Anyway, I was when I toddled out of there, singing, "I love a lassie . . ."
Also, being hungry, I went to Mike's and scoffed up all the chili he had in the pot. He was making a fresh batch, so he gave me a cut rate on the bottom stratum. What’s more, he dug out a bottle of mastika and gave me a big shot. That’s Greek brandy with a flavor like varnish, only spicy.
When Mike looked at the bottle, he handed it back and said, "Take him along. Need eye-opener, huh?”
Maybe I would, so I took it and wove my way home. That was the only thing I hadn’t forgotten. But habit, I learned later, is stronger than mastika.
When I woke up, I was frozen stiff and lying on the tombstone, where I had passed out. Catalina was bending over me. My throat felt funny. She was smiling and licking her lips. The moon made her shoulders white and beautiful, and there were tears in her eyes.
"I was just teasing you,” she whispered. "When you went away, everything she is spoil. I am lonesome, but I pretend I like it. Only, I cannot stand the ball any more, so I come home. You forgive me?"
"Uh—um.” I was groggy, and trying to think of something, but I forgot what it was. Supposing Mrs. Hill’s silver slippers had been ruined? "Sure. What time, is it?”
She shrugged. Time didn’t matter. She knew now who was boss, and she liked it. Socking that big lug had been a good move after all.
"I was so hungry,” she went on. "This dancing.”
"Say no more about it, honey. Gee, my damn head!”
Catalina frowned. She sat up real straight, and tried to smile.
"I have the headache, too.”
She looked sick. I rubbed my throat.
I should have known the answer then, but I didn’t. Not until she made gagging sounds and doubled up. Then she wrapped both arms about me and said she was going to die.
There was nothing to be done. Whoever heard of an antidote for chili and Bourbon? But I was on my feet, with wild notions about dashing to a drug store. When she screamed, I turned back to get her. It’d save time, taking her along.
I was all rattled, but that was nothing to what I was when I saw Catalina huddled face down on the slab. The red dress was collapsing as I stared. A queer sort of mist swirled up like cigarette smoke. Up this time.
Her cry was not out of my ears before the dress and shoes were empty. I grabbed them and ran. There was no work and no school for me the next day. What kept me busy was thinking of what’d happen when someone wondered about my girl friend; when someone trailed my footprints to the grave, and began to figure it was a nice place to hide a corpse.
Mrs. Hill had a hunch someone had worn her dress and shoes, and she looked at me a lot, the next couple days. Half the wives in town were gabbling about the girl in red. One thing about that, Judge Mottley wouldn’t be asking me about her!
Finally I went to the grave and opened it.
The coffin wasn’t empty, but anyone could see that what was in it had been there for years and years. Now that that was settled, I sat down and bawled like a kid. Even when I learned that the epidemic of pernicious anemia was over, and Prof Rodman was the big scientist of the day, I felt rotten.
Anyway, I got the job with Judge Mottley. I’m a member of the firm. And in odd moments, I sit on that slab, closing my eyes and trying to bring Catalina’s face back in memory. Just what did happen to her is one for Prof Rodman to figure out.
