Kaleidoscope (9 page)

“Sam …” Arthur's voice was hoarse. He had been crying all morning. And he reached out to touch Sam's arm, as though to bring him back from the edge of the abyss. Sam looked as though he wanted to die himself. He stood in the center of the room after they left him there and just stared at Arthur.

“I killed her, Arthur … I killed her.” He seemed almost not to see him … only her face when he strangled her … the red hair he loved so much … why? … why had he done it? … why had she said all those terrible things to him? He looked blindly at his friend as the tears began to roll down his cheeks again.

“Sit down, Sam … come on.” He gently helped him into one of the room's two straight-backed chairs, facing each other over a narrow, battered table. “We have to talk.” Sam seemed barely coherent, but they had to talk. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Sam only stared at him. It was all much too simple. “I killed her.”

“I know that, Sam. But what happened before that? Did she provoke you?” He had to find him a good defense attorney, and before he did, he had to know what they were up against. Now Sam was not just his best friend, he was indirectly a client. “Did she strike you?”

Sam shook his head, his eyes distant and vague. “She said a lot of terrible things … she was very angry.”

Arthur suspected why, but he asked anyway. “Why was she angry?”

Sam stared at the floor, remembering Solange's fury. He had never seen her like that. He knew he had pushed her too far this time. And he was desperate not to lose her. But he had anyway … the only woman he loved. … He looked up at Arthur in despair. “She knew I was having an affair again … it didn't mean anything … it never did …”

“Except to Solange, Sam.” His voice was quiet, and
he had to remind himself that it was Sam he was defending, not Solange now.

Sam looked at him strangely in answer, and he was silent for a long time.

“Did she threaten to divorce you?”

He nodded, and then he had to clear the air. He had to ask him. He had to know. It was, in a sense, why he had killed her. Except that he was also drunk and had lost control and the things she said were so terrible, and he was terrified that she meant it and he would lose her. “She said you and she were having an affair. Is that true?” His eyes pierced his friend's, and Arthur looked back at him with sorrow.

“What do you think?”

“I've never thought about it before. I know you were close to her … you two used to go to lunch a lot …”

“But did she ever hide it?” like all good lawyers, he knew the answer before he asked the question.

“No … she always told me … at least I think so …”

“Don't you think she was just trying to get back at you by saying that, for all the pain you'd caused her, and how else could she?”

Now, in the clear light of day, he knew that. But the night before, in the heat of passion Sam had believed her … he had gone crazy … and he had actually killed her. The thought of it made the panic rise in his throat like a hand reaching up from his guts to strangle him, and he knew he deserved it. He deserved to die for what he had done to Solange. He began to cry again and Arthur held his shoulders.

“What's going to happen to the girls now?” He suddenly looked up at Arthur with fresh panic.

Arthur had been thinking about it all morning. “I'm sure you have enough money to take care of them while all this is pending.” And there was the nurse, and a maid in the apartment. They lived extremely well at the apartment on Sutton Place.

Sam looked bleak as he stared at his friend. “How much is all this going to cost me?” It had cost Solange her life, and now … Arthur had to fight his own feelings again and again. How could he have done this to her? And yet, Sam was his friend, more than that, he was almost his brother. They had survived the war side by side, Sam had carried him across the mountains, and to the medics when he was wounded near Cassino. They had liberated Paris and Rome … Paris … and the rue d'Arcole where they had first seen her. It was all so tightly interwoven, and now it wasn't just a matter of Sam and Solange, there were their daughters to think of. Hilary, Alexandra, and Megan. But Arthur tried to force his thoughts back to answer Sam's question. He wanted to know how much his defense would cost him.

“It depends on who you hire to defend you. I want to think of who to recommend. But you should have the best. This is going to be a very big trial, and there will be a lot of sympathy for Solange. You've had a lot of press with your lady friends in recent years, Sam, and that is not going to help you.”

But Sam was shaking his head with determination. “I don't want someone else. I want you to defend me.” He looked up at Arthur and Arthur almost visibly shuddered.

“I can't do that.” His voice was a croak in the room full of echoes.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm your friend. And I'm not a criminal attorney.”

“I don't care. You're the best there is. I don't want anyone else. I want you.” His eyes filled with tears, it was all so horrible, it was beyond belief, but it was happening, it
was
real. He had made it real. He had made reality from a nightmare.

Arthur's face was suddenly covered by a thin film of perspiration. This was bad enough, but to defend him on top of it. He just couldn't. “I don't think I can do it, Sam. I don't have the experience in this field. It would be a tremendous disadvantage to you. You can't do this …”… to either of us … Oh God, please. He wanted to cry. But Sam was adamant as he looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“You have to. For me, for the girls … for Solange … please …” For Solange? Christ, he had killed her. But the worst of it was that Arthur knew Solange would have wanted him to do anything Sam wanted. He knew better than anyone how desperately she loved him.

“We'll both have to think it over, but I am convinced it would be a terrible mistake. You need the
best
, Sam, not a tax attorney you drafted into this out of some misguided allegiance. I
can't
do it! I just
can't
!” It was the most emotional Sam had ever heard him, but he still wanted Arthur to defend him. “But more importantly right now, is there anyone you want me to call for the girls?”

Sam thought about it and shook his head. There was no one they were close to, except Arthur, and the thousands of acquaintances they had had in the theater. But Solange had had no close friends. She had been totally involved in Sam's life, his children and his
career. She never had time for anyone else, nor any particular interest.

“Any family I should call?” He knew he should know that after the years they spent in Europe together, but suddenly he couldn't remember. He knew Sam's parents were dead, but he couldn't remember if there was anyone else, some remote relative he should call, but Sam only shook his head.

“No one who would be important to the girls. There's my sister in Boston, but for God's sake, don't call her.”

“Why not?”

“I haven't seen her in years, not since before Hilary was even born. She's a real tramp. Just forget her.”

But Arthur couldn't afford to forget anyone now. Maybe an aunt was just what the girls would be needing. “What's her name? Just in case. You never know in a situation like this …”

“Eileen. Eileen Jones. She's married to an ex-Marine named Jack. And they live in Charlestown. But believe me, you'd hate them.” Sam stood up, and walked across the holding cell to stare out the barred window.

“I'm not planning to invite them down for the weekend, for chrissake, but right now a relative or two might come in handy.” He had three daughters, two of them practically babies, and he had no one in the world to take care of them except a nurse and a maid … and Arthur …

And then Sam turned to face Arthur again. “Can I see them?” His eyes filled with tears at the thought … his little angels … his babies … how could he have done this to them? He had robbed them of their mother, a mother who would have assured them of a happy childhood and a perfect life, a mother who
never failed them in any way, who was always there for them, who gave them every kiss, every hug, every bath, played every game, read every story, and whispered with them when she put them to bed at night, with giggles and tickles and cuddles, and now … the very thought made him shudder. He wondered if he could even take care of them himself when he got out. But there was no point thinking about it. He would have to.

But Arthur was looking at him now. “Do you really want to see them here?”

“I guess not.” Sam's voice was the merest whisper. “I just thought … I wanted to try and explain … to Hilary at least …”

“You can do that later. Right now, we have to get you out of this.”

“Do you think you can?” It was the first time Sam had asked him that, and Arthur didn't like the prospect.

“I think someone else would have a better chance of doing it for you than I would.”

“I don't care. I already told you, Arthur. I only want you to defend me.”

“I think it's going to be a tough fight … for anyone … to be honest with you, Sam.” He hated to say the words, but he owed him the truth after all. “You'll have to plead insanity … crime of passion … you've admitted everything. It's all pretty cut-and-dried, and in the past few years you've gotten yourself a hell of a reputation.” It was true, they both knew that, and Arthur had always wanted to tell him what a damn fool he was, but for a different reason. He had hated him for hurting Solange, and so needlessly, but on the other hand, they were friends, and
Sam's success had come so fast and hard that Arthur suspected it was difficult for him to deal with. He was only thirty-five now, and he had become a big star when he was only in his twenties. It was a lot to digest and a lot to live up to, and he had paid a price for it … but so had she … more than Sam ever knew. There was a lot about Solange he hadn't noticed, he was so wrapped up in himself and his career that in recent years he had become self-centered, and spoiled. Even his daughters seemed to know that. Alexandra had even said to Arthur recently, “We have to make a big fuss about Daddy when he's home, or he gets very angry. Our Daddy needs a lot of attention.” It was true, and Solange had explained that to them, teaching them how to stay out of his way when he was tired, or having them bring him little treats, like the chocolates he loved, or a plate of fresh fruit, and something cool to drink, or sing a little song she had taught them just for him. The entire household had been trained to revolve around Daddy.

And now they had lost both Solange and Sam. Arthur thought about it all the way back to the office that afternoon, after he left Sam. And on his own, he decided to call their godparents and see if he could arouse any interest. With Sam in jail, and Solange gone, they had no one now except Arthur. But the godparents they had chosen had been chosen for their important names and pretty faces, well-known actors most of them, and none of them had any real interest in the children. They were much more interested in talking about the news with Arthur, why had Sam done it, had he gone crazy, had Solange done something to provoke him, what was going to happen now, when was the trial … but absolutely nothing about
the children, which left him right back where he started, as the only person they had to depend on, in Sam's absence. He was going to hang on to their aunt's name, just in case, but in the meantime, he was going to follow Sam's instructions and not call her.

The next thing he did was to check into Sam's bank accounts, so he could handle his affairs. And he was horrified at what he found there. The balance was infinitely less than he had expected. Sam spent everything he made, mainly on his life-style and his girlfriends. In fact, he had already borrowed ahead against future salary in his next play, and aside from the small amount of cash in his checking account, he was in debt up to his eyeballs. There was barely enough to pay the maid's and nurse's salaries over the next few months, until the trial was over. It was a hell of a spot to put the children in, and Arthur remembered Solange saying as much to him years before. She had always wanted Sam to think of the girls, and save some money. But instead he bought her diamond bracelets and fur coats, and God only knew what he spent on his other women. He was known to be a generous man, and he had never skimped on anything, once he could afford to. But now it left him with ten thousand dollars in the bank and ten times that in debts. It was amazing how little one knew about one's friends, and Arthur wished he had talked to him more sternly years before. He had never realized that Sam was irresponsible to this extent, and now it represented disaster for his children.

Arthur had tried to talk to Marjorie about it, bemoaning the children's fate, and hoping to stir her sympathy for them. But he was disappointed to find she only had harsh words for them, making comments
about their undoubtedly being gypsies like their parents. She seemed to have no compassion whatsoever for them.

But in the next few days he barely saw his wife. He had his hands full with Sam and the girls, the press constantly badgering all of them, even the children, and he had to make the funeral arrangements for Solange. There was no one else to do it.

The funeral was set for three days after Sam had gone to jail. She lay in state for two days, and on the third day, they held the service. And it was amazing to Arthur how many people came, mostly out of respect for Sam, but there were a great many people who had known and liked her. “She was a lovely girl …” he heard countless people say, “… absolutely beautiful … didn't know how lucky he was … should have been an actress too … always wanted her to model for me … wonderful with her kids … hell of a girl … lucky man to have a wife like that … she was French to her very soul … incredible girl … don't understand why he did it … she was crazy about him …” It went on and on, and Arthur sat in the front row, with the girls and their nurse, trying not to cry as they closed the lid of the coffin. Hilary sat very stiff next to him, and once she walked right up to it and stared down at Solange, and then she kissed her, and returned to her seat with a wooden look of grief, as though she were numb from the immensity of her pain, but she wouldn't let Arthur touch her. In fact, she wouldn't let anyone close to her. She only held tightly to Alexandra's hand, answering all her questions about why Mommy was sleeping in the box covered with white roses. Arthur had paid for all the flowers himself, he hadn't wanted to deplete their
funds any further, even for their mother's funeral service.