“You would, would you?”
“Can we do that?”
“If I do that for you, what are you going to do for me?”
“You mean ‘what am I going to do naughty to you?’” she said.
He bent over her and kissed her other nipple. “Well?”
Maria-Teresa slipped her hand inside his dressing gown. “Is this naughty enough for you?”
“It’s a beginning,” he said.
“If I’m really naughty, will you take me to Harrod’s and buy me a dress?”
“Yes, but not today. Today Tío Juan has things to do. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she said. “You really want to be naughty, don’t you? You’re ready right now.”
“You are so beautiful!” he said.
[TWO]
1728 Avenida Coronel Díaz
Palermo, Buenos Aires
1305 11 May 1943
The mansion’s twelve-foot-high cast-iron gates were already open when Clete turned off Avenida Coronel Díaz, and he drove to the front door without stopping.
He was still in the process of leaving the car when the door opened and a parade of servants, led by Antonio the butler, marched out of the house. Antonio and the housekeeper walked to the car’s passenger side. The maids and cooks—the females—formed a line to the left on the stairs, and the gardeners, the handyman, and the other males formed a line on the right.
At the last moment, Sargento Rudolpho Gomez, Argentine Cavalry, Retired, stepped out of the house, took a quick glance around, and took up a position next to the men.
Clete smiled.
This is not the first parade you’ve been a little late for, is it, Rudolpho? I know the feeling.
That’s a new suit. The one you had on at the wedding looked like something you borrowed.
You thought you were the picture of civilian sartorial splendor, but obviously Antonio did not.
Antonio opened Dorotéa’s door. “Welcome to your home, Señora,” he said. “It is a great pleasure for all of us to have you here.”
“Thank you very much, Antonio,” Dorotéa said. She shook the housekeeper’s hand, then followed Antonio to the stairs. There she was introduced to the men. After shaking hands and saying a word or two to each, she crossed the stairs to the women, who curtsied as Antonio gave their names.
She knows the drill, Clete thought admiringly. She handled that like a pro. Did her mother include how to do things like that in their little “what every bride should know” chats?
Antonio bowed Dorotéa into the foyer, and Clete trotted up the stairs after them.
“Nice suit, Rudolpho,” he said as he passed him, and was not at all surprised to hear Rudolpho call after him,
“Antonio got it for me, Señor Clete. Three of them. He said it was your wish.”
Just inside the massive doors, a Winchester Model 12 riot gun was leaning against the wall, and a leather bandolier filled with brass 12-gauge 00-buckshot shells for it hung from the back of a chair.
And somewhere under his new suit there’s a .45.