screen:
A sudden gust of wind shook the outer doors of the restaurant. We froze. The doors gaped wide, fluttered back, settled.
Ricardo?s spine stiffened. He glanced from the door to me, as if I were responsible for the emptiness and only the night wind.
?Oh, damn, damn, damn it to hell,? he said, softly. ?He has gone to ground.?
?The Beast??
Ricardo stared at me. ?Is
Constance instantly probed the purse in her lap. Her hand, mouselike, crept across the seat on her right side and left something there. Ricardo sensed it and shook his head.
?Ah, no, not from you, dear Constance. Yes,
Constance?s hand patted his and her eyes glistened. Lopez got up and walked back to the kitchen for about two minutes. We drank our wine and waited, watching the front door gape with wind and whisper shut on the night. When Lopez came back he looked around at the empty tables and chairs, as if they might criticize his bad manners as he sat. Carefully, he placed a small photograph in front of us. While we looked at it, he finished his wine.
?That was taken with a Land camera last year. One of our stupid kitchen help wanted to amuse his friends, eh? Two pictures taken in three seconds. They fell on the floor. The Beast, as you call him, destroyed the camera, tore one picture, thinking there was only one, and struck our waiter, whom I fired instantly. We offered no bill and the last bottle of our greatest wine. All was rebalanced. Later I found the second picture under a table, where it had been kicked when the man roared and struck. Is it not a great pity??
Constance was in tears.
?Is
?Oh, God,? I said. ?Yes.?
Ricardo nodded: ?I often wanted to say: Sir,
Ricardo blinked rapidly and jammed the photo into his pocket.
Constance stared at the place on the tablecloth where the picture had been. ?I came to see if I knew the man. Thank God, I did not. But his voice? Perhaps some other night???
Ricardo snorted. ?No, no. It is ruined. That stupid fan out front the other night. The only time, in years, such an encounter. Usually, that late, the street, empty. Now, I am sure he will not return. And I will go back to living in a smaller apartment. Forgive this selfishness. It?s hard to give up two-hundred-dollar tips.?
Constance blew her nose, got up, grabbed Lopez?s hand, and thrust something into it. ?Don?t fight!? she said. ?That was a great year, ?28. Time I paid my lovely gigolo. Stay!? For he was trying to shove the money back. ?Heel!?
Ricardo shook his head, and hugged her hand to his cheek.
?Was it La Jolla, the sea, and good weather??
?Body surfing every day!?
?Ah, yes, the bodies, the warm surf.?
Ricardo kissed each and every one of her fingers.
Constance said, ?The flavor starts at the elbow!?
Ricardo barked a laugh. Constance punched him lightly in the jaw and ran. I let her go out the door.
Then I turned and looked over at that alcove with the small lamp, the desk, and the filing cabinet.
Lopez saw where I was looking, and did the same.
But Clarence?s picture portfolio was gone, out in that night, with the wrong people.
Who will protect Clarence now, I wondered. Who will save him from the dark and keep him, living, until dawn?
Myself? The poor simp whose girl cousin beat him at hand wrestling?
Crumley? Dare I ask him to wait all night in front of Clarence?s bungalow court? Go shout at Clarence?s door? You?re lost. Run!
I did not call Crumley. I did not go yell at Clarence Sopwith?s bungalow porch. I nodded to Ricardo Lopez and went out into the night. Constance, outside, was crying. ?Let?s get the hell out of here,? she said.
She swabbed her eyes with an inadequate silk handkerchief. ?That damn Ricardo. Made me feel old. And that damn photograph of that poor hopeless man.?
?Yes, that face,? I said, and added, ?? Sopwith.?
For Constance was standing right where Clarence Sopwith had stood a few nights ago.