He stood a while, thinking about it. There are women like that. That was all that came to him. Or, anyway, there is a woman like that.
Chapter Ten
Jesso walked up the stairs. By the big door he rang a bell and waited. Then he rang it again. An old man came to the door, dressed like a butler. He cocked his head and didn’t say hello.
“I want to see Kator.”
The old guy cocked his head the other way.
“Herr Kator.”
“I understood you the first time,” said the butler. His English was precise.
There was another door behind the butler, so Jesso couldn’t see very far. He felt like a Fuller Brush man.
“What is your name, sir?”
“Jack Jesso. Take my word for it.”
“Your business?”
“Kator owes me money and I came to collect. Now open that door wide enough-“
“Mr. Kator is not in. If you have a private debt to discuss, his personal accounts are handled by the firm of Bohm and Bohm. You can-“
“This account is handled right here, so open up.”
The door came shut but didn’t quite make the lock. Jesso wasn’t using any salesman’s foot in the door; he hit it hard with the flat of his sole, making the heavy door fly back. It hit the wall and made a crash.
Jesso walked in.
The butler’s face screwed up like a wrinkled prune. He reached for a bell near the doorjamb but thought better of it. Jesso wasn’t looking friendly. “Now open the next door.”
But before the butler could get there the door opened.
What Jesso saw was a sight. The man was slim, with silky hair draped artfully across a balding head. His frail face looked like a baby’s and then again like an old man’s. He put his yellow hands into the pockets of his brocaded robe and looked annoyed.
Jesso didn’t understand a word of what followed. There was a lot of sharp and stilted-sounding talk and every so often “Herr Baron.” That was the butler talking. Jesso started to feel left out.
“All right, enough of the love talk. I’m-”
“I know,” said the Baron. He spoke English with a cultivated British accent. “You are Jesso.” He peered closer. “What is Jesso, may I ask?”
“Let me in or you’ll find out.”
The Baron had a fine, high laugh and it took a while before he whinnied out of breath.
“Jesso, so I remembered, is a paste. Something that sculptors use. It hardens into stone. Am I correct?” He put on a sunny smile.
“Why don’t you try it? Where’s Kator?”
“Ah, yes, dear Kator. Johannes does pick up the strangest people. Hofer, is my breakfast ready?”
The butler said yes and got waved away.
“Johannes isn’t in at the moment. In fact, I understand he went abroad.”
“He’s back. I came back with him.”
“Oh, you did? Then he must have been delayed in Hamburg. I’ll ask Hofer about it. Hofer should know.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Forgive me. I am von Lohe. Hofer failed to introduce me. Helmut von Lohe,” and he bowed from the waist.
“Jack Jesso.”
“Have you had breakfast, Mr. Jesso?”
Jesso didn’t answer right away because he didn’t know what to call the man. Finally he said, “Look, does Kator live here?”
“Oh, yes. When Johannes is in town he stays with me.” Helmut von Lohe smiled. “Would you care to wait, Mr. Jesso? Join me in breakfast?” The smile changed from vapid to personal.
“I’ll wait.”
Von Lohe led the way, weaving across the large hall of the house with a rustling of his robe, then through a silk and petit-point salon and out to the solarium. There was a little fountain there, making a tinkle, and big plants standing still in the overheated air. Something was blooming with a sweet odor.
“Be seated, Mr. Jesso.” Helmut swirled himself into a wicker chair. It creaked like an old gate. “You are an American, Mr. Jesso, am I right?”
“Sure.”
“Would you like to know how I know?” Jesso didn’t care, but Helmut told him anyway. “Because you didn’t know how to address me.” He whinnied. Then, with his smile, “Just call me Helmut. You’d like that, as an American, wouldn’t you?”
Jesso was kept from telling him what he’d like when Hofer rolled the breakfast up. There was everything and Baron von Lohe ate like a pig.
That was at eleven. At eleven-thirty Helmut was full. He rang the bell, waved at the mess on the table, and spoke to the butler in English. Von Lohe had manners. Or maybe he wanted Jesso to understand.
“Has the Frau Baronin had breakfast, Hofer?”
“Yes, Herr Baron.”
“You will tell her I am in the solarium,” said Helmut, and he sat back like a king awaiting his retinue. He also gave Jesso a benign look, but that dropped off fast.
“The Frau Baronin has left for the city,” said Hofer, and that answer spoiled the Baron’s fun so much that he got nasty when he told Hofer to leave.
“And send her to me when she returns,” he called after the butler. Then he turned back to Jesso.
“My wife, Mr. Jesso, keeps irregular hours at times. However,” and he patted the yellow hair where it was draped across the skull, “she is not quite used to her new standing.”
“Oh,” said Jesso. “Country girl?”
“You might say so, dear Jack. In many ways, you might say so.”
It sounded mysterious as hell, but Jesso wasn’t much interested.
“When you meet her,” said the Baron, “you will-”
“I’ve seen her,” said Jesso. “When I came in.”
“Well,” said Helmut. He wasn’t all pleased. “It deprives me of the pleasure of introducing her to you.”
“We haven’t met. I just saw her.”
The Baron smiled, leaned forward. “A remarkable woman, wouldn’t you say so?” He looked smug. “In my family we have always favored beautiful women.” He said it as if nobody else ever favored beautiful women. The Baron leaned closer. “Her name is Renette.”
Jesso looked away. Like a lousy pimp, he thought.
“Not much of a country-girl name,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Jesso felt out of place with the Baron, and he started to wonder what had happened to Kator. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, twirled it between his fingers, made it snap.
“Ask Hofer when Kator is coming back, will you-uh-Helmut?”
But the Baron didn’t move.
“Is your business with dear Johannes so urgent you cannot enjoy the comfort of my hospitality? How would you like some liqueur?”
Liqueur, probably with a stink like a flower perfume. The close warmth of the solarium bothered him, and the Baron, with his careful hair-do, gave him a pain. And that Renette female. He had come for Kator. He had expected Kator, cold and tricky, the kind of man who made it easy for you to act without scruples and who made it impossible to forget what you came for.
“I said, dear Jack, is your business so important-”
“Yeah. He owes me five hundred bucks.”
This amused the Baron.
“Five hundred dollars!” He whinnied. “You mean you came here from out of town, broke in at an early hour, because he owes you five hundred dollars?”
“My life savings, Helmut.”
He leaned forward and put one hand on Jesso’s knee.
“Johannes can be unreasonable, dear Jack. But let me help you with the money. Really, it means little enough to me, and I’ll speak to Johannes about-“
“I’ll wait. You don’t owe me a thing.” Jesso moved his leg out of the way.
Von Lohe laughed. “Why should you be afraid to be indebted to me? And besides, my influence with Johannes is such-“
“So go influence him.” Jesso got up abruptly. He was losing his patience.
“For example,” said the Baron, and he studied his fingernails, “if you’ve had a quarrel with our Johannes-and how easy it is to quarrel with him-you would find that my efforts in your behalf could work wonders.”