“Confess.”
“This vase is one of a pair.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Eight thousand for the pair. I got them to come down.”
“Then you have another confession to make?”
“Yes. I’ve bought them. Oh, this isn’t the way I planned to break the news to you. George, you make me tell you things. You do somehow, you know. You look at me with those clear blue eyes and I hear myself saying things I had no intention of saying. But you will let me have them, won’t you? I know just how I can save four thousand, on some guest-room rugs.”
“The pair of vases will be a present.”
“All right! Christmas! I’ll have them for my Christmas present.”
“No, that’s not fair. I’ll still give you a Christmas present. We’ll consider it a reward for all those miles you walked shopping.”
“Honestly, I’d love them for a Christmas present.”
“As it happens, I’ve already ordered your Christmas present.”
“You’ve ordered it? It’s something you had to order two months ahead?”
“Yes, but don’t start guessing.” He rose. “I am now going to take my bath.”
“Do you want me in your bed when you come back?”
“Yes,” he said. He did not look at her again, and as he closed the bathroom door she snapped the bedside light. When he returned to the darkened room he picked up the receiver. “Operator, this is Mr. Lockwood in 1120. No calls before ten o’clock, please. Ten o’clock. Goodnight.”
It was past eight o’clock when he awoke and looked at his sleeping wife in the other bed. He got out of bed, shaved and had a shower, and as soon as he reentered the bedroom she opened her eyes. “Good morning, dear,” she said.
“Good morning. Would you like to have some breakfast now? I’m going to have mine.”
“What time is it?”
“Three minutes short of nine,” he said.
“Oh, I slept so well.”
“Yes,” he said. “What about breakfast? Shall I order for you, or do you want to go back to sleep?”
“Oh, order for me, by all means. You do that while I wash my face.”
“Good,” he said. He waited until she closed the bathroom door behind her, then picked up the receiver. “Good morning. Mr. Lockwood, Room 1120. I want to order breakfast, but I still don’t want to receive any calls. And instead of ten o’clock, make that eleven. No calls before eleven, please. And now will you give me Room Service?”
He gave the breakfast order; orange juice, toast, and coffee for his wife; orange juice, oatmeal, fried eggs and bacon, toast, jam, and coffee for himself. Geraldine was still in the bathroom when the meal arrived; the waiter left, and George Lockwood knocked on the bathroom door.
“Breakfast is here,” he called.
She came out immediately. “I don’t mind having a waiter serve my breakfast when I’m alone,” she said. “But I hate it when you’re in the room.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t help but think what’s going on in his mind. No matter how respectful they may seem, they’re usually foreigners, and you know what they’re thinking. Wondering whether we slept together.”
“I’m sure that every foreigner assumes that something went on. If not the previous night, the one before that. Or will go on the next night. Or in our case, that I’m probably getting on in years, and that you have a lover.”
“I have. You.”
“Thank you, Geraldine. Shall I pour your coffee?”
“Yes, dear, please.” She stood near him and drank her orange juice, took the coffee he handed her, and sat across the service table. “It’s so long since we’ve had breakfast together.”
“Well, you’d rather not.”
“No woman of forty-eight is a fairy princess when she gets up in the morning. Still, we miss something by not having breakfast together.”
“Well, maybe in the new house. I’ll have my bath and get rid of my beard, and you can do whatever you feel is necessary, and we can meet over the orange juice, so to speak.”
“I like your tie,” she said.
“Oh,” he said. “I’ll be here for about a week.”
“You will? You didn’t pack for a week, or are you having some things sent on?”
“I’d like you to do me a favor if you will. Will you go over to Brooks Brothers and ask for Mr. Huntington. I’ll write this all down for you. Tell Mr. Huntington I’d like to have half a dozen shirts. He’ll know what kind when you tell him who you are. And then will you bring them back to me?”
“Of course. Mr. Huntington will know the material and the sizes and everything? Would you like me to leave right away?”
“Well, finish your coffee, and it’d be nice if you put some clothes on,” he said.
“Didn’t you bring another suit?”
“Didn’t have room, or time, or anything. I’ll go to Brooks and get something later in the day, and if we go out in the evening, I always keep a dinner jacket and evening things at the club.”
“So did Howard.” She smiled. “I remember one time he didn’t pack his Tuck, because he had one at his club. Then when he tried to put it on he couldn’t button the trousers, he’d put on so much weight.”
“Well, I haven’t put on any weight.”
“You’re hurrying me, aren’t you?”
“A little,” he said.
“What’s the matter with the shirt you have on?”
“Not a thing, but I want to get those other shirts in the laundry, don’t you see? It’s past nine o’clock, Geraldine, and I’m going to have to speak to Mr. DeBorio so that the shirts will get done today. Mr. DeBorio is the manager.”
“I know. Funny little man, but perfectly charming.”
George Lockwood looked at his wife.
“All right, dear, all right,” she said.
He waited until she was gone ten minutes, then telephoned the Gibbsville lawyer, Arthur McHenry.
“It was a clear case of trespassing, George. The property is posted, so I’m told by Deegan, and you had a watchman, Deegan. I don’t see any way that you can be held responsible. Liable. If you want to give the boy’s family a few dollars, I can prepare some sort of quit-claim, a release, and I think that’s the last we’ll ever hear of it.”
“How much, Arthur?”
“Oh, two or three hundred dollars. It’s a large family, and I’ll put it to them that you’d like to pay the funeral expenses. As you know, these people never have much cash, and a hundred dollars would cover the undertaker’s bill.”
“Give them five hundred.”
Arthur McHenry chuckled. “If you give them five hundred the parents aren’t going to be able to squeeze out many tears. That’ll be a real windfall for those people.”
“Well, I don’t want any bad feeling, and by the way, I’m keeping this from Geraldine. Was there anything in the morning paper?”
“Yes. A little article on the front page. Nothing sensational.”
“Would it be possible to have the deputy coroner finish up his investigation before we get back?”
“I shouldn’t think that would be any problem. I’ll speak to him, and I think we could rush it through, oh, within two or three days. They’re performing the autopsy today. Cause of death is obvious. And no crime involved, except that the boy was trespassing. The deputy coroner is a young doctor named Miller. You may know him. Been in Swedish Haven about three years.”
“I know him. He’s one of those that approached me about turning over my old house for a hospital.”
Arthur McHenry laughed. “Oh, my. What would you do if you were in Miller’s position?”