stood open, leading to the balcony. I looked around for Marietta’s dark, secret head.
She wasn’t there. I went to the French windows and stepped out onto the terrace. Down in the square, the bull was still on the rampage. The squeals and cries and the organ drowned out the marimba. Sparks and tinsel streamers of light flared up to me.
I saw Marietta at once. She was at a corner table, alone, a tequila in front of her. Her face quivered in and out of brightness as the strange red, yellow, green lights of the fireworks followed each other. She wasn’t looking down into the square. She was in profile to me, gazing out across the red-tiled roofs.
“Marietta.”
She moved her head. The dark hair fell loosely around her face. She wore a green blouse with a white skirt, elegant with a touch of faded glamour, like something from Antibes in the twenties. The green blouse made the dark, unfathomable eyes green as laurel leaves. She looked up at me, calm, abstracted, not smiling and yet intimate.
“Hello, Peter,” she said. “I hope you’ve got a cigarette. I’m too lazy to go to the bar for some.”
I sat down next to her, facing the glow and dazzle of the Zocalo. I handed a cigarette to her and lit a match as her dark head came toward me. My hand was unsteady. I felt like a kid with his first love. But it was fear really, fear for what she might have done or what she might be accused of having done.
I said, “Why on earth did you come here, Marietta?”
She glanced up over the thin trickle of smoke from the cigarette. “I came to see Sally.”
“I know. But why? What did you think you could do? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it’d be better coming without you. I made Jake drive me down.”
“Jake,” I said. “Jake who you came screaming from last night.”
The vague eyes watched me. “He has a car. I didn’t want to come by bus. I didn’t take him to Sally’s. I left him here. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”
Was that how she thought of me. I wondered? Jake who has a car. Peter who has a couch to sleep on.
Keeping my hands quiet on the table, I said, “And Sally? How was she?”
“Sally?” She shrugged. “The same.”
“She didn’t say anything?”
“Of course she said things. Sally always says things. She had a fine time.”
“Doing what?”
“Oh, a spite fest. Little nasty threats and hints. Enjoying having me in her power. She’s that unbelievable a woman, Peter. She talks about having people in her power. Like the pictures.”
I saw the scene so clearly. Sally taunting Marietta with the hold she had over her, relishing it, not letting her know that she wasn’t going to the police after all. Making her squirm.
“I shouldn’t have gone,” she was saying. “I only made things worse.” Her eyes met mine again, perfectly at ease. I tried to penetrate their impenetrability. Could anyone put on so good an act, if…?
I said, “And you left her? Sally?”
“What do you think I did—move in with her?”
“I mean, she was all right when you left her?”
“Of course.” She picked up her tequila. “Why?”
“Because now,” I said, “she’s dead.”
Marietta dropped her tequila. The little glass clattered across the table, coming to rest on its side against the central vase of magenta stock. I’d never seen her face like that before. The green eyes came alive with a leaping emotion that had fear in it and a strange, meaningless exaltation too. It was the least expected reaction.
Then I realized that she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at something over my shoulder. And I knew then that the glow, the new, half-fearful warmth that had thawed her, had nothing to do with what I had said. I doubt if she had even heard me. I turned to follow the direction of her rapt eyes.
Martin had come onto the terrace with Iris at his side.
They joined us at the table. Iris looked white and spent. Martin had her arm tucked into his. In his other hand he
She wasn’t there. I went to the French windows and stepped out onto the terrace. Down in the square, the bull was still on the rampage. The squeals and cries and the organ drowned out the marimba. Sparks and tinsel streamers of light flared up to me.
I saw Marietta at once. She was at a corner table, alone, a tequila in front of her. Her face quivered in and out of brightness as the strange red, yellow, green lights of the fireworks followed each other. She wasn’t looking down into the square. She was in profile to me, gazing out across the red-tiled roofs.
“Marietta.”
She moved her head. The dark hair fell loosely around her face. She wore a green blouse with a white skirt, elegant with a touch of faded glamour, like something from Antibes in the twenties. The green blouse made the dark, unfathomable eyes green as laurel leaves. She looked up at me, calm, abstracted, not smiling and yet intimate.
“Hello, Peter,” she said. “I hope you’ve got a cigarette. I’m too lazy to go to the bar for some.”
I sat down next to her, facing the glow and dazzle of the Zocalo. I handed a cigarette to her and lit a match as her dark head came toward me. My hand was unsteady. I felt like a kid with his first love. But it was fear really, fear for what she might have done or what she might be accused of having done.
I said, “Why on earth did you come here, Marietta?”
She glanced up over the thin trickle of smoke from the cigarette. “I came to see Sally.”
“I know. But why? What did you think you could do? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it’d be better coming without you. I made Jake drive me down.”
“Jake,” I said. “Jake who you came screaming from last night.”
The vague eyes watched me. “He has a car. I didn’t want to come by bus. I didn’t take him to Sally’s. I left him here. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”
Was that how she thought of me. I wondered? Jake who has a car. Peter who has a couch to sleep on.
Keeping my hands quiet on the table, I said, “And Sally? How was she?”
“Sally?” She shrugged. “The same.”
“She didn’t say anything?”
“Of course she said things. Sally always says things. She had a fine time.”
“Doing what?”
“Oh, a spite fest. Little nasty threats and hints. Enjoying having me in her power. She’s that unbelievable a woman, Peter. She talks about having people in her power. Like the pictures.”
I saw the scene so clearly. Sally taunting Marietta with the hold she had over her, relishing it, not letting her know that she wasn’t going to the police after all. Making her squirm.
“I shouldn’t have gone,” she was saying. “I only made things worse.” Her eyes met mine again, perfectly at ease. I tried to penetrate their impenetrability. Could anyone put on so good an act, if…?
I said, “And you left her? Sally?”
“What do you think I did—move in with her?”
“I mean, she was all right when you left her?”
“Of course.” She picked up her tequila. “Why?”
“Because now,” I said, “she’s dead.”
Marietta dropped her tequila. The little glass clattered across the table, coming to rest on its side against the central vase of magenta stock. I’d never seen her face like that before. The green eyes came alive with a leaping emotion that had fear in it and a strange, meaningless exaltation too. It was the least expected reaction.
Then I realized that she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at something over my shoulder. And I knew then that the glow, the new, half-fearful warmth that had thawed her, had nothing to do with what I had said. I doubt if she had even heard me. I turned to follow the direction of her rapt eyes.
Martin had come onto the terrace with Iris at his side.
They joined us at the table. Iris looked white and spent. Martin had her arm tucked into his. In his other hand he
Similar Books
