Our Lady of Darkness by Fritz Leiber Read Free Book Online Page B

Gate Bridges,” Gun put in.
    “—and at Twin Peaks,” Franz went on. “And then he says that Thibaut always referred to Twin Peaks as Cleopatra’s Breasts.”
    “I wonder if skyscrapers ever have breasts,” Saul said. “I must ask Mrs. Willis about that.”
    Dorotea bugged her eyes again, indicated her bosom, said, “Oh, no!” and once more burst into laughter.
    Cal said, “Maybe Rhodes is the name of a building or hotel. You know, the Rhodes Building.”
    “Not unless the name’s been changed since 1928,” Franz told her. “There’s nothing like that now that I’ve heard of. The name Rhodes strike a bell with any of you?”
    It didn’t.
    Gun speculated, “I wonder if this building ever had a name, the poor old raddled dear.”
    “You know,” Cal said, “I’d like to know that too.”
    Dorotea shook her head. “Is just 811 Geary. Was once hotel maybe—you know, night clerk and maids. But I don’t know.”
    “Buildings Anonymous,” Saul remarked without looking up from the reefer he was making.
    “Now we do close transom,” said Dorotea, suiting actions to words. “Okay smoke pot. But do not—how you say?—advertise.”
    Heads nodded wisely.
    After a bit they all decided that they were hungry and should eat together at the German Cook’s around the corner because it was his night for sauerbraten. Dorotea was persuaded to join them. On the way she picked up her daughter Bonita and the taciturn Fernando, who now beamed.
    Walking together behind the others, Cal asked Franz, “Taffy is something more serious than you’re making out, isn’t it?”
    He had to agree, though he was becoming curiously uncertain of some of the things that had happened today—the usual not-unpleasant evening fog settling around his mind like a ghost of the old alcoholic one. High in the sky, the lopsided circle of the gibbous moon challenged the street lights.
    He said, “When I thought I saw that thing in my window, I strained for all sorts of explanations, to avoid having to accept a…well, supernatural one. I even thought it might have been you in your old bathrobe.”
    “Well, it could have been me, except it wasn’t,” she said calmly. “I’ve still got your key, youknow. Gun gave it to me that day your big package was coming and Dorotea was out. I’ll give it to you after dinner.”
    “No hurry,” he said.
    “I wish we could figure out that 607 Rhodes,” she said, “and the name of our own building, if it ever had one.”
    “I’ll try to think of a way,” he said. “Cal, did your father actually swear by Robert Ingersoll?”
    “Oh, yes—‘In the name of…’ and so on—and by William James, too, and Felix Adler, the man who founded Ethical Culture. His rather atheistic coreligionists thought it odd of him, but he liked the ring of sacerdotal language. He thought of science as a sacrament.”
    Inside the friendly little restaurant, Gun and Saul were shoving two tables together with the smiling approval of blonde and red-cheeked Rose, the waitress. The way they ended up, Saul sat between Dorotea and Bonita with Gun on Bonita’s other side. Bonita had her mother’s black hair, but was already a half-head taller and otherwise looked quite Anglo—the narrow-bodied and -faced North European type; nor was there any trace of Spanish in her American schoolgirl voice. He recalled hearing that her divorced and now nameless father had been black Irish. Though pleasingly slim in sweater and slacks, she looked somewhat gawky—very far from the shadowy, hurrying shape that had briefly excited him this morning and awakened an unpleasant memory.
    He sat beside Gun with Cal between himself and Fernando, who was next to his sister. Rose took their orders.
    Gun switched to a dark beer. Saul ordered a bottle of red wine for himself and the Luques. The sauerbraten was delicious, the potato pancakes with applesauce out of this world. Bela, the gleaming-faced German Cook (Hungarian, actually) had outdone