Patricia Highsmith - The Tremor of Forgery by Patricia Highsmith Page A

saying that communism or atheism was wrong for other people, any and all other people. Well, one rotten apple could spoil the whole barrel, Ingham thought, to use an adage which would surely please OWL. What it always came down to was the dreary fact that men were not as equal as Adams thought, that free enterprise sent certain ones to the top and certain others to the bottom, into the poverty that Adams so detested. But wasn ’ t it possible to have a socialist system with some capacity for competition, some room for personal reward? Of course. Ingham dreamed, while Adams spun.
    ‘ Birth control! Now that ’ s vital. A subject also that I have no fear in bringing up on my tapes. Who ’ s more aware of it than China? And who ’ s more aware of China than the Soviet Union? Breeders, the curse of humanity! And I don ’ t omit the United States. Poughkeepsie is a hotbed, the biggest unemployment relief record in the States, the last I heard, mostly due to Puerto Ricans and Negroes. The biggest families, fatherless technically … ’
    Hotbed. On it went. And Ingham couldn ’ t find a thing to deny in what Adams was saying. Of course one could cite — if one had the statistics in hand — Anglo-Saxon families guilty also of ten children, father with no job, maybe also non-existent. But Ingham merely listened.
    Jensen came in, without his dog.
    ‘ You know each other? ’ Ingham asked. ‘ Mr Jensen, Mr Adams. ’
    ‘ Won ’ t you join us? ’ Adams asked pleasan tl y.
    ‘ Have you had dinner? ’ Ingham asked.
    1 don ’ t care to eat, ’ Jensen said, sitting down.
    ‘ A good day ’ s work? ’ Ingham asked, feeling something was the matter with Jensen.
    ‘ No, not since noon. ’ Jensen put his lean forearm on the table. ‘ I think they ’ ve stolen my dog. He ’ s missing since eleven o ’ clock this morning. I let him out for a pee. ’
    ‘ Oh, I ’ m sorry, ’ Ingham said. ‘ You looked around? ’
    ‘ All over the ’ — Jensen might have repressed a tired curse — ‘ neighbourhood. Went around calling him everywhere. ’
    ‘ My goodness, ’ said Adams. 1 remember your dog. I saw him many times. ’
    ‘ He may be still alive, ’ Jensen said, somewhat defian nt y.
    ‘ Of course. I didn ’ t mean to imply he wasn ’ t, ’ Adams said. ‘ Is he apt to go off with strangers? ’
    ‘ He ’ s apt to tear them apart, ’ Jensen said. ‘ He hates crooked Arabs, and he can smell them a mile off. That ’ s why I ’ m afraid they have killed him already. I walked all the streets calling him — until people were yelling at me to shut up. ’
    ‘ Any idea who did it? ’ Ingham asked. Jensen took so long to answer — he looked as if he were in a daze — that Ingham asked, ‘ You think they might be holding him for a reward? ’
    ‘I hope so. But so far nobody ’ s told me. ’
    ‘ Would he be likely to eat any poisoned meat? ’ Adams asked.
    ‘ I don ’ t think so. He ’ s not a dog to gobble up putrid fish on the beach. ’ Jensen ’ s English was as usual eloquent and distinct.
    Ingham felt very sorry for Jensen. He felt the dog was gone, dead. Ingham glanced at Adams. Adams was trying to be practical, Ingham saw, trying to suggest something Jensen might do.
    ‘ They ’ ll toss his head in the door tomorrow morning .’ Jensen said. ‘ Or maybe his tail. ’ He laughed, grimaced, and Ingham saw his lower front teeth. ‘ A coffee, ’ Jensen said to the fat boy who had appeared at the table. ‘ We shall see .’ Jensen said. ‘ I am sorry to be so melancholic tonight. ’
    They drank their coffee.
    Adams said he had to be getting home. Ingham asked Jensen if he would like to go somewhere for another coffee or a drink. Adams did not care to join them.
    ‘ How about the Fourati? ’ Ingham asked. ‘ It ’ s cheerful, at least. ’ It wasn ’ t particularly, it was just an idea.
    They got into Ingham ’ s car. Ingham dropped Adams at the bungalows, then he and Jensen went on