calls. One of the girls had driven into Mesa Verde to use the grocery store phone and report the disruption of service to the telephone company; she returned with the assurance that the problem would be repaired as soon as possible. 'Possible' had now dragged out over five hours and that was unacceptable to Manny. A renowned congressman—to say nothing of the national hero that he was—demanded far better treatment; it was an affront Weingrass had no intention of tolerating. And although he said nothing to his coven of witches, he had bad thoughts—like disturbing thoughts.
'Hear this, you prognosticators for the Thane of Cawdor!' he shouted at the top of his lungs in the glass-enclosed veranda at the two nurses playing gin rummy.
'What in heaven's name are you talking about, Manny?' asked the third from a chair by the arch in the living room, lowering her newspaper.
'Macbeth, you illiterate. I'm laying down the law!'
'The law's the only thing you could handle in that department, Methuselah… Gin!'
'So little you know about the Bible, Miss Erudite… I will not remain beyond reach of the outside world any longer. One of you will either drive me into town where I can call the president of this mishegoss telephone company or I will urinate all over the kitchen.'
'You'll be in a straitjacket first,' said one of the girls playing cards.
'Wait a minute,' countered her partner. 'He can call the congressman and he could put on some pressure. I really have to reach Frank. He's flying out tomorrow—I told you—and I haven't been able to make a reservation at the motel in Cortez.'
'I'm for it,' said the nurse in the living room. 'He can call from Abe Hawkins's grocery store.'
'Knowing you dears, sex will out,' said Manny. 'But we call from the phone in Gee-Gee's office. I don't trust anyone named Abraham. He probably sold weapons to the Ayatollah and forgot to make a profit… I'll just get a sweater and my jacket.'
‘I’ll drive,' offered the nurse in the living room, dropping the newspaper beside the chair and rising. 'Put on your overcoat, Manny. It's cold and there's a strong wind from the mountains.'
Weingrass muttered a minor epithet as he passed the woman and headed for his bedroom in the south wing of the first floor. Once out of sight in the stone hallway, he hastened his pace; he had more to retrieve than a sweater. Inside his large room, redesigned by him to include sliding glass doors across the south wall opening on to a flagstone terrace, he walked rapidly to the tallboy, grabbing and dragging a chair from his desk to the high chest of drawers. Cautiously, holding on to the knobs, he climbed on the chair, reached over the curlicued top of the imposing piece of furniture and removed a shoe box. He lowered himself back to the floor, carried the box to the bed and opened it, revealing a .38 calibre automatic and three clips of shells.
The concealment was necessary. Evan had given orders that his shotgun case was to be locked and all ammunition removed, and that no handguns were permitted in the house. The reasons had been too painful for either man to bring up: Kendrick believed with more logic than less that if his old friend thought the cancer had returned, he would take his own life. But for Emmanuel Weingrass, after the life he had led, to be without a weapon was anathema. Gee-Gee Gonzalez had remedied the situation, and Manny had only once smashed open the shotgun case and that was when the media had descended on them pissing all over the grounds.
He slapped in one clip, put the other two into his pockets, and carried the chair back to the desk. He went to his cupboard, took a long, heavyknit sweater from the shelf and slipped it on; it covered the protrusions effectively. He then did something he had not done since the redesigned room had been built, not even when the reporters and the television crews had assaulted them. He inspected the locks on the sliding doors, crossed to a red switch hidden behind the curtains and turned on the alarm. He walked out of the bedroom, closing the door, and joined the nurse in the front hall; she was holding his overcoat for him.
'That's a handsome sweater, Manny.'
'I got it on sale in a Monte Carlo apres-ski shop.'
'Do you always have to have a flip answer?'
'No kidding, it's true.'
'Here, put on your coat.'
'I look like a Hasid in that thing.'
