Read The Four Johns for Free Online Page B

subdue these creatures. They are like mindless panthers in a cage.”
    Boce said thoughtfully, “It’s a funny trade. I never suspected so much went on.”
    Viviano began to pace. “Every day the most incredible difficulties arise. Do you know that I am like a god to these women? I am the agency that manifests their beauty. I am worshiped by them, blasphemed. But now I must leave.” He made gestures to left and right, bowed to Olga Malinski and departed.
    John Boce exhaled a vinous breath, mingled with garlic. “I’m glad I’m normal. I think I’m glad I’m normal.”
    Harriet had seated herself at his feet with a new glass of wine. “But we still haven’t learned whom Mary ran away with.”
    Oleg drew up a chair. “It is a fascinating problem. Assuming that the facts we have been given are correct.”
    â€œIndeed they are,” said Harriet. “I heard Mary very distinctly. ‘John,’ she said, ‘you mustn’t be late.’ And she said, ‘I love you dearly.’”
    Susie made a hissing sound between her teeth.
    â€œWhy would she worry if he were late?” asked Oleg, shaking his head. “Unless, of course, she were talking to John Thompson, who is notoriously hard to find of a weekend. I am surprised that he came tonight. What do you say, John?”
    Thompson, propped against Lalu, chuckled but made no comment. Lalu stroked his hair.
    Boce said, “Harriet probably heard her wrong. She might have said Don or Ron or Lon.”
    â€œOr Juan.”
    â€œOr Con.”
    â€œOr even Yvonne.”
    â€œDid you say Ivan? or Yvonne?”
    â€œIt was John,” said Harriet.
    The accountant puffed out his big cheeks. “Susie, you know everyone Mary knows. How many Johns are on the list?”
    â€œOh, not too many. John Boce—”
    â€œNot John Boce!” cried Harriet. “John is a better, stronger man!”
    Susie ignored her. “John Thompson. John Viviano—I introduced him to Mary. Like bringing coals to Newcastle.”
    Thompson disengaged himself from Lalu, sat up on the couch and straightened his tie. “There’s the lad who came to work in the stacks. John Pilgrim. I fired him last week, incidentally. Mary seemed to take quite a fancy to him.”
    â€œTelephone this man!” cried John Boce. “Ask to speak to Mary.”
    Harriet tittered. “John, you’re not at all nice.”
    â€œLet’s get the facts,” roared Boce. “Telephone the skunk.”
    â€œTelephone him yourself,” said Harriet.
    â€œI’ll do just that! Where’s the phone?”
    Oleg suavely pointed. Boce lurched across the room, consulted the directory, then dialed Information. He noted a number, dialed once more. Everyone in the room became still. At the fifth ring a tired voice responded.
    â€œLet me speak to Mary,” said Boce smartly.
    â€œNobody here named Mary,” said the voice. Everyone could hear it. “You’ve got the wrong number.”
    â€œMary Hazelwood? Aren’t you a friend of Mary Hazelwood?”
    â€œGo to hell,” said the voice.
    Boce looked inquiringly at the instrument, replaced it in the cradle. “He admits nothing.”
    Lalu leaned back on the sofa, sybaritically stretching her bare legs. “Why bother?”
    Susie tersely bade Oleg and Olga Malinski good night and left without looking to see whether Mervyn was following.
    Mervyn rose and made hurried farewells. Boce heaved himself upright. “I’m not quite ready to go, Mervyn. Oleg’s got some Polish sausage he’s planning to break out. Maybe you can talk Susie into hanging around?”
    â€œI’m ready to leave myself.”
    â€œHow are we supposed to get home?”
    â€œIf you want to leave now, I’ll be glad to take you.”
    â€œI’ll get John Thompson to drop us off.”
    Mervyn started for the door before