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[pp. 115-117]
Burger was drinking a third beer. It made him perspire. He took off his sunglasses and wiped them with his handkerchief, then mopped his forehead and the back of his neck. The minute hand of the clock was past the half-hour. He was beginning to think of giving it up.
He was aware of someone coming toward the café from his right. He still had his eyes on the car. The figure stopped and said, "I've lost Thelma, Bob."
"Huh?" said Burger without turning to look. He knew it was one of the little girls. Not Thelma, the other one. Elizabeth. The one with the long hair.
Elizabeth came up to the table and said, "Can I sit down, Bob? It's terribly hot."
"Sure," said Burger. "Sit down."
He still didn't look at her. He still had his eyes on the car.
Elizabeth sat down. After a moment, Madame appeared. "Mademoiselle?" she said.
Elizabeth didn't say anything. After a moment Madame turned to Burger and said, "Monsieur?"
Burger realized at last that she was speaking to him. He turned to her automatically, forgetting the car for a moment. Madame smiled at him and said, "Encore de la bière, monsieur?"
"Beer?" he said. "Er--no. No more. Bring a Coke, will you--for the young lady?"
"Thanks," said Elizabeth. "Phew!" She got up, went around the table, and sat down again so that she obscured Burger's view of the car.
"I'm watching something," said Burger, reaching out a hand to move her clear. "Sit one side or the other, will you?"
"Sorry," said Elizabeth. She got up and moved the chair first to one side and then the other. Each time she moved, she walked across his field of vision. Then she sat down again. He had to lean a little to his right to see the car over her shoulder. From time to time she would smile at him, change her position on the chair, and momentarily obscure his view.
"For Christ's sake," he said at last. "Sit still!"
Madame came with the Coke and stood beside Elizabeth as she put it on the table. Elizabeth made a show of trying to find her money in her pocket.
"Would you not stand there?" said Burger in a sudden nervous show of irritation. "If you'd just move, I'll pay when I pay for the beer."
When Madame had moved, Elizabeth said, "Thanks for the Coke, Bob. Phew, it's hot! We walked round the shop windows. Everything's closed. Then I lost Thelma. I expect she's looking for me. Have you seen her? Thelma? My friend--you know?"
"Look, I haven't seen her," said Burger. "Drink your Coke."
"Sorry," said Elizabeth. She stuck the straw in the can of Coke and began to suck. She looked beyond Burger into the dark interior of the caf&eactue. Suddenly she said, "Oh, look!" and pointed behind Burger's right shoulder. As she did so she caught the can of Coke. It tipped over and rolled across the table, bubbling Coke out of the two triangular holes that Madame had punched in it. The Coke poured across the table and ran down onto Burger's knees. He got up at once, and brushed the liquid of his jeans with the back of his hand. He said, "You clumsy little bastard!" Madame came out with a cloth and gave it to Burger. She clicked her tongue over and over again.
"Bob, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry!" said Elizabeth.
Burger rubbed his jeans with the cloth. "What the hell," he said. "Never mind. They'll dry." The long wait had made him tired and irritable, and nothing, after all, was going to happen. It had all been one great big goddamn hoax. He would like his hands on the little bastard responsible. He said, "That was wrong. I shouldn't have sworn at you. I guess it's the heat."
"It's all right," said Elizabeth. "I'm very sorry."
[pp. 117-119]
Burger glanced at his watch and looked across the square. In the distance a small figure was running toward them over the cobbles. He recognized the sunglasses before he recognized the face and the short fair hair. He said, "Isn't that Thelma?"
"She's waving," said Elizabeth.
"Bob!" Thelma was calling. "Bob!"
"Over here," called Burger. He gave a wave with the cloth that was still in his hand.
When Thelma ran under the awning her cheeks were bright red and the inside of her sunglasses was misted over. She dropped panting into a chair. At last she said, "I was over there. I shouted to you, but you didn't hear. He ran away."
"Ran away?" said Burger. "Who ran away?"
"The man. He was looking in your car."
"Where did he run?" said Burger, dropping the cloth on the table and stepping out from under the awning into the brilliant light of the afternoon sun.
"Down there," said Thelma. She turned in the chair and pointed toward the Rue de la Forêt, his sandals slapping on the pavement. Thelma shouted, "Wait! I'm coming! I saw him!"
She got off the chair and began to run after him. Madame came quickly from behind the bar in the café and called, "Mademoiselle!" to Elizabeth.
"I'm very sorry," said Elizabeth, nodding toward the pool of Coke still standing on the surface of the table.
"Il est parti, ce Monsieur Burger?" said Madame.
"Oh, he's coming back," said Elizabeth.
"Ah!" said Madame.
Halfway down the street, Burger stopped. The street was empty. The houses were still shuttered against the afternoon sun. An old woman was sitting in the shade behind an open doorway. "You see a man run down here?" said Burger.
"Pardon, monsieur?" said the woman.
"What the hell," said Burger. "Never mind." When he turned back toward the square he saw Thelma. She was fifty yards further up the street. She was jogging toward him flat-footed.
"Did you--did you . . . ?" gasped Thelma.
"No," said Burger. "Nothing. I guess he had a car or something. You see a car?"
Thelma shook her head.
"What kind of guy was he?" said Burger.
"Thin," said Thelma.
"What was he wearing?"
"All black," said Thelma. "Black gym shoes."
"And he went to the car and opened the door?"
Thelma nodded.
"Then what?"
"He bent down inside. Then he closed the door. Then I shouted to you."
"And he ran?"
Thelma nodded. "He had a scar," she said.
"Where?"
"Here." She ran a finger across her forehead from one side to the other."
"You sure?"
"It looked like a scar. It might have been a dirty line. I think it was a scar. Is it important?"
"Maybe," said Burger.
"Can we sit down?" said Thelma. Her forehead was covered n perspiration.
"You want a ride back?" said Burger.
She nodded.
"Come on." He put a hand on top of her head and turned her to face the square.
Elizabeth was bending down examining a door of the Mercedes. She stood up when she saw them and said, "I thought he might have left some marks. Fingerprints," she said.
"I doubt it," said Burger.
[p. 119]
Elizabeth took hold of Thelma's hand and they walked down the path from Burger's villa and into the pine wood. When they were out of sight of the villa Thelma said, "Did you get it?"
"'Course," said Elizabeth.
"Where?"
"Down my knickers."
"Show me," said Thelma.
Elizabeth looked around into the cool shadow of the pines, then lifted the front of her dress and pulled the elastic waistband of her pants forward. Across her tummy, inside the pants, lay Burger's envelope.
"See?" said Elizabeth.
Thelma grinned.
[pp. 121-123]
Madame Girard was preparing the evening meal. She had large gold rings in her ears that swung a little as she moved her head. She wore a straw-colored nylon blouse and a short dark blue skirt and over them Mrs. Davies's check apron. Occasionally she laughed, a teasing laugh that infuriated Richard.
"But why did you say you were?" said Richard. "Why did you let me go on thinking! I've been frantic--thinking, worrying. All this time. And you knew! Why did you do it?"
Madame Girard pouted. "I didn't know," she said. "I told you I thought."
"You said you knew!"
"Well . . ." said Madame Girard.
"I don't understand you, Lucienne. I thought you loved me."
Madame Girard laughed and turned away from him and opened the oven door. "Phew!" she said when the heat struck her face.
"Lucienne, don't you love me?" said Richard. His long, pale face looked intensely serious. There were bags under his eyes as if he had missed a lot of sleep.
"You are a nice boy," said Madame Girard. She stroked his cheek as she passed him on her way to pick up the pepper grinder. Her hand smelled of garlic.
"But you're not pregnant?"
"I don't think so," said Madame Girard. "No."
"My God!" said Richard, leaning back on the kitchen table. "If you knew what I've been through, I've hardly slept this last week, thinking about what was going to happen to us."
"Phoo!" said Madame Girard, as if possible preganacy was something quite trifling, something that could easily be taken in her stride. "I am married. Married women are expected to become pregnant."
"You'd have let your husband believe . . . ? Lucienne, you really are a bitch."
Madame Girard shrugged her shoulders as if she had been called far worse things in the past and expected to be called them again in the future. "You are a nice boy," she said. "I am very fond of you. But you are only a boy-- not a man."
"And now you're tired of me--is that it?"
"A little," said Madame Girard. "You are a little too serious. I don't think life is a very serious thing. I think you enjoy yourself where you can. Phew--life! It doesn't last forever. Soon we shall all be dead." She shrugged off the whole business of living with a dismissive little movement.
"So we're finished?" said Richard.
"Why?" said Madame Girard. "You are a nice boy when you are not too serious. I am--not very old. Twenty-six--I'm not ready yet for the grave."
"We can still go on?"
"If you like. I don't mind."
"Lucienne, I can't bear it when you talk so casually. Don't you know what I feel about you?"
"You've told me," said Lucienne. "I'm bored when you keep telling me. You must not be so serious, Richard. I am not like that. I am not serious. When I want you, I want you. You have a beautiful young body. But when I don't want you, I don't want you. I don't feel about you. I don't feel about anybody. I am not a feeling person. I don't plan. I don't think about the future. Each day is different. Each day I am different. How do I know who I am tomorrow? I like you--yes, I like you."
"Oh, God!" muttered Richard.
Madame Girard laughed and turned to him. She kissed him, letting her breasts press against his chest. When he put his arms around her and grasped her tightly, she pushed him away from her. She laughed and said, "You are such a naughty boy!"
[p. 124]
Elizabeth and Thelma sat on the sand at the point where they had first discussed the photographs. Behind them and on either side was the forest. Ahead was the rolling Atlantic and the beach with no one at all in sight. Elizabeth took out the envelope and opened it. Inside were ten ten-franc notes. She took them out. She looked at them for a moment as if not quite able to believe that so much money was in her hands; then she smiled.
Thelma grinned. She took the money from Elizabeth, counted it, and gave Elizabeth five of the notes. Elizabeth put them back inside her pants.
"What are you going to do with it?" said Elizabeth.
"Buy something," said Thelma.
"What?"
"I don't know. Perhaps a present."
"Who for?"
"Me," said Thelma.
"Shouldn't we give him the negative?" said Elizabeth. She had a hand on her tummy so that she could feel the envelope and the notes inside her pants.
"What for?" said Thelma.
"That's what you're supposed to do," said Thelma. She was thinking how terribly easy it had been to get the money. Without anybody in the world knowing. Except Elizabeth. Even Richard didn't know. He only knew about the pictures.
"But it's not fair," said Elizabeth. "If he's paid."
"He shouldn't have been doing it, should he? Not with her. Not when they're not married. It's wrong."
"Well . . . ," said Elizabeth. Then she changed her mind. It was wrong! Everybody at school talked about it, but they all said it was wrong. "I suppose so," she said.
"People have to pay for doing wrong," said Thelma.
[pp. 139-140]
In the late afternoon Madame Girard sent a little boy with a note. It said she was not coming again. She had been having trouble with one of her legs and her husband wouldn't let her work anymore. Could Mrs. Davies please give the little boy the money that was owing to her?
[pp. 144-145]
Burger began to laugh. He put a hand on Dorothea's shoulder, pulled her to him, and kissed her on the neck. "Can you imagine?" he said. "Twenty bucks."
"It's over, darling--I mean it's over?"
"Well, hell, of course," said Burger. "Without the negative, what's the guy going to do?"
"Jesus!" said Dorothea, dropping down into an armchair. "You know, I saw it going on and one, squeezing and squeezing until--God, I couldn't bear to think about it!"
"Tell you what," said Burger, looking into the viewer. "We do look a pretty sexy pair."
Then he took the slide out of the viewer and removed the negative from the frame. He took a cigarette lighter from the table and held the negative in the flame until it had melted beyond recognition.
"You want to go back to bed?" said Dorothea.
"Sure," said Burger. "Then let's get the hell out of here for the day. Let's go somewhere and celebrate."
[pp. 148-149]
At last Dorothea walked down the steps and opened the car door. Burger gave her bottom a slap and closed the door behind her. He took a final pull at the cigar, then dropped it onto the sand and crushed it with his foot.
"Come on," said Thelma, taking Elizabeth's hand when the big Mercedes had hummed away up the track to the main road.
They kept to the pines, circling the clearing in front of the villa. Occasionally they stopped, holding one another's hand, to look at the villa. None of the windows at the front were open as far as they could tell from their position in the pines, and they had seen Dorothea lock the front doors. But the shutters were open, and if they went up to the house they would be able to see inside.
The day was golden with the first distant hint of autumn. The sea gave a steel-blue cast to the high wisps of cloud over the villa. The place was quite isolated by the pine forest. It was invisible from the road and from the other villas. Yet still the little girls were reluctant to leave the cover of the pines and step out into the clearing in which the villa stood. It was as if they felt that as long as they were still in the forest, they had not quite committed themselves.
Then Thelma said, "Let's go round the back."
At the back, there were two windows standing wide open. The little one in the bathroom and one of the big ones in the bedroom above the garage.
"That must be dotty," said Elizabeth. "Anybody could get in."
They stood tiptoe outside the kitchen window. They could just see over the sill. The kitchen was empty.
They looked in the garage. There was a hose pipe hanging on the wall and oil marks on the concrete floor where the Mercedes had stood.
"I don't see anything," said Elizabeth.
"They wouldn't leave anything valuable in here," said Thelma. "People might get in."
Thelma climbed the metal ladder to the garage roof. When her head came level with the roof, she stopped and looked around. When she was sure no one else was in sight, she whispered to Elizabeth, standing on the ladder immediately below her, "It's all right."
They climbed through the window into the bedroom. The bedclothes on the double bed had been pulled back. A red and blue striped counterpane lay in a heap on the floor.
"God," said Elizabeth. "She hasn't even made the bed." She stood at the foot of the bed and said, "I wonder which side she sleeps on."
Thelma was at the plain pine dressing table. In front of her were bottles of hand cream and face lotions. She unscrewed the top of a jar, smelled it, then rubbed some of the cream it contained on her hands. She smelled her hands an stroked her cheeks with the tips of her fingers. They felt very soft and the smell was nice. It was a new smell, not like the ones that Mrs. Davies used. She picked up a lipstick, took off the top, and tried it on the back of a hand. It left a pale pink mark. She looked in the mirror and put a little of it on her lips, then rubbed her lips together like Mrs. Davies did. It hardly made any difference to the color of her lips, but it felt nice. It didn't feel at all sticky.
"Have you seen her dresses?" said Elizabeth.
She had opened the door of the built-in wardrobe and was sliding Dorothea's dresses along the rail one at a time. Thelma began to open the drawers of the dressing table. There were handkerchiefs with the initials DPL worked into the corners, undergarments, and more little bottles and jars of cosmetics. She opened each of the containers and smelled it. Then she put them down on the dressing table. She took out a box of jewelry and trinkets. She put three of the rings on her fingers and a pair of long gold earrings on her ears. When she had fastened a cameo brooch in the center of her dress, she stood back and looked at herself in the mirror. She grinned and turned to Elizabeth. "Look," she said.
Elizabeth had put on one of the dresses and a pair of Dorothea's shoes.
"What about this?" she said.
"It's back to front," said Thelma.
"No, it isn't," said Elizabeth, turning to look at herself in the full-length mirror. "That's supposed to hang down the back."
"It's silly," said Thelma. "I don't like it."
Elizabeth took off the dress and the shoes and put them back in the wardrobe. "You can't take those," she said, pointing to the jewelry that Thelma was wearing.
"Why not?" asked Thelma.
"They'll find out."
"No, they won't."
"You can't wear them. They're not use."
"I suppose not," said Thelma, looking at herself again in the dressing-table mirror. When she turned her hand in the light, the stones shone pale blue, white, and crimson. She had only to move her head and the slightest amount for the light to dance on the gold earrings. "I suppose not," she repeated, taking them off and dropping them on the dressing table.
"Let's go downstairs," said Elizabeth.
The living room smelled of cigar smoke, and for a moment Elizabeth stood rigid with a hand over her mouth. Then she laughed. "God," she cried. "I thought they'd come back!"
"They won't be back for hours," said Thelma. She knelt beside a magazine rack and began to take out magazines and papers, look at them, and then drop them on the floor beside her. When the magazine rack was empty, she got up and went to the bureau.
"What are you looking for?" Elizabeth asked.
"If they're gangsters," said Thelma.
"I can't see anything," said Elizabeth.
"There'll be secret panels," Thelma explained.
"D'you want a drink?" asked Elizabeth.
"What of?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. She had a bottle in her hand and she was looking at the label. "I think it's whiskey."
"I've never tried it," Elizabeth said. She poured some of the Scotch into a glass and put it to her lips. It burned her mouth and she ran into the kitchen and spat it out. "God!" she cried. "What do they drink it for? I'll see if they've got any Coke." She opened the fridge. She took out two cans of Coke and opened them. When she came back into the living room, Thelma had opened the top drawer of the bureau. She had a revolver in her hand. She was grinning. She said, "I told you. There!"
[pp. 151-154]
"Where was it?" Elizabeth asked. She put the cans of Coke on the table and went up to Thelma.
"In the drawer," said Thelma. "Hidden. It was wrapped in a cloth. They didn't want anyone to know."
"Is it loaded?"
"I expect so," said Thelma.
"How can you tell?"
"Those things." Thelma pointed to the butts of the cartridge cases in the chambers.
"Let me have a look," Elizabeth said, putting out a hand to take the gun.
"No," said Thelma. She was gripping the revolver with both hands now.
"Why not?"
"I found it. It's mine."
"You're not going to keep it?" Elizabeth asked in surprise.
"Why not?"
"It's dangerous!" cried Elizabeth.
"Only if you don't know how to use it," said Thelma.
"You don't know how to use it."
"Yes, I do. You point it at somebody and pull the trigger."
"You couldn't," Elizabeth said.
"Yes, I could," said Thelma.
"Kill somebody?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Plenty of people."
"God! Shoot them?"
"Yes," said Thelma.
"God, I couldn't!"
"Not anybody?"
"No," said Elizabeth. She picked up a can of Coke and took a quick drink from it.
"Don't you hate anybody?" Thelma asked.
"'Course," said Elizabeth. The Coke had trickled down her chin.
"Well?"
"But not to shoot them. Not really. I couldn't just pull the trigger and see all the blood and things--ugh! I think you're awful!"
"No, I'm not," said Thelma. She drank her Coke and put the empty can on the table. Then she pointed the gun at various objects in the room--the standard lamp, the bookcase, the picture of Les Sables--and said "Bang!" Finally she pointed the gun at Elizabeth, and when Elizabeth cried, "Don't, Thelma!" Thelma yelled "Bang!" and grinned.
"Stop it! Stop it!" Elizabeth screamed.
"Why?"
"You frighten me!"
"I'm only pretending. Anyway, you shouldn't be frightened. Only babies are frightened."
"You'd be frightened!" cried Elizabeth.
"No, I wouldn't," Thelma said. "I'm not frightened of anything."
"If Bob knew you'd taken those pictures--if he knew you'd got his gun. Then you'd be frightened."
"You wouldn't tell him," said Thelma.
"I might."
Thelma pointed the revolver at Elizabeth and said, "No, you wouldn't."
"All right, all right, I wouldn't!" Elizabeth cried, backing away from the gun.
"I just wondered," said Thelma. She took the piece of rag from the drawer together with a small box of ammunition. She put the ammunition in the pocket of her dress and closed the drawer.
"I don't like you!" cried Elizabeth.
"I don't care," said Thelma.
"You make me frightened. I thought you were my friend."
"Well," Thelma said.
"Friends oughtn't to make other friends frightened."
"They might have to," said Thelma.
Elizabeth picked up her empty Coke can and went through into the kitchen. Thelma put down the gun and the oily rag on the dining table, then went to the bookcase. It covered almost half of one wall. Most of the books were in French. They were part of the permanent furniture of the villa. There were three or four thrillers in English by authors Thelma had never heard of.
She began to take the books out of the bookcase and drop them on the floor. She had to stand on a chair to reach the top ones. When she had removed the books, she tapped at the paneling behind the bookcase. It all sounded hollow. She pressed and pulled various parts of the bookcase, but nothing happened.
When Elizabeth came back into the living room and saw that Thelma had put all the books from the bookcase on the floor, she gasped, "They'll be livid! That mess!"
"I don't care," said Thelma. "If they're criminals."
No secret doors opened whatever Thelma did to the bookcase, and at last she got off the chair and began opening the drawers and cupboards below the bookcase. Some of them were empty and others contained articles that belonged to the villa--two cushions in gold corduroy, an alternative lampshade for the standard lamp, a box of electric light bulbs. Others contained some of Burger's and Dorothea's belongings. There was a briefcase in one of the cupboards, full of documents that Thelma didn't understand. Some of them had big embossed seals on them, others were simply typescript pages fastened together with paper clips. She pushed them back in the briefcase and put the briefcase on the floor. In a drawer was a leather folder with a writing pad and envelopes inside. The name "Dorothea P. Lindstrom" was embossed in gold on the leather. There were three ballpoint pens and a long stainless steel letter opener and a sheet of French stamps.
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Updated: January 13, 1999
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