“Well, that’s fine,” Dolores said. “Will you meet him, Buck?”
“I’ll meet him,” Buck said.
I was watching Melita’s face when Buck gave Dolores the message. I could have sworn that there was a sudden flash of sheer panic in her eyes, then she lowered her eyes demurely to her plate and managed to toy with the coffee cup until she either had herself under control or until my imagination had quit playing tricks on me.
“Another guest?” she asked, raising her eyes to Dolores.
“Another guest,” Dolores said cheerfully. “They come and go all the time.”
“Bruno,” Melita said, “that’s an unusual name. Helmann Bruno — the name sort of rings a bell someway. Is he an author? Did he write a book or something?”
“No,” Dolores said, “he’s some sort of a prize winner. He won a contest which entitles him to two weeks’ stay at the guest ranch here. I imagine he must have something on the ball or he wouldn’t have won a contest over a whole flock of contestants.”
“Perhaps that’s where I’ve heard the name,” Melita said, “in connection with winning some sort of a contest. It must have been advertised in the magazines or something.”
Dolores was elaborately casual. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I just try to keep people happy here and don’t pry into their backgrounds.”
She emphasized, subtly, the words “don’t pry into their backgrounds.”
Melita flashed her a quick glance, then again looked down at her coffee.
Dolores looked at me. There was a puzzled look in her eyes.
We finished the meal, and Dolores said, “Well, this is the time of the siesta. Everybody relaxes for a while after lunch, then we have some golf games in the afternoon, some more swimming, and we have a nice tennis court and some tennis matches. Do you like tennis, Melita?”
“No,” she said, “I like to swim and I love horseback riding, but aside from that I’m pretty awkward when it comes to athletics.”
I let it go at that and went to my cabin, ostensibly to take a siesta.
Chapter 4
I made it a point that afternoon to be sitting out by the pool where I could see the Butte Valley Guest Ranch station wagon when it drove up. I wanted an opportunity to size up Helmann Bruno as he got out of the machine, because it frequently happens that a malingerer will give himself away by some little involuntary action before he realizes people are watching.
I saw a swirl of dust down the road, then the station wagon emerged with Buck Kramer at the wheel. The car made a wide turn and came into the parking lot reserved for incoming guests.
The man who shared the front seat with Kramer sat very still. Kramer got out, ran around the car and opened the door.
Bruno thrust out a cautious leg, than another leg, then a cane.
Kramer took one of Bruno’s hands and eased him out of the car.
Bruno stood, stiff-legged, swaying slightly, then with the cane in one hand and the other on Kramer’s arm he came slowly forward toward the swimming pool.
Kramer said, as he passed me, “This is one of the guests now, Mr. Bruno. This is Mr. Lam.”
Bruno, tall, stiff-waisted, with large, dark eyes, shifted his gaze to me, smiled, put the cane in his left hand, extended his right hand, said, “How do you do Mr. Lam.”
“Mr. Bruno,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m sorry to be so clumsy,” he said. “I was in an automobile accident and it left me pretty unsteady on my pins.”
“Bones broken?” I asked.
He disengaged his hand from mine and rubbed the back of his neck. “A whiplash,” he said. “At least that’s what the doctors tell me it is. It’s damned annoying. I’ve had these headaches and dizzy spells... I came here to take a good, long rest. I think just sitting out in the sunlight will do me good.”
He moved his right hand over to take hold of the head of the cane.
I noticed the ring on his right hand. A huge gold affair with a ruby in the center, the gold twisted so that it looked like a knotted rope, with the ruby in the center of the big flat knot.
“Just step this way, please, Mr. Bruno,” Kramer said. “We’ll register, and then I’ll show you your cabin. I believe you’re to have Cabin number 12. Take it easy, now.”
“It’s all right,” Bruno said, apologetically. “I’m just taking it a little slow, that’s all. These dizzy spells, they hit me occasionally.”
With Kramer supporting him they moved off toward the registration desk.
Dolores Ferrol had been hurrying toward us from the other end of the patio. She didn’t get there before Bruno and Kramer started off, but she was near enough to get the picture.
She came swinging up to me. “Get a load of that,” she said. “We’re licked. We’ll never trap that guy.”
I said, “Perhaps he’s smelled a rat. One thing’s certain — we’ve drawn a blank so far.”
She stood looking after them and there was a look of frustration in her eyes, then she said, somewhat defiantly, “Let me get him out in the moonlight, start a little seductive stuff and he’ll come to life in a big way.”
“Not in front of a motion-picture camera,” I said. “You need daylight for motion pictures.”
We sauntered over toward the registration desk. When Bruno and Kramer came out, Kramer introduced him to Dolores.
Dolores batted her eyelashes at him and let him look at the low-cut V of her blouse. “Rheumatism, Mr. Bruno?” she asked. “This is the greatest place in the world to clear up rheumatic pains.”
“Automobile accident,” he explained with tired patience. “A whiplash injury. I thought this would be the place for it, but I guess I made a mistake getting so far from my doctor. However, I’m getting all this for nothing. I won a two-week trip here in a contest.”
“You did!” Dolores exclaimed, looking at him with admiration in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to win one of those contests but I finally quit trying. I just don’t have the brains.”
“This one was dead easy,” Bruno said, and turned to Kramer. “You’ll take my baggage over?”
“I’ll take you over, and you can lie down,” Kramer said. “Then I’ll bring your baggage over. After that I’ll go back and see if I can locate that bag that you’re missing. The plane company seemed to feel sure it would be in on the next plane, and that should be in by the time I get there.”
“Confounded nuisance,” Bruno said. “They have the latest engineering on airplanes. They put them on drawing boards, test them in wind tunnels, give you the deluxe service once you get aboard. But when it comes to handling passengers and baggage on the ground they treat you like human cattle and try to use the methods that were in existence when the Ford trimotor was the flagship of the fleet.”
Kramer laughed. “On the other hand, it’s certainly surprising they do as well as they do. People are traveling in droves and hordes these days.”
Bruno’s voice had the querulous note of the chronic invalid. “I have troubles,” he said. “I guess I see the negative side.”
He bowed stiffly to Dolores, said, “I’ll see you again,” and then he and Kramer moved over toward the cabin at the other end of the string.
“I’ve never run into one like this before,” Dolores said.
“The guy’s clever,” I told her. “Or else he’s really hurt.”
When Kramer came out, I said, “If you’re going into town after that bag that was lost, I’d like to ride in with you. I have some things I want to buy.”
“I’ll get them for you,” Kramer said.
“No,” I told him, “I’d like to pick them out myself. If you don’t have anyone coming back with you, I can—”