The Basilica would be opened to the public from 8:00a.m. until 10:00a.m. for viewing of the casket, and then closed. Seating of official guests would begin at 11:00a.m. Nuns from the Convent of the Sisters of the Holy Cross would provide appropriate choral music from 11:00 until 12:00, when the mass would begin. The mass would be celebrated by the Cardinal Archbishop of Argentina, assisted by three bishops, a monsignor named Kelly, and one lowly priest, Padre Kurt Welner, S.J.
Following the mass, the casket would be carried by officers of the Husares de Pueyrred?n from the Basilica to the Frade tomb for interment.
Following the interment, Se?or and Se?ora Humberto Duarte would receive mourners, by invitation only, at their residence at 1420 Avenida Alvear. Because of a shortage of parking, it was suggested that mourners move by foot to the Duarte home. A limited number of automobiles would be available to accommodate the immediate family, the aged, and the infirm.
"I think, Capitan Lauffer," Beatrice asked thoughtfully, "that it would be appropriate for Cletus to be at Our Lady of Pilar from about nine o'clock until the final viewing is over, don't you?"
Lauffer looked at Clete.
"May I respectfully suggest, Se?ora, that would be Se?or Frade's decision?"
Beatrice looked at Cletus.
"Yes, of course, Aunt Beatrice," Clete said.
"But now, Beatrice, we have to send Cletus to bed," Claudia Carzino-Cormano said firmly. "He must be exhausted."
"I am a little tired," Clete said.
"You poor boy," Beatrice said, kissing Clete's cheek. "Of course you must be, with all you've had to do today."
[TWO]
1728 Avenida Coronel Diaz
Palermo, Buenos Aires
2330 9 April 1943
"I know dinner was very difficult for you, Capitan," Clete said to Lauffer as they sat in his car before the door of what his father had called "the money sewer." "I appreciate your understanding."
"Don't be silly," Lauffer said automatically, then blurted, "I felt more sorry for your uncle than your aunt."
Clete grunted.
"I shouldn't have said that," Lauffer said. "Forgive me."
"I was thinking exactly the same thing," Clete said. "Christ, he must have the patience of a saint."
"He loves her very much," Lauffer said. He put out his hand. "You must be exhausted."
"Yeah."
"I will be here at eight-thirty to take you to the Basilica," he said. "Would that be all right?"
"Fine."
"Or I could be fifteen, twenty minutes late. Delayed in traffic."
Clete smiled at him. "I really appreciate that," he said. "But I think I'd better be there at nine."
"Eight-thirty, then," Lauffer said, and reached across Clete to open the door. "Sleep well."
The moment he stepped out of the car the door to the mansion opened. He saw Antonio, the butler.
The perfectly trained servant,Clete thought. He didn't open the door until he was sure I wanted it open.
"Good evening, Se?or Cletus."
"Good evening, Antonio."
"Is there anything I can get for you, Se?or?"
"No, I don't. . . Yes. I'm not sure I have an un-messed-up shirt for tomorrow. Is there someone . . . ?"
"Your linen has been gone over, Se?or."
"In that case, you can't do anything for me except say 'good night.'"
"Would you like me to have your suit refreshed?"
Clete looked down at the creases in his trousers.
"It looks fine to me."
"I'll have the laundress touch it up," Antonio said. "Your father took great pains with his appearance."
Was that a shot at me, el slobbo? Or was "touching up " the son's suit a last service to el Coronel?
"Thank you," Clete said.
"You have had several telephone calls, Se?or. All from, I believe, the same lady. She did not choose to leave her name."
Well, I know who that is, don't I?
"If she calls back, put her through. Even if I'm asleep."
"Very well, Se?or."
"Good night, Antonio."
"Good night, Se?or."
Clete started up the wide stairway.
He found the bed had been turned down. A pair of pajamas were laid out on it.
What do I do, put them on and toss and turn all night? Or sleep in my skivvy shirt, which will make me appear both ungrateful to the staff and boorish, as well?
He stripped to his underwear, then carried the suit to the sitting and left it on a chair so the laundress could find it. That done, he returned to the bedroom, closing the door after him.
He was brushing his teeth when the telephone rang.
Tinkled,he thought. The telephones here don't ring, they tinkle, as if the bell is powered by a run-down battery.
There was an ornate, French-style telephone on the huge marble sink.
"Hola?"
"Clete?" Dorotea's voice made his heart jump.
"Hi, Princess."
"I've been trying for hours to get you."
"How did you know I was here?"
"Your grandfather called Daddy. Daddy told me."
"How are you?"
"I'm all right," Dorotea said. "Clete, I can't tell you how devastated I am by what happened to your father, how sorry I am for you."
"Thank you."
She seems hesitant about something. Distant.
"I have something to tell you, Clete."
"Tell me."
"Not over the telephone. I want to be looking at you when I tell you."
"Tell me now, and look at me later."
"Damn you! This is very important."
"So what do you want me to do? I don't suppose you can come here. Do you want me to come there?"
"God no! Daddy would have kittens."
"OK. Then what?"
"Where are you going to be first thing in the morning?"
"At nine o'clock, I'll be at the church."
"Our Lady of Pilar?"
"Right."
"Will you be alone?"
"I don't think so, but we can find someplace to talk, if that's what you're asking."
"All right, I'll see you there."
"Fine."
"Cletus, I am so sorry for you."
"I'll be all right."
"I'll see you at nine, or a little after," Dorotea said, and the line went dead.
He put the ornate receiver back in its cradle.
"Clete, my boy," he said aloud, "I think you have just received Part One of a 'Dear John' communication, with Part Two to be delivered in person at zero nine hundred hours. Shit!"
Well, what the hell did I expect? She just turned nineteen years old, for Christ's sake. Before me, she was really the Virgin Princess. I was the first, quote, real man, unquote, in her life. Nineteen-year-old girls routinely fall in love with, quote, older men, unquote, and if the older man is a sonofabitch, as I certainly was, sometimes even let them into their pants.
"Cletus," she will say, "I will always love you. But I have met someone else. He is my age. I didn't want to fall in love with him. It just happened. I can only hope that you can understand. I never wanted to hurt you."
Whereupon, as a gentleman should in such circumstances, I will touch her shoulder in a brotherly way, sincerely announce that of course I understand, wish her and the boyfriend all possible happiness, and tell her I will never forget her either.