[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine December 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Pendleton had been away from San Francisco over two months. The airport
taxi left him at his place, where he showered and shaved. Then he
decided he would walk, down through Chinatown and over into North
Beach, to Beth's apartment.
It was a warm Saturday afternoon and he unbuttoned his dacron blazer
a block or so into Chinatown. He smiled as he wandered by the bright
restaurants and shops, the rows of ivory Buddhas in window after
window. On one corner Pendleton stopped and took a deep breath,
watching a scattering of tourists taking pictures of each other.
Someone had lost a half dozen fortune cookies on the sidewalk and they
crackled and spread fragments and fortunes as people passed.
While he was waiting for a signal to change, three small Chinese boys
charged a fourth who had ducked around Pendleton. They all ran around
the corner and Pendleton looked after them. There was an old curio and
toy shop there. He went toward its streaked window, trying to identify
the objects. Some kind of procession of tin soldiers made up the main
display. The door of the shop opened and an old man with a flared white
beard came out. His dark suit hung loose on him and his tie was coming
untied as he hurried away.
The old man brushed by Pendleton, nudging him. "Many pardons," he said,
cutting across the street. He ran downhill, weaving a little, and into
an alley.
The bells over the toy shop door rattled again. "Stop, thief!" shouted
the fat Chinese, who came running up to Pendleton. The man shouted
again and stopped on the corner, his hands on his hips, looking.
Pendleton crossed the street and turned down the alley the old man had
used. This would cut off a block of the way to Beth's. He had kept
quiet about the thief because he didn't want to get involved in a lot
of delaying questioning.
* * * * *
Halfway down the alley he saw an arm dangling out of a garbage can.
Pendleton blinked and approached the shadowed area around the can. He
flipped the lid up and the coat sleeve that had been tangled on the
can edge slipped free and dropped into the can. If the old man was
wandering around naked, they shouldn't have much trouble catching him.
Pendleton liked the pre-quake apartment house Beth lived in. In almost
any weather he liked to see its narrow brown wood front waiting there
in the middle of the block. He smiled as a big blue-gray gull flew low
overhead and then circled up and away behind Beth's building. Pendleton
took the rough steps in twos and threes and swung at Beth's bell. There
was a folded note for him glued on her mail box lid with Scotch tape.
It told him she might be delayed a bit and to get her keys from under
the rubber-plant pot on the porch and let himself in. He did that,
thinking again that Beth's notes always looked as though she wrote them
on horseback.
Upstairs he dropped her keys on the small mantle over the small real
fireplace. Her bedroom door was slightly open. Just as he noticed this,
Beth called out to him.
"I hope that's you, Ben?" she said from her room.
"Where'll I put the ice, lady?" he said. "You're supposed to be out."
"Welcome back. I just got here and I had to change so I left the keys
down there in case you got here while I was changing. How was New York?"
"Okay, but I'm glad I'm with the agency out here. How'd you get in
without keys?" He sat down in the soft tan sofa-chair he'd given her.
"I have a key to the kitchen way. Is the show all right now?"
"I guess we fixed it for a while. How are you?"
"Fine. And, hey, I have a good part in Alex' new play. It just happened
and I couldn't write."
"You have lousy handwriting, you know," Pendleton called. Grinning,
he got out a cigarette and reached into his coat pocket for a book of
matches. Something jabbed into the palm of his hand.
"It's because I'm so intense," Beth said, near her bedroom door.
Pendleton winced and pulled a small toy Chinese junk out of the pocket.
The price stamp was still on the bottom of the boat, 25 cents. The old
man must have dropped it in his pocket when he nudged him.
Beth came up behind him. "It's warm in here. Give me your coat. I have
a whole new concept about making martinis. This fellow in Actors' Lab
told me. You do it with Zen." Her hands rested on Pendleton's shoulders.
"I'll be damned," he said, rubbing his palm with the boat as he stood.
Beth slid her arms over his shoulders and locked her hands on his
chest. "What's that, Ben?"
Pendleton turned around in her hold. He tapped her tanned nose with the
toy boat and told her about it. "I suppose I should take it back," he
said finally.
Beth laughed. "Makes you a receiver of stolen goods." She took the
toy boat and walked to the fireplace. She put it next to her keys and
turned to him. She was wearing a light blue dress with a flared skirt.
No stockings, flat black shoes. She'd cut her blonde hair short since
he'd seen her last. "Welcome back," she said, smiling.
* * * * *
A light wind was starting up, tapping windows with tree branches, as
Pendleton let himself into Beth's darkening apartment. He flipped the
light switch on and started for the tan sofa chair, jiggling the keys
in his hand. The bedroom door slammed.
"You in there?" Pendleton called. Her note said she'd gone out for some
forgotten groceries.
Pendleton opened the bedroom door and turned on the lights. The window
beyond Beth's low, blue-covered bed was open and the wind was flapping
the curtains against her dressing table. A strong flap caught a
lipstick and flipped it into the thick rug.
Edging around the bed, Pendleton closed the window and picked up the
lipstick. He left the bedroom door a bit open and went back to the
chair. There was a paper back by Eisenstein on the coffee table and he
picked that up and read down the contents page.
The wind got stronger and parts of the old building creaked, first
something down under him, then something way up and to the right. Now
and then there would be a bang from out in back. Pendleton dropped the
book and got down on his knees in front of the fireplace and kindled a
fire. As the fire took hold, bright sparks popped out into the room.
Something started tapping on the window behind Pendleton's chair. At
last, in a lull between creaking and banging, he became aware of a
tapping. He looked at the window and the early night sky. The tapping
went on.
There was a gray cat sitting on the sill outside. The cat was tangled
up in an orange and blue bead necklace. "Lonely out there," Pendleton
said. He didn't much like cats, but this one looked sad. He opened the
window and the cat jumped in, the necklace falling free and clattering
against the wall. "We'll see if maybe Beth's got something around to
give to wandering cats." Pendleton reached out to pick up the cat.
Sputtering, the animal raked at his fingers and dived between his legs.
Pendleton spun and saw the cat scoot through the open bedroom door.
"Hey, you little bastard, you'll knock over things."
He was two steps from the door when it slammed and locked. Pendleton
stopped, wondering how the animal had managed to bang into the door
hard enough to close it. He didn't think the cat should stay in there
and anyway Beth would want to get in when she got home. He'd pick the
lock. Crouching, he reached for the knob. Something clicked and the
door swung in. He recognized Beth's terry robe and he looked up and saw
her face, very pale.
"Okay," she said. "I guess I was too cute with the key bits. Go away,
Ben, and leave me alone. Please?"
"What's the matter?" He was still squatting and her stepping forward
sent him over.
"Just go away, Ben. Please, now." She brushed by him and sat in a
bucket chair, putting both bare feet down hard on the floor.