Candy Kid Read Online Free PDF Page A

with that, Jose reassured himself with more aplomb than he possessed at this given moment. Even if el Greco did recognize the name of one small twig from a great war-time forest, it wouldn’t matter. The war was quits. Certainly there could be no violence involved in doing a favor for a pretty girl.
    Yet the moment he opened the envelope and read the name of the man, Jose knew that he’d been right to put a guard on his tongue. This was not something in which he could involve Adam, tired out from three months’ trading through Mexico. Much less could he mention it to Beach who’d be determined to flail in with his usual daring. Beach had been spoiling for a ruckus since they’d taken his fighter planes away from him. And there was Jose again, thinking of it as violent. It wasn’t going to be. But an early idea he’d had to send Pablo to fetch the package died fast when he read that name. This job was his, he’d let himself in for it.
    It was true that he didn’t have to do anything about it. He could simply ignore the whole thing. Or he could leave a little note for the young lady, explaining the comedy of errors. A note which might lead to some violence on her part but no knife in the back. And certainly and inevitably would lead to the acquaintance which he’d had in mind from the start. He had no intention of pulling out. Not since learning that Senor Praxiteles was involved.
    One small advantage was his. The man in the seersucker suit was curious about the girl’s activities. Curious enough to invade the apartment of the hostess of the Chenoweth Hotel, although, conceivably, Tosteen might not have known it was her apartment. Curious enough to care about a poor Mexican to whom the blond girl might have spoken on the street. To go further, to seek the name of the Mexican. But the man didn’t know that the girl had sent a message to that fellow. Thanks to Pablo putting his protection on Jose, he hadn’t had to pick up the envelope himself. Pablo brought it up with the linen suit and with the information, “A lady leave this at the desk for you.” Pablo was keeping his black eyes open and his ears pricked.
    The suit arrived just before six, the envelope had just been handed over by the lady. “I tell Mister Clark I will bring it to you. The lady she is gone. She say give it to you at the desk but Mister Clark he say I should bring it to you.” If anyone was watching to see who picked up the envelope, he would be disappointed. There would be no significance attached to Clark handing Pablo an envelope to deliver. If anyone was watching, he’d have a long, feckless watch.
    The only one who could possibly connect Jose Aragon with the blond girl would be the seersucker man. He might have been able to get the name from sources other than the three mum boys. Not from Clark, though, should he breeze up to ask who was in Lou Chenoweth’s room. Clark had worshiped Lou too long to allow anyone to question her business. Jose did not believe that Tosteen knew the Mexican was actually Jose y Maria Angelico Aragon y Vaca, a don by right of inheritance. And he was quite certain that the man would not connect the slim, elegant, white-linened Jose Aragon with either the sweaty Mexican of the noon street or the dripping guy behind a bath towel in Lou’s room. Not at first sight. The three were three different men.
    Adam drove. As if he didn’t trust either of the Aragons at the wheel. He turned into the wide street leading to the bridge, a dark street bisected with trolley tracks, flanked by dark warehouses, shabby with unclean hotels before the lights of the bridge approached. They parked on the American side out of custom, in turn out of the wisdom of experience. Adam picked the best-lighted lot, not that it was too good. It was a small one, set between two scabrous buildings, littered with dirty blown papers and melon rinds, peach pits, corn cobs sucked dry. Adam locked the car and put the keys in his own pocket.