Jealous Woman, Page 2

  I did and he took it so easy I started to put on another. “Wait a minute. That we’ll have to think about.” She got down, lit a cigarette, studied him, and he did the same for her. She patted him and he nuzzled her. Then she stamped out the cigarette. “O.K.”

  I put the bar on and she rode him off and turned him. She let him look at it, then started him for it, and for the first time I felt a prickle of nervousness shoot up my spine. They came on, he hooked it up, she let off the reins and leaned forward, and he went up. It was a frightening thing to be under because all of a sudden you felt it, the power in those muscles, when it was delivered, all in a bunch, right where it was wanted, and when. And you felt it, how high that jump was.

  They were over, and down with such a rush you could hardly believe one slim leg could take the whole shock and hold for the others to take over. It did though, and they were in stride again. Just then I saw the puppy, and she did, and he did. She swerved him, but he braided his legs. I was there as soon as she hit the ground, but she had had just enough warning to be able to fall clear. I knelt beside her, and she seemed to like it that my arm was around her. Then she sat up and opened her eyes, and a look of horror came into them. I looked, and the Count was still lying there, with Jackie racing toward him. Jane jumped up, and just then he did. She went over and put her arms around him. “Baby! Did he knock himself out?”

  She went over him, inch by inch, feeling his withers and hocks and every part of him, and he did the same by her with the tip of his nose. But he was all right, and pretty soon we started home. About halfway, she said: “In his fifth year, I make him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then he’s young enough, thank heaven.”

  “For what?”

  “To learn. I’m here, and I’m going to teach him.”

  “He’s all yours. Stable suit you?”

  “Stable’s fine.”

  When we got to the hotel, a girl in maid’s uniform came running across the lobby from where she had been sitting, keeping company with the elevator girl, and waving a paper with a blue cover on it. She was one of those girls you don’t hear about in England, but when you go there you see them all over. She was red-haired, and black-eyed, and pretty, and had a Cockney way of talking and kept going on about the “bloody garnishee,” as she called it. I pretty well knew from my talk with Delavan what it was, and that it wasn’t a garnishee, but I kept to myself what I knew.

  Jane stood there, reading the paper, and her face got the beat-up look I’ve mentioned before, and pretty soon she looked up and held out her hand. “I think—I’ll go upstairs, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll ring you.”

  “Please do.”

  She and the maid went on up and I went over to my office. I tried to have fun thinking about my cup that was coming. It didn’t give me much. I could see Linda, my secretary, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I told her I was going over to Carson to close a deal, and wouldn’t be back. Where I did go was out and walk around.

  That night I was still restless, and stepped out a little to get my mind off her and the rest of it. I generally play roulette, but never when I’m feeling good. When I don’t give a hoot I fool around with a stack of quarters. If I lose my stack, I go home. If I get ahead, so I’m gambling on their money, I make scientific mayhem out of it, and feel better. Before I saw her, I had shifted tables, and even joints, three or four times. At roulette, if you’re winning, you pick up a mob that follows your lead, and right there is where I don’t exactly trust Mr. Croupier. He may be honest, as they say he is, and as I firmly believe and tell everybody he is, and yet, I feel you ought not to put irresistible temptation in his way. If the bets are scattered, he has no reason to roll his ball any particular way. But if they’re all aboard one number, or a small flock of numbers, every square on the board except those numbers is a winner for the house, and it would be unfortunate if that was the particular moment in his life he picked out to have a slight change of character. Just to be safe, I move. I even move up the street, to really shake them, and I’d done that a few times before I saw her. She seemed sulky and I thought she meant me. I went over to the bar, ordered a couple of the free drinks, and went over and handed her one.

  “Thanks, Mr. Horner, but don’t let me keep you.”

  “From what, like?”

  “Well, you seem to be avoiding me.”

  I explained about the powder I’d been taking, and she seemed set back on her heels. “I—never even thought about that. You see, I’ve never had a winning streak.”

  “Never too late to learn.”

  “I’ve lost too much.”

  “Let me stake you.”

  I fished up a couple of pounds of what I’d been winning and chinked them around a little. In Reno, of course, they always pay you in silver. “I shouldn’t, you know, Mr. Horner. It’s a weakness of mine. If you keep rattling all that money around, I’m going to say yes, but—it’ll all be gone, I assure you.”

  “I’ll take a chance.”

  She started to play, and it was the craziest playing I ever saw. She just shut her eyes and plunked it down anywhere. “Hey, hey, that’s no way to do it!”

  “What’s the difference? It’s all luck.”

  “Yeah, but it’s got to make sense!”

  An insurance man, he thinks percentage, first, last and all the time, because what he’s running is not charity for the widows, orphans, and aunts, like maybe you thought, but a great big wheel, with every chance figured by the actuaries, so that a bet is distinctly a matter of age, weight and occupation, and he hates to have anything running wild. So I took the young lady in hand and showed her a few things, like how to cut corners on a losing streak by running a small limit and fishing for small fish, like the 2-1 odds on one of the 12s, which some chance of two or three wins that would cause the switch from a losing streak to a winning streak. Once that happened, I showed her how to bunch her bets so as not to be on the hook for too much dough on any single roll, but at the same time to crack a pot if she really got a break. I showed her how, if she had $1 riding the first twelve, she should lay 50c on the first four and 25c on No. 1. Then, if the pill fell anywhere from No. 13 up, she had lost, but was only $1.75 out, and as she would be playing on their money, she could afford it. But if the ball fell in any number of the first 12, she cashed $2, and was 25c ahead. But if it fell in 2, 3 or 4, she cashed $2 on the first 12 and $4.50 on the first 4, and was $6.50 ahead. But if the ball rolled in 1, she not only cashed her $2 and $4.50, but $9, the pay-off on 25c at the odds of 36-1, and really did something for herself. “In other words, if you’ve got Lady Luck sitting there beside you, act like you knew how to treat her so she don’t have to be a contortionist to help you out. Besides, the way you do it, how would you know her? She doesn’t like it when you don’t place her face, any more than anybody else does.”

  So she got hot, and I gave her her head. She caught a gang pretty soon, and we moved. She upped her bets and I said O.K. I picked up her money, and got so heavy with silver I felt like a pack donkey, but when she dropped three $5 combos I walked off and out. “But please. Give me some money! I’m winning! I—”

  “Then quit!”

  “You’re hateful! Now, to deny me—”

  “I’m the best friend you’ve got.”

  On the street, when I put handful after handful of money in her handbag, so it felt like a suitcase full of bricks, she laughed. “It’s the one silly streak I’ve got. On a horse, I’m a woman of ice. At other things I’m not stupid, I assure you. But when I get into one of these places I go crazy.”

  “That $227 will calm you down.”

  “Is that what I won?”

  “About.”

  “Want to walk?”

  On the bridge near her hotel we stopped and watched the water rushing along under the moon, and when I looked I saw somebody I hadn’t known was there. I mean, up to now, allowing for stuff you might see in any woman that was jan
gled up over what her husband was pulling, she had been just what Delavan had said, a well-born dame that might meet somebody before long, but didn’t live where I lived. Now, though, she was just a nice girl, nothing snooty, nothing horsey, just a girl with a guy on a bridge. “Do you realize, Mr. Horner, that you did something peculiar today?”

  “And specially tonight, when I let you do the winning.”

  “Today you came to me, not to your beautiful horse.”

  “I should have, shouldn’t I?”

  “Just doing your duty?”

  “Why, sure.”

  “Anyway, thanks.”

  She looked away quick, and I felt like a heel, because she didn’t mean anything but a little flirting under the moon, but just to be sociable I could have played up to it. I wanted to, don’t get me wrong about that. Just the same, I’ve got a policy on that stuff. Until that application was signed, sealed and forwarded with report of medical examination to the home office, no romance on the bridge for Ed Horner. I took her home and said good night. Couple of nights later I bumped into her again and helped her win some more. Moving from one place to another, she’d put her hand on my arm and I’d catch her looking at me, like maybe I was dumb on horses, but I had a few other things she liked. In the meantime, I had Delavan examined by the doctor, got his check, and sent his papers through to Los Angeles. Then I felt free to call her. “How do you feel about dinner tonight, Mrs. Delavan?”

  “Well, let me see, how do I feel?”

  “Just inquiring.”

  “My maid is summoned to court. Oh, that’s right, you were there when she told me about it. Her case comes up at four, and I’ll have to be there, as it’s a question of bail.”

  “That oughtn’t to take all day.”

  “Then I’ll be free.”

  “Around seven?”

  “I’ll expect you.”

  I went to the hearing, just to keep the record straight, and sat in the back of the room. Delavan was there, and the maid, and Jane, and a couple of lawyers. It took about ten minutes. The maid was held, in $250 bail, and Jane took cash out of her handbag to put it up. I felt kind of proud I had a little something to do with that cash. She wasn’t broke any more.

  That night I expected her to be upset, but she didn’t show any ill effects, and we went to the Bonanza for dinner. Then I drove her to Virginia City, the old mining town, for a brandy at a bar there, and after that we took a walk on the boardwalk to look at the pioneer stuff. Then we came back to Reno for a little more circular golf, and she won a little, but not much. Then we strolled over to my office to look up the Count’s pedigree, so she could see where those gaits came from. When I put on the desk lights she spotted the cups and brought one over to read the engraving on it. Then she said: “You’re such a funny thing.”

  “How?”

  “Such a—go-getter.”

  “Is that funny?”

  “But I mean it as a compliment!”

  “Then O.K.”

  “My world is oh, so veddy well-bred. In plain English, well-heeled. Well-heeled heels that would regard go-getting as a distinct social solecism.”

  “As—what?”

  “I just said that to see your face. As a distinct breach of form. But you, you really like to bring home that cup, don’t you?”

  “And I do it, don’t make any mistake about that.”

  “I like you for it.” She took my head in her hands and put a little soft kiss on my mouth. I put my arm around her and pulled her to me, to mean it. “No, please.”

  “If not, why not?”

  “I’m still married. It would be messy.”

  On the doorknob, when we came in, had been a notice of a wire. So when she began looking up the pedigree I rang to find out what it was. They read it to me, and it was from Los Angeles, and I saved it:

  DELAVAN POLICY MAILED YOU TODAY BUT HOLD DELIVERY PENDING FURTHER ORDERS. MR. KEYES ARRIVING YELLAND FIELD TEN TOMORROW WEDNESDAY A.M. REGARDS

  NORTON

  When I finally got her home, and said good night at the elevators, and went around to the Fremont, where I lived, and got to my apartment, I hit the roof. I cussed, I raved, I stomped around, till the desk rang up to know if there was something wrong. Then I tried liquor and that didn’t work. Finally I went to bed, but don’t get the idea I went to sleep. Norton is president of the company and Keyes is head of the claim department, a bird we got not long ago from another of the Norton group of companies, and there was no claim on the Delavan policy yet but he gets called in on all kinds of stuff that the underwriters don’t know what to do about, and without hearing any more about it this meant trouble. With Keyes in it it would be just plain agony, because if there was any twisted, cock-eyed, queer angle that could be found on it, he’d turn it up, and about two dozen of his own that nobody else could find in it, but that he had to see just to show what a genius he was at it.

  3

  I HADN’T SEEN HIM SINCE two or three cases he’d had that had got a lot of space in the newspapers, and while I had heard about the way he was playing up to it, and the reporters at the airport should have tipped me off, I wasn’t quite ready for what came off the plane. In the first place, he had lost about fifty pounds, because while he wasn’t exactly a slim, slanky cowboy type even now, he was rightdown beautiful compared with the Berkshire hog type he had been before. In the second place, the clothes he wore, from the down-on-one-side hat to the tailormade suit, were just like what a picture actor wears on a personal appearance tour. And in the third place, he had that look in his eye that says camera. He saw me and waved, and then looked surprised as anything at the reporters at the gate, though how they would be there if somebody hadn’t tipped them off, I couldn’t quite figure out. He stood twenty minutes being interviewed, on the political situation, the business outlook, and the crime wave, which all hands seemed to know about, though it was the first I’d heard there was one. Then I drove him to the Washoe-Truckee, where I had tried to get him a deluxe suite, but there weren’t any, so they gave him a nice single on the east side of the hotel and we walked over to my office. I sat him behind my desk, put the Delavan folder in front of him, went out to see some prospects, and told Linda I’d ring in from time to time to see if he was ready to talk. So when I got back around five it turned out his idea of when to talk was that night after dinner. I had to call Mrs. Delavan and break my date. “I’m sorry, but there’s a shot here from the home office and there’s nothing much I can do.”

  “Well, Mr. Horner, does it really matter?”

  “It does to me.”

  “Then maybe you’ve forgotten something.”

  “Which is?”

  “The gambling houses never close—why not—why not, Ed?”

  “Say, say, say.”

  “Put him bidey-bye and ring Jingle-Janey.”

  After dinner I took him to a picture, and around eleven there didn’t seem to be any place he could go but bed. So I took him to the hotel. I waved as he went up in the car, and he was hardly out of sight when I dived for the house phone.

  “But, Ed, who’s the shot?”

  “Just head of the claim department.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You seem greatly preoccupied.”

  “Preoccupied with color.”

  She had on slacks and a mink coat, with red bag, red shoes, and a red ribbon around her hair, and the way I told it, it had given me the idea for a whole new system based on betting the red. It cost me $18 before we switched to something that made sense, but she thought it was hot stuff and forgot about everything else. But then, as we took a drift over to some new place to change our luck, my heart stood still because there at a chuck-a-luck game stood Keyes. I pulled her back on the street. “But what—?”

  “The shot from the home office.”

  “Well?”

  “Jane, I’d rather he didn’t see me.”

  “Doing exactly what he’s doing?”

&nb
sp; “He’s on a trip, and if he makes it a toot, well—they all do. But me, I’m home, and if it looks like I did it every night, that’s different.”

  We started down the street, her hand on my arm, as it generally was now, but her head was down, like she was thinking. And pretty soon she said: “I have the queerest feeling.”

  “About the red? It’s no good.”

  “About the shot from the home office. I keep thinking it’s not the roulette you don’t want him to see, but me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It would certainly seem so, and yet—”

  After awhile she stopped and faced me. “Now I’ve got it. ... The insurance deal is still on, isn’t it?”

  “Listen, I bring home cups.”

  “And this man’s investigating, isn’t he?”

  “He might be.”

  “Will you send him to me?”

  “What for?”

  “I might block this insurance.”

  “This is not a guy I can send places, to you or anybody. This is Mr. Keyes, that regards himself as a national celebrity, and maybe he takes my advice, and maybe he doesn’t. And anyway, I’ve got enough trouble with him already without fixing it up for you to make me a little more.”

  “To you this is just insurance, isn’t it?”

  “That’s all.”

  “And human questions, they don’t matter?”

  “Yeah, Jane, but what’s insurance got to do with it?”

  “Everything.”

  “That’s no answer. Give.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d involve other people.”

  “Like who?”

  “I can’t discuss it with you.”

  “Then the deal’s on.”

  We went on a little way, then she stopped and right under the bright lights on Virginia Street she took my two coat lapels in her hands. “Ed, can’t you take what I say on faith?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Would I be one to imagine things?”