Patricia Highsmith - The Tremor of Forgery by Patricia Highsmith

pittance the robber would get for them was irritating to think about. Ingham had delayed reactions, heightened bitternesses (heightened joys, sometimes, too), but his realization of this did little to help. Whenever he saw the old Arab who had stolen from his car definitely, and who might have stolen from his bungalow, Ingham felt like kicking him in whatever lay in the seat of those sordid pants. As a matter of fact, the Arab now scurried away at the sight of Ingham in Hammamet, sidling like an old crab into any alley or street that was nearest. It would be even excusable to kick him, Ingham thought, because if a policeman arrived — there was an occasional policeman in tan shirt and trousers on the street in Hammamet — he could say with truth that he had seen Abdullah in flagrante the night of June 30 th – July 1 st . Ingham remembered the date, because it was the night he had seen the corpse also, and he had thought of speaking to the police about it. He hadn ’ t spoken to the police, not only because he didn ’ t relish becoming involved with them, but because he foresaw that no one would really care.
    Ingham had dinner one evening with OWL at Melik ’ s, and mentioned his robbery of a few nights before.
    ‘ One of the boys, I ’ m sure of it. And I ’ ll bet I know which one, ’ said OWL.
    “ Which one? ’
    “ The short dark one. ’
    They were all short and dark, except Mokta and Hassim.
    “ The one called Hammed. Has his mouth sort of open all the time. ’ OWL demonstrated, and looked somewhat like a hare-lip, or rabbit. “ Of course, I ’ m not sure, but I don ’ t like his manner. He ’ s brought my towels a couple of times. I saw him drifting around my bungalow one day, not doing anything, just drifting around looking at the windows. Did you lock your shutters tonight? ’
    ‘ I did. ’ Since the robbery, Ingham had locked them from the inside whenever he was out.
    “ You ’ ll lose your lighter next, then your typewriter. A miracle they didn ’ t take that. Obviously the robber had to get away with something he could conceal — your shoes and stud box wrapped up in the jacket, probably. ’
    “ What do you think of these people, by the way? Their way of life? ’
    “ Ah-h! I don ’ t know where to begin! ’ Adams chuckled. “ They have their Allah, and very tolerant he must be. They ’ re reconciled to fate. Make no great effort, that ’ s their motto. Everything by rote in school, you know, no thinking involved. How does one change a way of life like this? Petty dishonesty is their way of life. Make a handful honest — and they ’ ll be cheated by the majority, and go back to dishonesty as a means of self-preservation. Can you blame them? ’
    “ No, ’ Ingham agreed. He really did see OWL ’ s point.
    ‘ Our country was lucky. We started out so well, with men like Tom Paine, Jefferson. What ideas they had, and they wrote them down for us! Benjamin Franklin. We may have departed now and then from them- but my goodness, they ’ re still there, in our Constitution… ’
    Was Adams going to say it was all spoilt by Sicilians, Puerto Ricans, Polish Jews ? Ingham didn ’ t care to ask Adams what had spoilt America ’ s idealism. He let Adams ramble on.
    ‘… Yes ! That might be the subject of my next tape. The corruption of American idealism. You never get so far, you never make so many friends, you know, as when you tell the truth. There ’ s always some new failure to talk about. And let ’ s face it, our potential friends ’ — here Adams beamed, the happy squirrel again — ‘ are more interested in our failures than in our successes. Failures make people human. They ’ re jealous of us, because they think we ’ re super men, invincible empire-builders … ’ On and on it went.
    And the curious thing, Ingham thought, was that it didn ’ t sound so bad tonight. It sounded true, and almost liberal. No, the chief thing in which Adams was wrong, rotten even, was in