An Evil Guest by Gene Wolfe Page A

was? The impression was so strong that he would not have boarded the elevator if there had been anyone else in it.
    He was walking down the long second-floor corridor when the sound of a pistol slide being racked made him turn. For an instant he saw the muzzle of the gun and threw himself against the door of the nearest apartment with all his strength.
    It gave way, and he staggered into someone’s living room as the gun spoke in the corridor behind him. He had nearly reached the kitchen before he felt the stab of pain in his right calf.
    He had known there would be no way out of the kitchen save one window. There was no time to break that window or climb through it, but kitchen gadgets hung above the sink. He threw a cleaver and saw the gunman stagger backward, his bleeding face in both hands.
    With a meat tenderizer in one hand and a carving knife in the other Gideon tried to pursue him, but found that it was all that he could do to walk without falling. Before he limped away, he picked up his assailant’s gun and left three hundred dollars under a book on the coffee table.
    M ARGARET was fifteen minutes late. “There was a phone call, Miss Casey. Miss Dempster called wanting the number of your cell phone.”
    Cassie nodded. “You must not have given it to her.”
    “I didn’t. You had given it to me, but I didn’t think you would want me to give it out. So I told her I didn’t have it.”
    “What’s this!” Cassie’s smile would have broken the heart of every man in sight, had there been any. “You lied to India, Margaret? Tsk, tsk!”
    “I didn’t, Miss Casey. Things like that really bother me, so I don’t do it unless I’ve got to. You had written your number on that napkin. Remember?”
    “Right, I do.”
    “Well, before I told Miss Dempster I didn’t have it, I got the napkin and threw it away. I’ve got a pretty little round wastebasket next to my phone.”
    “Handy,” Cassie remarked.
    “It truly is, Miss Casey, and while we were still talking back and forth I took your napkin out of my purse and dropped it into there. Of course after we’d hung up I looked down real careful and read the number. I copied itinto my book, only there was a good deal said between Miss Dempster and me before. Before she’d let me off the phone, you know.”
    “Wait a bit,” Cassie said. “What would you have done if you hadn’t been able to read the number?”
    “Why I’d shake the wastebasket, Miss Casey, just like anybody would. Made that napkin jump around in there, you know, until I could read it.”
    “Golly, I should have thought of that. What did India have to say?”
    “Ever so many things.” Margaret looked vague. “A read-through was one. She’d got the Tiara, she said, by telling them her new show might open there. One tomorrow afternoon, it will be.”
    “I’m not signed,” Cassie remarked.
    “I don’t think anybody is, Miss Casey. Or nobody but Miss Dempster and Mr. Palma. She said he was, come to think.”
    “I see.”
    “Only she said she’s been talking to Ms. Youmans and it’s all settled except for signing. She said to tell you she absolutely had to have you and you’d be letting them all down if you wouldn’t take it, so she was ever so very glad you were going to do it. Because of Mr. Rosenquist is what she said.”
    “I’ve got it. Before I sign, I want to talk to Zelda. She’s sold me down the volcano much too cheaply, unless I’m badly mistaken.”
    Margaret tittered. “Then, too, she wants to know how many solo songs you’ll do.”
    “None,” Cassie said firmly.
    “That Mr. Rosenquist wanted five, she said. Only Miss Dempster doesn’t want you to strain your voice. She is trying to get him down to the three, she said. There is a voice coach, too, now. I don’t recall the name.”
    “Doesn’t matter. Dammit! I can sing along with two or three other people, but I’m no singer.”
    “You sing beautifully, Miss Casey.”
    When Cassie objected, Margaret