“The letter’s been in your possession for five years. It’s a little late to fuss about it now.”
“She’s just the type to take three showers a day. And who’s fussing?”
“The evidence indicates you are.”
“Okay, you want to play lawyer, define your terms.”
“Fussing is an unnecessary futile display of irritability that stops short of loss of temper.”
“All right, I was fussing, dammit.”
“Shall I go on reading?”
“Yes.”
“Now G. G. don’t misunderstand what I wrote. I find the people here peculiar, who wouldn’t, but the place itself is simply terrific, blue water, blue skies, no rain. It’s sort of a piece of California desert like Yucca Valley for instance only it’s right beside the ocean like Santa Felicia. A winning combination as you can well imagine which is why I’m betting on it. I’ve bet my shirt if you want the truth!
“I know how businesslike and practical you are so I’ll stop beating around the bush and come right out and state the purpose of this letter. Did you notice the letterhead? In case you missed the connection it has part of my name in it, the ‘lock’ in Jenlock is me. Me and a fellow called Jenkins (he’s awfully smart, cram full of bright ideas) are in this project together. It’s cost me a mint so far. But as Jenkins says Rome wasn’t built in a day for 50 pesos and you have to spend money to get money. I enclose a brochure about Jenlock Haciendas. We’re going to have a lot more printed when cash becomes available. Quite a few have already been mailed to interested parties.”
“Where’s the brochure?” Aragon said.
“I tore it up.”
“Why?”
“I have a short fuse.”
“So what lit it?”
“The thing was such an obvious come-on, the high-flown descriptions of a marina, a social center, a golf course, the haciendas themselves, when all they really had was a hunk of desert and a bunch of whales. I felt like going to Smedler with the brochure and asking him to investigate. Instead, I just tore it up. As I said, I have a short fuse. I’m also pretty tight with a buck.”
“B. J. asked you for money?”
“Did he ever. Read on.”
“I need $100,000. Actually I need more but with that much I can at least cover current expenses and some past bills which are mounting up. Please don’t think I’m just asking for that amount of money. I’m merely offering you the opportunity to invest in what I consider a truly promising venture. Or if you prefer instead to make me a straight loan at current interest rates that would be all right, too. The former suits me better personally. We would be sort of partners again. No matter which way you send it G. G. please send it, I really desperately need it.
“I hope you won’t think I’m begging for money. (Sounded like it there for a minute didn’t it?) This is a very fine investment. I consider myself lucky to be in on the ground floor so to speak. But any kind of development takes a great deal more money than a person realizes in the beginning and Jenlock Haciendas is not your average development. It has class. Once the Americans get word of it we expect to be deluged with offers — retired people sick of smog and sportsmen looking for a vacation home (the fishing is great especially from May to September) or just plain nature lovers wanting to renew their contact with wildlife. Getting the word out, that’s one of the problems we need money to solve, buying up lists of names and taking out ads in newspapers and magazines, perhaps a few T. V. spots. That would stimulate plenty of action. When you answer this (either way, yes or no, please answer) would you send it by registered mail? The other kind may take weeks or months or forever.
“I’ve thought a whole lot about you and me G. G. and what happened. I did so many dumb things I’m sorry about now like taking Dreamboat. I’m truly sorry for that because I know you’d made a lot of vacation plans etc. But Tula said we wouldn’t have any place to live otherwise and she was right. When we got here there were just a lot of old shacks and people were already crammed in them like sardines. I never thought human beings could live like that but here I am doing it myself. Tula’s family gradually moved in with us and I’m a sardine like the rest of them. Of course that’s only temporary. When Jenlock Haciendas gets into the construction phase I intend to occupy the first one finished as a combination office and dwelling. You know I’ve never been in business before and I’m looking forward to trying my wings. Please answer this soon G. G.
“Hopefully, with affection, with regrets,
“P.S. It’s terribly important for me to make good on this not just for me personally but for the boy. Unless I leave him provided for Pablo is in for a hard time. He was born crippled. You were right not to want children by me. I have rotten blood...”
For a minute neither of them spoke. The room seemed to be silenced by the ghosts of a long-gone man, a crippled child, a dream. Then Gilly said, “He not only had rotten blood, he had rotten judgment. I didn’t send him a nickel.”
“Did you answer his letter?”
“No. He didn’t want an answer. He wanted the right answer and I wasn’t prepared to give it to him. Sure, I’ve often felt guilty about it. After all, every cent I own was his to begin with.”
“What happened to Jenlock Haciendas?”
“I don’t know. Once in a while I’d look in the real-estate section of the Los Angeles Times and occasionally I’d buy a San Diego paper, but I never found any mention of Jenlock Haciendas or Bahía de Ballenas. That doesn’t prove anything, of course. He may have gotten the money from some place else and the project is a big success. It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m hiring you to go down and see. Hell, maybe he’s struck it rich and I’ll touch him for a hundred thousand dollars.”
“You must consider other possibilities, Mrs. Decker. He may have left there by now. Or he may be dead.”
“In either case I want to know. I also want to know what’s happened to the boy.”
So that’s it, Aragon thought, the kid. She’s rich and getting old, she has no relatives and pretty soon when Decker dies she’ll be alone. A kid would bring life to the house again.
She said, “He’s half Mexican, sure, but he’s also half B. J., which makes him sort of related to me. Doesn’t it?”
“Not legally, no.”
“Who cares about the law? I’m talking about feelings.”
“All right. Feeling-wise, he’s sort of related to you. But please bear in mind that he has a mother and that Mexicans are very much family-oriented. There’s also the possibility that the child may be dead, depending, among other things, on the degree of his congenital impairment. I realize that you’re living under great stress right now, and people in such circumstances sometimes make plans based on an unrealistic assessment of the facts.”
“You realize that, eh? Well, I realize that lawyers often like to use twenty words when one will do.”
“How about two?”
“All right.”
“Cool it.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Even if I find the kid he won’t be for sale.”
She looked almost stunned for a moment. “Perhaps we should go back to the twenty-word system.”
“It has certain advantages.”
“Your style takes a little getting used to, Aragon, but then, so does mine. We might be able to work together satisfactorily. What do you think?”
“I don’t pick the clients,” Aragon said. “They have to pick me.”