Read Online The Scarlet Ruse by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John D. MacDonald
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years. By all means, lunch alone and think clean and honest thoughts, dear."
She went white and then red with anger. She slapped her palm on the plate glass counter top. "But I am getting so goddamn tired of you accusing me of things!"
I yelled too but just a little louder. "So move the scenario elsewhere, you silly bitch! Move it to Chicago. Mr. X, the expert, buys for Mr. Y, the investor. Miss Z keeps the records and handles the merchandise. X, Y, and Z go to the bank a dozen times. The merchandise is stolen and replaced by cheap goods. Who do we blame, dear? X, Y, or Z. You were there! Who? Who? Who?"
She blinked and blinked, and the tears welled and spilled and trickled. She made an aimless gesture, and I took her hands and held them. She looked down and said, "I guess I just… I don't…"
The door opened, and the pressure on the mat bonged the overhead bell. Jane Lawson peered at us.
"What's going on? Are you crying, Mary Alice?"
"We were just going to lunch," I told Jane.
"Let go and I'll get my purse," Mary Alice said.
After we'd ordered a drink, Mary Alice went to the women's room to repair the tear damage. She came smiling back and sat and sipped and said, "You're kind of wearing, you know? Or maybe it's the whole rotten day. I feel ragged around all my edges."
"It doesn't show."
"On me it never does. I could be dying, and people would tell me how great I look. I always wanted to be one of those mysterious little girls with the hollow cheeks and the sad eyes. I wanted to have a kind of accent. You know. Like Hungarian."
"And all the sad-eyed little Hungarian girls want-"
"I know. I know. You've got a funny look on your face, Trav."
"I just found out I don't have to wonder about one thing that didn't fit too well. I don't have to accuse you again."
"Thanks for practically nothing."
I reached across and touched the bridge of her nose and pulled my hand back. "The answer is right there."
She looked puzzled, took out a mirror, and turned her head toward the light. "Oh. The little groove place, huh? From the glasses. But why would… Oh, I think I see. If I inventoried all those things and cut the mounts to size and put them in the book, wouldn't I see they weren't the same when I looked back through the book that day? The answer is, I don't wear my glasses in the bank. The close work is all done. The answer is vanity. Okay. No matter what kind of frames I get, I look like a big goggly owl."
"How about contacts?"
"I can't adjust to the hard ones. You can't get bifocals in soft lenses. I wear them to see close, and then I'd have to take them out to see across the room or drive my car or cross the street. Or wear glasses for distance when I was wearing them."
"Oh."
"Jane says the only thing faster than light is me whipping my glasses off when a customer comes in. I know it's silly. I think my husband made me sort of supersensitive about them."
"How?"
"I shouldn't mention him because I don't like answering questions about him, and so I hardly ever do."
"No questions."
"Thanks. We better order, maybe?"
We ordered. After the food came, I said, "I know you didn't find out until this morning, but you must have some idea of how it was done."
"I can't believe it really happened. I keep thinking Hirsh has to be wrong. He's really old. Don't old people get weird ideas sometimes?"
"That would be a pretty complicated fantasy."
"But for me it's easier to believe."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look, it's the detail, the volume. If I had no interruptions and everything right there, it would take a long time to take the good items out and put the bad items in. There are thirty-six double-sided pages in that stock book. Seventy-two pages and about ten to go. Okay, that means about ten items per page. I'm pretty quick with my hands. They're kind of big but quick. So I have to take an item out of the horizontal strip and put it aside and then select the item that goes there and put it where it should be. Ten seconds
She went white and then red with anger. She slapped her palm on the plate glass counter top. "But I am getting so goddamn tired of you accusing me of things!"
I yelled too but just a little louder. "So move the scenario elsewhere, you silly bitch! Move it to Chicago. Mr. X, the expert, buys for Mr. Y, the investor. Miss Z keeps the records and handles the merchandise. X, Y, and Z go to the bank a dozen times. The merchandise is stolen and replaced by cheap goods. Who do we blame, dear? X, Y, or Z. You were there! Who? Who? Who?"
She blinked and blinked, and the tears welled and spilled and trickled. She made an aimless gesture, and I took her hands and held them. She looked down and said, "I guess I just… I don't…"
The door opened, and the pressure on the mat bonged the overhead bell. Jane Lawson peered at us.
"What's going on? Are you crying, Mary Alice?"
"We were just going to lunch," I told Jane.
"Let go and I'll get my purse," Mary Alice said.
After we'd ordered a drink, Mary Alice went to the women's room to repair the tear damage. She came smiling back and sat and sipped and said, "You're kind of wearing, you know? Or maybe it's the whole rotten day. I feel ragged around all my edges."
"It doesn't show."
"On me it never does. I could be dying, and people would tell me how great I look. I always wanted to be one of those mysterious little girls with the hollow cheeks and the sad eyes. I wanted to have a kind of accent. You know. Like Hungarian."
"And all the sad-eyed little Hungarian girls want-"
"I know. I know. You've got a funny look on your face, Trav."
"I just found out I don't have to wonder about one thing that didn't fit too well. I don't have to accuse you again."
"Thanks for practically nothing."
I reached across and touched the bridge of her nose and pulled my hand back. "The answer is right there."
She looked puzzled, took out a mirror, and turned her head toward the light. "Oh. The little groove place, huh? From the glasses. But why would… Oh, I think I see. If I inventoried all those things and cut the mounts to size and put them in the book, wouldn't I see they weren't the same when I looked back through the book that day? The answer is, I don't wear my glasses in the bank. The close work is all done. The answer is vanity. Okay. No matter what kind of frames I get, I look like a big goggly owl."
"How about contacts?"
"I can't adjust to the hard ones. You can't get bifocals in soft lenses. I wear them to see close, and then I'd have to take them out to see across the room or drive my car or cross the street. Or wear glasses for distance when I was wearing them."
"Oh."
"Jane says the only thing faster than light is me whipping my glasses off when a customer comes in. I know it's silly. I think my husband made me sort of supersensitive about them."
"How?"
"I shouldn't mention him because I don't like answering questions about him, and so I hardly ever do."
"No questions."
"Thanks. We better order, maybe?"
We ordered. After the food came, I said, "I know you didn't find out until this morning, but you must have some idea of how it was done."
"I can't believe it really happened. I keep thinking Hirsh has to be wrong. He's really old. Don't old people get weird ideas sometimes?"
"That would be a pretty complicated fantasy."
"But for me it's easier to believe."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look, it's the detail, the volume. If I had no interruptions and everything right there, it would take a long time to take the good items out and put the bad items in. There are thirty-six double-sided pages in that stock book. Seventy-two pages and about ten to go. Okay, that means about ten items per page. I'm pretty quick with my hands. They're kind of big but quick. So I have to take an item out of the horizontal strip and put it aside and then select the item that goes there and put it where it should be. Ten seconds
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