I Will Fear No Evil (33 page)

(You call that
luck?
I call it the most frustrating thing that ever happened to me. Eunice, I needed the Money Hum as badly as Jake did.) (I call it luck. Boss darling, I may be dead but I can still read a calendar. I was steady on twenty-eight-and-a-half days for more than ten years—and we’ve still been on it since we amalgamated. We’re fertile as a turtle, Myrtle, this minute—and will be, for two or three days. Jake has promised you that the next time won’t be frustrating . . . and you’ll be as carefree as a cheerleader I told you about. Scan me, Fanny? So run don’t walk and get that implant—about ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Unless you plan to get us benched right away. Do you?)

(Eunice, you’re talking non—No, you’re not. I
will
do something about it. Tomorrow. But ‘benched right away’ is an exaggeration. I’m new at this while you’ve been through one pregnancy. But your aunt probably watched you like a hawk—) (She did. Elsie Dinsmore had a livelier time.) (—but I’ve sat through three, as a husband. ‘Benched’ is just a short time, at the end. And pregnancy doesn’t kill a woman’s interest. My angelic first wife, Agnes, would have tried it on the way to the hospital if I hadn’t had more sense about it than she had. Just the same, I’ll be good. I’ll be careful, rather.)

(Joan, I wasn’t trying to talk you out of it. I just didn’t want us knocked up by accident. Say through a playful romp with Judgie Wudgie. Or Alec. But if you want to, that’s fine. Marry Jake and get pregnant at once. Or get pregnant by him and then marry him; he might be more tractable.)

(Eunice, I’m not planning on getting married in any hurry if at all.) (So? I’ve heard you propose to Jake at least four times.)

(Yes, yes! If Jake agreed, I would; I wouldn’t let him down. But he won’t, if ever, until these legal finagles are cleared up. Which might take years. Do you remember how long it took to get the courts to okay the Sky Trails stock conversions? That was clear-cut compared with this and did not involve as much money. Eunice, I propose to Jake for his morale; I don’t care whether he makes an ‘honest woman’ of me or not, I just want him to take us to bed. Marriage doesn’t figure.)

(Twin, your naivete surprises me. Didn’t you hear Winnie? Marriage isn’t planned, it just happens. No girl is more likely to wind up in a hotel room, married to a man she didn’t even know at sundown the night before, than a chick who isn’t going to get married ‘any time soon.’ Boss, you marry Jake. Marry him as soon as he will agree to it—for you were talking sense when you pointed out that no other man could both understand you and not be dazzled by your money. In the meantime, it’s smart to go contra.)

(All right. What are the girls using today?) (Oh, most of them use implants. Some use pills, both the daily ones and the monthly ones. But if you miss with either sort, you are on a very short fuse. I never liked monkeying with my body’s economy; I’m not convinced that anything that changes a woman’s femaleness that much is a good idea. Not superstition, Boss, I did some careful reading after the time I got caught. There are hazards to all chemical methods. My body worked fine the way it was; I didn’t want to tamper with a successful organization—I’m quoting you, only you were talking about business.) (I see your point, Eunice, even though we’re talking about monkey business. A body is far more complex than a corporation, and the one you turned over to me is a jewel; I don’t want to tamper with it, either. But what
did
you use? Self-restraint?)

(Never had any in stock, dearie. Oh, there are lots of other loving things you can do without getting pregnant—if you can shake off your early training and be twenty-first century—) (Look, infant, I knew about—and used—every one of those other things in high school. I keep telling you: You kids did
not
invent sex.) (You didn’t let me finish, Boss. Those are emergency measures. A girl who depends on them alone is going to add to the population explosion. Joan, I looked into it carefully, when I turned eighteen and was licensed . . . and settled on one of the oldest methods. A diaphragm. They are still available; any physician will fit them. I wore one six days every month, even at the office—because, as the doctor who fitted me pointed out, most diaphragm failures result from leaving them at home while you run out for a pound of sugar, be right back.)

(I suspect he’s right, Eunice.) (I’m sure of it, Joan. I never liked them—I never liked
any
contraception; I seemed to have a deep instinct that told me to get pregnant. Boss . . . the thing—the
only
thing—that I really mind about being dead . . . is that I always wanted to have a baby by you. And that’s silly, as you were already too old—or maybe almost too old—when I first met you. But I would have tried, if you had offered.)

(Darling, darling!)

(Oh, I’m happy with what I have. Om Mani Padme Hum. I’m not kicking about my karma. I’m not just content, I’m
happy
. . . to be half of Joan Eunice.)

(Eunice, would you still be willing to have a baby by me?)

(What? Boss, don’t joke about it. Don’t mock me.)

(I’m not joking, beloved.)

(But, Boss, the necessary part of you is
gone
. Pickled in alcohol, or something.)

(They use formalin, I think. Or deep freeze. I’m not talking about that old wreck we discarded. We can go down and get an implant.)

(Huh? I don’t understand.)

(Do you remember a tax-deductible called the Johanna Mueller Schmidt Memorial Eugenics Foundation?)

(Of course. I wrote a check for it every quarter.)

(Eunice, despite the purposes set out in its charter, the only
real
purpose does not appear in the fine print. When my son was killed I was already fairly old. But I was still virile—potent—and tests showed that I was fertile. So I got married—I think I told you—to have another son. Didn’t work. But I had my bet hedged and never told anyone. Sperm bank deposit. In the cryogenic vault of the Foundation is a little piece of Johann. Hundreds of millions of extremely little pieces, that is. Presumably they are not dead, just asleep. That’s what I meant by an implant. With a syringe. Or however they do it.

(Eunice? Are you still there?) (I’m crying, Boss. Can’t a girl cry happy?
Yes!
)

(Tomorrow morning, then. You can change your mind up till the last minute.)

(I’ll
never
change my mind. I hope you won’t.)

(Beloved.)

17

Next morning Joan found that Jake had left the house before she woke; there was a note on her tray:

“Dear Joan Eunice,

“I slept like a baby and feel ready to fight wildcats—thanks to you and Winnie. Please extend my thanks to her and say (to both of you) that I will most gratefully join your prayer meetings any time I am invited—especially if I’ve had a tiring day.

“I will not be back until late—treasure hunting, locating links of evidence. Alec is off to Washington for one link. If you need me, call my answering service or Judge McCampbell’s chambers.

“I’ve instructed Jefferson Billings to let you draw against your petty expenditures account—about four hundred thousand in it, I believe—on your old signature and new thumbprint. He’ll pay drafts and hold them and I’ll countersign until you make out a new signature & thumbprint card—he says he knew Eunice Branca by sight, no problem. If you wish, he will call on you with a new sigprint card—we assume that your signature is now somewhat changed.”

(Boss, I guess Jake doesn’t know that I sign your signature better than you do.) (I don’t think anyone knows, dearest. I don’t know how that would figure in court-for us, or against us?)

“If you need more pocket money, let me make you a personal loan rather than have it show in my conservator’s report. Your ‘Brother Mac’ is most helpful, but the financial end of this nonsense should appear ultraconservative until such time as he can, with full justification, relieve me as your conservator. Caesar’s wife, you know.

“Speaking of Caesar’s wife, I told you a chuckle about two of our friends. This morning I phoned one of them and the other answered and, after the usual query as to sight & security, they seemed unworried about what I saw or heard or might infer. I was flattered. Little imp, if you must misbehave, you can trust them-for they have your welfare at heart. Sorry I was stuffy yesterday.”

(I’m glad to learn
that
, Boss.) (Eunice, I can’t see that it’s our business what Alec and Mac do in their spare time. Jake shouldn’t gossip about them, even to us.) (No, no, Boss! Jake is telling you that he was being a cube yesterday—and he’s sorry—and now he’s granting you absolution in advance. We had best marry Jake—nevertheless I’ve fretted that Jake might be jealous. Possessive. His age, his background. Could be doom, twin—as you are a tart at heart and we both know it.)

(Oh, nonsense, Eunice! I would never rub Jake’s nose in it—and anyhow you’re wrong. A smart man—which Jake is—doesn’t get excited over a go on the tiles; what worries him is fear of losing a wife he values. If Jake marries us, I will
never
let him worry about losing us.) (I hope you can make that stick, Boss honey.) (With your help I’m sure I can. Let’s finish his letter—)

“Don’t count on me for dinner, as what I must do today is urgent—more urgent than something that seemed dreadfully urgent yesterday. And was. And will be, I hope.

“This was meant to be a love letter but I’ve had to mention other matters—and other people, so I must urge you to tear it up and flush it down the W.C. It is no accident that I am thumbprinting the seal and will hand it to Cunningham with a promise to have his head on a platter if it leaves his person before it reaches you. I’ve learned to like Cunningham; he’s and ‘honest thief.’

“My love to you, dearest, and the biggest kiss possible—so big that you can break off a piece and deliver it to Winnie when you thank her for me. She’s a charming girl, and I’m pleased that she’s mothering you so well.

“J.”

(Why, the horny old bastard. Joan, Jake has his eye on Winnie’s pretty tail while he’s patting ours.) (She’ll have to stand in line!) (
Jealous
, twin?) (No. But I repeat—I’m going to scalp him first. Darn it, Eunice, I had him all set yesterday—and it’s been a long struggle. Not the Whim-Wham-Thankee-Ma’ am
you
managed with him. And all it got me was a spanking. I do hope he comes home tonight.) (Three hurdles even if he does, twin.) (
Three?
) (Hubert . . . . . . and Winnie . . . and that ‘implant.’ Boss darling? You’re not going to do me out of having
your
baby by letting Jake get at you first—are you?) (Of course not, little stupid. I was coping with intrigues without getting shot long before your grandmother was born. Mmm—I’ll need cash.)

(Jake told you how to get all the cash you want.) (Oh, sure—on my signature and
his
countersignature. Like a cat covering up on linoleum. Eunice my love, I’ll bet you never paid a bribe in your life.) (Well . . . not with
money
.) (Don’t tell me, let me guess. Hon, what we’re sitting on might be worth a million—but today I need used bills in medium denominations from no recorded source. Come along, little snoopy, and I’ll show you something that even my secretary—a sweetly deceitful girl named Eunice, remember her?—didn’t know about.)

(Do you mean that safe hidden in your bath, Boss?) (
Huh?
How the hell did
you
know about
that?
) (I’m snoopy.) (Do you know the combo?) (I ought to take the Fifth.) (Why bother? You’ll know it in two minutes. Or can you pick it out of my mind?) (Boss darling, you know by now that
I
don’t know anything in your memory until
you
think about it . . . and
you
don’t know anything in mine until
I
think about it. But—Well, if I had to open the safe, I think I would start with the numbers that mean your mother’s birthday.)

Joan sighed. (A girl doesn’t have any privacy these days. All right, let’s see if we’ve been robbed.)

She went into her bath, sealed the door, bolted it by hand, removed a stack of towels from a lower cabinet, fiddled with the ceiling of the cabinet; the back panel slid aside, disclosing a safe. (You think my mother’s birth date will open it?) (I’d switch on the sun lamps over the massage table first, then run the cold water in the hand basin.) (No privacy at all! Honey, did you really pay a bribe with your pretty tail once?) (Not exactly. I just improved the situation. Let’s see if we’ve been robbed.)

Joan opened the safe. Inside was money enough to interest a bank auditor. But the packets had not been packaged in a bank; they were not that neatly jogged and the total for each was hand-printed. (Plenty of moola, dear—and either nobody found this safe, or they never figured out the additional bolts. Either way, it settles one thing. We won’t put Jake’s sweet note down the hopper.) (Let him think we did, huh?) (If he asks.) (Then cry on him later and admit that we couldn’t bear to part with it.) (Eunice, you have a mind like a pretzel.) (That’s why it fits so well into yours, twin.) (Could be.)

Joan put the letter inside, took out two packets, put them into a purse in the dressing room end—closed the safe, shut off the sun lamps, shut off the water, spun the dial, slid the panel back, replaced the towels, closed the cabinet. Then she stepped to the bath’s intercom, pressed a touchplate. “Chief O’Neil.”

“Yes, Miss Smith?”

“I want my car, one driver, and both Shotguns in thirty minutes.”

There was a short silence. “Uh, Miss Smith, Mr. Salomon apparently forgot to mention that you would be leaving the house.”

“For excellent reason. He did not know it. Did he mention that I am no longer a ward of the Court? If not, have you learned it from some other source?”

“Miss, I haven’t learned it from an
official
source.”

“I see. Then you are learning it from me. Officially.”