Doan took his handkerchief from his coat pocket and dampened it in the water that was left in the fountain. He wiped the layer of plaster dust from Eldridge's face and saw that there was a thin trickle of bright, arterial blood coming out of the corner of Eldridge's mouth.
Eldridge opened his eyes. "Why, Doan," he said in a faint, surprised voice.
"Take it easy," said Doan.
"Why, what're you looking at me that way for, Doan? I ain't hurt. I can't feel--Doan!"
"Take it easy," said Doan. "Don't try to move."
"Doan! My legs won't--Doan! Something's wrong with me! Don't stand there! Get a doctor!"
"A doctor won't do you any good."
"Doan! I'm not--I'm not--"
"Yes," said Doan.
Eldridge's face was purple-red, and his throat bulged with his straining effort to hold up his head.
"No! I won't--I can't--Bumpy... governor whole state... No! Doan! You're lying,, damn you!"
"Your back's broken," said Doan. "And you're all scrambled up inside."
Eldridge's breath bubbled and sputtered in his throat. His lips pulled back and showed the blood on his teeth, and he said thickly but very clearly:
"God damn you to hell."
His head rolled limply to one side. Doan stood up lowly. He looked at the wadded, damp handkerchief in his hand and then dropped it with a little distasteful grimace.
From behind him a voice said: "You will stand still, if you please."
Doan didn't move, but he looked at Carstairs murderously. Carstairs was involved in a complicated exercise that would enable him to lick one hind paw. His legs were sprawled out eccentrically in all directions, and he stared back at Doan with an expression of sheepish apology.
"You brainless, incompetent giraffe," said Doan.
"Do not blame your dog for not warning you," aid the voice behind him. "I was downwind, and I can move so very quietly sometimes. Please do stand still."
Doan didn't move his arms or legs or body or head, but he flicked his eyes to the left, then looked at Carstairs, and then flicked them to the left again. Carstairs got up instantly and began to sidle to his own right.
"No," said the voice. "I would not like to kill your dog. Stop him."
Doan nodded once. Carstairs sat down, watching him.
"No," said the voice.
Doan nodded again. Carstairs slid his forelegs out slowly and sprawled on the broken tiles.
"That is so much better," said the voice. "Your dog is beautifully trained. It would be a shame if he were hurt. I think you have a gun. Do not try to use it. Keep your hands away from your body and turn around slowly."
Doan turned around. The voice belonged to a thin, elderly man who looked very neat and well-tailored in a gray tweed suit. He had a long nose and a shapeless, bulging mustache, and he wore thick glasses that distorted his watery blue eyes. He had no gun, but he was holding a rolled green umbrella under his right arm, and Doan was not so foolish as to think it was actually only an umbrella.
"What is your name?"
"Doan," said Doan. "What's yours?"
"I am Lepicik. Were you robbing that man?"
"I hadn't gotten around to it yet."
"Did you kill him?"
"No," said Doan. "The earthquake did. We just had one, or didn't you notice?"
"Yes," said Lepicik pleasantly. "It was quite violent, wasn't it? From where did you come here?"
"From the Hotel Azteca in Mazalar."
"You have been staying there?"
"For a couple of days."
"How did you come here to Los Altos? By what means of travel?"
"On a sight-seeing bus."
"Who came with you?"
"Why?" Doan asked.
Lepicik moved the umbrella slightly. "You would really be so much wiser to answer my questions."
"Okay," said Doan. "An heiress by the name of Patricia Van Osdel and her maid, name of Maria, and her gigolo, name of Greg. A man named Henshaw and his wife and kid. A schoolteacher by the name of Janet Martin."
"Thank you," said Lepicik. "Thank you so very much. Good day."
"Good day," said Doan.
Lepicik walked backwards away from him. He didn't hesitate or feel his way. He walked as confidently as though he had eyes in the back of his head. He disappeared around the edge of the broken patio wall.
Doan leaned over and picked up a chunk of adobe and hurled it at Carstairs. Carstairs jumped up nimbly and let the adobe skid harmlessly under him.
"What do you think I drag you around for?" Doan demanded angrily. "Keep your eyes open after this."
Carstairs looked even more apologetic than he had at first. He moved back and forth in tight, uneasy steps, lowering his head.
"All right," said Doan. "Come on, and we'll see if there's anyone else left alive in this town."
Chapter 6
WHEN DOAN LEFT THEM AT the corner, Janet and Captain Perona stood still for a moment watching him trudge up the slope toward the Avenida Revolucion with Carstairs wandering along ahead of him.
"Why did you say that to him?" Janet demanded.
"I beg pardon?" said Captain Perona.
"Why did you warn him about torturing and beating Eldridge? That's perfect nonsense."
"I think not," Captain Perona denied.
"Mr. Doan is a very mild, polite, pleasant person. He would no more torture anyone than I would."
"Oh, yes," said Captain Perona. "We have his record, you see. He is what you call a private detective. Very successful. His record is full of violence. He does not care at all what he does to solve a case. But he never quite gets caught breaking the law. He is very clever and very lucky."
"Clever!" Janet echoed incredulously. "Mr. Doan? Why--why, he's the most talkative, open, naive, boyish--"
"Oh, no," said Captain Perona positively. "That is also in his record. He fools people with his innocent manner, but he is not innocent in the slightest. Assuredly not."
"I think you're just making this up."
"Senorita," said Captain Perona, "I do not make things up, if you please."
"Well, you're mistaken, then."
"And I do not make mistakes."
"Not ever?" Janet asked in an awed tone.
"No. I am--" Captain Perona stopped short, staring narrowly at her. "So you are mocking me!"
"Yes," said Janet.
Captain Perona breathed hard. "I will forgive you--this time, senorita. Mocking people and ridiculing them is, I understand, a custom in your detestable country."
"My what?" Janet said, stung.
"The United States. I have heard that its people are very ignorant and uncouth."
"They are not!"
"Especially the women. They have loud, shrill voices, and they shout in public."
"They do not!" Janet cried.
Captain Perano smiled at her blandly. Several passersby turned to look curiously at her. She began to blush, and she put her hand up to her lips. "You see?" asked Captain Perona. "Even you do it. Shouting in public is considered very unmannerly in Mexico."
Janet said in a choked whisper: "You said those things just to make me mad so I'd raise my voice and--and make myself look foolish!"
"That is correct," said Captain Perona. "And you did. Very foolish."
"Please go away and leave me alone."
"No," said Captain Perona.
Janet turned around and started blindly across the marketplace. After three steps she staggered just a little, groping for her balance, and then Captain Perona's hand was under her arm, supporting her.
"You are ill, senorita?" he asked. There was no mockery in his voice now.
Janet said: "If--if I could just sit down..."
"Here, senorita! This way. The bench. One step and now another..."
Janet sank down on the cool stone of the bench in a shaded niche in the thick wall. The wavery black haze in front of her eyes cleared away, and she could see Captain Perona's thin, worried face.
/> "It's nothing," she said breathlessly. "I'm all right now, really. It--it was just that man. The dead man. I'd never seen a man killed before, and--and I tried to act--to act nonchalant. But the blood and the way his face looked and his leg dragging when they carried him away..."
Captain Perona sat down beside her. "It is understandable, of course. Do not think about him any more. He is not worth it, and besides he killed one of my soldiers when he first discovered we were watching him. I was going to kill him sooner or later, myself."
"Talk about something else, please," Janet begged.
"Surely," said Captain Perona. "We will talk about Gil De Lico's diary, because I wish to know much more about it. What is the name of this place where you found it, again?"
"The Wisteria Young Ladies' Seminary."
"How peculiar," said Captain Perona. "It seems odd to me to name a school such a thing. Who owns it--the state?"
"Oh, no. It's a private school."
"I see. What is the name of the owner?"
"Why--why, I think it's a corporation. I mean, it isn't owned by anyone. Different people contributed money to found it."
"Do you know who these people were?"
"Some of them."
"Would one be called Ruggles?"
"Oh, yes! Ebenezer Ruggles. He was the main founder. He was a very old-fashioned, strict, conservative sort of man, and he thought colleges were teaching girls too much they shouldn't know. Nobody would pay any attention to his ideas, so he started a school of his own. He's been dead for several years now."
"Good," said Captain Perona. "He was a thief."
"Ebenezer Ruggles?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. My mother told me so."
"What?" Janet said blankly.
"My mother told me so. My family did not realize they had been robbed by this Ruggles criminal until she told them. But she knows. She knows everything about people from the United States because she came from there herself."
"You mean, your mother is an American?"
Captain Perona looked at her. "That is a very disgusting habit your countrymen have. Calling themselves Americans as though they were the only ones. I will have you know that Mexicans are Americans. We are more Americans than people from the United States are, because we came to America before they did."
"I'm sorry," Janet said meekly.
"You should be. Kindly be more careful of your language in the future. My ancestor, Emile Perona, was one of the first men to come to this continent. That is why we wish Gil De Lico's diary. It was presented to our family by the family of Gil De Lico three hundred-odd years ago. I can show you the presentation letter if you wish to see it, although you could not read it, of course."
"Yes, I could."
"No," said Captain Perona patronizingly. "It is in old-fashioned Spanish and written in script."
"I could still read it. How do you think I read Gil De Lico's diary?"
Captain Perona stared at her. "You read the diary? Really read it? All of it?"
"Why, yes."
"It is incredible," said Captain Perona, respectfully though. "No one in our family ever read it. It was so very difficult. Only professors can read such old-fashioned script."
"I'm a professor."
"Oh, no. You are a woman."
"I'm--a--professor!"
"How strange. Well, if you are a professor and really did read the diary, then you must know what it says about the first Emile Perona--where he went and all the things he saw and did."
"Yes, I do."
"Then tell me, please."
"But there's so much of it!" Janet protested. "Why, it would take days and days!"
"Good," said Captain Perona.
"But I haven't time! I'm leaving on the bus!"
"I am, too," said Captain Perona.
"There still wouldn't be enough time. I'm only going to stay at the Hotel Azteca another two days, and then I'm going to Mazatlan."
"I am too," said Captain Perona.
"Why?"
"It is a military matter."
"It is not! You're just going to follow me!"
"Please, senorita," said Captain Perona severely. "Are you accusing me of being a--a--What is that fascinating word? I have it! Masher! Are you accusing me of being a masher?"
"Yes."
"I will have you know, senorita, that I am a gentleman and an officer of the Mexican Army. I have many important and confidential duties. Do you think I would waste my time following a mere woman around--even a very pretty one?"
"What?" said Janet, surprised.
"Oh, yes," said Captain Perona. "You are very pretty, indeed. Has not anyone told you that before? What is the matter with the men in the United States?"
"Why, I--I don't--"
"You blush, too," said Captain Perona. "That is very attractive, I think."
Janet swallowed hard. "Well... Please tell me some more about Ebenezer Ruggles being a thief. That's very hard for me to believe."
"A long time ago he was traveling in Mexico. He was invited to the home of my grandfather and grandmother. He was their guest, you understand? He collected books at that time--old books."
Janet nodded. "I knew he did. He left his collection to the school. It's enormous."
"No doubt. My grandfather and grandmother showed him the heirlooms of my family. We have a great many. They are very precious to us. This Ruggles villain saw the diary of Gil De Lico. He was fascinated. He could not take his hands off it, although he could not read it, of course. He wanted it for his own. He hinted and hinted, and finally he asked my grandfather for the diary."
"Well?" Janet inquired.
"So my grandfather said he could have it. And he took it, the thief!"
"But why?" Janet asked, puzzled. "If your grandfather gave him the diary, how does that make him a thief?"
"Ah!" said Captain Perona. "That is the whole trick! We did not understand until my mother explained. She was very angry when she heard about it. You see, when you are a guest in Mexico everything in the house is yours. That is the custom here. When you enter, the host says: 'This house is yours.' He means it."
"That's a very beautiful custom," Janet said.
"Certainly. Unless dishonest foreigners take advantage of it. Like that thief, Ruggles. He knew he could not buy the book, but he also knew--since he was a guest--that if he asked for it my grandfather could not think of refusing him because that would be a violation of hospitality. My grandfather was very sad, but he thought he could do nothing else but present the diary to Ruggles. He thought Ruggles would do the same thing in the same circumstances. My mother says he would not have."
"She's right," said Janet.
"So that makes Ruggles a thief," said Captain Perona. "A swindler. A trickster. He takes advantage of a custom in which he does not join or believe. He abuses his privilege as a guest to rob my family. But I will fix things. I will go to this school and swindle the book back. I will offer to buy it and then pay in counterfeit money or with a bad check."
Janet stared at him. "You can't do that!"
"Oh, yes. I am very clever at swindling, and I understand the people in the United States are exceedingly stupid about such things."
"You'll be arrested!"
"All right," said Captain Perona. "I have heard there is no justice in the United States, but I will get the diary back for my family, so I will be contented in prison."
Janet cleared her throat. "The--the diary isn't at the school now."
Captain Perona sat up straight. "What? Have you been lying to me?"
"No! I said I found it there and read it there. Mr. Doan was the one who told you it was there now. I didn't."
"Where is it?"
"In my suitcase at the hotel Azteca."
"Good!" Captain Perona chortled triumphantly. "You can give it to me!"
"No, I can't. The school doesn't know I have it. If I didn't bring it back, they'd say I stole it and put me in jail
."
The Essential Works of Norbert Davis Page 13