Jesso, may I ask?”
“Let me in or you’ll find out.”
The Baron had a fine, high laugh and it took a while before he whinnied out of breath.
“Jesso, so I remembered, is a paste. Something that sculptors use. It hardens into stone. Am I correct?” He put on a sunny smile.
“Why don’t you try it? Where’s Kator?”
“Ah, yes, dear Kator. Johannes does pick up the strangest people. Hofer, is my breakfast ready?”
The butler said yes and got waved away.
“Johannes isn’t in at the moment. In fact, I understand he went abroad.”
“He’s back. I came back with him.”
“Oh, you did? Then he must have been delayed in Hamburg. I’ll ask Hofer about it. Hofer should know.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Forgive me. I am von Lohe. Hofer failed to introduce me. Helmut von Lohe,” and he bowed from the waist.
“Jack Jesso.”
“Have you had breakfast, Mr. Jesso?”
Jesso didn’t answer right away because he didn’t know what to call the man. Finally he said, “Look, does Kator live here?”
“Oh, yes. When Johannes is in town he stays with me.” Helmut von Lohe smiled. “Would you care to wait, Mr. Jesso? Join me in breakfast?” The smile changed from vapid to personal.
“I’ll wait.”
Von Lohe led the way, weaving across the large hall of the house with a rustling of his robe, then through a silk and petit-point salon and out to the solarium. There was a little fountain there, making a tinkle, and big plants standing still in the overheated air. Something was blooming with a sweet odor.
“Be seated, Mr. Jesso.” Helmut swirled himself into a wicker chair. It creaked like an old gate. “You are an American, Mr. Jesso, am I right?”
“Sure.”
“Would you like to know how I know?” Jesso didn’t care, but Helmut told him anyway. “Because you didn’t know how to address me.” He whinnied. Then, with his smile, “Just call me Helmut. You’d like that, as an American, wouldn’t you?”
Jesso was kept from telling him what he’d like when Hofer rolled the breakfast up. There was everything and Baron von Lohe ate like a pig.
That was at eleven. At eleven-thirty Helmut was full. He rang the bell, waved at the mess on the table, and spoke to the butler in English. Von Lohe had manners. Or maybe he wanted Jesso to understand.
“Has the Frau Baronin had breakfast, Hofer?”
“Yes, Herr Baron.”
“You will tell her I am in the solarium,” said Helmut, and he sat back like a king awaiting his retinue. He also gave Jesso a benign look, but that dropped off fast.
“The Frau Baronin has left for the city,” said Hofer, and that answer spoiled the Baron’s fun so much that he got nasty when he told Hofer to leave.
“And send her to me when she returns,” he called after the butler. Then he turned back to Jesso.
“My wife, Mr. Jesso, keeps irregular hours at times. However,” and he patted the yellow hair where it was draped across the skull, “she is not quite used to her new standing.”
“Oh,” said Jesso. “Country girl?”
“You might say so, dear Jack. In many ways, you might say so.”
It sounded mysterious as hell, but Jesso wasn’t much interested.
“When you meet her,” said the Baron, “you will—”
“I’ve seen her,” said Jesso. “When I came in.”
“Well,” said Helmut. He wasn’t all pleased. “It deprives me of the pleasure of introducing her to you.”
“We haven’t met. I just saw her.”
The Baron smiled, leaned forward. “A remarkable woman, wouldn’t you say so?” He looked smug. “In my family we have always favored beautiful women.” He said it as if nobody else ever favored beautiful women. The Baron leaned closer. “Her name is Renette.”
Jesso looked away. Like a lousy pimp, he thought.
“Not much of a country-girl name,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Jesso felt out of place with the Baron, and he started to wonder what had happened to Kator. He pulled a cigarette out of
“Let me in or you’ll find out.”
The Baron had a fine, high laugh and it took a while before he whinnied out of breath.
“Jesso, so I remembered, is a paste. Something that sculptors use. It hardens into stone. Am I correct?” He put on a sunny smile.
“Why don’t you try it? Where’s Kator?”
“Ah, yes, dear Kator. Johannes does pick up the strangest people. Hofer, is my breakfast ready?”
The butler said yes and got waved away.
“Johannes isn’t in at the moment. In fact, I understand he went abroad.”
“He’s back. I came back with him.”
“Oh, you did? Then he must have been delayed in Hamburg. I’ll ask Hofer about it. Hofer should know.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Forgive me. I am von Lohe. Hofer failed to introduce me. Helmut von Lohe,” and he bowed from the waist.
“Jack Jesso.”
“Have you had breakfast, Mr. Jesso?”
Jesso didn’t answer right away because he didn’t know what to call the man. Finally he said, “Look, does Kator live here?”
“Oh, yes. When Johannes is in town he stays with me.” Helmut von Lohe smiled. “Would you care to wait, Mr. Jesso? Join me in breakfast?” The smile changed from vapid to personal.
“I’ll wait.”
Von Lohe led the way, weaving across the large hall of the house with a rustling of his robe, then through a silk and petit-point salon and out to the solarium. There was a little fountain there, making a tinkle, and big plants standing still in the overheated air. Something was blooming with a sweet odor.
“Be seated, Mr. Jesso.” Helmut swirled himself into a wicker chair. It creaked like an old gate. “You are an American, Mr. Jesso, am I right?”
“Sure.”
“Would you like to know how I know?” Jesso didn’t care, but Helmut told him anyway. “Because you didn’t know how to address me.” He whinnied. Then, with his smile, “Just call me Helmut. You’d like that, as an American, wouldn’t you?”
Jesso was kept from telling him what he’d like when Hofer rolled the breakfast up. There was everything and Baron von Lohe ate like a pig.
That was at eleven. At eleven-thirty Helmut was full. He rang the bell, waved at the mess on the table, and spoke to the butler in English. Von Lohe had manners. Or maybe he wanted Jesso to understand.
“Has the Frau Baronin had breakfast, Hofer?”
“Yes, Herr Baron.”
“You will tell her I am in the solarium,” said Helmut, and he sat back like a king awaiting his retinue. He also gave Jesso a benign look, but that dropped off fast.
“The Frau Baronin has left for the city,” said Hofer, and that answer spoiled the Baron’s fun so much that he got nasty when he told Hofer to leave.
“And send her to me when she returns,” he called after the butler. Then he turned back to Jesso.
“My wife, Mr. Jesso, keeps irregular hours at times. However,” and he patted the yellow hair where it was draped across the skull, “she is not quite used to her new standing.”
“Oh,” said Jesso. “Country girl?”
“You might say so, dear Jack. In many ways, you might say so.”
It sounded mysterious as hell, but Jesso wasn’t much interested.
“When you meet her,” said the Baron, “you will—”
“I’ve seen her,” said Jesso. “When I came in.”
“Well,” said Helmut. He wasn’t all pleased. “It deprives me of the pleasure of introducing her to you.”
“We haven’t met. I just saw her.”
The Baron smiled, leaned forward. “A remarkable woman, wouldn’t you say so?” He looked smug. “In my family we have always favored beautiful women.” He said it as if nobody else ever favored beautiful women. The Baron leaned closer. “Her name is Renette.”
Jesso looked away. Like a lousy pimp, he thought.
“Not much of a country-girl name,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Jesso felt out of place with the Baron, and he started to wonder what had happened to Kator. He pulled a cigarette out of
Similar Books
