The Complete Crime Stories by James M. Cain Read Free Book Online

start. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me your name?” I asked.
    Her eyes studied me carefully. “Zita,” she said.
    â€œJust Zita? Nothing more?”
    â€œMy family name is Hungarian, somewhat difficult for American. Zita does very well.”
    â€œMine’s Hull,” I said. “Jack Hull.”
    She didn’t say anything. The burn was still in her eyes, and I couldn’t understand it. After the several chats we’d had in the dining room and the lobby, while I waited for lawyers, contractors, and the rest during the week I’d been here, I couldn’t figure it at all. There wasn’t much I could do about it, but there’s a limit to what you can take, and I was getting a burn myself.
    I was still trying to think of something to say when the door of the elevator opened, and out stepped a cute blonde in a maid’s uniform—short skirt and apron and cap, and all. I’d seen her once or twice around the hotel, but I’d paid no attention to her.
    She smiled quick at me, but gasped when she saw who I was talking to. “Mademoiselle!” she said, in the same accent as Zita’s. “ Mademoiselle! ” Then she bobbed up and down, bending her knees and straightening them, in what seemed to be meant for bows.
    But if Zita minded her being there, she didn’t show it at all. She said something to her in Hungarian, and then turned back to me. In English, she said, “This is Maria, Mr. Hull—the girl with whom you have the date.”
    â€œI have the— what? ”
    â€œYour date is with Maria,” she said.
    I stared at her, and then at Maria, and then at Zita again. If this was a joke, I didn’t feel like laughing.
    â€œI heard Maria’s telephone conversation with you,” Zita said. “I did not know it was you then, of course, but I heard her repeat your room number.” She smiled again. “And I heard her say something about wine.”
    â€œListen—” I began.
    â€œWine …” she said. “How romantic.”
    â€œI ordered the wine for you,” I told her. “My date was wit you, not with—”
    â€œYes, the wine,” she said. “Where was it to be served? On the plane perhaps? It leaves at two, you said, when you told me goodbye a little while ago. You made me feel quite sad. But at two o-clock, with a smile, comes Maria.”
    I knew by then what had happened, and how important it is to get names straight before you phone—and to make sure of the person you’re talking to before you do any asking. It put quite a crimp in my pitch, and I guess I sounded weak when I go the blueprints out and tried to start all over again.
    â€œPlease,” Zita said. “Don’t apologize for the maid. She is very pretty, Mr. Hull. Very pretty.”
    I opened my mouth to say something, but she didn’t wait to hear it. She went off down the hall, switching her hips very haughtily. She didn’t stop for the elevator, but left by way of the stairs.
    I looked at the blonde maid. “Come in, Maria,” I said. “We’ve got a little talking to do.”
    I had some idea of a message, which Maria could deliver when the situation cooled down a bit. But by the time I’d closed the door and followed Maria into the living room, I’d closed the door and followed Maria into the living room, I’d come to the conclusion that a message was not such a good idea. So I got my wallet out, took out a ten, and handed it to Maria. “I’m sorry,” I told her, “that we had to have this mix-up. I think you see the reason. Over the telephone, to an American, one accent sounds pretty much like another. I hope your feelings aren’t hurt, and that this little present will help.”
    Judging by her smile, it helped quite a lot. But as she started toward the door, something started to nag at me. “What a minute,” I said.