Free The Dead Man's Brother by Roger Zelazny Page B

have gotten such a sterling endorsement from Bruno, he being a notorious slave driver. No, I decided she had hung this one on for a reason, and it had to be a recent one. I hoped that it dealt with my quarry. Whatever, now was the ideal—perhaps the only—time to get it out of her, while she was still reeling from the blow.
    After a time, she returned, turbaned in a towel and wearing a white terry cloth robe. Her face looked much better, though I noticed that her hands shook as she refilled her cup. She sat down, found a cigarette and managed a much better smile than earlier.
    "Thanks, Ovid," she said, dropping her eyes.
    Then she looked around the room, turning her whole head, not just her eyes.
    "And you cleaned up, too. I am embarrassed."
    Her survey ended at the door.
    "Sorry I didn’t hear you knock," she said.
    I shrugged.
    "I didn’t mean to stand you up tonight," she told me.
    "No harm done," I said. "How are you feeling now?"
    "Rotten," she said. "Were you worried about me?"
    "Yes."
    "It was one of those bad days. Everything went wrong. I took a couple drinks to relax, then things got worse and I took a couple more. Then I decided, ‘hell with it!’ and proceeded to drown my sorrows.
    "How was the opening?"
    "Interesting," I said. "Walter Carlon was there. Bruno told me he missed you."
    "I’ll bet he did," she said. "I set the thing up practically singlehandedly!"
    "Then you decided not to show up for it."
    She looked a trifle wistful.
    "I’m sorry about that now," she said. "Bruno is an awfully good person when you really get to know him well. I’ll have to call him in the morning…"
    "Does it happen often?"
    "What?"
    "Everything going wrong."
    She gnawed her lip.
    "No, today was special," she said.
    "In what ways?"
    "I’d just as soon forget about it."
    "Of course," I said.
    The silence came again and I decided to wait it out.
    I studied my shoe tops for several minutes before I heard a soft sob. Looking up then, I saw that her eyes were moist.
    "It’s difficult, isn’t it?" I said.
    "Y-yes."
    I offered her my handkerchief, but she shook her head and used her sleeve.
    I wanted whatever was causing this, but I did not know how to go after it. There seemed to be no handles. It could be a delayed reaction over Carl. It could be something quite different. I could not tell.
    "You are a success now," she finally said.
    "That is a very relative term."
    "But you are, and I am glad for you."
    "Thanks. I guess I chose a poor time to come to town, though. I wanted to find you happy, to take you someplace where there is laughter. I wanted—"
    "You sometimes thought of me after you left?" she interrupted.
    "Oh yes. Often."
    She smiled weakly at this, so I went over and sat down beside her, put an arm about her shoulders. She did not resist. She began to cry again, though, and she leaned against me. I let her go on this way for a long while.
    "It could have been so good," she finally said, her cheek against my chest. "…Then everything went wrong. I am born to lose, always."
    It reminded me of something long gone by, but I said nothing. There followed a seizure of hiccups, then more tears.
    "…It was just about perfect," she said. "Perfect…"
    "Until today," I speculated.
    "Until today," she agreed. "Now, both of them…Both of them!"
    "Sad."
    "I don’t know what to do. I really don’t."
    "You are still young, pretty, employed."
    "Rotting," she said. "Everything has gone rotten. To lose another. We were so close, so close to it."
    "Now…" I ventured.
    "Now," she said, "I feel an ancient widow all in black. Now it is over."
    "Twice," I said, catching the drift with hackle-raising suddenness. "This time Claude Bretagne."
    The alcohol had slowed both her reflexes and her thinking. It took several seconds before I felt her stiffen.
    "How…? How did you know?" she said softly.
    "I know many things," I told her. "I even know about the money. First you lost Carl, now Claude. How did this one happen?"
    "I don’t