Free The Dead Man's Brother by Roger Zelazny

afford to tie up too much capital while waiting for acclaim to catch up with his talent. If I had the opportunity to take some of his pieces on consignment I’d say yes in a minute. But since you already have that end tied up, I’ll just salivate and swallow."
    "You see, Walter?" he said, turning. "Ovid knows there will be a demand. His judgment has always been good."
    Walt expelled a tiny burst of air from between moist lips, making a little "Phht!" sound.
    "Ovid’s aesthetic sense rides backseat to the marketplace," he said in a half-joking tone. "Yes, I’ll admit to Mr. Gladden’s talent, and its limitations."
    He sought out a match and relit his cigar.
    "How long have you been in town?" I asked him.
    "About a week," he told me. "I’d seen everything current in Madrid, and this is really in the nature of a vacation.
    "I will mention this exhibit in my next column," he said to Bruno, "and send you copies."
    Turning to me, he added, "…and I’ll throw in a plug for you and your discount house, too. I’ve got to run now. That little guy over in the corner—the one with the thick glasses—is a reporter I have some business with. You’ll do well to nail him before you leave, Ov. And about that dinner—maybe we could make it a threesome. You two think about it. I’ll phone you. If not, give my bests to the Cariocas. G’bye."
    And he was gone in a cloud of smoke.
    "That man," said Bruno, "is a shithead. Of course we shall exclude him."
    I nodded and glanced at my watch. Time was working its way toward eleven o’clock, and I debated making another phone call.
    Instead, "I’ve been looking for Maria," I said. "She told me she was going to be here tonight."
    "Maria," he said benignly. "She is an extra right hand to me. She did more work, part-time, than all of my other employees together, who put in a full week. So I was glad—selfish, but still glad—when she broke up with your old partner, Carl. I think it was good for her, too, by the way. He was a drunken bum, living on her earnings. She came to work here full-time after she threw him out. Now she can meet some nice young man, marry an art teacher perhaps."
    At this point, I noticed a small, dark, mustachioed man, hair parted in the middle, who was standing in a doorway across the room, waving ferociously in our direction.
    "Someone you know?" I interrupted, nodding that way.
    Bruno turned, and the man immediately raised his hand to his ear, as if holding a telephone receiver.
    "I am wanted," he sighed. "If it is that ignorant customs officer again I will apply to the Mafia for his removal!" He winked, then, "Yes, Maria was to have been here tonight," he said. "But she telephoned earlier to say that she was not feeling well. I told her to stay in bed. It is a pity. She was looking forward to this opening. She had worked so hard on it. Well…I will call you tomorrow, and we will get together. Till then," and he traced a half-salute.
    "Till then," I agreed, and watched him plow his way through the throng.
    I headed for the front door then, wondering why she had not answered the telephone.
     
    *
     
    The cab deposited me before her building, and I located her name and apartment number on a mailbox in the hall. Mounting to the third floor, I found her door and knocked. There was a line of light at the door’s lower edge, but no sounds came from within.
    I knocked again, then tried the door. It was locked.
    It wasn’t much of a lock though, so I fetched the picks from my wallet and opened it.
    She was lying in a sprawly position, one leg on the sofa and the other hanging over its edge. Her blue skirt was hitched up above her knees and her head was twisted at an unusual angle. There were red stains on her face, her throat, her blouse.
    Quietly, I entered, locking the door behind me.
     
     
     
     
    V.
     
     
    I am the sort of person who overreacts to things. I tend to seek hidden meanings in what people say and do and to erect paranoid constructions upon these.