Please Write for Details

by John D. MacDonald

  When Miles arrived at the hotel the next day he was very pleased to see that Paul Klauss’s room was empty and the door open.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On a Thursday in early December, Gregory Hayes, a tall and rather elegant young man, left his desk in the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City and went next door to Sanborne’s for a milkshake at the counter. It was a crisp and beautiful morning and he felt very much at home in his world. He had been in Mexico City for over a year and did not like to think of the eventual inevitable transfer. He was a very junior vice-consul. The intensive courses in Berlitz method had given him a good working grasp of Spanish. He had a knack for languages. A current affair with a young Mexican dancer, being conducted with utmost discretion, was improving his fluency. He liked the Mexican people, their warmth and courtesy and pride.

  On his way back to his tiny office he looked in on the area where Mexican nationals, employees of the embassy, were interviewing Mexicans who had come to the embassy, screening them so that they could be either routed to the proper officials or told that they had come to the wrong agency with their requests.

  He looked at the line of chairs where they were awaiting their turn to be interviewed. Most of them sat with the empty bored faces that are used to hide anxiety. He could make a reasonable guess as to what most of them wanted. It was his habit sometimes to short-circuit normal procedures by selecting at random someone waiting to be interviewed and handling it himself. As the interviewers did not resent this form of intrusion, particularly by Greg Hayes, and because it improved his Spanish, and because he had a sound grasp of procedures, and because there was a possibility that such personal attentions were good public relations, his superiors were tolerant of this practice, though they did consider it rather eccentric.

  Gregory stood inside the doorway and looked along the line until he spotted a young woman. She wore a dingy red dress and over it she wore a short, green wool coat obviously new and of a shade so poisonously virulent that it almost hurt to look at it. In contrast to the glum faces of all the others, she wore a wide, interested, friendly smile. Her face was quite pretty. There was an Indio look about it. And there was the stamp of the slattern, a bland, amiable and automatic sensuousness. He guessed that she was from outside the city. There was a string bag at her feet, bulky and faded. He guessed that she was of low intelligence, one of the ones who had suddenly decided they would go to the United States and, with no knowledge of the difficulties involved, would show up and ask blandly for permission.

  Gregory went to Raoul’s desk and said, “Got any idea of what the girl in the green coat wants?”

  “Not the slightest. But I know that ranchero one is with her. The one sitting beyond her.”

  Gregory had not noticed him before. He sat stolidly, bare brown feet planted on the floor, a ratty sombrero with a broad frayed brim pulled well down over his forehead. He wore one of those white pajama suits all field workers used to wear, which are now being supplanted by the ubiquitous blue jeans and work shirts. He wore a drab brown-and-gray serape of rough heavy wool.

  “Okay if I take them, Raoul?”

  “Go right ahead, Greg.”

  The girl’s smile widened as he approached. He said in a low tone, “Will you and your companion come to my office, señorita, and I will see if I can be of service.”

  “¿Cómo no?” she called in a voice so loud and clear that those waiting nearby jumped and gave her a look of annoyance. She got up and took the arm of her companion and, with small cooing, urging sounds, got him to his feet. They followed Greg to his small office. He sat behind his desk. The girl tugged the man over to a chair and pushed gently against his chest until he sat down. She took the other chair, directly in front of Greg’s desk, and put the heavy string bag on the corner of the desk. He decided her smile was so happy and infectious as to be disconcerting.

  “How may we help you, señorita?”

  “This is the second time in my entire life that I have come to Mexico City, señor. It is more enormous than I remembered. So many people in one noisy place. Such danger from the vehicles. They seemed to try to kill us, señor.”

  “It is a beautiful city. May I have your name?”

  “Margarita Esponjar y Roca. I have twenty years, señor. Very soon, in the next month, I am to be betrothed to Señor Roberto Prisma y Martinez. He is the complete owner of a blue truck. He works on the caminos. When one has a truck, it is possible to be employed in an important task and receive much pay. Roberto is a very kindly man. His wife died of fevers of the stomach many months ago. There are small children. He is lonely, señor. His house is large. Three rooms and a shed and a place for the blue truck close beside the shed where it is safer from rain and bandits. There is room in the house for the five children, the three which are his and the two which are mine.”

  Greg stared at her rather blankly. “Uh … congratulations.”

  “I have never been married. My Roberto is very kindly and understanding about my two little ones. He knows that it is because I have a loving heart. He will take my children as his own, and feed and clothe them. He is a good man.”

  “I … I am certain that he must be. I am certain you will be very happy. You have my sincere best wishes, Señorita Esponjar. But I do not understand what it is that you wish us to do for you.”

  “Roberto is a kindly man, but there is one thing he has become most angry about. It is Señor Ball. I am not permitted to keep him. When I move to Roberto’s house, mi madre will not keep Señor Ball. She says I have been wrong to care for him. Roberto will agree that room could be made for him in such a big house, but he says that it is an indecency. A man is not a pet. And with such a one, whose head is not right, there could be great trouble one day. I have at last agreed. And so, señor, I have brought him to you. He is yours.”

  “What? What?”

  “He is now yours.” She opened the throat of the string purse and dug into it and took out a wallet and handed it to Gregory Hayes. Greg opened it. It contained no money. He took out the identification cards and the tourist card. Margarita had turned toward her companion and reached and took off his sombrero and placed it in his lap. The companion looked placidly at the wall beyond Greg’s left shoulder with pale, empty eyes. His face was darkened by exposure. He had long blond hair, tangled, matted and dirty, and beard stubble darker than his hair.

  “If you will excuse me for a moment, señorita.”

  “Of course!”

  He came back in five minutes with a file folder. He had been right when he had thought he remembered seeing the name Paul Klauss on the Inquiry List. Year after year, American citizens disappeared in Mexico, some by design and some by accident. Of both groups most of them were eventually located, but there were, each year, a very few who were never seen again.

  “This is a matter of great seriousness, señorita,” he said gravely. “According to our records, Mr. Klauss was supposed to have been back in Philadelphia over three months ago. He attended some sort of little art colony affair in Cuernavaca. After he was reported missing, a Mr. Drummond was contacted. Mr. Drummond stated that as far as he knew, Mr. Klauss had left when the school ended, to return to the States. I do not understand this at all. Mr. Klauss. Mr. Klauss!”

  “He does not listen, señor. It accomplishes nothing to shout at him.”

  “What is wrong with him?”

  “He was given a great golpe on the head, señor, by an evil person who took away his suitcase and clothing and many valuable things. He has been this way ever since that moment.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I was employed by the Señor Drummond. I worked at the school as a maid. I became a most close friend of el Señor Ball. The hotel was empty when I found him, and the golpe on the head had made him sleep upon the floor. I awakened him and in a little while I was able to lead him to my home. It is a small place and crowded. My mother was most angry and she said it was a matter for the police. I was afraid the police would remove
him, and I wished to care for him. Does not one wish to care for a dear friend who has been injured by an evil person?”

  “Uh … I guess it would be a good and generous thing. But what about a doctor? Did a doctor see him?”

  “Oh, yes. My cousin. He is not a certificado doctor, but he heals with injections. He works on the railway. He examined Señor Ball most carefully and determined that his head bone had not been shattered. He said that it had been such a great golpe, the Señor Ball had been hurled back into his childhood, and nothing could be done.”

  “But has it not been very difficult?”

  “Oh, no señor. He is not difficult in any way. Sometimes in his sleep he makes a great shout, but not often. He slept in my bed until it was decided I would become betrothed to Roberto, and since that time he has slept upon a pallet in our small shed where lived the two goats. We made a new place for the goats and made the shed very clean for Señor Ball.”

  “Does he ever speak?”

  “Never, señor. Except for the shouting of words I cannot understand in the night. When food is placed before him he will eat. He can be given any simple task to do and he will work until it is completed. He has worked very hard with my brother who is a cutter of wood. Behold.” She took Klauss’s slack hand and turned it over to reveal the thick crust of callus. “It is a strange thing,” she said, frowning. “He will do all things a man will do. He will eat and sleep and work and make the act of love. But to all these things he must be led as if he were a small child, and while he is performing these things, he seems far away. He is so little trouble I am distressed at my mother for not being willing to keep him.”

  “And so you just … brought him back?” Greg said, repressing an impulse to beat his head on his desk top.

  “He is now yours because I cannot keep him and my mother will not. I shall worry about him, señor. I hope there will be those who love him and who will care for him. But, señor, even in this condition, I have thought that he is better than before the great golpe.”

  “What?”

  “Before it happened, señor, he had very cold blood. He was a timid and unloving man who was terrified of women, and who wept as easily as a woman. I tried to make of him a man, but he was alarmed by me for some reason. He was much more pretty then, of course.” She sighed heavily. “I have brought with him his things, everything not taken by the thief. It is all here in this bundle. Some big books and some tools of painting. And the clothing he was wearing. And, of course, his shoes. But I believe they are too small. He has walked long miles barefoot carrying heavy loads of wood, and his feet are now more wide and strong.”

  Gregory looked at the sensuous, dazzling smile. He suspected that he should gather information for a much more detailed report. Perhaps he should have the Mexican police hold the girl for further investigation. He believed every word she said. There was a dazzling, transparent honesty about her. He obtained her address and wrote it neatly under her name, and told her that it was possible someone might have to come to see her and ask more questions, but he hoped it would not be necessary.

  She opened the string bag and dumped the contents on his desk, folded the bag and put it in a pocket of the green coat. Gregory pulled one of the notebooks over. It was a loose-leaf notebook with an expensive leather binding. He opened it at random. The loose-leaf sheets were of heavy, creamy stock, covered with green single-spaced typing.

  He read a few words and then suddenly bent closer to the sheet. His eyes widened and his jaw sagged. “Son of a gun!” he said.

  “¿Qué dice, señor?”

  “Nothing of importance, señorita. On behalf of my government, I wish to thank you for bringing Mr. Klauss to us.”

  “Now I may go? I have here the return ticket for me alone on the bus, and twenty pesos given to me by my Roberto to buy for myself a present, but I have decided I will buy some small thing for him.”

  “Yes, you may go now, señorita.”

  She stood up and her smile faded. “I must be certain of one thing, señor. You will forgive me if I say that governments are often cruel and indifferent. I must have your word of honor that he will be cared for. I do not want to leave this place thinking that it is possible that when I am gone, you will push him out onto the street and forget him. He could not care for himself. It would be a cruel act.”

  “I give you my word of honor that he will be taken care of, señorita.”

  “I cannot ask for this, but I hope it is a loving care. For those who are hurt … and, señor, for everyone, loving care is a good thing. And a rare thing in a world of governments.”

  She went over to Paul Klauss and put her hand lightly on his shoulder and bent over and kissed him on his unresponsive lips. “Adiós, mi pobrecito. I have done what I can. I leave you in sadness. “Adiós.”

  She smiled at Gregory and thanked him and left, closing the door softly behind her. Klauss turned slowly in his chair and looked toward the closed door. He made a low sound, a wordless sound of pain and question.

  “We’ll take care of you from now on, fellow,” Greg said. He set an order of precedence in his mind. First arrange hospitalization and complete examination, with approval of the expenditure from embassy funds earmarked for such purposes. Contact the person or persons who had made the inquiry and advise them that Klauss had been found, and advise them of his condition. Inventory Klauss’s possessions, and have them packaged for locked storage. As he reached for his phone, he decided the final step could be delayed until he had made a more careful examination of the notebooks.

  On that same Thursday in December, Mrs. Harvey Ardos remained at the George D. Insley High School after class to meet with the Decoration Committee in regard to planning the decoration of the gym for the Christmas Dance. She was, she was certain, the happiest bride in Kansas. Last week they had picked out a hilly, beautiful acre of land on the old Hadden Road. The disadvantage was that it was so far out of town, but they wanted privacy and a little room, and the eight hundred dollars they thought they could spare would buy a lot less land closer in.

  This winter they would plan their house, plan it in such a way that, except for foundation work, they could build it with their own hands. There would be a big studio for Harvey, with north light. And a wonderful view. By spring they would have enough money for the foundation work and the first batch of construction materials. During the winter evenings they would plan a perfect house, and read the do-it-yourself manuals.

  Harvey had a pretty good job driving a bread truck. He had to leave early in the morning and cover a lot of miles each day, but the pay was good.

  It had been such a lovely wedding …

  “I guess we’re all here, Mrs. Ardos.”

  “Oh. All here? Splendid. Now at our last meeting I think we decided on a tropical motif. Christmas in the Tropical Islands. Richard, will you please give your report on the sand situation, and then we’ll discuss the lovely palm tree Martha has made.”

  On that same Thursday Parker Barnum completed his third week as partner and art director in the Dallas firm of Hilldane, Durling and Barnum. It had been Hilldane and Durling, a young firm with aggressive ideas and limited capital. Before he had settled on them, before he had made his intensive survey of the advertising agencies in the Dallas-Forth Worth area, Parker had long talks with Bitsy, and several long business conferences with Maggie and her husband. Maggie had been most generous in giving them the little gem of a house out near Richland Hill as a wedding present, and she was prepared to be equally generous with what he thought he would need to buy into an agency. But he insisted on its being handled in a businesslike way, with interest-bearing notes with due dates extending over a period of years. If the income he hoped for did not materialize, the loans could be paid back out of Bitsy’s inheritance, but he hoped it would not be that way.

  Marty Hilldane and Jack Durling had been skeptical about it. He had taken them to lunch separately, and then together. They felt that his New York background, good as it so
unded, would not be of much help in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. But in the end they agreed, the papers were drawn up, and Park purchased a one-third interest at a figure higher than he had planned.

  On that Thursday in December, Park and Jack Durling said goodbye at the elevators to the executives from Janet Anne Shops, Inc., and walked from the conference room back to Park’s office. Jack came in with him and dropped into the chair beside the new blond desk.

  “One hell of a workout, Park,” he said. “What’s your guess?”

  “I don’t know. Except for Goldman, I’d say yes. The rest reacted. He didn’t give me a clue. And he’s the boss man. You did a hell of a good job of presentation, Jack.”

  “Because I had something to present for once. The copy is sound. And that art work is really terrific. Did you hear them grunt when I unveiled those sketches for the series of big boards?” He stood up. “So we sweat it out until tomorrow noon. I think they’ll go for it.”

  “I’ll be in your office waiting for the call to come in.”

  Jack turned in the doorway. “I guess it’s a little late to be saying this, Park. But I had a drink with Marty last night. We found we’ve both got over wondering whether we did the right thing. We just wish now you’d showed up a year ago.”

  “Thanks, Jack. Thanks for telling me.”

  A few minutes after Jack left, Bitsy phoned him. “I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap, woman.”

  “Well, I was taking a nap, darling, but …”

  “What’s the use of paying a doctor for advice?”

  “Don’t be such a growly bear. Mary Jane phoned me. She got back from Hawaii last night. And she wants to stop by about six for a drink, so I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t work until all hours of the night again at that stinking place.”

  “I can shake myself loose tonight. I was planning on coming home early. But I thought we weren’t going to do any entertaining until …”

  “It’s just Mary Jane, and it’s important to her. She’s bringing along some fabulous sort of dreamboat she met out there for us to look over. She sounds sort of serious. I’m glad you’ll be home early. How did it go with Mr. Goldman?”