LEONARD MICHAELS
317
rings. She plucked it up, stepped away, and ran the card through a ma–
chine. He sign'ed the receipt quickly to disguise the tremor in his hand.
When he arrived at Inger's apartment house, his heart was beating
powerfully. He felt liberated, exceedingly happy, and slightly sick. He
planned to take Inger to a fine restaurant. He'd done so before. She'd
seemed not the least impressed, but tonight, after dinner, he would give
her the earrings. The quality of the light in the restaurant, the delicious
food, the wine, the subtle ministrations of the staff - such things matter.
The earrings would intensify the occasion. She would be impressed, even
if she didn't think precisely like a whore. Besides, it would matter to
Beard.
A woman in a short skirt opened the door. She was older than Inger,
and had cold violet eyes. Her black hair was cut level with her ears and
across into severe, straight bangs, emphasizing her hard thin-lipped ex–
pression. She'd looked somehow damaged and petrified by her beauty.
Beard introduced himself. The woman said she was Greta Matti, Inger's
roommate, then said, "Inger is gone."
"Impossible. "
"It
is possible," said Greta, her lips briefly, unpleasantly curled. Beard
understood that Greta disliked being contradicted, but he didn't believe
her. The woman was malicious .
"She took her monkey," she said. "Please go look for yourself, Mister
Beard. No clothes in her closet, no suitcase, no bicycle. "
Greta turned back into the apartment. Beard entered behind her and
looked where she gestured toward a room, and then followed her into it.
Closets and drawers were empty. There was nothing, no sign of human
presence. Stunned by the emptiness, Beard felt he himself had been emp–
tied.
"You never know a person," said Greta. "She seemed so shy and stu–
dious, but she must have done something criminal. I was an idiot to let
her move in, a girl with a monkey. Half the time it was I who fed the
beast. The telephone never stopped ringing."
Beard followed Greta to the kitchen . A tea pot had been set on a
small table with a cup and saucer.
"Where did she go?" he said. He didn 't expect a positive, useful an–
swer. Who would disappear like that and leave an address. But what else
could he say?
"You are not the first to ask. I don't know where she comes from or
where she went. Would you like a cup of tea?"
Greta sat at the table and turned slightly toward Beard. She crossed
her legs.
It
was clear that she didn't plan to stand up again to get another
cup and saucer, and she seemed merely to assume Beard would stay. Her
