A Key to the Suite (16 page)

“I took a hell of a chance telling you all this, Dave.”

“You would have taken a worse chance not telling me. You would have been carrying your guts in a hand basket, Freddy.”

Frick got up hastily, moved out of Daniels’ reach, and sidled to the door. “Just be reasonable,” he begged.

Daniels laughed at him. “I know why you’re in a big hurry. You want to find her and warn her. It won’t do any good.”

“You ought to be locked up. You go crazy when you drink.”

Daniels faked a lunge toward him. Frick popped out into the corridor and slammed the door and ran a half dozen steps before slowing down. He wiped the palms of his hands on his handkerchief. With each deep breath he tried to take, his stomach hurt, and he felt slightly nauseated.

He stopped and leaned against the wall and wiped the sweat off his face. In a few minutes he was able to think more calmly and logically. He went to one of the bedrooms of the hospitality suite, found a number in his notebook and called it.

“Al, boy? Fred Frick. How’s everything with you? That’s good to hear. Al, I’m at a convention at the Sultana, and I’ve got a little problem maybe you can help me on. One of our crowd is heading for trouble. A nice guy, but he doesn’t drink good, you know? So I want him taken out of the play before he can do himself some real harm. No, I think he might talk himself out of there too fast. He looks like he’s handling it better than he is.
I was thinking in terms of that ward at the hospital, and some shots to keep him quiet until … maybe Sunday? What’s that? Oh, sure, you clear it with the hotel people. I understand. They don’t want a fuss any more than I do. Dave Daniels, his name is. Chicago, Illinois. Al, one thing, he’s a big son of a bitch. Yes. And use an ambulance? Sure. Do it any way you think best. Not until when? Al, I was hoping for a little faster service on this. It’s seven-fifteen now. Well, I guess all we can do is keep our fingers crossed until ten. I’ll make it a point to be right here in the suite at ten o’clock then. Eight sixty. You fellows come right on up. Yes, I’ll take full responsibility. Dave will thank me when it’s all over. Thanks loads, Al boy.”

When Hubbard went into his room after coming from the cabana party, he was becoming increasingly curious about Cory Barlund. He could not quite believe she had given up. Dusk had brought shadows into the room. He turned the lights on. The maid had turned both beds down. He tossed the towel in a corner of the bathroom, pulled the swim trunks off, kicked the sandals off, and adjusted the shower to his liking. A few moments after he was under the hard spray, without any warning, slim arms clasped him around the waist. He made a reasonable attempt to jump out of his skin. “Guess who?” she called gayly.

He pried her clasped hands apart and turned toward her. She wore her swim cap, and it made her face look like the face of a young, sensitive boy. She looked impishly at him, snatched the soap from the tray and began to industriously lather his chest. He took the soap away from her. “How did you get in here?”

“I just opened the glass door, darling, and stepped in.”

“How did you get into the room?”

“I asked the maid very politely, and gave her a tip, dear. Did I do something wrong? This is a convention, remember, and the rules are a little different. Oh, I’ve been here a long time. What kept you?”

“Where were you when I came in?”

“Skulking in the back of the closet. I ducked in there when I heard your key in the door. You see, dear, I thought you’d go right back into that stern and righteous routine and make everything as difficult as possible, so I thought this would save a hell of a lot of time, actually. Now you may scrub me sweetly and tenderly, and take me to bed.”

“No, Cory.”

She looked at him with a sly amusement. “No?”

He thrust her hand away. “Any other evidence is meaningless, Cory. The answer is no.”

“Why are you wasting all this sterling character on a hopeless situation?”

He took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and thrust her out into the bathroom. “Go put something on.”

“Yes, dear. Of course, dear. Anything you say, dear.”

The only clothing he had brought into the bathroom were fresh shorts and socks. When he had them on, he went into the bedroom. She had left one lamp on. She had arranged herself with due care to lighting. “I’m trying to look like that Spanish postage stamp, lover. But I don’t have the weapons she has. Come here.”

He put on a white shirt and trousers. As he was buttoning the shirt he moved closer to the bed and looked at her without any expression.

“You do mean it, don’t you?” she asked in quite a different voice, a small and rather wary voice.

“For a while the issue was in doubt. But not any more, Cory. You make it so damn difficult. I’m not trying to say I’m any better than you are. I’m not, for the love of God, saying you aren’t desirable. And I couldn’t ever say that this is an easy thing to do. But I can manage it. I’m fighting for survival, Cory. It’s a strong instinct. If today became another yesterday, I think I’d be destroyed.”

“Am I destroyed?”

“I don’t know. In one sense, possibly. I don’t know enough about you.”

With a sudden smooth economy of movement she slid under the sheet and single blanket and covered herself to the chin.

“Please turn off the light, Floyd.”

“But I’m telling you that it …”

“This is something else. Please. Then come and sit by me, and hold my hand.”

“But …”

“It won’t cost you anything to be kind, will it?”

He turned off the light. Some of the outside lighting made a faint glow on the ceiling. He took her hand when she reached toward him, and he sat on the bed.

“Maybe I can talk to you as a person, Floyd. I don’t know.”

“I like you, Cory. Does that help?”

“Yes. That helps. I was here alone for a long time. I read Jan’s letter.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “You had no right, you know.”

“I know. She seems very nice. She seems sweet and wise. Wives should be both, I guess, but not overly sweet, and not conspicuously wise. I tried to be that way with Ralph. I was quite good at it, too. Everyone seemed to think so. Even Ralph.
I was an adorable little wife, Floyd. I had the constant image of myself being an adorable and adoring little wife, and I relished it. It was a game, I guess. Trying to do as well as the grownups. Do you know?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Ralph was a properly boyish husband, with a good job. We agreed we’d have one year of just each other, and then start a baby. That’s just what we did. The bed part was good, dear. Not like yesterday with us. Sweet and melting. All he had to do was reach out toward me, and my head would get so heavy I couldn’t hold it up. I was very earnest about being everything he could ever want. He’d tell me I was all the women in the world. Isn’t that sweet?”

“I guess it’s supposed to be that way.”

“When I was three months pregnant, he had to go to Havana on a business trip. When he came back, I gave him a loving welcome. Oh, very loving indeed. But the poor dear had picked up a little packet of syphilis from a Cuban whore. By the time there was a sore, he’d infected me. The doctor he went to called me up and had me come in. He was very jolly. It didn’t have to be a tragedy. Not in this day and age. They’d knock it right out with massive doses of penicillin. But I got a bad reaction to the penicillin, and ran a high fever, and later they explained to me that it was the fever, not the infection, which turned my baby into an idiot. The third month is a bad time to have fevers, you know. So I was almost all women to my boyish husband. He needed a Cuban whore to fill out the ranks.”

Her hand tightened convulsively on his, then became inert. The silence was long and clumsy.

“There isn’t much to say, Cory. Bad luck? What can anybody say?”

“Oh, I think you need the rest of it before you make any comments. By the way, I’m a clean girl now. Don’t be alarmed.”

“You didn’t have to say that, you know.”

“I got the fastest divorce on record, dear. The baby is in a place in Maryland. It’s over five years old now. It will never speak or walk or recognize anything or anyone. He pays the freight. Two fifty a month. That’s the only settlement. They say they usually die in their early teens when they’re like that. After the divorce I was trying in an amateur way to prove to every man in the world that I was more useful than every whore in Havana, until a domineering old slob of a woman named Alma Bender took me home and nursed me back into decent physical condition, and taught me the trade.”

“The trade?”

“I’m on call, darling. All night stands only. A bill and a half, split ninety to me and sixty to Alma, because I maintain my own place. I’m twenty-eight years old, darling, and I average eight tricks a month, or a hundred a year, and I’ve had four fine years, and I think I can promise myself another ten or eleven. I take care of myself. Fifteen hundred men would be a nice memorable figure, don’t you think? I’m choosy, you know. Want to know my stipulations?”

“Should I?”

“They have to be reasonably youngish, intelligent, fairly sensitive, married and … there should be a slight boyishness about them, just enough to remind me of Ralph. Then do you know what I do?”

“I think I have a clinical idea.”

“No, darling. Beyond that. What I do is spoil them, so that they’ll spend the rest of their lives knowing they’ll never have it so good again. I clobber them so completely, they’ll be forever
wistful as they lie beside their little oatmeal wives and remember how it was.”

“Revenge?”

“Of course. I’m their Havana whore. I’m the sword of justice. I give them the disease no drug can ever cure. I give them the ultimate experiences, lover, so that from that night on, nothing will ever completely satisfy them again. When they’re moaning and shuddering and gibbering, I’m laughing inside. When they want to buy a woman, and they buy me, they never stop paying for it. Sometimes I let myself enjoy them. Like with you. But almost always I fake. I put on a hell of a production, lover. It may even be better than the real thing. When it’s real, I lose track a little.”

“Do you tell all of them this?”

She pulled her hand away. “I’ve never told any of them this. All whores have hearts of gold. Haven’t you heard? Haven’t you met Suzie Wong? I enjoy my work, dear. I despise all you slobs, every one. Even you, lover. But you see, this is just a little different, because you didn’t come waving your money. You’re not technically the sort of customer I’m accustomed to.”

“Technically? What the hell, Cory! What is this?”

“Oh, you’re sort of the gift certificate type. I shouldn’t tell you, but I don’t expect it matters much one way or the other. You’re the guest of Frick and Mulaney, dear. So enjoy. It’s such a special deal, lasting so long, dear Alma clipped them for seven and a half, but only four hundred to me.”

He stood up and paced to the terrace door. “But why?”

“Is that so hard? I’m going to make a big ugly public scene over you before this clambake is over. A horrid type named Amory has cautioned me to take it easy in the public rooms of the hotel when I go dramatic. You’re going to be hung as a
sheep so you’ll ease off on Mr. Mulaney, obviously. And since you are going to be hung as a sheep anyway, dear, why don’t you come to bed like a lamb?”

“Those silly bastards!”

“I probably talked too much. You’re too easy to talk to, do you know that?”

“I’ve cultivated the talent.” He sat beside her again. “On my word of honor, Cory, scene or no scene, I still give Mulaney the business. I’ve committed myself. Now the only thing such a scene could do is hurt me with the people I work for. So how about giving it up?”

“Don’t be silly! I promised, and I was paid.”

“But it won’t do any good!”

“Lover, I couldn’t care less.”

“A heart of gold. Dear God!”

“You’ll never, never forget me, Floyd. Every time you mount your darling Jan, I’ll be riding your shoulders like a witch, jeering at you, boy.”

“It won’t be that way, believe me, but why the big boot out of punishing me? I didn’t buy you. I was a damn fool, thinking I was irresistible.”

“You cheated on your marriage, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it was …”

“So you get a little more than you asked for. And the fee is paid, lover. So you might as well get the use of it. So go walk around if you have to. Go have a drink or two. Think of me. I’ll be right here in your bed, cozy and warm and ready, waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you get dressed and go home?”

“Why should I make it easy for you, you sanctimonious bastard? You’re crawling with guilt and you think you can lighten
the burden by refusing a second chance. You can’t get clean that easy, not after yesterday. If the murderer lets his next victim walk away, does that turn him into a saint?”

“Maybe it’s just that all of a sudden the merchandise looks shopworn.”

“You tried the low blow, boy, and it doesn’t work.”

He dressed slowly. By the time he was finished, she was asleep. She had turned onto her side, and in the reflected light she looked small and girlish in the bed, innocent and uninvolved. Her perfume lay on the quiet air. So get out, he told himself. Pack and check out. The job here is done, so why stay? You know where the trip wire is, so back off. Your luck is still running good. Good? Let’s call it just fair. But a good knock is in order, for the steady nerves, the morale of the hatchetman. He went slowly to the end of the corridor and walked into the suite. Bobby Fayhouser put a magazine aside and stood up. “Hi, Floyd! They’ve all gone down to dinner. Almost all of them.”

Hubbard nodded and went to the bar. He made himself a heavy highball. “To conventions,” he said. “To jackasses.”

“That’s a toast to the whole human race, isn’t it?”

“Cynicism is a privilege of the very young, Robert. Now that I’m older, I’m becoming one of the boys, earnest and folksy.”

“Are you sore about something?”

“Nothing terribly specific, I guess. Keep it to yourself, Bobby, but I am departing. This large knock and the one to follow are in the nature of farewell toasts.”