An Evil Guest

GIL CORBY

The telephone woke Cassie at ten minutes past eight.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and wishing with all her heart that the noise would stop, stumbled out of bed, and at length realized that (this being a hotel) there was a telephone on a nightstand beside the bed.

On the other side.

It had rung ten times, perhaps, when at last she picked up the handset and said a sleepy hello.

“It’s me, Cassie. Sharon. Sharon Bench. Remember me?”

“Yes.” Cassie yawned. “Yes, I do, Sharon. What do you want? I was asleep.”

“Sorry. But you made me a promise, Cassie. I checked my voice mail here at the office, and I checked my answering machine at home. I can dial into it.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you hadn’t called. But you promised me you’d tell me the next time you dated Wallace Rosenquist. You were to let me know and tell me everything about it. And you didn’t.”

“That’s right.” Cassie yawned again. “I didn’t.”

“So tell me now! You owe me.”

“I didn’t date him. I haven’t even seen him.” She paused. “This is crazy.”

“What is?”

“I dreamed about him, and now it seems like you’re still in my dream. I’m awake — I know I am. I’m awake and looking around my room at the downtown Hyatt, but you’re stuck in my dream.”

There was a long pause. “Tell me about it, Cassie. If I’m in a dream I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“I was riding in this enormous white car. It was as long as a bus.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Wally’s head was in there, too, sitting in front of me. Just his head. He kept telling me he was going to make me a queen, and finally he handed me a long narrow box, sort of gold. I thought it was going to be a crown, Sharon. I did! It was going to be a crown, and I would wrap it around my head and fasten it in back. I opened it and there were a jillion huge diamonds in there.”

“Cassie? Are you sure you’re awake?”

“Of course I am.”

“I want you to do something for me. Will you please? I want you to stand up.”

“All right.” Cassie rose.

“You’re standing up?”

“Yes, but I’m going to sit down again in about one second.”

“Answer a couple of questions first. Did you go to the theater last night? Do the show?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Five songs and three encores, and I just about danced my cute big feet off. No wonder I’m so tired.”

“Okay. How did you get back to your hotel?”

“I — ”

“Yeah? How?”

“Maybe I walked...”

“After dancing your feet off?” Even over the phone, Sharon sounded irritated.

“I guess I flagged a cab. That was it. I got a cab, and there was this nice driver who wanted to know how he could get tickets. I said I couldn’t help him, and he said if only he could get tickets he could sell them for four times the box office price. Then... No, that wasn’t last night...”

“I didn’t think so.”

“It’s hot in here, and the windows won’t open. Can you wait a minute while I turn up the air-conditioning?”

“Sure.”

Back at the phone Cassie said, “I think I remember it, but it’s crazy. How do you think I got back here?”

“Let me tell you why I called, Cassie. I’ve got a contact at your show. I can’t tell you who she is — I gave her my word I wouldn’t do that. But I do. I’ve done this person some little favors, and this person does me little favors now and then. Last night this person called and told me that when she left the theater Wallace Rosenquist’s limo was waiting outside. It had to be waiting for you.”

“It was,” Cassie said, “but Wally wasn’t in it. I didn’t date him, so I didn’t break my promise to you.”

“He wasn’t in there?”

“Nope. He’d just sent his driver. His driver’s name is Carlos.”

“That’s not exactly hot news.”

“I never said it was.” Thoroughly awake now, Cassie smiled. “Wally was just being nice. He sent his driver, and I got in and his driver took me back to the hotel and even walked me up to my room. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember that.”

“Neither do I.”

“Now I’m going back to bed, Sharon. Please don’t call again. Not this morning.”

They said good-bye and Cassie lay down once more, but did not sleep.

The telephone rang. She sat up — on the correct side of the bed this time — and lifted the handset. “Casey Answering Incorporated. What can we do for you?”

“This is Zelda, Cassie. Can you meet me for breakfast at nine?”

Cassie glanced at the clock radio. “No.”

“Nine fifteen? Please? I’m buying.”

“You’re buying? This is a dream. Got to be.”

“I’m buying. Nine fifteen in the coffee shop. Don’t be late.”

“Nine twenty,” Cassie said, but Zelda had already hung up.

After a moment’s hesitation, Cassie pushed the button for the hotel operator. “Please ring Margaret Briggs.”

Beyond the hotel window, the world had turned to gray while she slept. Once — no, twice — rain lashed the glass. Fall, and the show was nowhere near ready for New York.

“Margaret? I didn’t wake you up? I was afraid I would.”

“No, Miss Casey. I always get up at seven.”

“That’s great. Come here? Eleven oh nine. I’m sure you remember, and I’ll buy your breakfast after. No, I’ll make Zelda do it, but it’s the same thing.”

“I’ll be right there, Miss Casey.”

“Wait. Did you call Sharon Bench last night?”

“No, Miss Casey.”

“The truth, please. I won’t be mad, and it may be important? Did you?”

“No, Miss Casey. Honestly, I didn’t.”

“Thanks. Come as soon as you can. I have to get dressed in a tearing hurry, and we’re going to have to search this room before we go. I’ll start without you.”

“MARGARET is a genius,” Cassie said as she sat down. “She should be a detective. Margaret Marple. I didn’t think we’d find it at all, but she found it in about a minute and a half.”

Margaret stared down at her plate.

“Found what?” Zelda looked from one to the other.

“The bracelet from my dream. See, I dreamed about Wally last night. I dreamed he’d given me a bracelet.”

“You have to see it,” Margaret whispered to Zelda. “Miss Sinclair had nothing half as nice.”

“I want to.”

“Only when I woke up this morning,” Cassie continued, “I wasn’t exactly sure it was a dream. I felt like I’d had a box, not very big, and hidden it before I went to bed. And so — ”

Zelda rapped her water glass. “I didn’t think Wallace Rosenquist was here. India would have said something while we were negotiating the recording contract.”

“He isn’t. But I saw him last night in his car and he gave me this bracelet.”

“In your dream?”

“Right. Only when Carlos took me back to my room, I put on all the locks — the security bar and everything — and hid the bracelet box.”

“You ought to get a thing at the bank, Miss Casey. A safety deposit.”

“I will, only back home. Not here.”

“That fits perfectly.” Zelda nodded to herself. “Thank you, Margaret.”

“Fits what?”

“In a minute. Here’s the waitress, and you haven’t even looked.”

Cassie glanced up. “Do you have buckwheat cakes?”

The waitress nodded, and Cassie ordered buckwheat pancakes with a side of bacon.

“I’ve been eating breakfast in here ever since we came,” Margaret told Zelda. “I don’t have to see a menu. Yogurt and fruit, please.”

Zelda ordered a Denver omelet. “Now tell me about the bracelet. No, don’t. Have you got it? You didn’t leave it up in your room, I hope.”

“You do not get ten percent of my bracelet.” Cassie was firm.

“Swell, let me see it.”

“Not yet. Margaret came, and I told her I thought Wally’d given me another bracelet and I’d hidden it. She said what about the safe? I didn’t remember there was a safe in the closet — that’s where I’m going to put it — until she said that. So I said probably not, because I’d forgotten about it, but she wanted to look.”

“The numbers were scrambled,” Margaret explained. “Mine was set to all zeros when I got here. That will open it until you reprogram it.”

“Mine was locked,” Cassie went on, “and Margaret wanted to know whether I’d changed the combination. I didn’t know you could, so Margaret said I probably hadn’t. She turned the numbers zero-zero-zero-zero and it opened. There it was!”

“Hooray.” Zelda looked impatient and sounded the same way. “I wanna see the bracelet.”

“I’ll take it out of my purse,” Cassie began, “and hold my arm under — ”

The waitress returned bearing food, coffee, tea, and a program from Dating the Volcano God. “Would you sign this, Miss Casey? It’s for my boss.”

Cassie did.

“And could you sign my arm, too? I want to show it to people, and there’s a tattoo place down the street.”

IN Zelda’s rented car, Cassie asked, “Will your hopper hold us all? Three people? I’ve heard some of the little ones only seat two.”

“Yes and no.” Always a fast driver, Zelda was driving faster than usual. “It seats four, so it’ll certainly hold the three of us. Only Ebony’s coming and bringing a tenor for the duets. So that’ll be five if Margaret comes.”

“Margaret’s coming,” Cassie said firmly. “I want her there.”

“Let’s hear it from Margaret. Ever warped through hyperspace, Margaret?”

Margaret shook her head, and Cassie said, “She can’t see you there in back. You’ll have to speak up.”

“No, I haven’t, Ms. Youmans.”

“Scared?”

“No, Ms. Youmans.” Margaret looked frightened.

“I was the first time, too. The saleswoman took me up for a test run, and I was scared to pieces. She talked me through it a dozen times, and after the third one I saw it was a piece of cake.”

Cassie said, “Ebony won’t take up much room. She’s as thin as a soda straw.”

“Bucket seats, so it doesn’t matter. Only there’s cargo space in back. You know. The tenor can sit back there.”

The airport was small. Ebony and the new tenor were waiting in the lounge, and looked at least as rain-soaked as Cassie felt. Ebony said, “This is Gil Corby. Gil, this is Cassie Casey, our star. She’s the one you’ll be singing with.”

They shook hands while Corby stared at Cassie’s new bracelet. Afterward, Cassie studied Corby’s rain-washed face while he met Zelda and Margaret.

Zelda said, “You’ll have to sit in the cargo space, Gil. The whole thing will only take ten minutes. Is that okay?”

“Certainly.”

As they were scampering across the tarmac, Margaret gasped, “I’ll never understand how these things fly. They haven’t got wings.”

Zelda overheard her. “Does an apple need wings to fall out of a tree?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Well that’s how a flier works. It falls, only it falls up.”

Margaret looked more baffled than ever.

“It’s what the saleswoman said, and the owner’s manual says the same thing. I don’t understand it either.”

Corby struggled to keep the green golf umbrella he had bought in the airport above Cassie’s head. “What makes the apple fall?”

Ebony said, “Gravity.”

“Really? What’s that?”

Cassie said, “I don’t know either, Gil. What is it?”

“It’s the name we give the property of warping space possessed by matter. All matter has it, even a feather. It’s just that in the case of a feather, the amount it has is very, very small.”

“You’d better get in first,” Zelda told him. In spite of her hooded raincoat, rain was trickling down her cheeks.

Awkwardly, Corby clambered into the cargo space.

Wondering whether Corby’s umbrella and her sopping jacket would hurt the upholstery, Cassie took a seat. “This is smaller than a lot of cars.”

“Just a li’l pink bug,” Zelda admitted cheerfully, “but I can drive to Mars if I want to.”

Ebony, seated in back with Margaret, turned to speak to Corby. “Do you really understand these things?”

He shook his head, and suddenly they were rising through the rain, buoyant as a cork in a thousand feet of water. Margaret shut her eyes.

“We’re warping space now,” Zelda told Cassie. “If you can’t imagine that, here’s an easier way to think of it. We’re grabbing the space over us and throwing it behind us, and that makes us go — less space ahead, more space behind. Are you a physicist, Gil?”

“Hardly.”

Cassie said, “He’s an actor and a singer, aren’t you, Gil?”

“Correct. But like most of us, I’ve held a great many odd jobs when I couldn’t find work.”

Ebony said, “Wait ’til you see him dance, Cassie!”

The rain had vanished while Cassie gawked at the instrument panel. “Are we really at fifty thousand feet? Why haven’t my ears popped?”

“I have no idea. Okay, folks. We’re up high enough that the hop-bang won’t break any windows. Here it comes!”

“I didn’t hear a bang,” Margaret said. Her eyes were still shut, tightly clamped against a glorious sun that darkened windows and windshield.

Cassie said, “I didn’t either, but I think the lights flickered.”

“We were gone before the bang.” Like Margaret’s, Corby’s voice came from behind her. “It wasn’t loud anyway, because the air was so thin.”

Ebony giggled. “You can open your eyes now.”

“I’m not opening my eyes,” Margaret told her firmly, “until we’re down.”

Cassie had turned in her seat to stare at Corby. “You remind me of somebody I know. You even look a little like him.”

Corby grinned. “Handsome, huh? I’d like to meet him.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Cassie promised, “if you’re still around.”

His grin widened. “I’ll wait. Zelda, do you have a big car?”

Zelda shook her head. “It’s not much bigger than this.”

“In that case, Cassie and I will take a cab to the studio. We’ll meet you there.”

“Cassie stays with me. Why don’t you and Ebony take the cab?”

Margaret asked, “Are we falling? I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Not very fast.” Cassie reached back to pat her shoulder. “You won’t mind riding with Ebony and Zelda, will you?”

Before Margaret could answer, the pink hopper pitched forward, then seemed almost to correct itself. Below, as Cassie could see more plainly than she liked, rolled a vast sea of pearlescent cloud. Above that sea, thousands of feet below, flew something that might have been a monstrous bat. As she watched, horrified, it dove into the cloud and vanished.

IN the back of the cab, Corby whispered, “Why did you want to talk to me?”

“Who said I did?” Cassie favored him with a sidelong glance. “I wanted to smell your aftershave. If you think I’d rather be in a crowded car with three other women than ride in a cab with a handsome man, you need to get to know me better.”

“I’d like to. But you may wish to keep your voice down. The driver can overhear us.”

“Naturally. If I have to say something he shouldn’t hear, I’ll tap your arm in code. One tap for A, two for B, three for C. You know.”

Corby took a deep breath. “I do want to talk to you. I want to talk to you more than I can say. Miss Casey, I need this job. You’ll get royalties on the recording, and thousands up front. I get five hundred for singing with you. If — ”

“That’s not fair. I’ll speak to Zelda.”

He shook his head. “It is fair. I agreed and signed a contract. The thing is that my contract says I must be acceptable to you. If I’m not I won’t get paid. I want you — I need you — to understand that.”

“All right, I do.” Cassie hesitated. “I’ll tell you what. If I’ve got to dump you, I’ll give you five hundred myself.”

“I won’t take it.”

Cassie turned to look at him. “I thought you said you were hard up, Gil.”

“I am.” Something unflinching had crept into Corby’s face. “I am, but I won’t take charity. I’d sooner steal than accept money you gave me because you pitied me.”

“If you say so. By the way, lunch is on me.”

His grin returned. “That I’ll take — and repay the favor just as soon as I can.”

“Right you are. What about steak today?”

“Steak will be just the beginning. Is that bracelet real?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie made a tiny, helpless gesture. “I want to have a jeweler look at it.”

“So you think it might be.”

“If I had to bet, I’d give you two to one it is. But not three to one.”

“Wallace Rosenquist gave it to you.” Corby sounded positive.

“How did you know that?”

“I didn’t. I guessed. He’s a billionaire, according the newscasters, and a friend of mine who knows him says he’s, well, crazy about you. Deeply in love with you, in other words.”

“Your friend knows him.” Cassie was staring out at the suburban houses that had replaced the farmland nearer the airport.

“Yes, but I don’t. I wish I did.”

“You move in high-class circles just the same.”

Corby laughed; he had a good laugh. “My dear Miss Casey! At this very instant I’m sharing a cab with the most desirable woman on any known planet, and you think I move in exalted circles because I know someone who knows Wallace Rosenquist.”

“You know physics, too.”

He shook his head.

“You knew about the hopper. How it worked.”

“I do not, though I wish I did. It warps space, just as gravity does. Any child could tell you that much. Ask me how it does it, and you’ll see me at a loss. Any good physicist could tell you, presumably. I can’t.”

“Nuclear energy. I think somebody said that.”

“Perhaps they did. It may even have been me who said it. Warping space and nuclear energy are just words, and anyone can say them. An astro-explorer named Chuck Finney discovered that Woldercan was home to an intelligent race. I can say that quite easily. Finding another planet with an intelligent native race would be rather more difficult. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Cassie smiled. “Here’s a bunch more questions. Could Zelda really go to Mars in her hopper?”

“That’s one I can answer easily. Yes.”

“Could she get out and walk around when she got there? Throw rocks? All that stuff?”

“If she had an air helmet, yes. She’d need the helmet because the Martian atmosphere is still too thin to support human life. They’re working on that.”

“One time I saw a diagram of a hopper, Gil. It had a big airlock, and the caption said how it worked. Zelda’s little hopper doesn’t have an airlock.”

“Actually it does, because those little hoppers are all airlock. When Zelda was suited up, she’d tell the onboard computer. A compressor would suck up most of the air in the cabin and store it. When it had finished, she could open the hatch and step outside. When she came back in — reassemble in reverse order, as the manuals say. She would shut the hatch, release the stored air, and take off her helmet. Clear?”

“Perfect. Next question. You said that like most of us you’d worked at all kinds of jobs when you couldn’t get a part. What were they?”

“Oh, Lord!” Corby shook his head in dismay. “It would take me an hour to go through them all. Have you ever been a waitress?”

Cassie nodded.

“Good tips, I bet. Well, I’ve been a waiter. I’ve been working at a little diner down the street from your theater. That’s my most recent job.”

“Well, by golly...”

“What is it?”

“India was talking about getting somebody new to play the mate, and the man who was bringing our food said that there had been somebody in there earlier who might fill the bill. I thought he meant a customer.”

“I was in there earlier,” Corby said. “Mitch — that’s his name — relieved me. When you had gone, he phoned and told me about it.”

“India wanted him to send you over.”

Corby nodded. “Mitch told me that, too.”

“All right, besides a waiter. What else?”

“City planner. Teacher and substitute teacher — ”

“Ah ha!”

“It pays well and I like working with students, but the bureaucracy and paperwork drive you insane. To say nothing of having a camcorder looking over your shoulder every minute.”

The cab braked hard as Corby spoke, and the driver growled, “Trouble!” Then, “No es cierto!”

He swerved down a side street, but not before Cassie had glimpsed Zelda’s old, familiar sedan. Zelda, Ebony, and Margaret were standing behind it, surrounded by four men.

One of the men held a submachine gun.

Cassie fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, only half aware that Corby was shouting for the driver to stop.