A Shroud for Jesso

Chapter Thirteen

There was nothing for Jesso to do until ten because nobody had come down yet. He sat in a little room facing the lawn that went down to the wall by the street and waited. Then he heard Kator. He came downstairs and Jesso stopped him in the hall.

“Made your arrangements, Kator?”

“Good morning, Jesso. Yes, I have.”

“So when do we settle?”

Kator raised his eyebrows for a moment, but Jesso didn’t see it.

“I made the arrangements yesterday,” he said, and walked across the hall to the dining room. Jesso followed. “And there should be results today.”

He sat down and watched Hofer dish up the breakfast. Jesso had coffee.

“What arrangements?” Jesso asked.

Kator finished chewing, sipped chocolate.

“The-our buyer has been informed. The next move is his.”

“When?”

“Jesso, I have not seen anyone, nor has the mail been brought in.”

Jesso had to watch him finish his breakfast. Then Kator rang for the mail. There was quite a pile of it. Kator found the telegram quickly.

“The answer,” he said.

He put it down so Jesso could see it, but except for a date and an address, the text made no sense to Jesso. Kator looked active now He had pulled out a cigar but laid it down by the silver pot containing the chocolate and talked in his hard, even way.

“My request for a meeting has been granted. The only difficulty is the time.”

“The sooner, the better, Kator.”

“Of course. We will be in Munich tomorrow.” Kator paused, picked up his cigar, and rolled it between his fingers. If this guy was nervous, Jesso couldn’t tell.

“It will have to be done in this manner. You take the afternoon train to Munich. It will get you there in the forenoon. I myself have a previous appointment elsewhere, so I won’t go with you. I will fly to Munich early tomorrow and meet you at the hotel. From there we will meet our contact together and begin negotiations sometime that afternoon.”

There was nothing wrong with it. If there was, it could only be a senseless and stupid stall, and Kator wasn’t going to be that stupid.

“I’ll go,” Jesso. Said. He was trying to remember whether he had any ammunition for the revolver in his overcoat upstairs.

“Very good.” Kator gathered his mail and stood up. “It will be the time to tell the truth, Jesso.” He left for his study.

Jesso went upstairs to make sure about that revolver.

It was eleven o’clock then and Renette came out of her shower. She held her hair up with both hands while the maid rubbed her with a large towel. Then the phone rang. It was a short conversation, and after Renette hung up she put on her underthings, slippers, and the heavy brocade. When she walked into Kator’s study she looked awake and clean. She stopped by the desk and nodded.

“Well?” said Kator.

She shrugged and reached for a cigarette on the desk.

“You look awake, Renette, but you don’t act it.”

“I’m fine, Johannes.” She smoked.

He got up and walked to the empty fireplace. The big hood with gargoyles and Atlases made Kator look very squat, like a bulldog.

“You look as beautiful as ever,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. “Only a little wasted.”

She laughed. “Wasted!” she said, and then she laughed again.

“May I point out you haven’t told me a thing?”

Renette inhaled, blew the smoke out slowly. She cocked her head to watch it. “You are too anxious, Johannes.”

“You mean you have learned nothing?”

“Give me time, Johannes.”

“It seems to me-”

“I thought you weren’t interested in my methods.”

“How much time do you need?”

“Don’t be obscene.”

Kator kept still then. She didn’t often use that tone of voice. He took a series of military steps across the room, sat behind his desk, gave his instructions. It was more familiar ground now.

“Jesso will go to Munich this afternoon, by train. Tomorrow I will meet him there. That gives you from now until about three o’clock.”

“You flatter me, Johannes.”

“I know you well, Renette.”

She ignored the remark and looked out to the garden. She knew he was puzzled by her attitude, unable to predict what she would do next. Yesterday he would have known. Until yesterday, she would have said, “Of course, Johannes, if you say so.” She might have said it with a shrug, but she would have done it. Now she said:

“Of course, Johannes, but it wouldn’t be good enough. I’ll go with him. I’ll have from now on, all day, and all night. I’ll get ready.”

She came in without knocking, the way he had done it the night before.

“Jesso.”

He was cleaning the gun, but after she opened the door the motion became mechanical.

“Good morning, Jesso.”

“Good morning. How’s yours?”

“Fine, Jesso. It’s a good morning.” She sat down next to him on the bed. She didn’t peck a kiss or hold his neck. She just sat and smiled as if she enjoyed it.

“Something on your mind?” He still held the gun but he didn’t know it.

“I’m going with you.”

“Where?”

“Johannes says you’re taking a trip. I don’t care where.”

“To Munich.”

“That takes all night.”

“Why? You want to get raped?”

“That won’t take all night,” she said, and it struck him how little it sounded like a dirty joke.

“Good,” he said. “I want you to come.”

She got up, ran her hand through his hair with a swift movement, and left the room.

Jesso tried to clean the gun some more but he wasn’t interested in it any longer. The damn gun was clean anyway. He put six cartridges in the cylinder, took them out again, slipped them back one by one. If he had said no, she still would have come. He knew that. Like Lynn? Not like Lynn. Lynn would have tried to come. She would have asked and he would have said no. Renette hadn’t asked, she had told him, and he hadn’t kicked once. It stopped him for a minute, wondering how much he had changed. He had found the woman who wanted the same thing he wanted, in the same way, with the same will. Jesso felt he had found his woman.

At three the big Mercedes pulled up and Hofer carried Renette’s overnight bag downstairs. Jesso had nothing to carry. He’d buy a toothbrush and shaving stuff later. Kator wasn’t around when they left, but Helmut came out to the car. He said he was happy his wife had the chance for that little excursion and said he was looking forward to seeing them in two days or so. He kissed Renette on the temple and waved at the car cheerfully.

Once, on the way to the station, Jesso looked out and laughed. They were passing the intersection where the ambulance was parked near the restaurant. There were two more tickets on the windshield. Renette didn’t ask him why he laughed and he didn’t tell her. They hardly spoke in the car. Their hands lay on the seat between them and sometimes, with a turn of the car, their fingers touched.

They got out of the Mercedes in front of the station. The chauffeur helped with the luggage and they found the train. Kator had done it up brown this time; it wasn’t any tourist- or third-class ticket. They had a compartment, and when the chauffeur was gone they locked the door, pushed the suitcases out of the way, and sat down. When the train was moving they looked out of the window. At first the landscape looked flat, industrial; even the small fields had a square mechanical look. Later the fields rolled and there were more trees. Renette sat close, with her legs tucked under her. She had the rest of her twisted around so that she leaned against him. They smoked and didn’t talk. There was nothing to talk about. They looked almost indifferent, but their indifference was the certainty of knowing what they had.

She had on a wide-necked dress with a large collar. It had been made by a French designer at a time when they thought the female shape was O.K. as it was. She saw him looking at her and blew smoke in his face. He watched the pearl roll there.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Mother Nature.”

“The pearl, I mean.”

“No one. I got it myself.”

“Lucky pearl.”

“I’ll give it to you.”

She gave it to him and he held it in his hand. Then he put it away in his pocket. They kissed as if they had a lot of time.

It turned dusky outside. Renette put her feet to the floor and sat up.

“I’m hungry.”

Jesso rang for the porter. A small table came up from under the window and there was soup, something called glazed Wildhuhn, potatoes, and asparagus, and a cold pudding with sour cherries in it. She told him what wine to order and they had that too.

“Helmut really your husband?”

“Oh, yes.”

“He know about you?”

“What is there to know?”

He finished his wine and rang for the porter. “Plenty,” he said.

“Not until yesterday,” she said.

They drank coffee and brandy, and then the porter took the things away. They got up. Jesso turned her around in the middle of the small room, because the buttons were in the back. She held her breath so it was hard to get them open, and then she exhaled, laughing, and held still so he could get done. Jesso pulled down the bed and she stood by the wall grille and let the hot air blow up her bare legs. Then the dusk was almost complete and they didn’t notice for a long time that it had turned night again.