chapter17

The Pacific Hotel stood on a corner justabove the economic equator that divided the main street into a prosperoussection and a not so prosperous one. The lobby was almost empty on thisSaturday night. Four old men were playing bridge in the light of a standinglamp. The only other human being in sight was Dr. Geisman, if he qualified.

He got up Out of a shabby green plastic armchair andshook hands formally with Mrs. Hoffman.

"I see that you've arrived safely. How areyou?"

"I'm all right, thanks."

"Your daughter's unexpected demise came as quitea blow to us."

"To me, too."

"In fact I've been endeavoring allday to find a replacement for her. I still haven't succeeded. This is the worstpossible time of year to try to recruit teaching personnel."

"That's too bad."

I left them trying to breathe life intotheir stillborn conversation and went into the bar for a drink. A singlecustomer sat trading sorrows with the fat lugubrious bartender. Her hair wasdyed black, with a greenish sheen on it like certain ducks.

I recognized the woman—I could havespotted Mrs. Perrine at a thousand yards—and I started to back out of the room.She turned and saw me.

"Fancy meeting you here." Shemade a large gesture which almost upset the empty glass in front of her, andsaid to the bartender: "This is my friend Mr. Archer. Pour my friend adrink."

"What'll you have?"

"Bourbon. I'm paying. What is the ladydrinking?"

"Planter's punch," she said,"and thanks for the 'lady.' Thanks for everything in fact. I'mcelebrating, been celebrating all day."

I wished she hadn't been. The granitefront she had kept up at her trial had eroded, and the inner ruin of her lifeshowed through. While I didn't know all of Mrs. Perrine's secrets, I knew the recordshe had left on the police blotters of twenty cities. She had been innocent ofthis one particular crime, but she was a hustler who had worked the coasts fromAcapulco to Seattle and from Montreal to Key West.

The bartender limped away to make our drinks.I sat on the stool beside her. "You should pick another town to celebratein."

"I know. This town is a graveyard. I felt likethe last living inhabitant, until you sashayed in."

"That isn't what I mean, Mrs. Perrine."

"Hell, call me Bridget, you're my pal, you'veearned the right."

"Okay, Bridget. The police didn't like youracquittal, you couldn't expect them to. They'll pick you up for any littlething."

"I haven't stepped out of line. I have my ownmoney."

"I'm thinking about what you might do if you goon celebrating. You can't afford to jaywalk in this town."

She considered this problem, and hertwisting face mimicked the efforts of her mind. "You may be right at that.I been thinking of going to Vegas in the morning. I have a friend inVegas."

The bartender brought our drinks. Mrs.Perrine sipped at hers, making a sour face, as if she'd suddenly lost her tastefor it. Her gaze strayed to the mirror behind the bar.

"My gosh," she said, "is that me? Ilook like the wrath of God."

"Take a bath and get some sleep."

"It isn't so easy to sleep. I get lonely atnight." She ogled me, more or less automatically.

She wasn't my baby. I finished my drink and put twodollar bills on the bar.

"Good night, Bridget. Take it easy. I have tomake a phone call."

"Sure you do. See you at the EpworthLeague."

The bartender limped toward her as Iwalked out. Mrs. Hoffman and Dr. Geisman were no longer in the lobby. I foundthe telephone booths in a cul-de-sac behind the main desk and called theBradshaw house.

Before the phone had rung more than once,the old lady's voice came quavering over the line. "Roy? Is that you,Roy?"

"This is Archer."

"I was so hoping it would be Roy. Healways telephones by this time. You don't suppose something has happened tohim?"

"No. I don't."

"Have you seen the paper?"

"No."

"There's an item to the effect thatLaura Sutherland went to the Reno conference with him Roy didn't tell me that.Do you suppose he's interested in Laura?"

"I wouldn't know."

"She's a lovely young woman, don't you think?"

I wondered if she'd had some wine atdinner that made her silly. "I have no opinion on the subject, Mrs.

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009