The commotion was attracting guests into the lobby. A baldish young man in black swim trunks stepped forward. "I'm a doctor. Can I help? What's her trouble?"
"She's been shocked within an inch of her life, that's all."
Harmer stepped away from his wife's side. The young man, his face grave, sat on the couch beside her and gently took her wrist. "What frightened her?"
"I just can't tell you. Not now." Harmer glared at the ring of guests and especially at Paperman.
"It was so awful," moaned the woman.
The doctor lifted her hand away from her eyes, and pushed back her lids. Paperman said in anguish to the husband, "What was it? Did she see a scorpion?"
"A scorpion? Listen, mister-"
The doctor said, "Your wife's all right. Give her a little brandy and let her catch her breath. And everybody should go away and leave her be," he added to the clustering guests.
"I never drink brandy," said Mrs. Harmer, with her hand over her eyes. "A drop of Cherry Heering, maybe. Just a tiny taste."
Paperman darted to the bar. To his annoyance, Church was not in sight. He rattled the bottles around until he found the Cherry Heering, and brought a small glassful back to the lobby. Harmer sat beside his wife, patting her hand. The doctor was dispersing the guests with good-humored hand waves. "Come, ma'am, sit up. Just take a sip or two," the doctor said.
"How soon can I take her away from this place, Doctor?" growled Harmer.
Mrs. Harmer was drinking like a baby from the glass in the doctor's hand. He smiled. "Any time, really. She's all right."
The husband grabbed Paperman's elbow. "Look after her for just a second, Doctor, will you? Just one second." He dragged Norman across the lobby, behind the desk, and into the tiny office, banging the door shut. "All right, brother, now here it is. My wife and I went back up to our room, see? I opened the door for her. She went in first. She let out a scream and all but fell dead on my hands. You know that bartender of yours? That skinny kid with a beard?"
"Yes?" said Norman, with an awful presentiment. "Well, brother, right there on the bed, this bartender of yours was slipping it to our chambermaid! Right there in broad daylight, on our bed. And my Harriet had to see a thing like that! The chambermaid!"
Too upset to think clearly, Paperman babbled, "Really? Are you sure?"
"Am I SURE?" The man exploded, his face going purple. "What the hell? Do you think I'm too goddamned old to even remember what it looks like? I'm telling you what we both saw! Harriet damn near died. I had to carry her back down the stairs. Am I sure!"
Paperman groaned, and buried his face in his hands.
This mollified Harmer and he said in more normal tones, "I tell you, that isn't the worst of it. He never even stopped. He looked at us over his shoulder and sort of smiled in a sickly way, and said, 'Oh, hi. I thought you checked out,' and went right on with it. That's when Harriet screamed again. Paperman, you've got a sex maniac there."
Paperman moaned through his hands. "I hired him only yesterday. It was an emergency-"
"Yes? Well, this is a bigger emergency. That boy's crazy. For one thing, the girl's pregnant as a hippo."
"Oh no, no. Not the pregnant one," Paperman mumbled, rocking his head from side to side. "Not Esm‚."
"That's her name. Esm‚."
Paperman's hands uncovered a bristling, haggard, drawn, deeply sad face. "Mr. Harmer, I can't blame you for leaving. I won't argue with you. I'll get rid of him."
Harmer said uncomfortably, "I mean, I feel sorry for you. But I've just got to take Harriet somewhere else."
"I completely understand," Paperman said with a gasping sob.
"Holy Christ, man, are you crying? Don't cry. That's no way."
"I'm not crying," said Paperman. "I'm allergic. When I'm under pressure these attacks hit me. I'll be all right."
It was true enough. The swelling in his nasal ducts, the stinging in his eyes, the involuntary tears, were coming on severe and fast. It was his first allergic attack since the coronary; he had thought that pattern was broken up for good, and here it was appearing again.
"Well, okay. Good luck. You've really got yourself into something here, Paperman, that's all I can say." Harmer left, closing the door gently behind him.
Paperman began feeling in his pockets for Kleenex. What a misery this was, now! He had not even brought the medicines for his allergy; he would have to cable Henny to airmail them- Rap, rap, rap at the door; bony knuckles striking hard. "Yes, come in," he wheezed.
Akers came stooping through the doorway. "I hate like hell to disturb you, but we ought to get those men started working."
"What? Are they still lying around? That regiment? It's past eleven o'clock." Paperman went into a sneezing fit. "Wha-wha-what's the holdup?" Searching in the desk he found a dusty box of yellowed tissue, and blew his nose and wiped his eyes.
'Well, you see," said the contractor, "that's what I was explaining when all this trouble started. Mind if I sit down?" He put the manila folder of the estimate on the desk. "Gosh, the types that get attracted to this island. Isn't that bartender of yours something?"
"What? How do you know about it?"
Akers gave him a lean grin. "It's all over the hotel, naturally. The whole island will know about it in an hour. Jungle drums. The way I heard it, he had these two chambermaids of yours stark naked on the bed, and-" He described a bizarre sexual arrangement, a flight of fancy out of Hindu erotic literature.
"Why, that's ridiculous," Paperman said. "I don't even think it's possible. There was only one girl, anyhow. I wish I knew how I could stop that story."
"Why? It's free advertising. They'll be coming down out of the hills to see this bartender of yours. They'll be coming over from Guadeloupe."
Paperman said, "In special excursion steamers, no doubt. Well, they'll be disappointed. As soon as you and I finish our business, I'm going to kick that pervert the hell off my grounds, beard first."
Akers shook his head. "I hope you've got another bartender lined up. One thing that's hard to find on this island is a white bartender. One that isn't a booze hound, I mean. They're like rubies. Look, about the job, now."
"Yes. What's the trouble?"
"Oh, no trouble. We're in fine shape." Akers told him some construction ideas, savers of time and money, which Paperman couldn't understand. The contractor then chatted about his big Crab Cove develop' ment. His partner was in Fort Lauderdale, arranging a bank loan of a hundred thousand dollars to complete the job, because they had run a bit over the budget. Despite the momentary snag, they expected to clear two hundred thousand dollars profit apiece, in the end. During this meandering talk, Paperman discerned, or thought he did, that Akers was somehow asking him for another thousand dollars today. Since the contractor kept talking for a long while after that about Crab Cove and its huge profits, Paperman thought he might not have heard him right. Akers paused at an inconclusive point, and his long-jawed face creased in a carefree jocund smile. "Okay? Will that be all right with you?"
"Will what be all right?"
"Why, the thousand dollars," said Akers.
"What thousand? What about it? I'm afraid I got lost a little bit, there."
"Well, I thought I just explained to you, Mr. Paperman, that before the boys will go to work today, I need another thousand dollars."
Akers told most of his story again, calmly and pleasantly, but fitting in some new important facts. Due to running over the budget at Crab Cove, he had not met his payroll in three weeks. The leader of the workmen-"Emile, one hell of a nice guy and the best foreman on the island" -had told him that they had to be paid some money on account, before they would work again. "It's a reasonable request, and we certainly should grant it," Akers said.
Paperman was not a very acute businessman, and he knew it. But even he could sense that this was getting to be a peculiar conversation; that the contractor's cheerful plausible statements were a trifle off-key; that, in short, the situation contained either a dea
d rat, or one in rapidly failing health. But he lacked the instinct to handle this new mess. He used his snuffling, wheezing, and nose-blowing as a handy excuse to say nothing. There was a prolonged pause.
Akers spoke up with tolerant, kindly patience. "Well, look, why don't you give Chunky Collins a ring and ask him about this? He'll confirm all of it. Chunky's the best lawyer on this island. I'll leave you alone. You can ask him the most embarrassing questions, anything you want. I'll put those rooms up for you in three days if you'll let me have the thousand, and what's more I'll make that my total price. How's that? I'll give it to you in writing. Three thousand, no matter what it costs me, for the whole job. What could be fairer?"
"All right," Paperman said. "Let me call Collins."
"Want me to leave?"
"That was your suggestion."
Akers laughed, rubbed his bony chin, and after a moment got up and walked out.
Norman quickly leafed through the Amerigo phone book-a dusty green-brown pamphlet, seventeen small pages in all, a most ridiculous contrast to the vast Manhattan tome-and telephoned Tom Tilson. A maid answered. "I tink dey does be down by de pool. Wait, please."
Tilson's rheumy voice came on after a while. "Yes? Who is it? Talk fast, I'm dripping all over my rug."
Paperman hemmed, hawed, apologized, and then blurted out his problem. A considerable silence followed. He could hear the old man's labored breath. "Paperman, why the devil are you bothering me with this?" Tilson shouted at last. "Who told you to call me? I'm not in business here."
"I know that. I'm alone and new on this island. I thought you might talk straight to me. I don't know who else will."
"You're a fool to try to run a tropical hotel."
"That may be, but I'm in it now."
"You sure are. Don't give Tex Akers the thousand. Goodbye."
"Wait. Wait! Just a moment. I've got to get those rooms built, Mr. Tilson."
"Paperman, you asked me a question and I answered you."
"Yes, and I'm grateful. Can't you tell me why?"
"Sure I can. It's better to be out two thousand than three thousand. We never had this conversation, Paperman. If you say you talked to me I'll call you a liar."
Tilson hung up. Paperman opened the office door and saw Akers draped angularly over the desk, holding Lorna's palm. "And then you're going to have six children by this rich husband-"
"Dah de boss." She snatched her hand away, flashing her sexy ogle at Norman.
"Oh, hi." Akers straightened up smiling. "All set? Time's sure awasting."
Paperman beckoned him into the office, closed the door, and told Akers that he couldn't give him the money. The contractor looked utterly dumbstruck. "What did Chunky say that threw you off? Let's call him back."
"I didn't call Collins. I've been looking at my books. I don't have more money to give. Not till the job's done."
A relieved grin spread over Akers' face. "Oh, come on, why, your partner can get millions just by signing his name. He's been on the cover of Time."
"He's not my partner. He went on a note so that I could buy this place. I'm on my own here, and I'm a poor man. You call Collins and ask him."
The contractor's beaming look gave way to a cloudy, unfocused stare, and he went peculiarly red around the eyes. "You don't mean you want to call this job off? You can't mean that."
"Call it off? What are you talking about? I've already paid you half the price. Two thousand dollars! These were your terms. You say it'll take you three days to finish it. Put your men to work. Three days from now I'll pay you the rest."
The cloud passed from the contractor's face. "Well, okay," he said gaily. "Let me try to talk the boys into it." He went out, humming Valencia and snapping his fingers.
Norman shook his head, wheezed, and blew his nose, trying to collect his thoughts. Urgently, he had to drive that depraved Wagner youth off the grounds before he committed some new hotel-emptying outrage. A lad whose appetite spanned Kinjan spinsters in their forties and pregnant chambermaids was hardly to be trusted alone with anything that moved. He went out to the bar, rehearsing in his mind hard short sentences of dismissal.
Church sat on the high stool at the bar, Thor's favorite spot for napping, posting figures from dining-room and bar checks into a large black ledger. Still barefoot, he now wore a red-and-white barred sailor's shirt and white clam diggers. His dark beard was neatly trimmed, his full hair well brushed. Bronzed, lean, tall, his face at once sensitive and strong, he was a picture of the young virile American seafarer, the charmer out of Melville and London, the idol of the yachting magazines. He was a Billy Budd unhanged. Island people and guests were having their "elevenses" all through the bar and on the beach. Here was a scene of tranquil, efficient prosperity, and presiding over it a lewd monster. But who would make drinks, Norman thought, if he fired the monster?
"Church," he said.
The bartender looked up with a bashful grin. "Oh, hello, sir. Mrs. Tramm showed me how this system works. I really think I can get the posting done every morning, sir, before the big lunch business starts."
"Church," Paperman said again, and paused. Guests in the bar were watching him, and leaning their heads together to whisper.
"Yes, sir?" Church said.
"Ah-Church, you and I must have a serious talk today. Not a pleasant talk."
Church blushed like a girl, hung his head, and gave Paperman a faint wistful smile. "I know, sir." His voice was soft and melancholy. "I couldn't be more sorry."
"I'll be back. I'll be back very soon," Paperman said as fiercely as possible, and he hurried out of the hotel and down to the pier, to talk to Gilbert about taking over the bar.
The wind had already shifted sharply, for the garbage boat was alongside again, Anatone was coupling up the hose, and there was no smell at all. Nevertheless Paperman yearned to call off Anatone, who seemed to be delivering tankloads of water at the approximate price of a medium Chablis. But the sky was a cloudless hard blue; the sun burned high and roasting; faucets and showers and toilets were draining the cistern fast. It was a trap. He had to endure. If it cost him three thousand dollars for water before the Guadeloupe barge returned, he had to pay, and pay, and smile.
The gondola approached with several passengers. The man at the oars had his back to Paperman. When he jumped on the pier with the rope, Norman was astounded to see, under the ribbons and the straw, a toothless smile and crossed eyes. "Good morning, fuh. Dat fun real hot today. -Thiff way, folkf."
"Virgil!"
"Yeffuh?"
"What are you doing? Where's Gilbert?" Gilbert he did tell me to fay he quit, fuh. Forry, fun."
"Quit? Why?"
Virgil munched, smiling in Paperman's direction but looking out to sea. "Fuh, I can work day and night."
"No, no. I can't let you work two shifts. I have to talk to Gilbert. Take me ashore. Where is he?"
"Fuh, I favin' money to buy teef. I'll work both fiffs. I be glad to."
Virgil's talk-like Old English printing, all fs for's's-made Paper-man's head ache. The news about Gilbert was a reeling blow. He now heard the thudding of many feet, and turned to see Akers and his gang of workers marching toward the pier.
Akers looked less cheerful than usual, but he spoke buoyantly enough. "Hi, Mr. Paperman. The fellows won't play. I kind of thought they wouldn't."
"What? I don't understand. What about the job?"
"I sure wish you could give me that thousand. We can still get a good long afternoon out of them."
Virgil rowed away toward the landing, where more passengers waited; and at the same moment, the old boat for Akers' workmen came wallowing around the stern of the garbage hauler.
This apparition, which proved that the construction gang was actually leaving, sent Paperman into a sudden nervous frenzy.
"What the HELL!" he bawled at Akers. "What's going on here? What kind of contractor are you? You took my money. You knocked out my wall! My hotel is open to the winds, and it's piled to the ro
of with building materials. You 'can't walk off now. People don't do such things."
"Look, I want to get to work, sir. I told you that. Just give me that thousand, and those rooms will spring up like mushrooms after a rain."
The men were clambering aboard the boat in a drove, exchanging gay jokes. "Mushrooms! Ha! Sure! I've heard about those mushrooms before. You're just the old mushroom man, aren't you, Akers?" Paperman capered in a full circle, chanting, "Oh, do you know the mushroom man, the mushroom man, the mushroom man!"
Akers watched this performance with mild surprise. "Well, I realize you've had a rough morning. Be seeing you." He followed his men aboard, still smiling.
Herman Wouk - Don't Stop The Carnival Page 19
