If you could, Henry, you'd have paidpro forma respects to Beatrice and Humberto and taken your family out of here as quickly as possible. The only reason you're up here to smile at me is because your business is dependent on the crude and refined petroleum products it gets from Howell Petroleum, and you don't want to risk offending the Old Man's grandson.
What the hell, if I was in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same way about me. Me being too old for your innocent nineteen-year-old daughter which is true isn't one tenth of what's wrong with Cletus H. Frade as a suitor. After what they tried to do to me what they did to my father only a lunatic would want his daughter or any member of his family within five miles of me.
"Good afternoon, Se?or Mallin. How good of you to call," he said politely.
"Our sympathy for your loss should go without speaking, Cletus. Your father was a magnificent man, who will be sorely missed."
"Thank you."
"Mrs. Mallin," Clete went on. "How are you, Ma'am?"
"For the fifty-fifth time, Clete, please call me 'Pamela,'" Se?ora Mallin said, and gave him her cheek to kiss. "I'm so sorry about el Coronel."
"Thank you," Clete said.
"What do you say, Enrico?" Clete said, and punched Little Enrico, man-to-man, on the arm.
"I am very sorry about your father, Cletus," Little Enrico said.
And then Clete turned to Dorotea.
"And the lovely Se?orita Mallin," he said, putting out his hand. "How have you been, Dorotea?"
"Very well, thank you, all things considered," Dorotea said. "I'm very sorry about your loss, Clete."
"Thank you."
"And how is your grandfather, Cletus?" Henry Mallin asked.
"Mean as a rattlesnake, as usual," Clete said, immediately regretting it. The Argentineand particularly the Anglo-Argentinesense of humor was markedly different from that of Texas and Louisiana.
Little Henry made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle.
His father glared at him, then moved the glare to Clete.
Clete smiled at the man who was blissfully unaware he was about to become both a grandfather and a father-in-law.
"My grandfather asked me to extend his best regards to you and your family, Se?or Mallin," he said.
"How kind of him."
"May I offer you some refreshment?"
"No, thank you. We must be going. We wished to pay our respects."
"It was very kind of you."
"Clete, you come to see us, lunch, dinner, or just to visit, just as soon as you find time," Se?ora Mallin said, to her husband's discomfiture.
"Yes, do that," Dorotea chimed in mischievously. "We have so much to talk about."
Her father headed for the door, followed by Little Henry, his wife, and Dorotea. Without realizing he was doing it, Clete went after them, his hand reaching to touch Dorotea's shoulder as if with a mind of its own.
She turned, looked into his eyes, then touched her lips with her fingers and moved the kiss to Clete's lips. Clete didn't think either her father or her brother saw this, but he knew her mother did. She looked at Clete, asking without words what that was all about.
Clete met Dorotea's mother's eyes, nodded his head, and shrugged.
I am forced to confirm herewith, Se?ora, your worst suspicions and fears. Well, maybe not yourworst suspicions and fears.
"Oh, my!" Pamela Mallin said. "Oh, my!" And then scurried quickly down the corridor after her husband.
Clete watched them for a moment and then turned.
Enrico was standing there, startling him, and then mystifying him. He was simultaneously solemnly winking at Clete and tapping his temple with his index finger.
What the hell is that all about?
"it is here, Se?or Clete," Enrico said.
"What's there?"
"The combination to el Coronel's safe."
"Oh, really?"
"If you would like, I can drive out there tonight and bring the contents of the safe to you."
Clete's next visitor interrupted the conversation. And again startled him.
"Christ, where did you come from?" Clete blurted.
First Lieutenant Anthony J. Pelosi, Corps of Engineers, Army of the United States, had come through what a moment before Clete believed to be a solid, paneled wall.
"What we will do, Enrico, is leave for San Pedro y San Pablo very early in the morning," Clete said. He waited for Enrico to nod his understanding, then gave in to his curiosity and went to examine the door.
A masterpiece of fine carpentry or is it cabinetmaking?it blended invisibly with the paneled wall when closed. Only on close examination could Clete find a toe-activated panel that functioned as a doorknob.
"It leads to the kitchen" Tony Pelosi said. "Your uncle sent me up that way."
He was a swarthy, short young man who had two weeks before celebrated his twenty-first birthday. His muscular arms and chest strained the tunic of his pink and green Class "A" uniform.
The insignia of the Eighty-second Airborne Division was sewn on the sleeve of his tunic, and the breast carried silver parachutist's wings and two medals. One was the Silver Star medal, the third-highest award for valor, and the other announced that the wearer had served in the American Theater of Operations. It was automatically awarded after ninety days of service. Pelosi's sharply creased pink trousers were bloused around the tops of highly polished parachutist's jump boots.
Tony,Clete thought, is probably the only man in the U.S. Army, Navy, or Marine Corps who has won the Silver Star for service in the American Theater of Operations, which is defined as the continental United States and South America, theoretically far from any shots fired in anger.
"How are you, Tony?" Clete said, turning to him and shaking his hand. "I went looking for you yesterday. You weren't home."
"I was probably standing in line at the Edificio Libertador," Tony said. Italian emotions overwhelmed him. The handshake turned into an embrace. "Jesus, Clete, I'm sorry about your dad."
"Thank you," Clete said.
After the emotional moment passed, Tony, looking a little embarrassed, went to Enrico.
"How are you, Sergeant Major?" he asked.
"Mi Teniente," Enrico said. Visibly torn between saluting an officer and embracing him, he finally did both.
"You all right?" Tony asked when Enrico finally released him.
"I am fine," Enrico said.
"He is not," Clete said. "He took what was probably a .45 slugit gouged a three-inch hole in his headand he took 00-buckshot in his chest and arm."
"Jesus!"
"I am fine," Enrico repeated firmly.
Tony turned to Clete.
"I couldn't get into Our Lady of Pilar this morning, Clete. No invitation."
"Sorry, I didn't think about that."
"But after the mass was over, I went in and lit a candle for him, and after that I went to the tomb and said a little prayer."
"Thank you, Tony."
"And after that I came here. And had trouble getting in, no invitation. But I threw a fit, and waved my diplomatic carnet around, and finally the cop outside caved in."
"I just didn't think about getting you invitations, Tony. I'm sorry."
"Christ, you had enough on your mind, Clete. Don't apologize."
Clete decided to lighten the conversation.