cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第7部分

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　　〃I　know。　And　I　want　one。　In　return　for　the　interview；　I　want　you　to　steal　a　picture　for　me。〃
　　I　laughed。　〃And　then；　after　I　steal　it；　all　I　have　to　do　is　smuggle　it　back　here　from　France。　Right？〃
　　〃Wrong。　And　that's　all　I'll　tell　you　now　until　I　get　a　mitment　from　you。　Yes　or　no。　In　return　for　the　interview；　you　will　steal　a　picture　from　Debierue　and　give　it　to　me。　No　picture；　no　interview。　Think　about　it。〃
　　〃Hypothetically？〃
　　〃Not　hypothetical。　Actual。〃
　　〃I'd　do　it。　I　will　do　it。　That　is；　I'll　steal　one　if　he　has　any　paintings　to　steal。　Everything　he　had　went　up　in　smoke　with　his　house；　according　to　the　reports。　And　if　he　hasn't　painted　anything　since；　well　。　。　。〃
　　〃He　has。　I　know　that　he　has。〃
　　〃You've　got　a　deal。　But　I　don't　have　the　money　for　a　round…trip　air　fare　to　France；　not　even　for　a　slow　freighter。〃
　　〃Let's　shake　hands　on　it。〃
　　We　got　to　our　feet　and　shook　hands　solemnly。　The　palms　of　my　hands　were　damp；　and　so　were　his；　but　we　both　gripped　as　hard　as　we　could。　He　got　the　humidor　and　offered　me　a　cigar。　I　shook　my　head　and　sat　down。　I　started　to　pour　another　drink；　but　decided　I　didn't　need　it。　My　head　was　light　and　close　to　swimming。　My　heart　was　fluttering　away　as　if　I　had　swallowed　a　half…dozen　dexies。
　　〃Debierue；〃　Cassidy　laughed。　a　snort　rather　than　an　actual　laugh；　〃is　here　in　Florida；　thirty…some…odd　miles　south；　via　State　Road　Seven。　And　that　is　my　so…called　dishonest　act；　my　friend。　I　have　just　betrayed　a　client's　confidence。　A　counselor　isn't　supposed　to　do　that；　you　know。　But　now　that　I　have；　I'll　tell　you　the　rest　of　it。
　　〃Arrangements　were　made　for　Debierue　to　e　to　Florida　more　than　eight　months　ago；　and　I　was　the　intermediary　here。　The　emigration　was　set　up　by　a　Paris　law　firm；　who　contacted　me；　and　I　handled　the　matter　on　a　no　fee　basis；　which　I　was　glad　to　do。　I　rented　the　house…a　one　year　lease…hired　a　black　woman　to　e　in　and　clean　it　for　him　once　a　week；　bought　his　art　supplies　at　Rex　Art　in　Coral　Gables；　and　picked　him　up　at　the　airport。　The　whole　thing。　He's　a　poor　man；　as　you　know。〃
　　〃And　you're　supporting　him　now？〃
　　〃No；　no。　The　money　es　from　Les　Amis　de　Debierue。　You　are…〃
　　〃I　send　them　five　bucks　a　year　myself。〃　I　grimaced。　〃It's　tax　deductible；　if　I　ever　make　enough　money　to　list　it　among　my　many　charities。〃
　　〃Right。　That's　it。　The　Paris　Amis；　through　the　law　firm；　send　me　small　sums　more　or　less　regularly；　and　I　see　that　the　old　man's　bills　are　paid…such　as　they　are…and　keep　him　in　pocket　money。　He　doesn't　need　much。　The　house　is　cheap；　because　of　the　rotten　location。　It　was　built　by　a　man　who　retired　to　raise　chickens。　After　six　months　of　trying；　and　not　knowing　anything　about　poultry；　he　went　back　to　Detroit。　He's　been　trying　to　sell　the　house　for　two　years；　and　was　happy　as　hell　to　get　a　year's　rent　in　advance。〃　Cassidy　smiled。　〃I　even　selected　the　old　man's　phony　name　for　him…Eugene　V。　Debs。　How　do　you　like　it？〃
　　〃Beautiful！〃
　　〃Better　than　beautiful。　Debierue　never　heard　of　Gene　Debs。　And　that's　about　it。〃
　　〃Not　quite。　How　did　he　get　into　the　States　without　reporters　finding　out？〃
　　〃No　problem。　Paris　to　Madrid；　Madrid　to　Puerto　Rico；　through　the　customs　at　San　Juan；　then　on　to　Miami…and　he　came　in　on　a　student　visa。　J。　Debierue。　Who's　going　to　suspect　a　man　in　his　nineties　on　a　student　visa？　And　Debierue　is　a　mon　enough　name　in　France。　There　are　about　sixty　flights　a　day　from　the　Caribbean　ing　into　Miami　International　on　Sundays。　It's　the　busiest　airport　in　the　world。〃
　　I　nodded。　〃And　the　ugliest；　too。　So　he's　been　right　here　in　Florida　for　eight　months？〃
　　〃Not　exactly。　The　negotiations　started　eight　months　ago；　and　it　took　some　time　to　set　everything　up。　The　funny　thing　is；　the　old　man　will　actually　be　a　student。　I　mentioned　my　connections　at　the　University　of　Chicago…well；　starting　in　September；　Debierue　will　be　taking　twelve　hours　of　college　credit；　by　correspondence；　from　Chicago。〃
　　〃What's　his　major？〃
　　〃Cost　accounting　and　management。　I've　got　a　young　man　working　for　me　who　can　whip　through　those　correspondence　courses　with　his　left　hand；　and　he'll　probably　get　the　old　man　an　A　average。　On　a　student　visa；　you　see；　you　have　to　carry　twelve　hours　a　semester　to　stay　in　the　country。　As　long　as　you're　making　good　grades　with　the　college；　you　can　stay　as　long　as　you　like。〃
　　〃I　know。　But　why　me？　Why　don't　you　steal　a　picture　from　Debierue？〃
　　〃He'd　know　it　was　me；　that's　why。　After　I　got　him　settied；　he　told　me　he　didn't　want　me　to　visit　him。　For　the　sake　of　secrecy。　I　went　down　a　couple　of　times　anyway　and　pestered　him　for　a　painting。　He　got　good　and　angry　the　last　time；　and　his　studio　is　kept　padlocked。　I　want　one　of　his　paintings。　I　don't　care　what　it　is；　or　whether　anyone　knows　that　I　have　one。　I'll　know；　and　that's　enough。　For　now。　Of　course；　if　you　manage　to　get　a　successful　interview…and　that's　your　problem…and　you　write　about　his　new　work…he　hasn't　got　too　many　years　to　live…then　I　can　bring　my　painting　out　and　show　it。　Can't　I？〃
　　〃I　understand。　You'll　have　pulled　off　the　collector's　coup　of　this　decade…but　what　happens　to　me？〃
　　〃You'll　stand　still　for　it；　no　matter　what　happens。　I've　checked　you　out；　I　told　you。　You're　ambitious；　and　you'll　be　the　first；　as　well　as　the　only；　American　critic　to　have　an　exclusive　interview　with　the　great　Jacques　Debierue。　After　you　steal　one　of　his　pictures；　he　sure　as　hell　won't　talk　to　anyone　else。〃
　　〃What　time　is　it　set　up　for；　and　when？〃
　　〃It　isn't。　That's　up　to　you。〃　He　wrote　the　address　on　the　yellow　pad；　and　sketched　in　State　Road　Seven　and　the　branch　road　leading　into　it　from　Boynton　Beach。　〃If　you　happen　to　drive　past　the　turnoff；　and　you　might　miss　Debierue's　road　because　it's　dirt　and　you　can't　see　the　house　from　the　highway；　you'll　know　you　missed　it　when　you　spot　the　drive…in　movie　about　a　half　mile　farther　on。　Turn　around　and　go　back。〃
　　〃Does　he　know　I'm　ing？〃
　　〃No。　That's　your　problem？〃
　　〃Why　did　he　decide　to　e　to　Florida？〃
　　〃Ask　him。　You're　the　writer。〃
　　〃He　might　slam　the　door　in　my　face；　then？〃
　　〃Who　knows。　We　made　a　deal；　that's　all；　and　we　shook　hands　on　it。　I　know　my　business；　and　you　should　know　yours。　Any　more　questions？〃
　　〃Not　for　you。〃
　　〃Good。〃　He　got　to　his　feet；　an　abrupt　signal　that　the　discussion　was　finished。　〃When　are　you　driving　down？〃
　　〃That's　my　business。〃　I　grinned；　and　stuck　out　my　hand。
　　We　shook　hands　again；　and　Cassidy　asked　kindly　if　he　could　telephone　for　a　taxi。　Sending　me　home　in　a　cab　at　my　own　expense　was　his　method　of　〃seeing　that　I　got　home　all　right。〃
　　I　declined；　and　rode　down　in　the　elevator。　To　clear　my　head；　I　preferred　to　walk　the　few　blocks　to　my　apartment。　As　I　walked　the　quiet　streets　through　the　warm　soft　night；　a　Palm　Beach　police　car；　staying　a　discreet　block　behind；　trailed　me　home。　I　wasn't　suspected　of　anything。　The　cops　were　merely　making　certain　that　I　would　get　home　all　right。　Palm　Beach　is　probably；　together　with　Hobe　Sound；　the　best…protected　city　in　the　United　States。
　　Now　that　I　was　alone；　I　was　so　filled　with　excitement　I　could　hardly　think　straight。　Dada；　first；　and　Surrealism；　second；　were　my　favorite　periods　in　art　history。　And　because　of　my　interest　in　these　movements　when　I　had　been　in　Paris；　I　knew　the　Paris　art　scene　of　the　twenties　better；　in　many　respects；　than　most　of　the　people　who　had　participated　in　it。　And　Debierue…Jacques　Debierue！　Debierue　was　the　key　figure；　the　symbol　of　the　dividing　line；　if　a　line　could　be　delineated；　in　the　split　between　Dada　and　Surrealism！　In　my　exhilarated　state；　I　knew　I　wouldn't　be　able　to　sleep。　I　was　going　to　put　on　a　pot　of　coffee　and　jot　down　notes　on　Debierue　from　memory　in　preparation　for　the　interview。　Tomorrow；　I　thought；　tomorrow！
　　I　turned　the　key　in　the　door　and　opened　it　to　unexpected　light。　The　soft　light　streamed　in　from　the　bathroom。　Silhouetted　in　the　bathroom　doorway；　wearing　a　gray…blue　shorty　nightgown；　was　my　tawny…maned　schoolteacher。　Her　long；　swordlike　legs　trembled　at　the　knees。
　　〃I…I　came　back；　James；〃　Berenice　said　tearfully。
　　I　nodded；　dumbly；　and　lifted　my　arms　so　she　could　rush　into　them。　After　she　calms　down；　I　thought；　I'll　have　her　make　the　coffee。　Berenice　makes　much　better　coffee　than　I　do　。　。　。
　　
　　
　　5
　　
　　Debierue　is　a　difficult　artist　to　explain；　I　explained　to　Berenice　over　coffee：
　　〃No　pido　nunca　a　nadie　is　a　good　summary　of　the　code　Debierue's　lived　by　all　his　life。　Translated；　it　means；　'I　never　ask　nobody　for　nothing：
　　〃I　think　that's　the　first　time　I've　ever　heard　you　talk　in　Spanish；　James。〃
　　〃And　it　might　be　the　last。　It　didn't　take　me　long　to　quit　speaking　Spanish　after　we　moved　to　New　York　from　San　Juan。　And　as　soon　as　I　wised　up　to　how　they　felt　about　Puerto　Ricans；　I　got　rid　of　my　Spanish　accent；　too。　But　the　Spanish　No　pido　nunca　a　nadie　sounds　better　because　the　reiterated　double　negatives　don't　cancel　each　other　out　as　they　do　in　English。　And　that's　the　story　of　Debierue's　life；　one　double　negative　action　after　another　until；　by　not　trying　to　impress　anybody；　he　ended　up　by　impressing　everybody。〃
　　〃But　why　did　you　give　up　speaking　Spanish？〃
　　〃To　prove　to　myself；　I　suppose；　that　a　Puerto　Rican's　not　only　as　good　as　anybody　else；　he's　a　damned　sight　better。　Besides；　that's　what　my　father　would've　done。〃
　　〃But　your　father's　dead；　you　told　me…〃
　　〃That's　right。　He　died　when　I　was　twelve；　but　technically　I　never　had　a　father。　He　and　my　mother　separated　before　I　was　a　year　old；　you　see。　They　didn't　get　divorced　because　they　were　Catholics；　although　my　mother　made　semi…official　arrangements　with　the　church　for　them　to　live　apart。　There　was　no　money　problem。　He　supported　us　until　he　died；　and　then　we　came　up　to　New　York；　Mother　and　I；　with　the　insurance　and　the　money　from　the　sale　of　our　house　in　San　Juan。〃
　　〃But　you　saw　him　once　in　a　while；　didn't　you？〃
　　〃No。　Never。　Not　after　their　separation…except　in　photographs；　of　course。　That's　what　made　things　so　tough　for　me；　Berenice。　What　I've　had　instead　is　an　imaginary　father；　a　father　I've　had　to　make　up　myself；　and　he's　what　you　might　call　un　hombre　duro…a　hard　man。〃
　　〃What　you　mean；　James；　you've　deliberately　made　things　hard　on　y