01 Chinaman's Chance by Ross Thomas

Author:Ross Thomas [Thomas, Ross]
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“He has taken her away.”

“No shit,” Betty Mae said.

“Please do not swear.”

“He busted out, I bet. That’s why the cops are out there now. Of course, you knew about that, didn’t you? The cops, I mean.”

“Cops?”

“Police,” Betty Mae said. “We call ‘em cops in this country, but shoot, I bet you know that. Well, they’re outside now. I thought maybe they had an eye on your place, but I guess what they’re really looking for is old Donnie.”

Madame Szabo rose quickly and went to the window, drawing back the heavy red draperies just enough to peer out. Betty Mae was now beside her.

“See ‘em?” Betty Mae said. “That black Plymouth over there.”

Madame Szabo almost spun around from the window. Her usual composure, almost implacable, seemed shattered. She bit her lower lip hard. “I’m afraid we will have to cancel the rest of today, my dear,” she said and almost, but not quite, lost her accent.

Betty Mae looked at her curiously. “You’re not gonna charge me five bucks just for this, are you?”

“No, of course not. I have this headache—yes, this headache—it just suddenly came. The pressure from the signs, you know.” Madame Szabo’s accent was now firmly back in place.

“Well, okay, if you say so,” Betty Mae said.

“You will excuse me?”

“Sure.”

“I must go now. Good-bye.”

Madame Szabo turned quickly and left through the swinging door that led from the former dining room into the kitchen. Betty Mae hesitated, then turned to leave. She was almost at the sliding doors when she stopped and turned back. She could hear a phone being dialed in the kitchen. Maybe she’s really sick, Betty Mae thought, inventing a handy excuse. She tiptoed back to the swinging door and pushed it open slightly. There was nothing to see—just the old kitchen. She pushed the door open wider. And when she did, her eyes met those of the seeress.

Madame Szabo was standing at the wall phone, her black wig discarded, her rose-tinted glasses shoved up on top of her honey blond hair. A cigarette was in her right hand. Her eyes, now almost as wide as Betty Mae’s own, were a curious, almost golden brown color. It was the first time Betty Mae had seen them plainly.

“I’ve got to go,” Madame Szabo said hurriedly into the phone without any accent at all. She hung it up as Betty Mae moved back and let the swinging door close. Betty Mae started moving toward the doors that led to the hall. Madame Szabo came through the swinging door quickly and stepped between Betty Mae and the sliding doors.

“I have to talk to you,” Madame Szabo said, the accent all gone.

Betty Mae’s mouth was open and full of amazement. A funny, tingling sensation kept running through her body as she stared, almost transfixed, at the other woman.

“You’re…you’re…I mean, you’re not—”

“No.”

“Good Lord, honey, you’re—I mean—you’re—”

“That’s right, Betty Mae,” Madame Szabo said. “I’m Silk Armitage.”

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