A Game for the Living by Patricia Highsmith Page B

not going to work, just sitting in his apartment or else dashing across town to call on someone he or Theodore knew, or Lelia had known, and assure them of his innocence. Sauzas was keeping a close watch on Ramón.
    Theodore had an idea that the telephone caller might be Elissa Straeter, because she had played this telephone trick a few times before, calling again a moment later and speaking to him. This happened only when she had been drinking. Now and then, when he saw her at a party, she flirted with him, told him he was the only man she was attracted to in Mexico, but Theodore was repelled by her, and always had been. Since he had been a little abrupt with her when she had called to express sympathy after Lelia’s death and to invite him to a party, he thought she might be retaliating in this way. Or she might have been too drunk to say a word. Theodore had said: “Elissa? . . . Elissa?” once into the telephone, but, feeling very silly, he had stopped. It would have been difficult to explain to Sauzas, perhaps, but Theodore knew as surely as he existed that Elissa Straeter had neither killed Lelia nor hired anyone else to kill her. She was from one of the ‘good’ families of America, and politeness and gentleness were so deeply instilled in her they were really part of her blood, along with the alcohol. “Oh, of cou-rse ” and “ Thank you” were her most frequent phrases. He had once seen a drink spilled down her dress by someone, accidentally, and Elissa had said in her drunken, gentle voice: “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Theodore could not have borne Sauzas dashing off on the tangent that Elissa had a motive if she was in love with him, so he said nothing about her. She was one of those women, not the first in Theodore’s life, whose attentions were too embarrassing to acknowledge. Every man, even the ugliest, must have them, Theodore thought, such was the variety of sexual conditioning.
    One morning, when Theodore was in his studio trying to work, Inocenza came in with the first mail. There was a bill from the lawyer Castilo, a bulletin from the Art Institute at San Miguel de Allende, and a postcard which showed a colored picture of an airport with a hangar flying an American flag. Theodore turned it over and read:
    Monday
    Amados mios,
    I am doing a little painting and having a good time with Inés, who is driving me all around Florida. Beautiful country and wonderful climate. Returning in two weeks. Love to you both,
    Your Lelia
    It was postmarked February 18 from Tampa, Florida. Inés was a cousin of Lelia’s, who was married to an American and lived in Orlando.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Inocenza, who was watching him.
    Theodore shook his head, too dazed to say anything for a moment. “A joke—somebody’s joke.” He handed her the card. Inocenza could not read very fluently, but the card was typewritten and in Spanish. And, curiously, it was just what Lelia might have written, but Lelia would have signed it ‘L.’ with a pen and put in a couple of X’s, probably.
    â€œFrom Señorita Lelia ?”
    â€œIt was written only a week ago, Inocenza! And mailed from North America!”
    â€œName of God! It is from her spirit!” Inocenza exclaimed, and clapped her hand over her mouth while her brain struggled to convince her that this was not true.
    â€œNo, it is somebody’s joke,” Theodore said angrily, starting for the telephone in his bedroom.
    He could not reach Sauzas, but he said firmly that it was “ muy, muy importante ”, and he was told that Sauzas would be radioed at once, as he was somewhere in a police car. Theodore walked around his bedroom, staring at the postcard and wondering if the typewriter could be traced, and if it were a Spanish typewriter, because a tilde was missing over one of the n’s. Or the writer might have been clever enough to leave off the accents to make it appear to