Castleview (11 page)

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Authors: Gene Wolfe

BOOK: Castleview
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Another ring.
Sally said, “It can only be bad news, and I don’t trust you alone in my house.” But she stood as she spoke.
She had lost count of the rings by the time she lifted the handset from the hook. There had been ten, perhaps, or a dozen. “Hello?”
“My name’s Rothbell D. Patterson, Mrs. Howard—this is Mrs. Howard, isn’t it? I’m on the
Chicago Sun-Times,
and I’m calling you from Chicago. We’ve had a tip that you’ve sighted something out there, a yeti or a sasquatch, like the Big Muddy Monster—a big, smelly, ape-like thing covered with hair. Is that correct, Mrs. Howard? Will you confirm it?”
Sally moved the earpiece away from her ear and stared out the broken window.
Faintly, the reporter’s voice pleaded, “Mrs. Howard? Mrs. Howard?”
The draft coming through the broken window was icy; Sally shivered, thinking that it must be freezing or nearly freezing outside. “You have the wrong number,” she told the telephone, and hung up.
As she had expected, Fee was no longer in the living room, though the smoke of his cigarette still hung in the air. The cigarette itself smoldered in the ashtray on the table by Tom’s chair. One corner of a piece of brownish paper protruded from beneath the ashtray, and she pulled it out.
It was a check for sixty thousand dollars.
FORTUNE COOKIES
“WHAT DID you tell Hwan?” It was the hostess, willow-slender in a red silk dress.
Shields said, “I didn’t tell him anything. I asked him a question.” He rose. “Won’t you sit down, Miss … ?”
“Sun. Phyllis Sun. I’m not supposed to, but—” Her eyes swept the almost-empty restaurant. “This late I don’t think it can hurt.”
Ann asked, “Tangerines? Is that what you use in the orange duck?”
Miss Sun shook her head. “Really, I don’t know. I suppose it may be, or oranges and tangerines together; but our cooking’s done by men—my brother and my uncles—and they don’t like women in their kitchen. What was your question, Mr. Shields?”
“You remembered my name,” he said. “That’s flattering.”
“I thought it odd that a Mrs. Schindler would say she was Mr. Shields’s wife.”
“I have a right to my own name,” Ann told her.
“Certainly you do. What was the question, Mr. Shields? I don’t think you asked Hwan about tangerines.”
Shields shook his head. “I simply asked whether he’d ever seen the castle—the illusion or hallucination, or whatever you want to call it, that Castleview’s named for.”
“That’s odd. Why should that frighten him?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Sun? Have you seen it?”
The hostess shook her head. “Never.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Since I was three. I grew up here. A lot of kids saw it when I was in school, and some of the teachers said they’d seen it, too—you study about it in Middle School. It’s a mirage, or at least it’s supposed to be, caused by a density inversion in the atmosphere.” She paused, but neither Shields nor Ann spoke.
“In high school we kids used to run around at night looking for it. You’re supposed to be able to see it better at night or in bad weather. I went a few times, but I never saw it.”
Shields asked, “Did you want to?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. It was something that you boasted about. Frankly, I think some of the people who claim to have seen it are lying. I was tempted to lie about it a time or two myself.”
Ann said, “Mr. Hwan is lying, too. He said he’d never seen it.”
“That bothers me,” Miss Sun admitted. “He isn’t a liar—he’s just the other way, in fact. I’m going to have a talk with him the first chance I get. If I find out anything, I may tell you the next time you come in.”
Shields grinned.
“May?”
“It depends on exactly what I find out, doesn’t it?” Miss Sun glanced at her watch. “I should go—the doors are supposed to be locked already. You take your time and enjoy your dinner. Hwan will put anything you want to save in cartons for you.”
“Thank you,” Shields said. “You’ve been very helpful.” He rose as she did and seated himself again when she was gone.
Ann said, “You’re right, she was. Oranges
and
tangerines—that’s it, of course. Both are cheap, both easy to get even in a country place like this. If it’s too tart, use more oranges. If it’s too sweet, more tangerines.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Shields told her.
“Do you know, Willie, I didn’t really think it was. What
did
you mean?”
“That seeing the castle doesn’t depend on what culture you come from. Hwan saw it and that girl didn’t, even though he’s still Chinese, culturally, and she’s culturally American. It doesn’t seem to depend on desire, either. She wanted to see it, but she didn’t.”
“Okay, I’ll play Devil’s Advocate,” Ann said, swallowing a mouthful of duck. “Have you considered that it might depend on credulity?”
“Rejected,” Shields told her. “I saw it, and I’ve been in the automobile business since we got out of college. You don’t have much credulity left after the first few years. Besides, I saw it when I wasn’t expecting to, or even thinking about it.” He helped himself to fried bean curd. “Now tell me about your adventures. Did you say you met a cowboy? What happened to the car?”
“It’s got blood on the upholstery in back. And yes, I most certainly did. I told you I went to the office to ask that lady about the man on the horse, remember?”
Shields nodded.
“She told me there was a summer camp down Old Penton Road—it’s called Meadow Grass. They have a lot of horses there, and sometimes the kids ride them at night, although it’s against the rules.” Briefly, Ann described her encounters with Wrangler and Lisa. “So I got this scrumptious recipe for cheesecake that the counselor’s mother got from her friend. Then one of the girls, Sissy Stevenson—do you know her, Willie? When I said that, you looked as though you did.”
Shields nodded. “I was just talking to her on the phone. She and another girl, a foreign girl, I think, are taking care of Bob.”
Ann stopped chewing to stare at him. “You’re kidding! How in the world … ?”
He waved the question away. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about it at all, but I should know a lot more after I go down there and pick him up, which I’m going to do as soon as we finish. What was your connection with Sissy?”
“She was the one who showed me the horses, that’s all—all except Buck, because Wrangler was still out on Buck. They were all dry and seemed rested, so if it was one of those horses it had to be Buck, but I don’t really think it was. The horse we saw was a lot bigger than Buck, for one thing, at least as big as Boomer, the biggest horse there. But it wasn’t Boomer, and the man on him certainly wasn’t wearing a hat like Wrangler’s, if he was wearing a hat at all. Do you think he was, Willie?”
Shields shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“If he was, it was a cap or something like that, something close-fitting.” Ann sipped tea while she considered the matter. “Anyway, I thanked Sissy and got in the Buick, and off I went.”
“How did—”
“Please
don’t interrupt, Willie. I’m trying to tell you. Well, the first thing was that I took the wrong road. I mean, it was the right one, the road to the main entrance. But it wasn’t the one I’d come over before, the road I knew. Pretty soon I was sure I was lost, but there wasn’t any place to turn around, so I just kept driving, hoping the road would come out somewhere. And—Willie, have you ever seen a horse in a cowboy movie just run away like crazy after somebody’d shot the cowboy and he fell off?”
Shields nodded. “Sure.”
“Well, it was just like that. Here was this poor horse—it was Buck, of course—galloping right across the road in front of me, with nobody on him. I almost hit him, just like you almost hit that other horse. Of course I slowed down, and somebody in the back seat said not to pay any attention to the horse. Well, I’m telling you, I just about jumped out of my skin! I slammed on the brakes, and she bumped her nose on the back of the front seat. I think that’s where most of the blood comes from.”
Shields asked, “Who was she?”
“The French girl from the camp, Lucie something. She
had
to get to town, she
had
to meet somebody. And so she’d hidden in the back of our car—how do you like that? Well, I told her to
forget it, I was going to turn around and take her back the first chance I got.”
Shields nodded approvingly, wondering whether he could have been so stern.
“But I couldn’t. There’s just this narrow dirt road, with no place to turn, so I had to keep driving. I knew I’d come out on the highway, and then I’d be able to turn around and go back without getting stuck. The shoulders were pure mud; I sank in up to my ankles, practically, when I got out.”
“Why did you get out?” he asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Pretty soon I saw a man lying beside the road. She didn’t want me to stop, but how could I drive past somebody who needed help? I stopped and got out, and it was Wrangler, the cowboy from the camp. I think he must have fallen off his horse. He was unconscious, and he was bleeding a little.”
“So you put him in the back seat. I suppose I would have, too.”
“That’s right, I did. I tried to bandage him first, but my handkerchief wouldn’t reach around his head. Women used to tear off the bottoms of their petticoats—I’ve seen it on TV. They must’ve been cotton, but my slip’s nylon. It wouldn’t tear, and it wouldn’t have sopped up much blood anyway. So we laid him on the back seat, and I showed Lucie how to hold my handkerchief to his head. After that I drove as fast as I could. Did you know there’s a hospital here, Willie?”
“So I understand—one ambulance.”
“But I’ll bet you haven’t been in it. It’s just a little place, smaller than our fire station. We came up to it like a hot-rod, Willie. You should’ve seen us! When I got out, there was blood all over in back; it was just terrible. I yelled when I saw it, and some people came out and got him; he looked awful, too—he was so white. After that I found a phone and called you here.”
“Thank you,” Shields said.
“So that’s my story—captured at gunpoint, escaped, and a
daring rescue of a wounded cowboy. On TV that would be a whole season. You said that Bob—is that the man who was with you in the museum? That he was at Meadow Grass. How’d he get there?”
Shields shrugged; he had been considering what was left of the double-cooked pork, but had wisely decided he was too full for another bite. “All I can do is guess. I called the motel, and the old woman there said she thought you and Merc might have gone down to that camp; so I called the camp and talked to Sissy Stevenson. I gave her my name, and she wanted to know whether I knew Bob—they’d found one of my cards in his wallet. She told me that some girl was missing, and the counselor had gone out to look for her and come across Bob, lost and just about exhausted. I wanted to talk to him, but he was asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. Then I asked to talk to the counselor, but she’d gone out to search some more.”
Ann’s eyes shone. “This’s
strange,
isn’t it, Willie?”
“Not really half as strange as seeing the castle. Somebody kidnapped Bob. God knows why, but they did. I think he must’ve gotten away from them. Not as easily as you escaped—”
“I was only teasing about that. Go on.”
“I don’t think there’s much more to go on about. Bob ran away. In that rain they probably couldn’t see him when he was twenty feet off, and it would tend to muffle any noise he made—breaking sticks, or anything like that. My guess is that he kept running till he dropped, and then this counselor …”
“Lisa Solomon,” Ann supplied.
“Right, Lisa Solomon. He probably lay there till she found him. Anyway, Miss Solomon had Sissy call the hospital, but they wouldn’t send their ambulance. They told her there was only one and it was at some accident; they said that if Bob wasn’t hurt, she should just let him rest until morning. So the girls helped him undress and got him into bed, and as soon as he was asleep they went through his pockets to see who he was.”
Phyllis Sun laid their bill on the table; it was in a brass tray with two fortune cookies. “Hwan’s gone home. Or at least, he’s gone.”
Ann said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Maybe it’s for the best—he’ll feel better in the morning, I’m sure. Did you enjoy your meal? Would you like to take the leftovers with you?”
Shields said, “It was wonderful. Thank you.”
Ann added, “And I’d love to take the rest home, especially the duck.” There were two spoonsful of duck left. “But where we’re staying, we wouldn’t have anyplace to put it.”
When Miss Sun had gone, she said, “Willie, we’re supposed to leave now. They want to close.”
“I know.” He had already taken out his wallet. Should you tip a waiter who ran away before the meal was finished? Shields decided you should not. “I’ve still got the Cherokee I told you about. I want you to drive our car over to the agency and park in back. The mechanics will be in Monday, and they can clean up the rear seat. I’ll pick you up in the Cherokee and drop you at the motel.”
“You will
not!
I’m going with you.”
“To the camp? You must be tired.”
“I can hardly keep my eyes open; but I know those people at the camp now, so I can vouch for you. How would they know that you’re not one of the gang that kidnapped this salesman to start with? Besides, you’ll need somebody to look after him while you drive.
“Now,” Ann continued, having settled the matter, “aren’t we going to read our fortune cookies?” She took one and snapped it open. “Listen to this, Willie: ‘You will save a king.’ You’ve got to admit that’s class! What’s yours?”
He broke the brittle cookie and pulled out the slip of paper it contained. “‘Be careful near the water.’”

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