The Sorcerer's House (32 page)

"You need not trouble. To me this is of professional interest, I think."

If I had been wearing a hat, I would have removed it. "You are a formidable woman, Madame Orizia."

"My profession requires it, Mr. Dunn."

"What in the hell's going on here?" George wanted to know.

"Madame Orizia ventured into the house alone and was nearly raped by a dwarf," I explained. "It was a harrowing experience, I'm sure."

"I came," Madame Orizia said. "This servant let me in. I set out in search of psychic vibrations. You know the rest."

The old man cleared his throat. "I told her, sir, that you were in another part of the house. I seated her in our parlor, sir, and went into our kitchen to prepare tea. When I returned with it, she had gone." He coughed politely. "I attempted to communicate the occurrence via telephone, sir, but--"

"But mine was out of service. Switched off. You're right, it was."

George was examining the back of the limousine. He tapped the trunk. "What's in this thing, Bax?"

I said, "I have no idea. I intend to open it tomorrow morning."

"Why tomorrow? Why not now?"

"Because I believe it wiser to open it when we have daylight."

"You've got something alive in there. I can hear it moving around."

Here I made a mistake, Millie, and it proved to be a bad one. I said, "I have nothing in there, and this is not your car."

George unbuckled the big straps and threw open the rusty clasps faster than I would have believed possible.

Madame Orizia gasped. "Ahhh . . ." For a moment, that was the only sound--or at least, the only sound that I remember.

An instant later the trunk flew open, and a man like a tall skeleton in rusty black jumped out. The skin was so tightly stretched over his face that it seemed it must tear; only his eyes were alive.

No. His eyes were more than alive. Will you grasp what I am saying, Millie, if I say they flamed?

He bowed to us as a marionette might bow. His voice was iron on iron. "I am Nicholas, the butler." Awaiting no reply, he marched into the house.

I heard someone whisper, "Good God . . .," and only later did I realize that the whisperer had been me.

George grabbed a handful of my filthy shirt. "You set this up, you bastard!"

I shook my head.

"You know it and I know it." His face was within half an inch of mine. I felt his spittle. "You and your crazy stories!"

The old man laid a hand on his arm. "Please contain yourself, sir."

George pushed him aside. "I'm going to catch that bastard and get the truth out of him." He sprinted into the house, and it was only then that I realized I had begun to draw the sword Winker had presented to me.

Toby and I searched for George for hours, Millie, but we did not find him; and at last I bathed and went to bed so utterly exhausted that I could scarcely stand.

Now it is morning, and I am still in bed. Thanks to old Nick, I have breakfasted on soft-boiled eggs, toast, and three cups of very good coffee; and I have been writing to you for half the morning. The old man brought me paper and this pen, and I brace the empty tray upon my knees.

George is gone, and only God knows where. I must find him, and I will. I am still tired, but I have lingered too long in bed already.

Ever your loving friend,

Bax

Hey, Prof!

Got your letter and all the stuff. I owe you, man. Anything you want, ever. I gave Vicki your address and told her to get in touch if she needs some money.

Could you send me some pencils and paper with lines on it? Writing stuff is tough to get here.

Nothing new about the Greek. I have feelers out, but nothing so far.

You asked about guns. I do not know one thing about the kind you have. I seen them in movies, but movies hardly ever get stuff right.

But a gun is a gun. Hold it tight. The tighter you can hold without your hand shaking, the better. You have got to be fast but not fumble. Take your time, but do not waste any time doing it. It is grip, front
sight, and trigger when you shoot. Get all three right, and there is not a lot of people who will beat you. Hold it tight, put your front sight on him, and pull back the trigger fast without jerking it. Practice can be good or bad. It is good if you do it right, bad if you do not. A lot will burn up three boxes of ammo and think they have learned, but in a fight it is the first shot that counts. Do not miss. Do not stall around. Shoot smooth and fast. Where did it go?

Sheldon Hawes

Dear Bax,

Your last letter got me very, very upset. You started by saying that George was gone, then told me all those other things about you and the dwarf. When I read the end I understood that you were telling me that George might be in a lot of danger.

You were still tired when you wrote all of that, so I understand. But you are worrying way too much. George can take care of himself. In fact, he can talk his way out of just about anything. I ought to know.

It is you I worry about, Bax. Not about the dwarf or any of that, but about all those women. You are not used to dealing with women. How
could you be? We women say that men are only interested in one thing and what we mean is you know what. But a lot of single women are interested in just one thing too. Only it is not the same thing.

You must keep that in mind, Bax. For my sake. Think of me. I am enclosing my picture so that you can. I am not a good talker or a good letter writer either, I know. So I am going to let my picture talk for me.

Do you like it? I hope so.

I think a bathing suit should cover up a person more than that one does. I like a one-piece suit with a cute little skirt. But George made me take that one so he could show me off. I am his trophy wife. That is what he said.

Well, I do have a nice figure even if it is a little bit too big in certain places. That is what Brenda says. (She sews my dresses.) A lot of the girls did not like me at Mount Holyoke and made jokes about blondes. As if I would not know that I had to buy a ticket.

But my grades were bad, and that helped. Except for Prof. Foley, who gave me good ones in Women's Studies. She was really down on all men and wanted to hold my hand so I let her.

Then my father told me to marry a rising executive in a growing industry, so I married George. I felt I could not go against my father after he left me so much.

Now I am here in this big house, all alone and lonesome except for Fluffy Cat and my maid. (Her name is really Maria Josefa, but I just call her Maria.) So when you look at my picture, Bax, please remember how much I would like to talk to you. If you wanted to hold my hand, I would not pull away. But do not tell George that.

The skip up here means I stopped writing because lunch was ready and Madame Orizia phoned. She has never phoned me before and I do not know how she got my number. She told me a lot, especially about George. I do not think she really likes him but she would not say that. I explained that I do not, either, but she still would not say it. She had seen him in the lobby. She had seen you in a trance, so she thought
George was you! When she saw George, she wondered what you were so mad about!

She thinks that house is dangerous and you ought to move out right away. So do I.

Fondly,

Millie

Dear Millie:

"How did you know?" That was Doris on the telephone, and it was (as you will soon see) the question that roused me from my lethargy.

At the time I could only ask her, "Know what?"

"Who one of the mourners at Skotos's funeral was. I--I'm going to be honest about this. I peeked, Bax. Okay, I know I promised I wouldn't, but I got so damn curious. Now you get to say you'll never trust me again."

"All right, I'll never trust you again. Do I have to mean it?"

"No. Anyway, after I'd read the name I thought no way, he's really lost it this time. So I grabbed the next chance I had to talk to Jim--his door is always open and all that crap--and asked him about the
funeral. He said, 'The other two besides me? I can't be sure. It's been three years.'

"So I said, 'everybody in the company marvels at your memory, sir,' and laid it on really thick. Finally he said, 'I've got them now. One was a man I didn't know.'

"I asked if it was the lawyer, but he said no. 'Just a little guy I'd never seen before, Doris. I don't believe I've seen him since, either.' Now you're going to tell me who that was."

I said, "No. I could tell you who I think it was, but I could be wrong and it would be pointless. So I won't. I take it that Mr. Hardaway named someone eventually?"

"That's right. He said the other one was a woman he knew, somebody in the business, but he couldn't think of her name. When he said that, I felt like kissing you. And kicking you afterward, too, for not telling me last night."

I said, "I did tell you. I wrote it--"