The innocent Mrs Duff

by Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

  “I’m not,” said Duff. “Not at all. Along with this new diet I’ve got, I’ve been thinking of cutting out drinks. Or anyhow cutting down. One cocktail a day, maybe, before dinner.”

  Nolan said nothing. Duff glanced at him, to see if he was disapproving, but he looked as he always looked, vigorous, handsome and lively. No… Duff said to himself. I’ll try that. I’ll ‘dry out,’ as he calls it for three or at least two days, and just see…

  “We’d better be going,” he said.

  “All right,” said Nolan. “D’you want me to go ahead with the plan?”

  ‘Well… I suppose so,” said Duff.

  “I’ve got to have the green light,” said Nolan. “I couldn’t be left holding the bag.”

  “Very well,” said Duff. “Mind you, I don’t think it will work. I don’t think either of them will go to the shack.”

  “We’ll see,” said Nolan.

  They drove home, through the fresh Spring countryside, and Duff went to sleep in the back of the car. He waked, with the sweet cool air in his face and he felt sad, very sad, but resigned.

  When he entered the house, Reggie and Jay were coming down the stairs, hand in hand. There’s entirely too damn much of that, he thought. Why doesn’t she let the child alone?

  “Jay, go and kiss your daddy,” said Reggie.

  “I think we’ll shake hands. Jay,” said Duff. “You’re getting a bit old for this kissing and holding hands and so on.”

  He held out his hand, but before Jay took it, he glanced over his shoulder at Reggie, as if seeking her approval. She’s got the child entirely away from me, he thought. We never have any good times together any more, no little jokes, nothing of that sort.

  “You run along and see if your nice supper’s ready, honey,” said Reggie.

  With all his heart Duff resented her air of authority, and his son’s ready acceptance of it. Still in his hat and light overcoat, he stood looking at Reggie, the woman he had put in Helen’s place. She was wearing a sheer black blouse with long sleeves and a design of gold leaves round the collar.

  “Why are you wearing so much black lately?” he asked. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Aunt Lou picked this out,” she said.

  “I’ve got to call Aunt Lou at once,” he said, and went in to the telephone.

  Mrs. Albany was at home.

  “Aunt Lou,” he said, “can I see you tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “I’ll be here from four o’clock on. Is it anything special, Jacob? You sound—upset.”

  “Yes,” he answered. “It is something special. Aunt Lou.”

  He hoped that Reggie was still in the hall and could hear him; he hoped that his portentous tone would worry her. When he hung up the telephone, he saw her out there. It seemed to him that he was always seeing her like that, standing in a hall, waiting, pale and secret.

  “Jake,” she said, “can we talk about my going away?”

  “Now?” he demanded, outraged. “The moment I set foot in the house?”

  “I know. But there never seems to be a time—”

  “I’ve been trying to make certain arrangements today,” he said. “If you can endure your sufferings a day or two longer—”

  “Couldn’t I go and stay in a hotel while you’re fixing things up?”

  “Regina,” he said, “I happen to be rather ill. I saw the doctor today—again. I’d intended to go to bed at once and have a tray sent up. Unless you insist upon it, I’d like to postpone this discussion.”

  “All right,” she said. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

  But there was a look, an air of indifference about her he had never seen before. She doesn’t care whether I live or die, he thought, and it frightened him.

  “Is there anything for me to read?” he asked, briefly.

  That was another thing Helen had done; she had got him books out of the lending-library; she had taken the trouble to learn what he liked.

  “Well, I got two books out yesterday,” Reggie said. “One’s about the Japanese, and one’s about famous operas.”

  “Scarcely what I want at the moment,” he said, with a faint smile, and went up the stairs.

  Damned hypocrisy, for her to get books like that, he thought. I doubt if she even tries to read them, but if she does, she couldn’t understand them. She’ll never improve in any way. She’ll never learn how to behave, how to speak, how to dress.

  He locked his door and stood near it, frowning, wondering if he should take a drink. He felt depressed beyond measure, sick with weariness and sadness. A drink might help me, he thought, but it doesn’t always. Not by any means. You—can’t count on it.

  That was a bad thing, a serious thing. He used to be able to count on three or four drinks making him feel good, but now—

  There was a knock at the door.

  Damn it! he cried to himself. There she is again!

  “What is it?” he shouted.

  “I’ve brought you some books,” said Miss Castle’s voice, and he unlocked the door.

  “Mrs. Duff told me you were looking for something light to read,” she said, with a nice air of concern. “I’d just bought some paper books to send to my nephews overseas. Perhaps there’d be something here to amuse you.”

  She had six little books with her; she wanted him to be amused; she was concerned about him. She looked charming, he thought, in her grey dress, with her shining hair, her fresh color; there was a hint of some clean, artless perfume about her.

  “This is very kind of you,” he said. “Very!”

  “I hope you’ll have a good night’s rest, Mr. Duff,” she said.

  She left him with a feeling of great solace, of being cherished and valued. He did not want a drink now; he took a shower and got into bed; he felt like a convalescent in his clean blue pajamas. It gave. him a sense of blamelessness to leave the door unlocked.

  Mary brought him a tray. Helen would have brought it herself, he thought. So would Miss Castle. But not Reggie. Reggie doesn’t care whether I live or die.

  One of the little books was an anthology of short stories such as he had never read, stories about men getting to other planets by rocket, stories of strange new races with new powers, stories of people projected into other eras, other dimensions. He was enthralled. Leisurely, and reading all the while, he ate a better meal than he had for weeks and weeks.

  And no drinks, he thought. This is what I need. Peace and quiet. He got out the bottle of yellow capsules the doctor had prescribed. One at bedtime. Repeat in one hour if needed. He had never taken anything of this sort in his life, and it interested him profoundly. I mean to say, he thought, what will the symptoms be? He had read about people taking opium and floating into blissful dreams. It might be like that, he thought. But, on the other hand, it might be unpleasant. Dizziness? Or they might not work at all, for him.

  I’ll wait until ten o’clock, he told himself. Mary came to fetch the tray, and he went on reading those curious stories. This was, in its way, the most curious evening in his life. Nobody came near him; he heard no voices, no footsteps. There he lay, clean, innocent, not drinking, not wanting to drink, waiting to take the strange yellow capsule.

  At ten o’clock he got a glass of water and swallowed the thing. I’ll go quietly on reading, he thought, until something happens… He went quietly on reading, and nothing happened. He was growing drowsy, but not in any unusual way. At eleven o’clock he took a second capsule, and within ten minutes he was yawning until tears ran down his face.

  It certainly works, he said to himself, laughing, and turned out the light.

  It was eight o’clock when he woke. Good God! he said to himself. Nine hours’ sleep. I haven’t had that much for years. I feel—wonderful. Never felt better in my life.

  It was the beginning of a new era for him; he knew that. Now that I’ve cut out drinking, he thought, everything will be very different. Two or three days to ‘dry out’… Four o’clock tod
ay will be twenty-four hours. Four o’clock? What’s about four o’clock? Oh, yes. Aunt Lou.

  The burden descended upon him again, all the complexities, the menaces. It was even worse now, when he felt so well and clearheaded. If Reggie chose to tell about the old maniac, it would mean very serious trouble. Why didn’t I call the police myself? he thought, appalled. I couldn’t have done a worse thing than—what I did. Now, if the body’s found and if Reggie talks, it will look—It would look like murder. What he had actually done was perfectly simple, justifiable, and right. The man had attacked him, and he had defended himself. I think I hit him twice, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is, that I—disposed of him in that way. I acted like a guilty man. Like a murderer.

  There were still the wet clothes in the bag, and the riding-crop, and this morning he could see clearly the danger they were to him. Someone else might turn up, he thought. Somebody might have turned up already, somebody who knew Paul had been going to the shack. Then the police would come, to ask him if the old man had ever got there. And if he said no, there would be Reggie to say yes. They would search the house, and they would find the wet clothes and the crop.

  How can I explain? he thought, in growing panic. Good God! Everything I’ve done is what a murderer would have done. Good God! That’s what drink does for you… I’ve got to handle this properly, or it means—absolute ruin.

  If it wasn’t for Reggie, he thought, I could manage. I’d get rid of the clothes and the crop, and then I’d deny everything. Say I’d never set eyes on the man. After all, I’m not simply a nobody. I have a certain standing in the community. My word would mean something. But if my own wife goes back on me…

  That’s what she intends to do. And she knows I know that. That’s why she’s afraid of me. Locks her door. Wants to go away to a hotel. And then tell the police. She’s afraid of me, because she knows I know she’s going to betray me. Well, how can I stop her?

  His hands were shaking, sweat broke out on his forehead, back came the nausea, all the old cycle, all over again. Just when the new, bright, hopeful life was about to begin.

  If I could have this one day free and clear, he thought, I could manage. Nolan will have to arrange that thing for tonight. Then by tomorrow she’ll be so thoroughly discredited that nothing she says will matter.

  If she tries to betray me then, everyone will think it’s sheer spite and malice. Which it is. But I haven’t got today free and clear. Suppose the police come today—before I’ve got rid of that bag? Oh, God! I didn’t want to take any more drinks. I was feeling so well… But I’ve got to.

  He took only two jiggers, and it helped him. I’ll take that bag to the office, he thought. And if I can get Reggie out of the house… But she’s got to get the telephone message. All right. She’ll get the message early; that can be fixed. Then I’ll get her away from the house, so that if the police come, she won’t be here, and the bag won’t be here.

  His brain was working well. He brought out the direful bag, he locked the closet door on all the bottles, full and empty, and went downstairs. There was the usual group at the table: Miss Castle and Reggie and Jay.

  “I hope you had a good night’s rest, Mr. Duff,” Miss Castle said.

  A damn fine woman. A real woman.

  “Thanks, yes,” he said, smiling at her. “And it’s such a fine day… Reggie, how would you like to make a little excursion to Rio Park? There’s some sort of circus there, I understand. Nolan could drive you down; he says he has enough gas. You could have your lunch at the Casino and then he’d pick you up, you and Miss Castle and Jay.”

  “Quite a treat!” said Miss Castle.

  “Thank you, Jake,” said Reggie. “Only it’s my day at the hospital.”

  “Can’t you postpone it?”

  “Reggie, postpone it!” cried Jay. “Reggie, please! I want to go to the circus!”

  “You can go with Miss Castle, honey.”

  “I want you,” said Jay. “Pos’pone it, can’t you, for goodness sakes?” He jumped up from his chair, with that feverish excitement so distasteful to Duff. “Reggie, please!”

  “Well, all right, honey,” she said, reluctantly. “I guess I can go to the hospital tomorrow.”

  Oh, no, you won’t, thought Duff. I know you’re an angel of mercy, and a saint. But you won’t be, tomorrow.

  “Good!” he said. “Then Nolan will come back for you in—say an hour?”

  “Quite a treat!” said Miss Castle, again.

  She was pleased; she appreciated it when he planned a little outing for his household. He gave her another smile as he rose, but the smile stiffened on his lips at the thought that came to him. If she ever knew… he thought. In the hall he picked up that bag, and it seemed to him that forever and ever he had been carrying a bag filled with something shameful and dangerous. Forever and ever he had been going from one place to another, in search of rest, of peace.

  Nolan was waiting for him in the driveway.

  “Can you see to it that she gets the telephone message before ten?” he asked.

  “Why not?” said Nolan.

  “But suppose you can’t get hold of Ferris, to give him the note?”

  “I’ll find him. You want it fixed for tomorrow?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tomorrow would be better. Give us more time.”

  “It has to be tonight,” said Duff, curtly.

  “Why?” Nolan asked.

  Even Nolan would turn against him, Duff thought, if he knew what was in that bag.

  “I might have to go to Washington tomorrow, on business,” he said.

  “Well, I guess we can manage,” said Nolan. “Got the pills?”

  “I forgot them,” said Duff. “I’ll have to go back.”

  “You can leave your bag here,” said Nolan. Duff pretended not to hear him. He dared not leave that bag with Nolan, with anyone. He went back into the house, past the dining-room where those three still sat at the table, up the stairs to his own room. Everything he had to do was laborious and painful; his body felt heavy as lead.

  He got into the car again and Nolan drove off.

  “I said you’d come back in an hour and drive them to Rio Park,” Duff said.

  “What did you do that for? I’ve got to get that note to Ferris, and all the rest of it.”

  “I didn’t realize…” said Duff. “Jay was very anxious to see the circus they’ve got there.”

  It seemed to him the final misfortune that he could no longer be easy and safe with Nolan. When they had been talking yesterday, he had never once thought of old Paul, but now, with the bag at his feet, he realized that Nolan too could be a menace.

  “Well, I dare say I can manage,” said Nolan. “But I’ll have to have more money for gas.”

  Duff handed him three ten dollar bills and the bottle of capsules.

  “Take what you want and give me back the bottle,” he said.

  “I will,” said Nolan, and put the bottle into his pocket.

  “You might as well give me the bottle now.”

  “I can’t carry the things loose in my pocket. I’ll give you the bottle later.”

  He drove on for a time.

  “I’ll leave them at the Park,” he said, “and then I’ll call at your office for the note.

  “What note?”

  “The note you’re going to write to Captain Ferris.”

  “I can’t do that!” said Duff. “You’ll have to do it, Nolan.”

  “I’ve got an envelope here that she addressed to Ferris and threw away, and here’s part of a letter she started. It’s an easy hand to imitate.”

  “I tell you I can’t do it! You’d make an infinitely better job of it.”

  “Well, no,” said Nolan. “I don’t want to.”

  “Why? I thought it was understood that you’d do it.”

  “I’ll tell you why,” said Nolan. “I don’t want to be the guy who does it all, the fake telephone call, the note, the pills, all of it. We�
��ve got to be in this together.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “All right. We’ll call it off.”

  I can’t call it off, Duff thought. I’ve got to see that Reggie’s thoroughly discredited, before the police come. It doesn’t matter how I much I don’t like this, how tired I am, how damn sick I am. I’ve got to go through with this.

  “Nolan,” he said, in a sort of heavy desperation, “I’m simply not able to do this. I’m—not very well. My hand isn’t steady.”

  “Then we can wait.”

  “All right,” said Duff, after a time. “Give me the envelope and go on. I’ll try.”

  Nolan reached the papers back to him.

  “You’re going to put a couple of those pills in a whiskey bottle out at the shack…” Duff said. “But how are you going to manage I with the—other?”

  “You’ll telephone and say you won’t be home tonight. She’ll have got Captain Ferris’s telephone message, and she’ll jump at the chance. She’ll get me to drive her to the station for the seven-forty, and on the way I’ll stop and get a couple of cokes.”

  “Suppose she doesn’t want one?”

  “She’ll drink it anyhow, out of politeness, if I bring it to her.”

  “Have you ever done that before?”

  “Plenty of times,” Nolan answered.

  That’s my wife. Duff thought. He could picture her, at some roadside stand, drinking out of a bottle through a straw. With his chauffeur.

  “Suppose she goes to sleep before she gets to the shack? On the train?” he asked.

  “Someone will wake her up. She’s only going to get one pill. That won’t knock her out. Only make her drowsy, too drowsy to go out of the place, once she gets there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure enough.”

  “If anything goes wrong…” said Duff.

  “Then they can talk about a big plot against them,” said Nolan. “But nobody’s going to believe them. And even if you admitted it was a frame-up, it wouldn’t be too bad for you. You wanted to be sure they were meeting each other, that’s all. The injured husband always gets sympathy.”

  Only Nolan doesn’t know about old Paul, Duff thought. He doesn’t know what Reggie could do to me, if she wanted.