Gay Place

by Billy Lee Brammer

  Sixteen

  THE DRIVE THROUGH THE hills seemed interminable. Jay sat hunched over the steering wheel, his eyes straining into the darkness. He raced ahead on the straight stretches and braked the big car hard on the turns. The night was moonless, and the headlights revealed little of the gloom. He had to look carefully for the cutoffs, and even with the extra effort he missed the first one and had to come toward the Governor’s house from a backroad that took him by Dead Man’s shack. Dead Man stood leaning on the gate, looking toward the Federalist mansion that was black against the hills. Jay stopped and called to him through the car window.

  “What’s the trouble, Dead Man? What happened?”

  “Go see fah yosef,” the old man said. “I nevah been ’round theah all day long.” He turned and moved to his porch.

  Jay sped toward the darkened house, the wheels of the car slipping and losing traction on the graveled road. Halfway there the limousine spun off into a culvert and crashed along crazily with the right fender churning up topsoil for a hundred feet. Jay accelerated the big engine for a moment, but then turned the ignition off when he smelled the rubber of the tires burning against the sides of the culvert.

  He pushed one door free and ran the remaining distance to the house. Folding chairs and aluminum picnic tables were stacked neatly on the stone porch. Only the paper lanterns, strung along the promenade, floating in the evening air, gave an evidence of the party the night before. The house was open and he moved quickly through the downstairs rooms switching on lights.

  Servants had worked until dawn that day, cleaning up; save for an empty gin bottle in the middle of the enormous dining table, there was no sign of disorder. The house seemed as lifeless and undisturbed as some Etruscan tomb, silent with the gods. Jay stood for a moment in the dining room, remembering his first visit here in the early weeks of the Governor’s campaign. They had been served an incredible meal, and Arthur Fenstemaker sat in the big chair, stretching and talking: “This is what you have to watch out for, Jay. Remember it. You sit here in these carpets up to your ankles with a fire crackling in a corner and these black men serve you red wine and rare roast beef — and there’s crêpes suzettes comin’ later — and tell me, now. Can you get all wrought up about the poor folks?”

  Jay turned and took the steps of the elegant staircase two at a time, turning on the first landing and feeling along the damask walls for the light switch. White fluorescence flooded the broad hallway, and he hesitated for an instant, listening for a sound, a merest whisper, the rustle of window blinds in one of the bedrooms. He moved down the hall toward the sound, and then, fumbling for the lights once more, the pile of clothes alongside the bed caught his feet and he slipped against the mattress, his hands coming down on Arthur Fenstemaker’s cool flesh and jerked back as in a spasm. The gasp of unfamiliar terror caught in his throat. He finally got the lights on.

  Arthur lay on the bed, covers bunched down at his feet. He wore red silk pajama bottoms, pulled tight against his thick waist; the sparse hair on his chest was speckled gray and black, and there was a faint stubble of beard under his neck and along the jawline. His expression was no expression — neither peace nor pain — although a mild annoyance might have been suggested by his scarcely parted lips. He seemed an insane shade of powder blue; perhaps it was the fluorescent light against the tanned flesh.

  Jay felt for a pulse, but the utter lack of warmth in the body discouraged even this gesture. Lifting the wrist he could see the whole length of arm responding to the pressure. He sat on a leather hassock and smoked a cigarette, looking at the man on the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Arthur,” he finally said. “Goddammit to hell I’m sorry.”

  He went into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. The vial of Vicki’s perfume was on the dressing table. He picked it up and looked in amazement. He examined the bathroom closely and then moved into an adjoining bedroom and found Vicki’s overnight case near the door. He sorted through the jars and bottles and small boxes to be sure, and then in a rush he searched through the empty closets. He returned to Arthur’s room and sat down again. Then he stood and moved to the opposite side of the bed and found a half-slip on the floor, a thin-wispy wad of silk lying at his feet. The rumpled bedclothes smelled of Vicki’s perfume, and he could make out the impress on the vacant pillow where her pretty head had lain. He walked back round the bed and sat on the hassock.

  “Well I’m still sorry,” he said to the dead man. “Sorry as hell. You should’ve stayed with that vibrator.”

  He walked downstairs and poured himself a drink, and then carrying the bottle with him, he returned to sit with the Governor. There were the telephones — the Governor had two of them in his room — those nice phones. He sat and thought for a moment and then dialed the rural operator. It took some time to get her out of bed and on the line.

  “Yes?” She’s been talking to those fashionable California people, Jay thought.

  “You have a sheriff or a deputy or a justice of the peace you can send out here? This is the Fenstemaker place.”

  “You want all three? What’s wrong?”

  “Any one of them or all three — I don’t care. Just send ’em out here,” Jay said.

  “Don’t you want to talk to ’em?”

  “I could but I don’t. Just send somebody out here, it’s —”

  “I’m not supposed to do that. I’m —”

  “Just do it for me, will you please? It’s an emergency.”

  “All right.”

  “And get me this number in town …”

  Mrs. Fenstemaker’s voice came on the line in a moment.

  “Jay? Have you heard anything? I’ve been worried so …”

  “Is anyone there with you, Mrs. Fenstemaker?”

  “A few friends, yes. They’re just leaving. We’ve been sitting out on the front gallery all evening.”

  “Could I speak to one of the men?”

  “There aren’t any men, Jay … Just some girl friends of mine.”

  “Well one of the ladies, then.”

  “What is all this about, Jay? What’s wrong?”

  “Well …”

  “Is it …”

  “He’s dead, Mrs. Fenstemaker … I’m sorry. He died out here sometime today … I’m at the country place. I’m sorry, Mrs. Fenstemaker. It looks like a heart attack of some kind.”

  “Who, Jay? Not Arthur, you don’t mean Arthur do you? You’re not sure are you?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You sure he’s dead, you sure he’s not just —”

  “Yes ma’am, I’m sure. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh oh oh oh. Oh Jay! Oh, what …”

  “I’ll take care of everything. I just want someone there with you. Can your friends stay?”

  “Yes, of course, yes. Oh oh oh. Where was he, Jay, where did you find him — no don’t tell me, I don’t want …” Her voice trailed off and he could hear the mumbling of her girl friends, and then one of them came on and he explained what needed to be done. “Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell anyone. We’ll announce what’s happened in the morning when everything’s settled. Otherwise, we’ll have news people running through the house out here and calling Mrs. Fenstemaker at the mansion all night long.”

  He put the receiver down and thought for a minute. Then he stood and began cleaning the room, picking clothes off the floor and smoothing the bed; he locked Vicki’s overnight case in the linen closet. He returned once again to the telephone table.

  “Did you get someone sent out here?”

  “Yes. The constable and the jaypee. What’s happened? Can’t you tell —”

  “Now I want to call California,” Jay said.

  “Just a minute,” the operator said. “I’ve got a call comin’ in on my other line. It may be for you …”

  Mrs. Fenstemaker’s voice came to him again: “Jay? Jay? Do you know anything yet? Do you know anything about —”

  “No, nothing at all. There’s a j
ustice of the peace coming out. And a doctor. We’ll need a doctor — I forgot that … You call a doctor, too, Mrs. Fenstemaker, or one of your friends call. You ought to have a sedative.”

  “I’m coming out. I think I’ll come out.”

  “I don’t think you should … There’s nothing you can do here, and you’ll have a rough day in town tomorrow. I’d advise against it.”

  “All right, Jay.”

  “Fine.”

  “Will you get time and charges on all these calls, Jay, so we can make them official business … Oh oh oh what an awful thing to say. I’m in shock, I must be in shock.” Once again one of her friends came on the line and advised him a doctor was on the way to the mansion.

  The rural operator came back on. “I need a doctor now,” he said to her. “Will you call a doctor?”

  “I’ve already called him. What’s goin’ on out there?”

  “You ought to know if you’ve been listening in.”

  “Is he really dead? Arthur really dead?”

  “Yes. Get me an operator in town now so I can call California.”

  There was a delay of several minutes, and he kept the phone to his ear, sipping whiskey mixed with water from the bathroom tap. Occasionally he looked at Arthur Fenstemaker. The Governor’s face seemed to be constricting into a terrible grin.

  If I can just bring this off, he thought. If my mind doesn’t sag, if I don’t turn to jelly … Arthur would have been the man for this job, this little business. There was a man who — Sarah. Where the hell was Sarah? She must have …

  “Yes?” There was Shavers again, damn his soul.

  “Ed, this is Jay, I —”

  “Oh! Jay! You calling about what we talked about? I hope —”

  “Not exactly. I was wondering if you’ve heard from Vicki.”

  “Sure have. She’s right here …”

  Here comes my heart, he thought.

  “Jay. Jay, doll, it was sweet of you to call …”

  “I just thought we ought to have a talk.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  “No.”

  “I stayed behind a few hours today, thinking we could talk. Then I thought it wasn’t any use. I reached a kind of decision …”

  “You left some things behind,” Jay said. He had a swallow from the bottle. The dead man on the bed seemed to sigh a little.

  “I know, I know,” Vicki said. “I remembered when I boarded the plane. My overnight case. And some perfume in the bathroom. Did you find the perfume?”

  “I found it,” Jay said. “All over the Governor’s bed.”

  “What? What did you find, Jay?”

  “The bedsheets reek of it. The perfume. And the Governor’s dead. Did you know that, Vicki? Or didn’t you even stop to look when you crawled out of the sack?”

  “Dead!” He heard Ed Shavers say “What’s that?” and then repeating the question to Vicki, coming nearer the phone.

  “Jay, Jay, wait a minute. You say Arthur’s dead? You’re kidding, you’re making a joke.”

  “He’s dead, all right. Expired. Gone. That’s the way I found him tonight. Lying in bed in his pajamas in an empty house and your stuff strewn all over it. Police and newspaper people are on their way over now, and I thought I ought to tell you about it …”

  “Oh God! Jay! Get my things out of there. Are they going to involve me in this?”

  “The implication ought to be pretty strong in the story. I don’t see how they could resist it.”

  “Well then get my things out. Hide the bag. And I think I left a bra and panties hanging in one of the bathrooms. Get everything. You’ll do that for me, won’t you Jay? Thank God you called. Do you have to tell them I was there this morning? It was just part of the morning. When did he die?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jay said. “He’s been dead for some time.”

  “Well do this for me, Jay. Do it if you can. At least don’t volunteer anything about my being there this morning. I can’t afford to get involved in anything like this. I’ve got to be careful — the studio warned me. That’s one of the reasons I’d hoped we might be able to get together again. That and just wanting you with me again. Jay … Jay? Are you listening? Will you help me, Jay?”

  “I’ll help you if you’ll help me,” he said.

  “Well sure. Fine. Eye for an eye, all that. What is it you want?”

  “I want a divorce with none of this ‘he left me prostate’ business to the papers, and I want Annie to come live with me.”

  There was a silence during which his lips moved in a gabble of incoherent prayer. He looked over at his friend Arthur Fenstemaker, who had done this thing for him. Arthur smiled back fiercely.

  “All right,” Vicki said, all the gold gone out of her voice.

  “All right? You say all right?”

  “Yes. If you let me see her when I want to, let her come visit me when I’ve got time off from work.”

  “That’s fine by me. It’s heaven. But how will I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “If you were going to engage in blackmail by long-distance phone you should have thought of that. I can’t tell you how. I’ll just keep my word — that’s how.”

  “Well … now this has all worked out nice. You’ve been very decent, Vic.”

  “Oh yes. Now will you get my clothes and bag out of there please. Hide ’em, burn ’em, mail ’em to me or something.”

  “It’s already taken care of. I cleaned up before I called.”

  “That’s a cheap trick.” She seemed to think this was funny.

  “Well, I could have always hauled the stuff out again for the newspapermen,” he said.

  “You know,” she said, “you went to a great deal of trouble yourself to bargain for something you already had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had decided — I decided this morning before I left — to let you have the divorce and even part custody of Victoria Anne. I thought it was the least I could do.”

  “Least you could do?”

  “You’ve got enough troubles already.”

  “What do you mean, Vic?”

  “Well … I’ll get to work on the divorce tomorrow. I’m in a hurry for it, actually. I’m thinking of marrying Greg Calhoun for a while … He’s been very nice.”

  “You’re thinking about it? For a while?”

  “Well, you know. Wear the green hat. You taught me, doll.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Jay. Jay love.”

  “Yes?”

  “It wasn’t me, love.”

  “Wasn’t you? Wasn’t you what?”

  “It just wasn’t me, love. All I said to the Governor this morning was goodbye. So goodbye, love.”

  After she had broken the connection he stood staring at the bed until he saw the headlights of the approaching cars. He left the bedroom and walked along the hallway toward the stair. He did not know why such an idea occurred to him, but he moved past the stair to the end of the hall. He reached round the door facing and switched on the lights in Sarah’s room.

  Her fallen face turned to him, red eyes staring. She lay on her side in the bed, the covers pulled up round her shoulders, clutched at her throat. For a moment he could only stand and regard her in dumbstruck innocence, his own sweet innocence, forever inviolate. When he finally moved toward the bed the fine lines in her face began to work in little spasms and then the face contorted and collapsed, with tears swelling and flooding her eyes.