The Girl With the Long Green Heart (8 page)

“By all means.”

We drank. She tucked her feet under her, opened her purse and pulled out a sheaf of letters. “He had a list of people who bought some of that Canadian land,” she said. “Not a complete list, but about twenty names. He wrote letters to all of them asking—well, you can read it yourself.”

I read one of the letters. It was brief and to the point. Mr. Gunderman was interested in any dealings or correspondence that Mr. So-and-So might have had with the Barnstable Corporation, Ltd., of Toronto. Would Mr. So-and-So please let Mr. Gunderman know, and would he also notify Mr. Gunderman if he had made any disposition of his holdings in northwestern Canada, or if he had any intention of so doing?

There were eighteen letters like that. Gunderman’s list didn’t match ours completely. He was missing a lot of the names we’d gotten from Al Prince, and he had one or two that Prince hadn’t given to us. I picked out the letters to the ten men with whom we’d been in correspondence and handed them back to Evvie.

“You can mail these,” I told her. “They’ll tell him just what we want him to know. A few of these pigeons already sold land to us, and the rest have heard from us.”

“What about the others?”

“I’ll keep them.”

“Won’t he get suspicious if he doesn’t hear anything from any of those men?”

“He’ll hear from them. What other letters did he dictate?”

I looked through them. There was a letter to the Ontario Board of Trade inquiring in a general way into the commercial purpose and history of Barnstable, and there was a very similar letter addressed to the Lieutenant-General’s office. I let those go through. Both of those sources would simply advise Gunderman that we had incorporated at such-and-such a date with so much capital, and that we had organized for the purpose of purchasing and developing land in the western provinces.

This was all a matter of public record, and it was something we wanted Gunderman to know. We could tell him ourselves, but it was much better to let him find out on his own hook from properly official government sources. Let him think he was being shrewd. If you let a man convince himself that he is much cleverer than you are, he will never get around to fearing that you’re going to pull a fast one on him.

“And this one here,” she said.

The last letter was addressed to a Toronto detective agency that specialized in industrial and financial investigations. Gunderman asked for a brief report on (a) the Barnstable Corporation, Ltd., (b) Douglas Rance, and (c) John Hayden.

“He asked me to put a call through to these people,” Evvie said. “I told him I couldn’t get through to them and I killed the call, and then he put it all in a letter. I was a little afraid of what might come out. I know he used this agency before, when he got taken the first time.”

“I don’t think this letter should go out.”

“That’s what I figured. And why I cut off the call. If a detective dug into things too deeply—”

“Uh-huh.”

“But if he doesn’t hear from them at all—”

“He’ll hear from them,” I said. I swallowed some Scotch, got a cigarette going. She pursed her lips, moistened them with the tip of her tongue. She started to say something, then changed her mind and finished her drink. I went into the kitchen, filled a bowl with ice cubes, brought it and the bottle back into the living room. I put the bowl on the coffee table and added fresh ice and fresh Scotch to our glasses.

“What should we drink to this time, John?”

“
Salud y amor y pesetas
,” I said.

“Health and love and money, I know that one. Isn’t there more to it?”

“
Y tiempo para gustarlos
.”

“And time...what’s the rest of it?”

“And time to enjoy them.”

“And time to enjoy them,” she said. “Yes, that’s worth drinking to.”

We touched glasses very solemnly and drank a toast to health and love and money and time to enjoy them. Outside, Olean remained very peaceful by night. The few traffic noises were all blocks away. I looked at her and felt that old urge come on strong from out of nowhere, a fast rush of desire that surprised me. A comfortable couch, a quiet and properly private apartment, a good bottle, a beautiful girl—all of them components in a standard mixture. I put a lid on it and started to tell her just what she should say to Gunderman in the morning.

I ran all the way through it. It was simple enough, no details but a few hints to steer him in the right direction. The hunting lodge story was a blind, of course. I’d been hopping all over the country lately, and I had bought up a great deal of land, and the Barnstable Corporation stood to make a fortune. I was just a hired hand, and I was a little resentful of the fact that I was on straight salary, albeit a healthy salary, while the principals in the deal stood to pick up a bundle without doing much work for it at all. Of course they were very important men and I was just an employee, so I really had no kick coming. Barnstable already owned a vast stretch of Canadian land, and few prospects had given me a hard time the way Gunderman had done, and I didn’t care too much whether I bought his land or not, because we already had done so well in the land-purchasing department.

When I got to the end I let her feed it all back to me. She didn’t miss a trick, and she added a touch or two all her own. She was very damned good for an amateur. She had the brains for it, and the right attitude. She was a natural girl for the grift. If this fell in, I thought, or even if it didn’t, she could probably make a damned fine living as the female half of a badger game combo. She sure as hell had the looks for it.

She filled our glasses again. She said, “You know, I was very nervous about all of this before tonight, John. I’m not nervous anymore.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You did.”

“Me?” She nodded. “Uh-huh. Doug was all fire and enthusiasm and confidence, but I wasn’t sure he could bring it all off. But there’s something about you, I don’t know what it is, maybe just a feeling that you really know what you’re doing, that you’ll make sure everything runs smoothly from start to finish.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I somehow just trust you, John.”

“Let’s hope your boss feels the same way.”

“I think he will. I’m awfully glad Doug was able to get you in on this deal. He told me about you when we were first starting to plan the whole thing, and he said you would be perfect if only you weren’t working on something else. That’s what I was afraid of, that you would have something else going.”

“I did.”

“Oh?”

“I was assistant manager at a bowling alley in Colorado.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I don’t—”

I drank some more. “I got out of prison a little less than a year ago, Evvie. It was the first really hard time I’d ever served, and I decided I wasn’t going back, not ever. I took a square job and stuck with it.” I put my glass down. “Then Doug Rance turned up with a proposition. I said no to him a few times and wound up saying yes.”

“What changed your mind?”

Sometimes you have to share your dreams. It was the Scotch or the girl or a combination of the two, I suppose. I told her about Bannion’s dump outside of Boulder and how it would pay off like a broken slot machine with the right sort of operation. And how I couldn’t go there for a drink without itching for the money to buy the place and run it the way it ought to be run. And how I was in this deal for the money because there was no other way for me to get that money, and when the deal was done I would be back in Boulder, through with the grift forever and all set to make decent money on the square.

She asked a few questions and I answered them. Then we were both a long time silent. Our glasses were empty. I let them stay that way. I had enough of a load to feel it and I didn’t want to get drunk. We smoked a few cigarettes. I kept trying not to look at her, and kept failing in the attempt. This was dangerous. The more I looked at her the more I came up with crazy images. Pictures of the two of us on top of a Colorado mountain, walking hand in hand, as fresh and breathlessly natural as a commercial for mentholated cigarettes. The American Dream, stock footage number 40938.

Well, we all of us had our weaknesses. Doug gambled, I fell in love. It was nothing I wouldn’t be able to put a lid on. But I didn’t want any more to drink, not now.

“John.”

I turned to her.

“I hope you get what you want, John.”

We looked at each other. She was curled up on that couch beside me like a large cat in front of a fireplace. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to make her purr.

“John—”

I reached for her; she came to me. She smelled as clean and alive as a newly mowed lawn. I kissed her, and she went rigid and made a weird little sound deep in her throat, and then her arms were tight around me and the tension was gone and we kissed again.

We broke. I lit two cigarettes and gave one of them to her. Her hand was trembling. She dropped the cigarette, and I got down on my hands and knees and chased it. It had bounced under the couch. I picked it up and rubbed the spot where the carpet was lightly scorched. She took it from me and drew on it, coughed, crushed it out in the ashtray. She straightened up and closed her eyes tight. Her hands bunched up into nervous little fists.

“I didn’t want this to happen, John.”

I said nothing.

“I don’t, I can’t, I—”

I waited.

“It has to be real. I don’t want another...I can’t...it has to mean something. It has to—”

I stood up. She hesitated, then got to her feet. I kissed her and held her close. Her body pressed against me all the way. I kissed her again and crushed her closer.

“Yes,” she said.

Afterward she lay on her side with her eyes closed and a lazy grin on her lips. She made a sweet purring sound. I got out of her bed and padded into the living room. The ice had melted. I got fresh ice from the refrigerator and made stiff drinks for both of us. I brought the drinks and our cigarettes back to the bedroom. She had not changed position. She still lay on her side, the same sweet ghost of a smile on her lips. She was still purring.

I put the drinks and the cigarettes on the bedside table and kissed her.

“Mmmmm,” she said. She opened her eyes and yawned luxuriously. “Oh, God,” she said. “I really didn’t want this to happen.”

“Neither did I.”

“But I’m glad it did. What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

“Is it that late already? I thought it was about ten o’clock.”

“That was three hours ago.”

“Maybe you’d better get dressed.”

“I guess so.”

“I wish you could sleep here, but I think you should probably sleep at your hotel. I don’t want Wally to know about this. Actions above and beyond the call of duty. He might even approve, goddamn him. But I don’t want him to know about it, or Doug Rance either.”

“Don’t worry.”

She had a special beauty nude. Most women look better clothed. Bodies are imperfect. Clothes hide, and also promise, and the promise is too often better than the fulfillment of it. Not so with Evvie.

She still wore the jade heart. I touched it, let my fingers trail down to her breasts. She purred again.

“I’ll get dressed and drive you back.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Well, you can’t walk, for God’s sake.”

“Why not? It’s a nice night.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“How far?”

“Nine or ten blocks, I think. All the way down to North Union and then over to the hotel. Let me drive you, John.”

“I feel like walking.”

I dressed. I finished my drink and she worked on hers. It was late and the night outside was cold and quiet.

I said, “He’s going to keep you busy tomorrow morning with a million crazy questions. You know what to tell him. Then he may want to see me, or he may try to stall for more time. I don’t think I should let him stall too much. I’m going to grab a plane tomorrow afternoon.”

“For Toronto?”

“Yes.” I drew on a cigarette. “The more I think about it, the more I think I shouldn’t see him tomorrow. It would be good if he got tied up with something during the morning that kept him busy until two or three in the afternoon, and then by the time he was ready for me it would be too late and I would have already left for the airport. I think that’s the way to do it, to give him the rope so that he can rope himself in a little.”

“What do you have to do in Toronto?”

“A lot of things. I’ll dodge around for about a week to give him time to get answers to his letters. Keep a close watch on him in the meantime. If he starts to go off the track, don’t keep it a secret. Get on the goddamn phone and call us.”

“Where?”

“You have the Barnstable number. It’s on our letterhead. Just call and talk to Doug.”

“Suppose I want to talk to you?”

I told her what hotel I was staying at, and how to reach me. I didn’t spend too much time at the hotel. I told her to leave messages if I wasn’t there, to give her name as Miss Carmody. If there was a message to the effect that Miss Carmody had called, I would try her first at her apartment and then at the office.

“And when will I see you again, John?”

“In about a week, maybe ten days. I think he’ll probably try to get in touch with us, and we’ll give him a short stall and then make contact again, probably with me coming down here to Olean again.”

She didn’t say anything. I knotted my tie and made the knot properly small and neat. I put a foot on a chair and tied my shoe. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. It was a copper-enameled ashtray with a red and green geometric design on it, the sort of thing women make in Golden-Ager classes at the YWCA.

She said, “I’ll miss you.”

“Evvie—”

She stood up. I turned to her and kissed her. She was all breathless and shaky. There were deep circles under her eyes.

“I hope I’m not just part of the game, John. Cheat the mooch and sleep with the girl, all of it part of a package deal. I hope—”

“You know better.”

“I hope so,” she said.

The air was cool, the sky clear. There was a nearly full moon and a scattering of stars. Irving Street was wide, with tall shade trees lining the curbs on both sides of the street. The houses were set back a good ways from the curb. They were single homes built forty or fifty years ago. Most of them had upstairs porches. Some had bay windows and other gingerbread. I walked eight blocks down Irving to North Union without meeting anyone. A single car passed me, a cab, empty. He slowed, I shook my head, and he went on. All but a few of the houses were completely dark inside. Here and there a light would be on upstairs, and in two houses I could see television screens flickering in darkened living rooms.