Galatea (11 page)

Instead of answering she let me stand there, turned to him, and asked if the fire wasn’t pretty. He nodded and leaned back comfy. He reached in his pocket and pitched me a half dollar, so it danced on the cocktail table. He reached for her hat, took it off, and dropped it on the sofa. He grinned when she made a face and touched her head to his. I said: “O.K., Mr. Lippert, shove off.”

“ ... You talking to me, punk?”

“Beat it. Out.”

“Why, you poor, dumb creep—”

He jumped and started at me, then stopped and whipped off his coat, like to hang a sign on it he really meant business now. She got off some chatter, in a foolish unnatural voice, that I’d forgotten myself, hadn’t I? I said nothing, as I couldn’t, on account of the hammers starting, as they always did in my temples when I needed them like a hole in the head. He laid his coat, very careful, out flat on the telephone table, then came rocking over, elbows out, feet tracking wide. He said to me: “I don’t want any trouble with you, didn’t from the start. But if trouble’s what
you’re
looking for—”

With that he started a hook, the kind a guy uses that thinks he’s a barroom fighter, a mean little junior haymaker supposed to land on my button. He didn’t fall quite where I wanted, right at her feet I mean, because instead of doing a Bordie he went down limp like a dish-rag. However, he fell, twitched once or twice, like a dog having a dream, and curled up, like a cat having a nap. I turned to her, but she had already started for me. She said: “You seem to have it when needed.”

“Have what, you bitch?”

“Adrenalin.”

“And I got more, for you.”

The hammers were smashing me up, and I meant to let her have it, if I knocked her clear through the wall. But she stepped in close, dropped her eyes to my mouth, and said: “You hit him for me, didn’t you?”

I almost broke her bones, mashing her to me, and at last we had that kiss, our first one, hotter than we’d ever dreamed. We held close, and trembled, and cared nothing for what was on the floor. She said: “How could you? Fix to go off and leave me?”

“It wasn’t like that at all.”

“It was, it was! You meant—”

“There was a hell of a lot more to it than you know, or even dream. Damn it, stop talking about that, so we get on what’s to be done.”

“Don’t you—ever again—”

“That’s all under control! Now—”

She strained still closer, slapped me once or twice, and then at last looked at the sleeping beauty. She touched him with her foot, said: “Oh—oh—what
can
be done, Duke? I didn’t expect this? What’ll we
try
to do?”

I knelt down, felt for his pulse, and got it, down deep in the wrist, very weak and thready. I said: “He’s still alive—so far. I’ll call the police—say it’s emergency—let them take over from there.”

I went to the phone, but she grabbed me. She said: “Not yet, Duke, not just yet, no. There must be some other way. We can think of something.”

“Listen, he’s alive so
far
. But—”

“Come in here. Just a minute.”

She took my hand, led me to her bedroom, sat me on the bed, crouched on her heels in front of me. She started to cry, said: “I’ve just ruined it. I thought it would be so nice. That he’d go running off, with a bloody nose or something. That I’d snap my fingers in some kind of silly way. That you’d be down on your knees, saying you’d learned your lesson.”

“And instead of that—”

“I know.”

I had meant it was the opposite of nice, but she thought I meant knees, and flopped down on hers. She leaned her head to my heart, mumbled she’d been a “dunce.” I held her to me, sank my face in her dress, kissed into her neck. She kept coming back to it, she had thought I meant to leave her. She started crying again, said: “I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I had to make you,
make you
, take me, hold me, love me. You do, don’t you?”

“Haven’t I told you?”

“But tell me now.”

“I do, you know I do, and cut this caper out. Look, don’t you know what’s hanging us up? What everything depends on? Why I asked what I did? About my release and all?”

“ ... I’m listening, Duke.”

I told her about the confession, talking fast, trying to communicate without taking all day. But I had hardly started when she jumped up. She said: “So! That’s what he’s got on you! So he can ride you to town! Every day, in winter. To the Ladyship, he says, to help out there, and wear that awful white coat. And then in spring—”

“Start all over again.”

“Seems so hateful.”

“I tried to tell you.”

“All I’ve thought about, Duke, is what I was going to do—if he ever found out the truth—and tried to do something to you. I’ve had terrible things in my heart.”

“You got that confession straight?”

“Yes, Duke, at last.”

“Marge says you’re to get it.”

“Oh, if I only could.”

“You figure on it. And in the meantime—”

I reached for the phone again, the extension beside her bed, but once more she grabbed my hand. I said: “That guy out there is not in very good shape.”

“We’ve been here four minutes.”

She pointed to the electric clock beside the phone, and I said: “It takes one second to die. Little less, as a matter of fact.”

But she held me, and I was weak and couldn’t pull clear. For two minutes nothing was said. And then suddenly she jumped up and gasped: “It wasn’t dumb! It wasn’t a mistake at all! Bringing that fool out here, and you knocking him out! It was just right!”

She leaned close, began shaking me, and said: “It fixes everything up! You didn’t hit him for me, but for Val, don’t you get it, Duke? From indignation, that such a thing could even be in the house! And that shuts off any suspicion Val would have of you. He’s known there was somebody, but so far he hasn’t suspicioned you! And if he don’t, if we can just hold him off a little bit—I’ll get that paper, Duke. I’ll get it for you, I see it all, clear. I’m cracking this thing wide open, and I’m doing it now, tonight. And if we work it right, if you follow my lead, we’ll have it all, everything we want. And then—what?”

“One thing at a time, Holly.”

“Your feet cold again?”

“No, I’ve learned.”

“Then where we going, honey?”

“Isn’t Nevada O.K.?”

“Oh, I’d love it.”

Cracking it open was just the beginning, the way she tore in with her teeth. Cops, ambulance, and Val all got there in a bunch, car after car rolling up and parking on the apron, the far side of the loop. Lippert was still out, but I was working on him with ammonia, ice, and massage, partly from how it would look, and partly from real worry, as now when I dug in his wrist I couldn’t find any pulse. But he flinched when the intern dug in his eyeball, and was groaning when they took him out on a stretcher.

Soon as the ambulance left, the sergeant jerked a thumb at me, but Val got in it quick. He roared, asking what I was charged with; and if I was protecting his wife, why I was charged at all. He read the book on Lippert, as a no-good racketeer, who’d served one rap for perjury, had had his license suspended, and been in trouble over his taxes. It was partly an argument, partly throwing his weight, and from the squint the cops were giving it, I knew he’d have his way. The main thing for Holly and me was he was fooled, one hundred per cent apparently, and had been since I called him, told him what I had done, and asked for further orders. After the sergeant thought it over, he decided it was up to Lippert, and warned me to stand by until the hospital was heard from. Val eased off, and was quite sociable walking the cops to their car.

He was like a tiger when he came back inside, white, trembling, and with his tongue licking his lips as he went over to her. She was on the sofa as usual, her little red hat beside her, holding the fire screen with one hand, the poker with the other, as she pushed my logs together to make them blaze up nice. It seemed strange that even now the fire was new and had hardly got burning good. He jerked the poker away, and I stepped up close pretty quick, as for a second I thought he would brain her. He saw me, nodded, put the poker in place, pushed the fire screen up. All that time she stared at him very impudent, until their eyes locked, and he burst out: “Holly, how could you? To your own home! Your family’s place! In your own car! That I bought you! Bring a gangster!”

“Aw, Solly’s cute.”

“Holly, are you out of your mind?”

“But I’ve known Solly. He’s called up. He’s kidded along. We’re old friends. And the prices he’s quoting on bourbon. Why, Val, I ask you to look at these pamphlets.”

He nodded very sarcastic, scooped all the brochures up, tilted the fire screen again, and slid them down on the flames. She looked astonished as they blazed, said: “Val, it’s you that’s out of your mind. Oh well, let’s drop it.”

“Drop it?
Drop it!
My wife makes such a holy show of herself that Duke has to step in, and now we’re going to stop it!”

“The wonderful Duke.”

“That I apologize to.”

“For what, Val, may I ask?”

“For the suspicions I’ve had about him. I’ve known somebody was back of all this, and, God help me, once or twice I’ve even thought of Duke. That’s one thing I apologize for. The other thing is the spot my wife’s put him in. For what Lippert may do to him, once he’s back on his feet.”

That caught her by surprise, I could tell by the look in her eye, but she laughed quite brassy and said: “Val, I don’t much care.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, Holly.”

“I’m getting sick of Duke.”

“He’s helped you, humored you—”

“Val, I told you, when you first mentioned him, that night over the phone, when I was down in St. Mary’s: I want no piece of him. I tell you again, now’s he dared to butt into my affairs: get rid of him.”

“However, maybe I won’t.”

“Then, you’re rid of me.”

“I don’t take orders from—”

She screamed, jumped at him, clawed at his face with her nails. Then she ran to the kitchen and came back with the long knife, of stainless chromium steel, that he used for slicing beef. She ran at him with it and I grabbed her from behind. I tied her up, told him to take the knife. She dropped it and he picked it up, stalking with it back to the kitchen. She whispered: “Now’s your chance, Duke! You offer to go! You’re willing—except for that paper! You can’t go till you get it!”

When he came back, she was sitting by the phone table, but snapped at him with her teeth, so they gave a little click. He said: “Duke, thanks again.”

I said: “Sir, I think I should go.”

“That’s for me to say.”

“I hadn’t known I was objectionable to Mrs. Val, but now—I certainly ought to leave, and I’m willing to. I remind you, though, I’m bound in a sort of way. By a—confession I gave. To Officer Daniel.”

“That no longer figures.”

“May I ask you why?”

“Duke, can’t you take my word?”

“Sir, with that paper outstanding, like some wild deuce in the deck—”

She jumped up and screamed at him: “Why don’t you tell him the truth? That ’stead of Dan having the confession, you have? That he traded it to you, to save that trollop of his, the one took the money, and—”

“How do you know what he did?”

“I got it from Bill—and he knows!”

They faced each other panting, but she had reached him, I knew. She jerked her thumb toward his office, which was in the front of the house, on the other side from the bedroom, said: “Unlock your desk, Val. Get the confession and hand it over. Because until Duke goes, your wife is out—on strike.” He sat down, wiped his lips with his handkerchief, then made one of those switches I never could understand. In a low, extra reasonable way he said: “I did make a trade with Daniel, that’s true, all true, though I’m surprised Bill should know it. I did it partly to wind it up, the mess the girl got into. And partly for Duke’s protection, so he wouldn’t be open to shakedowns, or anything like that—unlikely, of course, as Dan is a fine officer, but on a thing like that, we shouldn’t take any chances. But I certainly wouldn’t keep it here in the house. It’s at the bank, in my box, and it just so happens that five in the afternoon is a little too late to ask them to open up—even to please
you
, Holly.”

“Then tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we’ll see.”

“And I’ll see. Because until Duke’s out, I am. And you may be, Val. In spite of your well-laid plans, your legal caution, and all the money you’ve spent, this place still happens to be mine—and don’t get the idea I’m too nice or dumb or scared to put you on the road. Val—Duke—goes.”

She picked her hat off the sofa, and his jaw fell as she put it on. My heart gave a jump, because, much as I hated it all, and in spite of the jolts he had given her, I had to hand it to her how she’d worked him into a corner, driven the punches in, and hung him on the ropes. It was all I could do not to kiss her as she stomped, climbed in her car, which was still parked out front, and, drove off, turning south on 5.

He watched her, slumped down on the sofa, and then squinched up his eyes, as though things went through his mind. Then without a word he picked up his hat and coat, which he’d parked on a chair near the door, went out to his car and drove off. He took the same turn she did on 5, or in other words to southern Maryland, not toward Washington City. I had the feeling, in spite of what he had said, that he was up to something that she didn’t know and I didn’t know and nobody knew but himself.

I
DID THE ONE THING
I could think of, which was call Bill at Waldorf, to say she was headed his way and warn him Val might come. But who answered was Marge, and she didn’t seem much surprised at the turn things had taken. On Lippert, at least Holly’s reason for bringing him, she wouldn’t hear one word, to leave it open, I assumed, to take it as Holly would tell it, with no behind-back angles. On cops, ambulance, hospital, and how bad Lippert was hurt, she wanted to know everything, and I told her what I could. We left it she’d speak to Bill, soon as he came in from work, so at least they’d both be on guard. I tramped around a little, trying to think what should be next, heated a take-out and ate it, and tried to gulp down some coffee.