying bull, yelling at him, kicking at him, spitting on him, and I tried to tell myself I had hooked up with a savage, that it was horrible. It was no use. I wanted to laugh, and cheer, and yell
Olé!
I knew I was looking at the most magnificent thing I had ever seen in my life.

C H A P T E R

12

She spit into the blood, stepped back, and picked up the cape. For a second all you could hear was Pudinsky, over at the piano, gasping and slobbering in an agony of fright. Then they made a rush for the door, to get out before the police came. They fought to get past each other, the women cursing like men, the fags screaming like women, and when they got to the hall they didn’t wait for the elevator. They went piling down the stairway, and some of them fell, and you could hear more curses, and screams, and thuds, where they were kicking each other. She came over and knelt beside me, where I had folded into a chair. “Now, he no get. Goodbye, and remember Juana.” She kissed me, jumped up, and rustled out. I sat there, still looking at that thing that was pinned to the sofa, with its head hanging over the back, and the blood drying on the shirt. Pudinsky lifted his head, where it was buried in his hands, saw it, let out a moan, and ran over to a corner, where he put his head down and broke out into more sobs. I picked up a rug to throw on it. Then something twisted in my stomach, and I stumbled back to a bathroom. I hadn’t eaten since afternoon, but white stuff began coming up, and even after my stomach was empty it kept
retching, and horrible sounds came out of me from the air it forced up. I saw my face in the mirror. It was green.

When I came out two cops were there, and four or five of the fags, and one of the girls in a dinner coat, and a guy in a derby hat. Whether he was the dick that had been waiting for Juana, and he grabbed some of them on the way out, I didn’t know. When the cops saw me they motioned me to stand aside, and one of them went back to phone. Pretty soon two more cops came up, and a couple of detectives, and next thing, the place was full of cops. There was one guy that seemed to be a doctor, and another that seemed to be a police photographer. Anyway, he set up a tripod, and began setting off bulbs and throwing them in the fern pot. Pretty soon a cop went over, motioned to me, and he, a detective, and I went out. I didn’t have any coat there, but I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t know whether they had Juana, or even where she had gone, and I was afraid if I asked them to let me go to the apartment, they would come with me and find her. We went down in the elevator. Harry ran us down. When we got to the lobby, more cops were there, talking to Tony.

We got in a police car, drove down Second Avenue, then down Lafayette Street, and on downtown to a place that seemed to be police headquarters. We got out, went in, and the cops took me in a room and told me to sit down. One of them went out. The other stayed, and picked up an afternoon paper that was on the table. We must have sat an hour, he reading the paper and neither of us saying anything. After a while I asked him if he had a cigarette. He passed over a pack without looking up. I smoked and we sat for another hour. Outside it was beginning to get light.

About six o’clock a detective came in, sat down, and stared at me a while. Then he began to talk. “You was there tonight? At this here Hawes’s place?”

“Yes, I was.”

“You seen him killed?”

“I did.”

“What she kill him for?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Come on, you know. What you trying to do, kid me?”

“I told you I don’t know.”

“You live with her?”

“Yes.”

“Then what do you mean you don’t know? What she kill him for.”

“I’ve got no idea at all.”

“Was she in this country illegal?”