The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

“We want two rooms,” Garvin said. “One for myself and wife and one for my companion.”

“But certainly,” the woman said in English, “weeth connecting bath?”

“Separate baths,” Garvin said.

“But that weel be more expensive.”

“That’s all right. We want the best you have in the house.”

Her eyes glistened. “Ah, the señor! He’s accustomed to the best, no?”

“Yes,” Garvin said.

“And the best here you weel get, señor. I have two beautiful connecting rooms, but if you do not want to share the bath then you must take both rooms. The room for the other señor must then be in the other wing.”

“That will be fine,” Garvin said, and, picking up the pen, registered for the three of them.

“How about the cars?” Garvin asked.

“Oh, the cars you leave heem right there in the driveway. No one evaire steals a car from the Vista de la Mesa.”

“You have a watchman?” Mason asked.

“No, no watchman, but in thees country you are among honest people, no? But, as a precaution — just as a precaution — you lock the car and you leave the keys weeth me. I put them in the cash drawer. And then, if it should be necessary to move the cars in the morning before you are up, the yard boy can do it and you do not need to be disturbed, and your cars are safe.”

Mason said, “Okay, I’ll lock up the cars, bring in the keys. And how about the baggage?”

“Unfortunately,” she said, “I have no boy on duty tonight. You see, the place ees new. Soon I close up. I have one more room. Only one left. When that is rent, then, poof, I turn out the lights, close up the place and go to bed. No?”

And she smiled again.

Mason turned toward the door, “All right, Garvin, I guess we’re elected to bring in our own baggage.”

Lorraine said, “All I need, dear, is just that little overnight bag.”

“Yes, darling.”

She smiled at Mason. “I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am to feel that matters are in your hands.”

“Thanks,” Mason told her, “have a good night’s sleep.”

“I weel show the señora to her room while the señores are getting the baggage, no?”

Lorraine smiled and nodded.

The woman came out from behind the desk. “I am the Señora Inocente Miguerinio,” she said. “A hard name for Americans to remember, no?”

“It is difficult,” Lorraine agreed, good-naturedly.

“But I am running the fine hotel. For so long Tijuana has needed a fine first-class hotel, clean, nice, cool, comfortable. You come with me, señora.”

And the Mexican woman, amply fleshed, rolled ungirdled hips in a seductive, leisurely walk as she led the way through a door in the rear of the office.

Garvin, hurrying out after the baggage, seemed resentful of even the brief few minutes’ separation from his wife. While Mason was getting his own bags out of the car, Garvin tugged impatiently at the door of the baggage compartment, pulled out a suitcase and an overnight bag, said, “Well, Mason, I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

“What time?” Mason asked.

“Not too early. I...”

“Remember, we have a lot of telephoning to do,” Mason said.

“Well,” Garvin conceded with a sigh, “eight o’clock.”

He slammed the car door and started up to the porch.

“Want me to take your keys in?” Mason asked.

“I have them with me,” Garvin said. “I’ll give them to the señora what’s-her-name as I go in. Good night, Mason.”

“Good night,” the lawyer said, and watched Garvin hurry through the entrance, a bag in each hand.

Mason locked his own car, took the ignition keys from the lock, and paused for a moment to admire the stars. The moon had vanished in the west now, and the stars were blazing in steady brilliance through the dry, clear air. The lawyer, who had been working under such great nerve strain for the past few days, stood still in contemplation of the calm tranquility of the heavens, then he climbed the steps to the porch, entered the lobby, and waited for Señora Inocente Miguerinio to return from showing Garvin to his room.

When the smiling hostess came rolling back into the room Mason said, “Now if you’ll show me my room.”

“Oh but yes, thees way, please.”

Mason followed her through the same door, turned to the right, down the north wing of the building. Señora Miguerinio flung open a door and stood smiling as Mason surveyed the large, commodious room with its comfortable bed, the waxed tile floor, heavy red drapes, shaded floor lamp, and the comfortable mission style furniture.

“See,” she said, “a room on the corner weeth windows on both sides — no?”

“Oh, fine,” Mason said.

“Thees window, señor, ees on the patio. That is why the drapes are drawn. You pool thees rope to open and close the drapes — no? But the windows on thees side, señor, thees open out on nothing — nada. You have here no need for drapes. You can dress, you can undress, nobody looks — no?”