Patricia Highsmith - The Tremor of Forgery by Patricia Highsmith Read Free Book Online

effort.
    They were walking along.
    “ Very fine, thanks. And you? ’
    “ Not too good, thanks .’
    “ Oh? What happened? ’
    Ingham gestured towards Adams ’ s house, a vague forward gesture which he had, in fact, picked up from Adams.
    They walked on over the gritty cement path, past the bungalow headquarters, Adams on neat bare feet, Ingham with his heel-less sandals on now, because of the heat of the sand. He felt sloppy in sandals or slippers without heels, but they were certainly the coolest footgear.
    Adams hospitably set to work making Scotches with ice. The air-conditioning felt wonderful to Ingham. He stepped outside the door and carefully knocked the sand from his slippers, then came in again.
    “ Try this .’ Adams said, handing Ingham his drink. “ And what ’ s your news? ’ Ingham took the drink. ‘ The man who was supposed to join me killed himself in New York about ten days ago .’
    ‘ What ? — Good heavens! When did you hear? ’
    ‘ This morning. I had a letter from a friend of his. ’
    ‘ John, you mean. — Why did he do it? Something wrong with a love affair? Something financial? ’
    Ingham felt grateful for every predictable question. ‘ I don ’ t think because of a love affair. But I don ’ t know. Maybe there ’ s no reason at all — except anxiety, something like that .’
    ‘ Was he a nervous fellow? Neurotic? ’
    ‘ In a way. I didn ’ t think this neurotic .’
    ‘ How did he do it? ’
    ‘I dunno. Sleeping pills, I suppose .’
    ‘ He was twenty-six, you told me .’ Adams ’ s face was full of concern. ‘ Worried about money? ’
    Ingham shrugged. ‘ He wasn ’ t rolling, but he had enough for this project. We had a producer, Miles Gallust. We were advanced a few thousand dollars. — What ’ s the use wondering? There ’ re probably a lot of reasons why he did it, reasons I don ’ t know .’
    ‘ Sit down .’
    Adams sat down on the sofa with his drink, and Ingham took the squeaky leather chair. The closed shutters made the light in the room a pleasant dusk. A few thin bars of sun came in near the ceiling above Adams ’ s head.
    ‘ Well, ’ Adams said, ‘ I suppose without John you ’ ll be thinking of leaving here — going back to the States? ’
    Ingham heard a gloominess in Adam ’ s tone. ‘ Yes, no doubt. In a few days .’
    ‘ Any news from your girl? ’ Adams asked.
    Ingham disliked the term ‘ your girl ’ . ‘ Not yet. I cabled her today .’
    Adams nodded thoughtfully. ‘ When did this happen? ’
    ‘ The weekend of June tenth and eleventh. I ’ m sorry I didn ’ t see any papers then. I think the Paris Herald-Tribune might have mentioned it .’
    ‘ I can understand that it ’ s a blow .’ Adams said sympathetically. ‘ How well did you know John? ’
    Platitudes.
    Adams made them both a second drink. Then Ingham went to his bungalow to put on some trousers for dinner. He had fatuously hoped for a cable from Ina to be lying on the corner of his work-table when he walked into his bungalow. The table was empty of messages as usual.
    Melik ’ s was lively that evening. There were two tables with wind instruments, and one guitar somewhere else. A man at another table had a well-behaved German police dog who put his ears back at the noise, but did not bark. It was too noisy to talk comfortably, and that was just as well, Ingham thought. The man with the dog was tall and slender and looked like an American. He wore levis and a blue denim shirt. Adams sat with his pouchy smile, giving an occasional tolerant shake of his head. Ingham felt like a small silent room — maybe an empty room — within a larger room where all this din came from. The American led his dog away.
    Adams shouted, for the second time, ‘ I said, you ought to see more of this country before you take of f! ’
    Ingham nodded his emphatic agreement.
    The moon was almost full. They walked a little on the beach, and Ingham looked at the beige, floodlit fortress