Rich Man, Poor Man (98 page)

‘Be’ind les toilettes,’ the barman said, speaking rapidly, ‘is found un escalier, staircase, to ze cave. Ze plongeur, ze dishwasher, he sleep there after work. Pr’aps you find what you look for in cave. The name of fellow is Danovic. Sal type. Be careful. He has friends.’

Thomas watched while the strip-teaser took off one stocking and waved it and began to work on the garter of the other stocking. Then, still seeming to be interested in the act, he strolled slowly towards the illuminated sign in the rear that said Toilettes, Telephone. Everybody in the room seemed to be watching the girl in the spotlight and he was fairly sure that no one noticed him as he went through the archway under the sign. He passed the stink of the toilets and saw the steps going to the cellar. He went down them quickly. There was a thin, veneered wooden door at the bottom of the steps, with patched strips showing in the dim light of the small bulb that lit the stairway. Over the noise of the band he could hear a woman’s voice from behind the door, pleading hysterically, then being cut off, as though by a hand across the mouth. He tried the door, but it was locked. He backed off a little and lunged at the door. The rotten wood and the flimsy lock gave at the same time and he plunged through the doorway. Jean was there, struggling to sit up, on the dishwasher’s cot. Her hair was streaming wildly about her face and her sweater was half torn from her shoulder. The man in the gabardine suit, Danovic, was standing beside her, facing the door. In the light of the one bulb strung on a wire from the ceiling, Thomas could see stacks of empty wine bottles, a workbench, some carpentry tools spread about.

Tom,’ Jean said. ‘Get me out of here.’ She had been frightened out of her drunkenness or she hadn’t ,been as drunk as Pinky had imagined. She tried to stand up, but the man pushed her back roughly, still facing Thomas.

‘What do you want?’ Danovic said. He spoke English, but thickly. He was about the same size as Thomas, with heavy shoulders. He had a knife or razor scar down one side of his face. ‘I came to take the lady home,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ll take the lady home when I’m good and ready,’ Danovic said, ‘Fous-moile camp, Sammy.’ He pushed heavily at Jean’s face, as she struggled to get up.

Overhead, the noise of the band increased as another garment came off.

Thomas took a step nearer the cot. ‘Don’t make any trouble,’ he said to the man quietly. The lady’s coming with me.’

‘If you want her, you will have to take her from me, Sammy,’ Danovic said. He reached back suddenly and grabbed a ball-peen hammer from the workbench and held it up in his fist Oh, Christ, Thomas thought, Falconettis everywhere. ‘Please, please, Tom,’ Jean was sobbing. ‘I give you five seconds to leave,’ Danovic said. He moved towards Thomas, the hammer ready, at the level of Thomas’s face.

Somehow, Thomas knew, no matter what happened, he had to keep the hammer away from his head. If it hit him even a glancing blow, that would be the end of it. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, retreating a little and putting up his hands placatingly. Tm not looking for a fight.’ Then he dived at Danovic’s legs as the hammer swung. He got his head into the crotch, butting as hard as he could. The hammer hit his shoulder and he felt the shoulder going numb. The man was reeling backward, off balance, and Thomas wrapped bis arms around his knees and toppled him. His head must have hit something, because for a fraction of a second he didn’t struggle. Thomas took the chance and pulled his head up. Danovic swung the hammer and hit the elbow that Thomas threw up to protect himself. He went for the hand with the hammer again, clawing at the man’s eyes with his other hand. He missed the hammer and felt a stab of pain in his knee as the hammer came down again. This time he got hold of the hammer. He ignored the blows of the other hand and twisted hard. The hammer slid a little way on the cement floor and Thomas leapt for it, using his knees to keep the man away from him. They both were on their feet again, but Thomas could hardly move because of bis knee and he had to switch the hammer to his left hand because bis right shoulder was numb.

Over the noise of the band and his own gasping he could

hear Jean screaming, but faintly, as though she were far away.

Danovic knew Thomas was hurt and tried to circle him. Thomas made himself swing around, making the leg work for him. Danovic lunged at him and Thomas hit him above the elbow. The arm dropped, but Danovic still swung the good arm. Thomas saw the opening and hit the man on the temple, not squarely, but it was enough. Danovic staggered, fell on his back. Thomas dropped on him, straddling his chest. He lifted the hammer above Danovic’s head. The man was gasping, protecting his face with his arm. Thomas brought the hammer down three times on the arm, on the shoulder, the wrist and the elbow, and it was all over. Danovic’s two arms lay useless alongside his body. Thomas lifted the hammer to finish him off. The man’s eyes were opaque with fear, as he stared up, the blood streaming down from the temple, a dark river in the delta of his face.

‘Please,’ he cried, ‘please, don’t kill me. Please.’ His voice rose to a shriek.

Thomas rested on Danovic’s chest, getting his breath back, the hammer still raised in his left hand. If ever a man deserved to get killed, this was the man. But Falconetti had deserved to get killed, too. Let somebody else do the job. Thomas reversed the hammer and jammed the handle hard into Danovic’s gaping, twitching mouth. He could feel the front teeth breaking off. He no longer was able to kill the man, but he didn’t mind hurting him.

‘Help me up,’ he said to Jean. She was sitting on the cot, holding her arms up in front of her breasts. She was panting loudly, as though she had fought, too. She stood up slowly, unsteadily, and came over and put her hands under his armpits and pulled. He rose to his feet and nearly fell as he stepped away from the shivering body beneath him. He was dizzy and the room seemed to be whirling around him, but he was thinking clearly. He saw a white-linen coat that he knew belongedto Jean thrown over the back of the room’s single chair, and he said, ‘Put on your coat’ They couldn’t walk through the nightclub with Jean’s sweater torn from her shoulder. Maybe he couldn’t walk through the nightclub at all. He had to use his two hands to pull his bad leg up, one step after another, on the staircase. They left Danovic lying on the cement floor, the hammer sticking up from his broken mouth, bubbling blood.

As they went through the archway under the Toilettes, Telephone sign a new strip-tease was starting. The entertainment was nonstop at La Porte Rose. Luckily, it was dark, outside the glare of the spotlight on the artiste, who was dressed in

a black, skirted riding habit, with derby and boots and whip. Leaning heavily on Jean’s arm, Thomas managed not to limp too noticeably and they were almost out of the door before one of the three men sitting near the entrance,with the girl spotted them. The man stood up and called, ‘Alio! Vous la. Les Americans. Arretez. Pas si vite.’

But they were out of the door and somehow they managed to keep walking and a taxi was passing by and Thomas hailed it. Jean struggled to push him in and then tumbled in after him and the taxi was on its way to Antibes by the time the man who had called out to them came out on the sidewalk looking for them.

In the cab, Thomas leaned back, exhausted, against the seat. Jean huddled in her white coat in a corner, away from him. He couldn’t stand his own smell, mingled with the smell of Danovic and blood and the dank cellar, and he didn’t blame Jean for keeping as far away from him as possible. He passed out, or fell asleep, he couldn’t tell which. When he opened his eyes again they were going down the street towards the harbour at Antibes. Jean was weeping uncontrollably in her comer, but he couldn’t worry about her any more tonight.

He chuckled as they came up to where the Clothilde was tied up.

The chuckle must have startled Jean. She stopped crying abruptly. ‘What’re you laughing about, Tom?’ she asked.

‘I’m laughing about the doctor in New York,’ he said. ‘He told me to avoid any sudden movements or strenuous exertion for a long time. I’d have loved to see his face if he’d been there tonight.’

He forced himself to get out of the cab unaided and paid the driver off and limped up the gangplank after Jean. He had a dizzy spell again and nearly fell sideways off the gangplank into the water.

‘Should I help you to your cabin?’ Jean asked, when he finally made it to the deck.

He waved her away. ‘You go down and tell your husband you’re home,’ he said. ‘And tell him any story you want about tonight.’

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. ‘I swear I’ll never touch another drop of liquor again as long as I live,’ she said.

‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘we’ve had a successful evening, after all, haven’t we?’ But he patted her smooth, childish cheek, to take the sting but of his words. He watched as she went down through the saloon and to the main cabin. Then he painfully

went below and opened the door to his own cabin. Kate was awake and the light was on. She made a hushed, choked sound when she saw what he looked like.

‘Sssh,’ he said.

‘What happened?’ she whispered.

‘Something great,’ he said. ‘I just avoided killing a man.’ He dropped on to the bunk. ‘Now get dressed and go get a doctor.’

He closed his eyes, but he heard her dressing swiftly. By the time she was out of the room he was asleep.

He was up early, awakened by the sound of hissing water, as Dwyer and Wesley hosed off the deck. They had come into port too late the night before to do it then. He had a big bandage around his knee and every time he moved his right shoulder he winced with pain. But it could have been worse. The doctor said there were no broken bones, but that the knee had been badly mauled and perhaps some cartilage had been torn away. Kate was already in the galley preparing breakfast and he lay alone in the bunk, his body remembering all the other times in his life he had awakened bruised and aching. His memory bank.

He pushed himself out of the bunk with his good arm and stood in front of the little cabin mirror on his good leg. His face was a mess. He hadn’t felt it at the time, but when he had toppled Danovic his face had crashed against the rough concrete floor and his nose was swollen and his lip puffed out and there were gashes on his forehead and cheekbones. The doctor had cleaned out the cuts with alcohol and compared to the rest of him his face felt in good shape, but he hoped Enid wouldn’t go screaming to her mother when she got a glimpse of him.

He was naked and there were black-and-blue welts blooming all over his chest and arms. Schultzy should see me now, he thought, as he pulled on a pair of pants. It took him five minutes to get the pants on and he couldn’t manage a shirt at all. He took the shirt with him and clumped, hopping mostly, into the galley. The coffee was on and Kate was squeezing oranges. Once the doctor had assured her that nothing serious was wrong, she had become calm and businesslike. Before he had gone to sleep, after the doctor had left, he had told her the whole story.

‘You want to kiss the bridegroom’s beautiful face?’ he said.

She kissed him gently, smiling, and helped him on with his

shirt. He didn’t tell her how much it hurt when he moved bis shoulder.

‘Does anybody know anything yet?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t told Wesley or Bunny,’ she said. ‘And none of the others have come up yet.’

‘As far as anybody is concerned, I was in a fight with a . drunk outside Le Cameo,’ Thomas said. ‘That will be an object lesson to anybody who goes out drinking on his wedding night’

Kate nodded. ‘Wesley’s been down with the mask already,’ she said. There’s a big chunk out of the port screw and as far as he can tell the shaft is twisted, too.’

‘If we get out of here in a week,’ Thomas said, ‘we’ll be lucky. Well, I might as well go up on deck and start lying.’

He followed Kate as she went up the ladder carrying the orange juice and the coffee pot on a tray. When Wesley and Dwyer saw him, Dwyer said, ‘For Christ’s sake what did you do to yourself?’ and Wesley said, ‘Pa!’

‘I’ll tell everybody about it when we’re all together,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m going to tell the story once.’

Rudolph came up with Enid and Thomas could tell from the look on his face that Jean had probably told him the true story or most of the true story. All Enid said, was, ‘Uncle Thomas, you look funny this morning.’

T bet I do, darling,’ Thomas said.

Rudolph didn’t say anything, except that Jean had a headache and was staying in bed and that he’d take her some orange juice after they’d all had their breakfast. They had just sat around the table when Gretchen came up. ‘Good God, Tom,’ she said, Vhat in the world happened to you?’

‘I was waiting for someone to ask just that question,’ Thomas said. The he told the story about the fight with the drunk in front of Le Cameo. Only, he said, laughing, the drunk hadn’t been as drunk as he had been.

‘Oh, Tom,’ Gretchen said distractedly, ‘I thought you’d given up fighting.’

T thought so, too,’ Thomas said. ‘Only that drunk didn’t’

Were you there, Kate?’ Gretchen asked accusingly.

‘I was in bed asleep,’ Kate said placidly. ‘He sneaked out. You know how men are.’

‘I think its disgraceful,’ Gretchen said. ‘Big, grown men fighting.’

‘So do I,’ Thomas said. ‘Especially when you lose. Now let’s eat breakfast’

Later that morning Thomas and Rudolph were up in the bow alone. Kate and Gretchen had gone to do the marketing, taking Enid along with them, and Wesley and Dwyer were down looking at the screws again with the masks;

‘Jean told me the whole story,’ Rudolph said. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Tom.’

‘Forget it. It wasn’t all that much. It probably looked a lot worse than it was to a nicely brought up girl like Jean.’

‘All that drinking going on all day,’ Rudolph said bitterly, ‘and then the final straw - Gretchen and me drinking here on board before dinner. She just couldn’t stand it. And alcoholics can be so sly. How she could have gotten out of bed and dressed and off the ship without my waking up … ‘ He shook his head. ‘She’s behaved so well, I guess I thought mere was nothing to worry about. And when she has a couple, she’s not responsible. She’s not the same girl at all. You don’t think that when she’s sober she goes around picking men up in bars in the middle of the night?’ ‘Of course not, Rudy.’