Cade

Six

Cade walked through the main lobby of El Prado hotel where Rivera’s fifty-foot-long A Dream on a Sunday Afternoon mural was being gaped at by a large gathering of American tourists.

He had had a lonely lunch in the grill room. He wasn’t sure now what he was going to do with himself. The day was Sunday. He had spent the past three days talking to his Mexican lawyers who airily told him there would be no difficulty about the divorce, but kept asking him to consult with them, to sign papers, and to check and recheck the obvious evidence of Juana’s adultery which he was now sick of explaining to them.

He walked to the bookstall with the idea of getting a paperback and then going to sit in the Alameda Gardens until the sun went down.

“Senor Cade!”

He looked around and was confronted by Adolfo Creel’s beaming face. A great weight of loneliness lifted from him. To see this fat Mexican who had been such a good friend to him was the nicest thing he imagined could happen to him. But as he shook hands, he felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t contacted Creel before. He knew why. Creel was too close to his past, but now they were together, Cade felt nothing but pleasure.

“This is a very special moment in my life, senor,” Creel said, his eyes moist with emotion. “I had no idea you were here. You look wonderful! Senor Cade! I am very, very happy!”

“That makes two of us,” Cade said. “Let’s have a drink or something and talk. Have you the time?”

“Of course.” Creel went with Cade into the dimly-lit bar. “I don’t have to ask. All is well with you. I have seen your magnificent work for the Sun. Forgive a stupid, uneducated man like myself, but your photographs move me.”

Cade was glad of the dim lighting. He squeezed Creel’s fat arm. It wasn’t until they were sitting side by side on the padded bench and Cade had ordered a Coke for himself and a coffee for Creel, that he was able to say in a steady enough voice, “Adolfo, for Pete’s sake, stop calling me Senor Cade. I regard you as the best friend I have ever had. Call me Val, and what is all this nonsense about being stupid and uneducated?”

Creel squirmed with pleasure. “Tell me please. Why are you here?”

Without hesitation, Cade told him about Vicki.

“This girl, Adolfo, means everything to me. I’m here for a divorce. You must meet her. She is everything that Juana isn’t. I guess I was crazy getting mixed up with that woman. Now, I’m seeing sense at last. All I want is to be free of her.”

Creel put three lumps of sugar into his coffee.

“That I can understand. Juana is not for you. She has a fatal destiny. She thinks only of the body and of money. This is a disease with her.”

Cade jiggled the ice cubes in his glass.

“What has happened to her?”

“She is here,” Creel said.

Cade felt a sudden tightening in his throat.

“Still with Diaz?”

“No. Here then is an example of her destructiveness. When they returned from Spain, it was all over. This afternoon, I am going to see what I hope will be Pedro Diaz’s last bull fight.”

Cade stared at him.

“What do you mean... his last fight?”

“He is now a wreck of a man. Yes, I know, through him you were brutally beaten. He was arrogant, cruel and vicious, but he had courage. She has taken away his courage so he has nothing left but his skill, but skill is nothing without courage. You would be sorry for him if you saw him. Last Sunday they threw bottles at him. The Sunday before they whistled at him. This afternoon...” Creel lifted his fat hands and let them drop heavily on his knees.

“But why, Adolfo?”

The fat Mexican looked at him, then away.

“Do you remember a certain Indian shack? You ask why?”

Cade flinched.

“What goddamn fools we men are, aren’t we?”

“Yes, I suppose you can say that in truth. She has a fatal fascination.”

“What about her?”

“She is living in the house you once rented in the Chapultepec Park. At the moment she is unattached. Diaz gave her many expensive presents. She goes every night to the San Pablo night club where the rich Americans are. She arranges her life very well.”

Cade forced his mind away from the image that came suddenly of her brown, sensual beauty and the long black tresses acting as a shield to the most exciting body he had ever known.

“Could I come with you, Adolfo? I want to see Diaz fight.”

“That I can understand. Yes, there will be plenty of seats. It is only those who expect tragedy who go now to watch Diaz: the vultures who hope for death.”

“Yet you go?”

“It is an ending of a chapter,” Creel said, shrugging. “I have lived a little of my life with you, with her and with Diaz. It was because of him, I lost my tyres. We Mexicans remember small things like that. Perhaps I am also one of the vultures, but when something begins, I wish to see it finish.”

At 16.20 hours, they made their way down the steps to their seats at the barrera, right by the red-painted fence around the sanded ring. As Adolfo had said there were plenty of seats, but there was still a big crowd.

Below and a few yards from where they sat, Cade could see the sword handlers of the three matadors who were fighting that afternoon. He easily recognised Regino Franoco, wearing a white shirt with bishop’s sleeves and wine coloured trousers. He was honing a sword, his movements expert and practised, a sullen frown on his face.

Seeing Cade watching, Creel said. “Yes, he is still with Diaz... one of the faithful. When they threw bottles last Sunday, he wept.”

On the far side of the ring, in the direct light of the sun, they were forming up for the paseo.

Cade recognised Pedro Diaz who was in silver and black. He stood, waiting, flanked on either side by two matadors: both elderly and fat, one of them bald. Behind them were the men of the curilla. Behind them, the mounted picadors.

With their right arms swinging, the men began to march across the sand, followed by the bull ring servants and the mules.

Cade was aware of a feeling of sick excitement, aware too that his heart was thumping unsteadily. As the three matadors made their bows to the President, he examined Diaz.

Yes, Adolfo was right. There was nothing there now but a shell. The cruel, hawk-like face that had made one of Cade’s finest photographs was now slack and flabby. The small eyes moved uneasily, the thin mouth was twitching.

“He has the first bull,” Creel said.

Diaz walked over to Franoco. They spoke together, then Franoco took Diaz’s dress cape from him and spread it over the fence.

Diaz looked up and stared at the faces looking down at him. He looked at Cade, looked away, then stiffening, he looked back at Cade. He said something to Franoco who looked round quickly and also stared at Cade. The sudden entry of the bull made both men jerk around.

“He knew you,” Creel said in a satisfied voice.

Cade was looking at the bull that had come into the ring with a blind rush and was now trotting around in the sun, cutting at the air with his horns.

“Well, he is big enough,” Creel said and Cade thought this was an understatement. The bull seemed enormous to him.

A thin, shabby man ran out, trailing a cape. The bull charged, hooking with his left horn. He continued around the ring after he had lost the cape, then seeing another cape flopping at him, he charged again.

“Diaz will have to watch that left horn,” Creel said. “Aye! Aye! This is a big one!”

Cade looked down at Diaz, immediately below him. Diaz was watching the bull. Franoco was leaning over the fence whispering furiously at Diaz, a nagging, scolding, womanish expression on his handsome face.

“Shut up!” Cade heard Diaz say. “Give me the bottle!”

Franoco handed him a big, narrow-necked jug. Diaz drank. Cade saw him shudder as he handed the jug back.

“They think it is water,” Creel said, “but it is Tequila.”

There was a commotion going on in the ring. The bull had caught the horse and had flung it over. The picador, cursing, rolled clear. The capes took the bull away.

Diaz looked directly at Cade. He gave a sneering grin.

“So we meet again,” he said, pitching his voice so that Cade could hear. “I give you this bull but I owe you nothing. I am even sorry for you.”

The crowd along the seats either side of Cade leaned forward to stare at him. Franoco snarled at him and spat at the sand beyond the fence.

“Good luck,” Cade said. He meant it. The small, shell of the man incited his pity.

Creel said quietly, “He is very drunk.”

They watched the short, stocky figure walk out towards the bull. The banderillo had done his work. The scene was now set for the encounter between Diaz and the bull which stood solid across the far side of the ring in the sun.

Diaz seemed in no hurry to reach the bull. He was slightly unsteady on his short legs, and twice during the long walk he staggered. The crowd watched in silence.

Cade saw Franoco talking urgently to the other two matadors who listened, shrugged and nodded. Taking their capes, they trotted after Diaz. Three men of the curilla joined them. They formed a wide protective circle behind Diaz.

When he was within thirty yards of the bull, Diaz looked around. Seeing the men moving forward, he waved them away. He cursed them in Spanish. Some of the crowd began to whistle.

Cade saw Franoco was running frantically around the ring, between the fence and the seats, heading towards the bull.

“What that fool thinks he is doing, I can’t imagine,” Creel said. “He will only distract Diaz.”

Diaz was now within fifteen yards of the bull. He stopped, unfurled his cape and shook it at the bull. By now Franoco was immediately behind the bull, his hands clutching the top of the fence.

The bull’s tail went up as it charged.

It happened so quickly Cade was unable to see exactly what had gone wrong. He heard a thumping impact and he saw Diaz go up in the air and come down on the sand on the back of his head.

He heard Creel say, “Well, that’s it then,” and let out a long, hissing sigh.

The bull turned with the quickness of a cat The capes were flopping as the men ran in, but the bull was only aware of Diaz who was struggling up on his knees. Franoco sprang over the fence, but the speed of the bull beat him. The left horn chopped into Diaz’s chest slamming him against the fence. The horn struck again.

Franoco was screaming. He now had the bull by the right horn and was beating his fist on the bull’s nose.

Cade was only vaguely aware of the uproar. Like everyone, he was standing and shouting.

The bull shook his head and Franoco, like a string-less puppet was thrown away. He fell on his side. The bull charged, but the flick of a cape caught his eye and he charged over Franoco, one of his hoofs thudding into Franoco’s upturned face as the bull went with a rush across the ring, pursuing a running matador.

Three bull ring servants picked Diaz up. They ran with him out of the ring. Another of them helped Franoco to his feet, his face streaming blood.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cade said, sickened.

“Yes,” Creel said and the two men walked quickly up the steps and away from the ring.

As they reached the exit, Cade said, his voice unsteady, “How badly do you think he was hurt?”

Creel shrugged.

“He is dead. A chest wound like that is always fatal. He had no chance. The horn smashed the cage of his ribs.”

Cade wiped his sweating face. He was completely unnerved.

“Get me back to the hotel, Adolfo. I’m not staying here any longer. I hate this City.”

“Yes,” Creel said. He led the way through the hundreds of parked cars to where he had left his Pontiac. “Don’t dwell on it. He brought it on himself.”

They drove in silence back to El Prado hotel. Cade could think only of the broken body that hung so limply in the arms of the bull ring servants as they ran with it across the sand.

“I’ll have to return in a few days,” he said as Creel pulled up outside the hotel. “I’ll call you, Adolfo.”

The two men shook hands. Cade forced a smile before climbing the steps to the hotel.

He went immediately to the Travel Agency office and booked a New York flight, leaving at 11.00 hours the following morning.

He took the elevator to his room, unlocked the door and as he opened it, he thought it was still early. The long evening ahead of him depressed him.

He shut the door, then stood motionless.

Juana was standing there with her back to the window. She was wearing a simple white dress, no jewellery and the sunlight made a hazy glow around her beauty.

“There is no one and there never can be anyone like you,” she said. “I have returned because I love you and will always love you.” She moved forward, holding out her hands to him. “Do you want me? If you do, then take me.”

The following morning, Cade called down from his room to the Travel Agency office and cancelled his flight to New York.

Juana, naked and on the bed, her long black tresses draped across her body, listened, smiling and reached for his hand.

They had made love and talked, made love and talked during the night.

“It was only when I lost you that I realised how much you mean to me,” she had said, her head on his chest, her fingers stroking the back of his hand. “It was because you were in hospital and I was alone that this bad thing that is in me made me go away with Pedro. If you had been with me, it would never have happened.”

Cade had thought of the agony she had caused him and the debts she had incurred, but he didn’t care. He knew that however badly she behaved, she was the only thing in his life. For better or for worse, he thought bitterly. It was a crushing sentence, and it depressed him.

“Don’t let’s go over past history, Juana,” he said. “We begin again. You are my wife. You want me back. All right so we begin again and we don’t talk about the past. In a couple of weeks, you and I will return to New York. We will find a small apartment somewhere. You can look after it while I work.”

She traced her finger nail down the hollow of his chest.

“New York? I don’t think I would care to live in New York.” She turned her face and kissed him. “Couldn’t you work here? We could keep the house. I have it still. You liked the house, didn’t you?”

“I am under contract. I have to work in New York.”

She lifted her head and looked at him puzzled.

“Contract? What does that mean?”

“I work for a newspaper now.”

“Is that good?”

“Not really, but it suits me.”

“They pay very well?”

“No, they pay very badly.”

“So? Then why do you work for them?”

“This is something you wouldn’t understand. I have a year and a half before the contract finishes.”

She put her hands on her full breasts and lifted them as she stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

“What do they pay, cariño?”

“Three hundred a week.” He thought without hope: money and the body. Adolfo knows her as I am learning to know her. “Money is very important to you, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It is nice to have money, but it is not really important.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “I am thrifty. Didn’t I keep the house beautifully and wasn’t my cooking beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“And you think we can manage on three hundred a week?”

“Of course. Thousands of people manage on less.”

She patted his hand.

“Then let us go to New York.”

That was during the night. After he had cancelled the flight to New York, he called his Mexican lawyers. He told them he wasn’t going through with the divorce. That was something he had also discussed with Juana during the night.

“But you mustn’t divorce me!” she had said, gripping his arm fiercely. “Without you I should be lost! No other man has ever wanted to marry me. You understand? It is because you are my husband that I have returned to you.”

He took her face in his hands.

“It is because you are my wife, I can forgive you,” he said.

When he had finished talking to the Mexican lawyers, she swung off the bed and threw her arms around him.

“I am so happy! Let us go back to the house. Why stay here? Let us begin to save our money. The house is paid for to the end of the month. Let us go back and I will cook for you.”

So they went back. The first thing Cade noticed was the new scarlet Thunderbird in the garage.

She dismissed it with a wave of her beautiful hand.

“I like the one you gave me better. Pedro gave this one to me. He had to. He admitted he was responsible for the fire.”

Cade moved his shoulders as if shifting a heavy weight. He walked into the house and opening the french windows, walked out into the patio with its little fountain and its flowers.

“I will get you a drink, cariño. A Tequila?”

Cade sat down in one of the lounging chairs.

“No, nothing, thank you. I don’t drink now.”

“But why?”

“It happens to be bad for me.”

She looked at him puzzled, then shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I will unpack your bag.”

She left him, sitting in the sunshine. The Thunderbird in the garage sickened him. The atmosphere of the house depressed him. He was sure Juana and Diaz had made love in the big, cool bedroom upstairs.

It can’t work, he said to himself. It might last a month, perhaps not even so long. Money and the body. She can’t help herself as I can’t help myself being in love with her.

But at least, he thought, during the uncertain time they would be together he would possess her, have her with him, be able to see her beauty and prepare himself for the inevitable break. But this he must be sure of, he warned himself, when the break did come, he must wash her forever out of his mind. No more drinking. He had been through too much ever to let her do that to him again.

So for ten days, they lived together, making desperate, fierce love, going out to a modest restaurant when they felt like it, going to a movie, taking long drives. It was a period of peace for Cade, but never once did he let her out of his sight. Even when she went to the market, he was with her. He was so much her shadow that he began to worry her.

One evening, when they were in the garden, she said, “Are you happy, cariño?”

He glanced up from the crossword puzzle he was trying to solve.

“Why do you ask?”

“You have changed so much. You are so quiet, so serious. You aren’t interested in things any longer.”

“Things? What things?”

“Many things. Aren’t you going to work again?”

“Yes. I was going to talk to you about that. I must return to New York next week. You will come with me of course.”

“Yes.” She looked questioningly at him. “Where will we live in New York?”

“We’ll stay at an hotel, and then we will look for an apartment.”

“There will be no garden?”

“No.”

She crossed her long legs. She was wearing only a bikini and Cade thought he had never seen a more lovely woman.

“Perhaps it would be better for me to join you when you have found the apartment. It would save money. We have this house for another two weeks.” She looked at him, smiling. “You see? I am really very thrifty.”

“You will come with me, Juana. I am not leaving you alone in Mexico City.”

She shrugged and patted his hand.

“Very well, cariño. I will do what you think best. When do we leave?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Perhaps if we left on Wednesday, we could drive to New York.”

“You will have no use for a car in New York, Juana. No one these days owns a car in New York... there is never anywhere to park it. We will sell it. I will ask Creel to find a buyer.”

He was watching her closely. He saw her eyes darken, but after a little thought, she nodded.

“I didn’t realise that. Good. Then we will sell the car and we will use the money to help furnish the apartment.”

That night while Juana was preparing dinner, Cade called Ed Burdick.

“I’ll be back on Thursday, Ed,” he said. “Ready for work.”

“Well! Why haven’t you written? I was getting worried about you. I called El Prado. They said you had checked out. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll give you all the dope when we meet.”

“Fine. I have a job lined up and waiting for you. Can you make a start on Friday?”

“What is it?”

“There’s a new musical opening with Harry Weston’s costumes. We have an exclusive for the Supplement. It’s all fixed for Friday afternoon.”

“That’s okay,” Cade said. “I’ll be there,” and he hung up.

He then called Creel.

“Juana and I have decided to settle down together, Adolfo,” he said, after greeting the Mexican. “We are leaving for New York on Thursday. We are leaving her Thunderbird in the garage. Could you sell it? Get what you can for it, but sell it.”

There was a long pause, then Creel said in an alarmed voice, “Did you say you and Juana? No, it must be a mistake, Val, what was it you said?”

“It’s all right. Don’t get excited. I know what I’m doing. Will you take care of the car?”

“Of course, amigo.”

“Thanks,” and Cade hurriedly replaced the receiver.

On Wednesday night, as Juana was packing, she sat suddenly on the bed, holding her head in her hands.

Cade went to her.

“Darling! What is it?”

“I’m just dizzy. It’s all right.”

She dropped back flat on the bed, and he saw she was white, and there were beads of sweat on her face.

“What is it?”

She shut her eyes. For a long moment her body shifted as if in pain, her mouth tightened.

“Juana!” Cade was alarmed. “Tell me! What is it?”

She made an obvious effort as she opened her eyes.

“It would happen now! I have hell every month!” She rolled on her side. “Please leave me.”

Cade felt sudden panic.

“I’ll get a doctor. Don’t worry... I...”

“Don’t be stupid!” She was suddenly furious and she sat up, her eyes snapping. “Women have this damn thing! Don’t act like a child. Just leave me. I’ll be all right.”

He went down stairs and moved uneasily from the living-room to the patio and back to the living-room. Later, unable to bear the silence from upstairs, he went up to the bedroom and cautiously opened the door.

Juana was in bed, the bedside lamp shaded. Her face was chalk white and she looked towards him, her brow furrowing with irritation.

“Please leave me alone. This happens sometimes. There is nothing to worry about. I’ll be like this for two or three days, and then I’m fine again. I just want to be left alone.”

Cade moved further into the room.

“Do you think you will be able to travel tomorrow?”

“I will if I have to.” Her face twisted. “Please don’t bother me, cariño.”

“You don’t have to,” he said quietly. “You can come later. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, nothing. I could be all right tomorrow.”

But of course, she wasn’t. She looked so white and ill that Cade knew he couldn’t expect her to travel, and yet he felt this was suddenly too convenient. He had now learned to distrust her. He was determined to keep her for himself as long as he could.

“I’ll have to leave in an hour,” he said standing by the bed and looking down at her. “You don’t really feel like coming do you?”

“I’ll come if you really want me to,” she said. “It hurts, but I can put up with it.”

“You stay where you are,” and he went downstairs and called Adolfo.

“Will you come quickly, amigo?” he said when Creel answered the call. “I have to leave in an hour and I need you.”

“I will be with you in ten minutes,” Creel said and he was. He came hurrying up the path, mopping his face, anxious and worried.

“Will you do something for me, Adolfo?” Cade said as he led the way into the living-room. “There is no one else I can ask: no one else I can trust.”

“Anything, amigo,” Creel said, “but what is this about Juana? I have warned you...”

“Yes. Don’t let us discuss it,” Cade said. “Have you anything important to do for the next three days?”

Creel blinked, then shrugged.

“I seldom have anything important to do.”

“I want you to remain here. I want you to stay with Juana, and when she is well enough, I want you to put her on a plane to New York. I want you to be her jailer.”

Creel stared at him, his eyes growing round.

“Jailer? I don’t understand, amigo.”

“We were going together to New York this morning,” Cade said. “Last night, she complained of being ill. She looks ill, but she could be faking. I don’t trust her, Adolfo. This could be an excuse to escape from me again.”

“I still don’t understand,” Creel said, bewildered. “Why not let her escape if that is the way she feels? What is the use of a woman like her to you?”

“I can’t explain it to you. She wants me. I am sure of that. I even believe she loves me, but now, I think she is in the process of balancing me and money and the scale is tipping in favour of money. If I can get her to New York, I think I will win. It is a battle between us. My life would be empty without her. It’s as simple as that. I must keep her.”

Creel lifted his fat shoulders.

“Are you so sure about that?”

“Yes, I am sure. You are my friend. I have no one else who I trust more than you. Will you do this for me?”

“Of course. I won’t fail you, amigo. She will be on the New York plane. That I promise you.”

Later, Cade went upstairs and told Juana.

“Adolfo will stay here,” he said. “When you feel well enough, he will put you on a plane. I don’t want you to be alone in Mexico City.”

She lay flat in the bed, her black tresses arranged around her in a shroud, her eyes distant.

“You have no trust in me, have you?”

“No,” Cade said. “But I love you and I am going to keep you. This is the only way I can make sure that I will keep you.”

She suddenly smiled and held out her arms.

“How I love you!” she exclaimed. “It is good for a woman to be loved like this. No man has ever taken so much trouble. When I am better, I will be with you, cariño.”

Cade kissed her, feeling her passion in the soft movement of her lips.

“We can make a wonderful life together, Juana,” he said.

“We will make a wonderful life together,” she said.

Carrying his bag, Cade came down the stairs to where Creel was waiting. The two men shook hands.

“It is time I did something for you, Adolfo,” Cade said.

“A time will come,” Creel said with a smile. “It is what friendship is for.”

“I will telephone every evening at eight. Watch her, please. There should be no trouble while you are here.”

“There will be no trouble, amigo, but you can’t continue to live like this. If there is no trust, there can be no happiness.”

“I’m buying time,” Cade said. “So long. I’ll call tonight.”

Ed Burdick was at the airport when Cade arrived. As they drove along the traffic congested highway, Cade tried to explain about Juana.

Burdick cut him short.

“This is your business, Val. I thought you were serious about Vicki. Okay, you must know what you are doing. After all, you are an adult.” He brooded for several moments, then said, “I hope to God you do know what you are doing.”

“Juana is my wife,” Cade said. “Marriage is important to me. It is something that has to be permanent,”

Burdick moved his shoulders impatiently.

“Nothing is permanent to me, but I’m a cynic. I want to tell you about Weston’s decor. In colour...”

They talked shop and technical details until they reached the offices of the New York Sun. From then on, Cade was too busy to think of Juana. While discussing the sets with Harry Weston, Burdick and the two leads of the show in a down-town bar, Cade glanced at his watch and saw it was 19.55 hours. He excused himself and went to a nearby telephone booth and called Mexico City. He waited in the booth until the call came through.

Creel said, “She is still not very well, amigo. She is in bed. I have a buyer for the car. He will pay a fair price.”

“Can I talk to her, Adolfo?”

“She is sleeping. I went up there five minutes ago to see if she wanted anything to eat, but she was asleep.”

“So she really is ill?”

“That I don’t know. I am here. I sit in the garden. She remains upstairs in bed. I will expect you to call again tomorrow.”

“Get her here as fast as you can.”

“That I have promised to do. There is no need to worry.”

Cade went back to the discussion, more light-hearted than he had been since he had left Mexico.

The following day, he and Burdick worked at the theatre. The assignment went well. Cade spent most of the early evening processing the films he had taken, but his mind kept shifting to Juana. At 20.00 hours he left the final processing to the technical staff and going into one of the empty offices, he put a call through to Mexico City.

While he waited, he began a rough sketch for the layout of the pictures, but his mind was only half on his work.

When the telephone bell rang, he eagerly scooped up the receiver.

“There is no reply,” the operator told him. Cade stiffened.

“But I know someone is there. Please try again.”

He waited. A tense, uneasy feeling making any further concentration on his work impossible.

Finally, the operator again told him there was no reply.

“Give me the airport,” Cade said. What was he getting so excited about? he asked himself. Juana and Creel were either at the airport or driving to the airport. She was on her way to New York.

The clerk at the airport said there was a flight from Mexico City landing at Kennedy Airport in two hours.

She would be on that, Cade thought, replacing the receiver, but it was odd Adolfo hadn’t warned him.

An hour later, after he had sent the finished prints to Mathison, Cade again tried to reach Creel, but again the operator told him there was no one answering. He called the airport and the clerk said that Senora Juana Cade was not booked on the last flight from Mexico City.

Burdick came into the office as Cade hung up. One look at Cade’s anguished expression made him ask sharply, “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t get an answer from Juana,” Cade said, getting to his feet. “I shouldn’t have left her! Goddamn it! Let’s go out and have a drink!”

“Cut it out!” Burdick said. “You’re not starting that again. We’ll go home.”

Cade looked at him, hesitated, then forced a smile.

“Yes. We’ll go home.”

At 06.00 hours the following morning, while Burdick slept, Cade put another call through to Mexico City. Again he was told there was no answer. He called the airport. They told him there was a flight out at 09.30 hours. He threw whatever he needed into a bag and left the apartment.

At 13.00 hours, he got out of the taxi that had brought him from the airport to the little house in the park. As he walked up the path, he saw the garage doors were open and the scarlet Thunderbird no longer there.

He tried the front door and found it unlocked. Moving slowly, he walked into the living-room. The french windows stood open. Beyond, he could see the patio and the lounging-chairs.

He put down his bag and stood listening. He had a premonition of disaster and he had to force himself to mount the stairs. At the bedroom door, he stood hesitating, his heart thumping, then he pushed open the door and walked in.

Creel lay on the bed. He had on a pair of pink and white striped pyjama trousers. In his right hand, he clutched a .22 revolver. Dried blood caked on the side of his face, the small black hole by his temple told Cade how he had died.

The only indication of Juana’s presence was the faint but unmistakable smell of her perfume.

Cade returned to New York late that night. He walked into the apartment where Burdick was anxiously waiting. One glance at Cade’s flushed, sweating face told Burdick he had been drinking.

“Well, that’s it!” Cade said, tossing his overnight bag on the settee. “Short and sour!”

“What happened?” Burdick asked, careful to conceal his dismay.

Cade sat down. As he lit a cigarette, Burdick could see his hands were shaking.

“She’s gone. She’s taken all her things and her car. I guess it was my fault. I gave it to her a little too rough. I guess it was the car that finally decided her. If I had let that alone she just might have come to New York. The car obviously meant a lot to her, but I just couldn’t stomach having her around in a car given her by one of her lovers. Anyway, she’s gone.” He frowned down at his hands. “Apart from the car, I must have scared her with my talk about money. Money means an awful lot to her.”

“I thought Creel was looking after her.”

Cade laughed. The harsh sound made Burdick wince.

“Sure, he was supposed to be looking after her. It’s a damn funny thing, but I really did believe I could trust Creel. The trouble with me is I am a born sucker. She and Creel went to bed together. Messy, isn’t it?”

Burdick drew in a deep breath.

“Are you sure, Val? That’s a hell of a thing! Creel struck me as a pretty good man.”

“I’m sure. I found him in our bed. The stupid bastard shot himself.” Cade put his hand over his eyes. “That’s what he did. He laid her, then he hadn’t the guts to face me... the fat, stupid son of a whore!”

“Good God!” Burdick, shocked, got to his feet and went over to the window, pulling aside the curtain to stare out at the night sky.

“He promised to put her on the plane,” Cade went on, his voice shaking. “He said I could trust him. I bet she had him in the goddamn bed before I even left Mexico. Well, I hope he is burning in hell right now!”

“Oh, shut up!” Burdick said furiously. He turned and faced Cade. “You’re drunk! This is your fault, and you damn well know it! Leaving him with a woman like that! She made a fool out of you enough times! What gave you the idea that Adolfo was stronger and less of a man than you? What made you imagine he was a saint?”

Cade stared at him.

“So you think because he shot himself, the score is even? Well, I don’t. He said he was my friend. Then he does this to me! Friend! The fat greaseball!”

“You make me sick,” Burdick said quietly. He genuinely liked Adolfo. The shock of the Mexican’s end blunted his caution. “You ruined yourself for that woman... and God! what a worthless, vicious, disgusting whore she’s turned out to be! Now, you’re drinking again. You are a weak, spineless mess! It’s time someone told you, and I’m telling you. Okay, you have talent. You can take a photograph, but that doesn’t mean you are anything but a gutless, body loving womaniser! At least Adolfo had guts. She fixed him. She would have fixed me! He knew there was nothing he could do or say that would make you understand it was your fault to have left him with such a woman, so he gave you his life!”

Cade got to his feet.

“I’m telling Mathison I am not working with you any more,” he said. “If that’s the way you feel about me...”

“Feel about you? I don’t feel anything about you. You are less than nothing. I’m going out,” Burdick said, his voice unsteady. “When I get back, I expect you to be out of here. You’re going to start hitting the bottle and I know there is nothing I can do to stop you, so I don’t want you here, and it is more than all right with me if we don’t work together. Working with you now will be a pain in the neck. So pack up and get out and get drunk and kill yourself if you have to. You’ve had your chance. Vicki would have married you, but no, you still must cling to your rotten whore and now you’re going to pay for it. To hell with her and to hell with you!”

He went out, slamming the door.

For the next three days, there was no sign of Cade. Mathison who had been alerted by Burdick waited patiently. He accepted the situation and sent Burdick to London to do a series of articles on the General Election.

He shrugged when Burdick had said bitterly, “Well, you were right. He is a lush, and he probably will always be a lush. I don’t know what you are going to do with him, but I am not going to spoil my reputation having him with me.”

“That’s okay, Ed. I’ll talk to him if he ever shows up. He is still a great photographer. I am square enough to remember he and you shoved up the Sun’s circulation by twenty-seven per cent. That is quite an achievement. You get off to London.”

On the fourth day, Cade came into Mathison’s office. He was pretty drunk, but he carried it well enough. He said he was ready to go to work.

“I have other ideas for the Supplement now, Val,” Mathison said. “How do you feel about having a shot at straight press work?”

“I don’t give a damn. Sure, why not?” Cade said. “I have a contract with you. You pay me... I work.”

After three disastrous weeks, came the Eastonville assignment.