Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [117]
"Mr. Treviso, that is your surmise."
"Is no surmise. For last two weeks, ever since Snack-OHam broadcast, dees little bitch 'ave told me a poor dumb mother will try to get 'er back, and a first t'ing she do is come in here, offer pay for singing lesson."
"She—!"
"Yes! Dees girl, she live for two t'ing. One is make a mother feel bad, odder is get back wit' all a rich pipple she know one time in Pasadena. I tell you, is snake, is bitch, is coloratura. You want Veda back, you see Veda self. I 'ave not'ing to do wit' dees intrigue. She ask me, I say you not been 'ere at all—any'ow, I no see."
Mildred was so shaken up by Mr. Treviso's last revelation, that she wasn't capable of plans, schemes, or intrigues for the rest of that day. She felt as if she had been caught in some shameful act, and drove herself with work so as not to think about it. But, later that night things began to sort themselves out into little piles. She found some consolation in the certitude that at least Veda wouldn't know what she had done. And then, presently, she sat up in bed, hot excitement pulsing all through her. At last she knew, from that disclosure of Veda's desire to get back with the rich Pasadena people, how she would get her, how she would make even a coloratura come grovelling, on her knees.
She would get Veda through Monty.
CHAPTER XV
WITHOUT MAKING any special effort to do so, Mildred had kept track of Monty these last three years, had even had a glimpse of him once or twice, on her way back and forth to Laguna. He was exactly where she had left him: in the ancestral house, trying to sell it. The place, no more saleable, even in its palmiest days, than a white elephant, had a run-down look to it by now. The grass was yellow, from lack of water; across the lawn, in a bleary row, were half a dozen agents' signs; the iron dogs looked rusty; and one of the' pillars, out front, had evidently been hit by a truck, for there was a big chip out of it, with raw brick showing through. However, though she knew where to find him, Mildred didn't communicate with Monty at once. She went to the bank, opened her safe-deposit box, and made an accurate list of her bonds. She looked at her balances, both checking and savings. She went to Bullock's, bought a 'new dress, new hat, new shoes. The dress was simple, but it was dark blue, and she felt it slenderized her. The hat was big, dark, and soft. She then called an agent, and without giving her name, got the latest asking price on the Beragon mansion.
All this took two or three days. Just how exact her plan was it would be hard to say. She was wholly feminine, and it seems to be part of the feminine mind that it can tack indefinitely upwind, each tack bearing off at a vague angle, and yet all bearing inexorably on the buoy. Perhaps 'she herself didn't quite know how many tacks she would have to make to reach the buoy, which was Veda, not Monty. At any rate, she now sent him a telegram, saying she wanted help in picking a house in Pasadena, and would he be good enough to call her around eight that night, "at the Pie Wagon"?
She was a little nervous that evening, but was as casual when Monty called as though there were no buoys in her life whatever. She explained chattily that she simply had to move soon, to live in some place that was more centrally located; that Pasadena would be most convenient, and would he be good enough to ride around with her, and let her get her bearings before she actually got around to picking out a house? He seemed a little puzzled, but said he would do what he could, and how about calling some agents, so they could ride around too, and show what they had? Agents, she said, were exactly what she wanted to avoid. She could see them any time. What she wanted was to get the feel of a town that he knew a great deal better than she did, perhaps peep at a few places, arid get some idea 'where she wanted to live. Monty said he had no car at the moment, and could she pick him up? She said that was exactly what she wanted