"How bad is it? You say she was talking to you," Sanders said in a low voice. "I mean I'll go now if I should, but if it can wait another hour -it would be very awkward for me to leave just now, you can see that."
Pullman said, "Did Dr. Salas ask for the governor to come? Or me?"
"No, he didn't."
"Well, he's a very competent young fellow." Pullman turned to the governor. "I'm sure you can wait until after the parade, sir."
Sanders stood. "Well, I don't like this, Tracy, but I'd better go. I'll see to the separate room, anyway, and I'll probably be back in ten or fifteen minutes." He had been holding the coat of his Palm Beach suit on his lap; now he put it on and headed for the stairs.
The troupe of harem girls in blue sequined bodices and pink gauze trousers were moving into the performing space, bells jingling on their ankles, dark arms undulating, hips gyrating.
"Car-nee-val is very sweet Please Don't stop de car-nee-val," they sang as they came, flashing white charming smiles.
"Too bad we have to miss this," said Sanders, and he went plunging ahead of Norman through the throng of performers, and up Prince of Wales Street. People made way for the governor, when they recognized him, and the two men reached the hospital in a short time.
Far down the hospital corridor, Norman saw three nurses clustered at the door of A-42. He was finding it hard to keep up with Sanders' long strides, and he was gasping from the heat and the fast pace. "Well, how is she?" Sanders called as he drew near the nurses. He was walking so fast that he was entering the door when one nurse, a stout Negress with a kindly face and gray hair, put her hand out and stopped him. "Governor, I sorry, de lady she die."
"Died?" Sanders stopped short and swayed, staring at the nurses. "Died, you said?"
"She go into a coma and die fast."
Sanders shook his head and pushed into the room, and Norman followed him. Dr. Salas bent over Iris's bed. "Oh, hello," he said, desultorily pulling a sheet over Iris's bared pink nipple. "I've been trying heart massage, governor, and I gave her adrenalin, but she's dead, sir. I'm sure an autopsy will show a massive brain hemorrhage. The clinical picture of shock was mild and not clear at all. It had to be a hemorrhage. There's a probable skull fracture, and-"
The French people were all still in the room, talking, and the occupant of the middle bed was still asleep with her mouth open.
"Isn't there anything to do?" Sanders interrupted in a rasp. "Shall I get Dr. Pullman? He can be here in no time with a motorcycle escort."
"Sir, she's been dead several minutes. She's gone, sir."
Iris's sweat-beaded, bandaged face did not look alive: greenish-blue, sad, sunk on her chest. She looked as dead as Hassim had; indeed it crossed Norman's mind that she resembled the shot storekeeper now, in the family look of the dead.
Governor Sanders fell on his knees beside the bed, clutching Iris's hand and kissing it. Norman put his hand on the governor's shoulder. Sanders glanced up at him, with an expression in his large brown eyes of a boy badly hurt. "She the only woman I loved," he said in a choked voice. "And she dead." There was no trace of the speech class in his words.
Another brass band was going by outside, and the crowd was taking up the chant:
"Car-nee-val is very sweet Please Don't stop de car-nee-val!"
3
Henny was worried about Norman. More than an hour had passed. She sat at a beach table with Cohn, Hazel, and Lionel, having a lunch of hamburgers and beer. Lester Atlas was in the water not far from them, disporting with Hatsy and Patsy in great showers of spray and bursts of guffaws, giggles, and shrieks. The beach was unusually crowded. All the guests seemed to be wanting a waterside snack today, instead of a full lunch. Lionel was volubly reassuring Henny that the
Hassim death would do the Gull Reef Club no harm. By now the handful of guests who had seen the killing had told the story over and over, and everybody had it fairly straight, except for the point of Hassim's innocence. The impression was that the Turk had been carrying on lewdly in broad daylight with the sailor, that the policeman had tried to stop it, and that in the ensuing fracas Hassim had accidentally been shot dead. People thought that this was a bit hard on Hassim, but that the cop after all had only been doing his duty, and that one queer the less in the world was no grievous loss.
"As a matter of fact, Henny, I feel sorry for the poor bugger," Lionel said, munching on his thick-piled hamburger. "I've known thousands of those guys, and there's no harm in ninety-nine out of a hundred of them. It's just a sickness and it's their own business. Though gosh knows, when I was a kid working backstage, I sure got some surprises. Yes ma'am, it was darn near worth my life to bend over and tie my shoelace, I tell you." He laughed salaciously. His once green face was burning to an odd bronze color like an American Indian's, and he looked very relaxed and happy. "Actually, Henny, I almost hate to say this, but I think this thing's going to prove a break for the Club. I bet the nances stop coming to Gull Reef after this."
"There's Norman," Henny said. She had never stopped watching the beach stairs. He stood at the top now, looking around at the merry beach scene, his hair disordered, his face drawn. "Norman!" she called. "Here we are!"
He turned his gaze to her, waved tiredly, and came down the stairs. "Hi, Bob," he said, dropping in a chair. "Hello, Lionel. I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk to you."
Hazel said, "Shall I get you a hamburger?"
"I'm not hungry. Maybe a beer, Hazel, thanks."
He sat slouched, looking around at the others with haggard, shocked eyes.
"Norman, what is it?" Henny said.
"I've been running around a lot, Henny, and it's hot in town, you know."
"What did the chief of police want?"
Norman stared at her, and then his gaze wandered to the wallowing, frolicking Atlas. "Lionel, you're still bogged down on your deal with Chunky Collins, aren't you?"
"Yes. He's getting a little too cute on small things, furnishings and such. Our deal was for twenty-five thousand, and he's inched it up to almost twenty-seven. I can't say I appreciate that."
"How would you like to buy the Gull Reef Club?"
Lionel laughed. "If I could afford it, and if you were crazy enough to sell it, why-"
"Can you afford thirty thousand dollars? I'd rather not lose money, and I'll let you have it for that. That's what it cost me." Norman said this in such a colorless offhand way that neither Henny nor the others knew what to make of it. Hazel now brought him a bottle of beer and a glass. "Thanks, Hazel. What do you say, Lionel, is it a deal? I'm ready to shake on it, right now." And he stretched forth a hand.
Lionel scratched his long chin and looked at the others. "Well, golly, Norman, this is certainly from left field. Are you serious? What's the matter, are you upset because that poor fag got shot? I was just telling Henny that's not going to hurt you. I mean this is something you better think about. You've got it made here."
Norman put down his hand, and turned to Cohn. "Iris Tramm is dead, Bob." Amazement and horror showed on all their faces. "She was going to get the dog in my Land Rover, you know? And she ran into one of those stopped cabs on Back Street, and she fractured her skull. She's lying in the hospital, dead. I've just come from there."
"Good God," Cohn said slowly. "She's dead? Iris? Dead, Norman?"
Norman nodded. "I guess Sanders will take care of sending her body home. I left him there with her. He's very broken up."
Henny said, holding her hand to her chest, "Jesus Christ, Norm! The poor woman. Was she drunk?"
"No, she was sober, Henny. These Kinja drivers just have a way of stopping short and chatting any time, any place. They mean no harm, they're like heedless kids, and you learn to watch out for them. I once got knocked cold myself. But poor Iris was anxious to go to her dog, you see, and I guess she forgot." He turned to the frogman. "What'll become of the dog? I've been worrying a lot about that. I guess because Iris would worry about him, more than almost anything."
Cohn said hoarsely, "Why, I'll be glad to take Meadows, Norm. Or any one of the fellows will. That's a good dog. My God, Norman! Iris is dead."
Lionel shook his head. "That's a darn ridiculous and pointless way to die."
"I know, like Hassim," Norman said in the same matter-of-fact, weary tone. "It's kind of funny, two deaths like that in one day."
"Funny:3 It's awful," Hazel said, her face almost ugly with horror. "It isn't funny in the least."
Norman looked at her and smiled. "Is that what you think? Then we agree, Hazel. I've been surviving here on my sense of humor, and I know these deaths are ludicrous, but I can't laugh at them. I tried here, I tried hard, and it's been a real experience, but now I want to go back to New York." He turned to Henny. "Will you mind very much? If you'd rather stay on-the thing is, I don't. That isn't going to change."
She scanned his face anxiously. "Norman, are you absolutely sure? This place is a success now, and it's fun, and all that. It's everything you wanted when you came down here."
"She's right, Norm," Lionel said. "Give yourself at least a week to calm down. It's awful about Iris, sure it is, but you forget these things, I swear you do. My Lord, life is so full of them! I mean I'll hold off on Hogan's Fancy, for a week, or even longer, as far as that goes."
"There's a four o'clock plane all through the Christmas season, Henny," Norman said. "I want to get on that plane today. I've called, and there are seats. I want to leave Kinja today." He held out his hand to Lionel again. "Thirty thousand dollars, Lionel? Twenty for the bank, five still owing to the last owner, and five I put into it. Is it a deal?"
"It isn't a deal, Norm, it's a steal." Lionel was staring at the outstretched hand, eagerness and reluctance comically mingling on his bronzed face.
"I'll call it a favor if you'll take it," Norman said.
Lionel suddenly reached forward and clasped his hand. "Well, what the heck! If you honestly want it this way, Norm. This is a dream place, and I'll jump at it. I'd be crazy not to."
"Wonderful," Norman said. "Thank you. Now, Lester Atlas is the businessman in this setup. I'll explain it all to him. He'll handle the details better than I can. He'll be staying on for a while, he's got a real estate deal going."
Hazel said abruptly, "Dad, can I stay?" They all looked at her, and she blushed and stammered, adjusting the almost nonexistent bodice of her bikini. "I mean, that is, do you mind if I don't go with you today, and just come back for school next Thursday? I mean as long as I'm down here already. I mean for me this is still my vacation, Dad, and I love it here."
Cohn, his face sallow and drawn as though he were ill, said, "If it means anything, I'll look after Hazel."
Norman glanced at Henny, and something like his usual grin broke through his expression of wan shock. "No doubt. Any objections, Henny?"
"Objections? Me? Have fun, Hazel. -If we're getting out of here in two hours, Norm, I better start scrambling around and packing."
"I'll help," Norman said. "I've gotten a little handier, down here."
They talked about Hazel and Cohn while they hauled luggage from closets and started putting in clothes helter-skelter. They dwelled on the topic, as though avoiding other matters. Norman said that Cohn was bound to go into his father's import-export business, once his navy hitch was up, so that it would work out well enough, if he and Hazel were really getting serious.
Henny said, "Gosh, we may end up going to Israel to visit our grandchildren. Won't that be something?"
"As a matter of fact," Norman said ruefully, "this fellow comes along in the nick of time. I fully expect him to support you and me. Somebody's got to."
"You'll support us, never fear."
"How? My clients can't come back to me for five years, no matter what. That was the deal I made, and I have to honor it."
"Well, it's a lousy trade, I've always said so and I always will," Henny said, "but you're the best man in it, and you'll get other clients."
She was putting her jewelry away in a velvet-lined box. "Norm, I'm not trying to argue about this, but I hope you realize that New York stinks, right now. You're going to be shocked. You've forgotten. It's
Christmas time, you know. You've never seen such crowds. The traffic's at a standstill, choked solid from the Hudson to the East River, and from Fifty-ninth Street to Thirty-fourth. You can get overcome by carbon monoxide just walking down Fifth. Or if the fumes don't get you, a mugger will. They're holding people up in broad daylight. The weather is foul. Oh, the department-store lights are nice, and the tall buildings in the snow-I love the damned place, I can't help it-but nothing's changed up there. Let's understand that."
"I know," Norman said. "I know all about New York. And that's where we're going."
