Alone at Night

by Vin Packer

  “Heck, Mona, it’s Christmas Day!”

  “I was going to church this evening.”

  Donald Cloward leaned into Slater. “I didn’t come back to make trouble for Laura’s father, Mr. Burr. I just want a start. I can’t see myself in New York City.”

  “Sure, well, we’ll talk about it,” Slater said.

  Mona Sontag murmured: “I ought to tell Father Gianonni about Mr. Leydecker. A priest knows what to do.”

  “Be funny,” said Secora, “if Leydecker was driving the Jag himself.”

  Cloward said, “That wouldn’t make much sense, Al. I don’t think he’d just take Mr. Burr’s car. He was nowhere near there either.”

  “He coulda run for it, left you there. Why wouldn’t he, if he wanted you out of the way?”

  “I don’t think so… No,” said Cloward.

  Slater Burr said, “Secora, why don’t you take Miss Sontag home? She’s had it!”

  Secora ignored the remark. “D’yah drive a Jag a lot, Buzzy, ’fore that night?”

  “It was my first and last time.”

  “The one and only time, for Pete’s sake? Heck, they’re a little complicated. I don’t think a drunk could figure it out, never been in one. Not figure it out and get all that speed up for a short distance… Now, I, myself, once drove a Jag. S’got an English shift, you know, more forward speeds than ours. I had to sit there awhile and figure it out, and I was dead sober.”

  “Any bright person could figure it out in a second, Secora,” said Slater. “You better take Miss Sontag home, Mister. She’s falling asleep.”

  “I ain’t bright, or something?”

  “I didn’t say that… I just think you’d better take her home.”

  “I think I just did it instinctively,” Cloward said.

  “A Jag? It isn’t like our cars, not the ’54 ones. Course some of them are now. I’m talking about the old ones, Mr. Burr. I had trouble the day I tried one, was nine, maybe ten years ago.”

  “Tired, Albert,” said Mona Sontag.

  “She’ll get a second wind,” Secora told everyone. He turned back to Donald Cloward. “You didn’t even have a trial, did you?”

  “No… But…” Cloward was frowning.

  Slater Burr said, “Take her home, Secora!”

  “What’s the matter with you, Mr. Burr? Leydecker could have been driving your car, couldn’t he? Keys were left in it, weren’t they?”

  “Right now,” said Slater, “I’m thinking of Miss Sontag. A gentleman takes a lady home when she’s had enough!”

  “Sla-ter,” Jen touched his arm, spoke softly. “Not so rough… Go a little easy, darling.”

  “Thank you ver-ree much, Mr. Burr,” said Mona Sontag. “He isn’t gentleman.”

  “The heck I’m not! I spent ten ninety-eight on a…”

  Slater had him by the arm now, and was taking him to the door of Walsh’s Place. Chris McKenzie got off his stool and helped Mona Sontag.

  “He isn’t gentleman,” Mona Sontag said.

  “You don’t have any right to do this to me, Mr. Burr!” Secora said.

  “You horned in on the little party, now horn out!” Slater answered. He gave him a shove out the door, and Mona Sontag caught his arm and dragged along with him.

  For a moment, the pair stopped in the drive outside Walsh’s Place, and Chris McKenzie could see Secora’s face, red and angry.

  “You were pretty rough on him, Slater,” Jen said.

  McKenzie watched while the pair got into Secora’s old Chevrolet. “They’re all right now. They’re leaving,” he said. “We ought to go too.”

  “One on the house first,” Jitz Walsh smiled.

  “Well, not for Lena,” said Chris. Lena could not drink any more if Walsh had taken one across to her. She was sitting down by the jukebox with her head on the table.

  “You’re a fine one, you are,” Jen giggled, “talking about taking ladies home. Look at Lena.”

  “Lena didn’t ask to go home,” said Slater. He turned to Donald Cloward. “Secora was butting in. This sort of discussion shouldn’t be open to public debate in a barroom.”

  A fine time to think of that, Chris McKenzie told himself.

  twelve

  Carrie Burr had never laughed much, but when she had, the laughter burst like an explosion—whoom! Slater could hear them in his mind, one after the other now, while he faced Cloward in his living room.

  “No kidding, Mr. Burr,” said Cloward, “I never thought of it before. Not until Secora said it.”

  “Secora is a know-nothing, Buzzy!”… All right, and there went another; oh, a know-nothing, is he, ummm, Slater, and ha! ha! ha! Whoom! Whoom! Whoom!

  Jen said, “He’s not our favorite person. He’s one of the union leaders at the plant, Donald. I was surprised to hear him speak out against Leydecker that way. Leydecker’s very thick with those union people, isn’t he, darling? He’s always speaking up for them at B.B.B.C. meetings.”

  “B.B.B.C.?”

  “Buy, Build, Boost Cayuta,” said Slater. “This is a hell of a town to want to settle in right now, Buzzy. Whole place is on the skids.”

  You are, you mean—Whoom!… But Slater smiled, relaxed looking, legs stretched out, big and easy-going, “Yeah, Secora talks through his hat! His kind tilts the way the wind blows, and the wind was blowing in the direction of free drinks this afternoon.”

  Cloward’s short, freckled hands were playing with a comb, running their nails through its teeth and twanging them; his eyes slightly glazed from drink. “Still,” he said, “I never thought of the fact I’d never driven a Jag before.”

  “It is interesting,” Jen said.

  “Jen, get dinner!”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Slater. “I’m just hungry. We all are.”

  “O-kay, but watch your tone of voice, or the cook will quit.”

  He watched her walk across the room toward the kitchen. And if she were to know the truth, what would she say or do? He knew what Carrie would have done under the same circumstances; she would have turned him in, graciously, of course, and emphatically; Carrie had been a woman of Character. But Jen? Ah, and he laughed inside, he knew. “We can hide out in Europe, Slater.” It would represent another chance to get abroad… Maybe not. It was hard to know anyone any more, hard to know himself, and why it was he could sit there facing Cloward after Cloward’s eight years in prison, and think only of two things about him: that he wished to God Cloward would put his comb away, and that he would have to get Cloward out of Cayuta, and fast.

  It had all gone too far. In the beginning, Slater had thought it might be amusing—even useful—to have Cloward’s theory on Leydecker’s involvement in the accident go the gossip rounds in Cayuta. The idea of Leydecker thinking his daughter was too good for an honest working man would turn a lot of people of Secora’s ilk against Leydecker… and it would sift through, reach others too. It would also renew everyone’s interest in, and speculations about, Leydecker’s daughter. That mystery had blown over in the past few years; eventually people simply accepted odd facts, the same as they accepted the fact that Horace Dryden’s mother was a kleptomaniac, and Paul Ayres never touched money without wearing gloves, and Father Gianonni of St. Anthony’s was a lush.

  Slater had imagined some slight diversion from the idea of Kenneth Leydecker as the community’s hope and rescuer… a little gossip to sidetrack the notion. He had even toyed, for the briefest moment, with hiring Cloward. To ease his conscience? No, he crossed that one off; he had gone beyond conscience a long time ago. In as far as he was now, he had become stout enough to throw off the chill of a bad conscience almost at once… But if he had hired Cloward, it would make him look as good as it made Leydecker look bad. An act of charity, forgiveness… It had seemed just that simple to Slater at Walsh’s Place. Even though Cloward had not a shred of evidence against Leydecker in the manslaughter charge, it would start tongues wagging, that was all.

  Then god
dam punk Secora put his mouth in! There had not even been a suggestion that anyone could have been behind the wheel but Cloward, until Secora’s dull brain sparked for the first time in his life.

  Cloward sat opposite Slater in the Windsor chair, quite drunk now. They had all had a few more at Walsh’s Place, before Lena fell on her face, and then they had mixed martinis here at home. In a way, Slater gave Cloward credit for picking up Secora’s lead and not making anything out of it, but he did not like the fact Cloward dwelled on the matter, nor the fact Cloward wanted to stay in Cayuta. He was glad of this chance to straighten out his thinking and put it back on the wrong track.

  Now Cloward was back on the subject of getting his newspaper friend interested in Secora’s theory.

  “Guy’s real quick,” Cloward was saying. “Things that take me all day to figure out, Guy figures out in seconds.”

  “What’s he say to your theory of being put into my Jag by someone?”

  “Well, you see, Mr. Burr, I never went into it too much with him. Guy used to say it was irrelevant. Irrevelant… because I still drove the car that killed her.”

  “He’s right, Buzz.”

  “But if Leydecker were driving the Jaguar…”

  “Wait a minute, Buzz… Now, listen to me.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I personally hate Leydecker. He’s causing me plenty of trouble. There’s a new zoning law he’s pushing and…”

  “And he stole your father’s ideas, or his father did. I remember my dad always saying that.”

  “Yes. Well, that’s my point. There are a lot of reasons I don’t like Leydecker. I’d be the first to want to prove what you say is true. Not just because I hate Leydecker, Buzz, but because, after all, my wife was killed in that accident.”

  “Yes, sir… I see.”

  “It’s just a flimsy theory all the way around. You know Leydecker.”

  “Yes.”

  “He might give you his keys and hope you’d kill yourself, but as for Kenneth Leydecker taking a chance like that… Come on, use your head.”

  “Yes, I can see where it’d be unlikely.”

  “Leydecker wouldn’t risk everything, and Buzz,” Slater let out a small laugh, “he wouldn’t have killed Carrie. He always liked Carrie! The whole idea is just bull, Buzz. Bull!”

  “I guess you’re right. It’s far-fetched.”

  “You want to concentrate on your future, not your past.”

  “But you said yourself that Leydecker might very well have moved me to your car, sir. I wouldn’t have taken your car, not yours!”

  Slater said, “And that may be. And I believe you, Buzz. I think I believe you… But it doesn’t help you now.”

  “Where you’re concerned, it does.”

  “Yes. I’m ready to buy your theory, and it puts a different light on things, though I never felt angry at you. You were drunk. I’ve been drunk too.”

  “I’d really like to work for you, sir. I don’t feel right in New York. I’d start anywhere, at any salary. I know it could be arranged… Sir, I don’t want to be a secretary. What kind of a job is that for a man?”

  “Okay,” Slater said, “but wait a damn minute. It’ll take time to arrange that through the parole board, right?”

  “Right. It will take some time.”

  “And I’ve got to work out some problems… So why don’t you go to New York, and work for this fellow for a time, and then I’ll send for you.”

  “That would be just great, Mr. Burr!”

  “I’d have to write your parole board and so forth.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “And in the meantime, I wouldn’t shoot off my mouth to this newspaper fellow about your plans. You let me handle it.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Burr.”

  “It might take a little time, but we’ll do it, Buzz. Now, that’s a promise.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Burr.”

  “And the sooner you go to New York, the better.”

  “Why is that, sir?”

  “Well, if it looks as though you’re back here to make trouble, Leydecker might get into it. He could write your parole board just as well. Gossip gets around. God knows what Secora is saying right now.”

  “I see what you mean… But I’m not supposed to leave until the end of the week.”

  “We might arrange it so you can leave earlier.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Hell, Buzzy, you been cooped up a long time! How about a hotel, money for some shows… have a little freedom. You won’t get it around here.”

  Slater got up and walked across with the martini pitcher, poured Cloward another drink. A euphoria was rising in him now, dissolving the edge of panic he had felt earlier. No more whooms in his head; I am getting away with it, Carrie, and he ruffled Buzzy’s hair, “We’ll work things out,” and he began to feel all right again.

  Buzzy Cloward said, “One thing, though…”

  “What’s that, Buzz?”

  “Well, I keep wondering about Laura, about what happened to her.”

  II.

  At ten o’clock, Kenneth Leydecker, his green celluloid eyeshade fixed to his brow, sat at his tambour desk in his study, rereading the speech he had composed for Thursday’s meeting of the B.B.B.C., “… and to attract industry we must have lower rates of interest for financing it. The State of Pennsylvania will go as low as two per cent, whereas New York requires at least five and a half per cent. Furthermore…”

  The ringing of the telephone surprised him. He looked at the telephone as though there had been some mistake, but on the second ring, he picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “I would like to speak to Laura.”

  “Laura is in bed at this hour,” he said.

  He heard the click on the line, and knew that Laura was on the extension upstairs. He had known this call was inevitable, but he had not been prepared… now with Laura listening, he felt shaky and apprehensive.

  Donald Cloward said, “It’s only ten o’clock.”

  “Nevertheless, Laura is in bed.”

  “What’s the matter with her, Mr. Leydecker? You know who this is.”

  “Yes, I do know who it is.”

  “I want to know what’s the matter with Laura. Is she a prisoner or something?”

  “I think that’s your status, much more than it is Laura’s.”

  “That was my status. Now I want to know Laura’s!”

  “She wants nothing to do with you, Donald.”

  “I’d like to hear her tell me that… I want to hear her tell me that she’s all right.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because it is!”

  “I’m not trying to start anything up again, Mr. Leydecker. I’m going away soon, but I want to know if Laura’s all right.”

  “She is all right. Now, there’s nothing more to say, Cloward.”

  “I want to talk to her. When can I call her?”

  “If you call here again, I’ll call the police. Donald, I don’t want you to bother us again!”

  “I just want to talk to her! I’ve got to know if she’s all right.”

  “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “The same way I took your word about the car keys, Mr. Leydecker?”

  Kenneth Leydecker dropped the phone into its receiver. He waited a moment, then picked it up again, and got a dial tone. He was relieved. Laura had hung up at the same time.

  thirteen

  In the car, Jen Burr tried to make him feel better about it “We’ve all done things like that, Don.”

  “I shouldn’t have called there. I don’t know what got into me. I was sitting there by myself in the living room, and suddenly I remembered her phone number. I just thought I’d try seeing how she was.”

  “You get a good night’s sleep, and everything will be all right in the morning. You’re still a little tipsy. Things always look worse.”

 
It was something she told herself, as well as Cloward. She had been left with no alternative but to drive Cloward home. While Cloward was phoning Laura Leydecker in the living room, she and Slater had been arguing in the kitchen. It was her own fault for nagging Slater. She had begun with a complaint about his remark at Walsh’s Place, that she had been to Blood Neck with Horace Dryden (lecherous creep!), and it had ended with her telling Slater he was behaving like some sort of criminal, covering his tracks, lying, then this new idea to spirit Donald off to New York City tomorrow, unbeknownst to anyone.

  She should have been perceptive enough to realize that Cloward’s return was dredging up all the mucky guilt and self-recriminations Slater carried around inside him. Lord, last night she had gotten a close enough look at it, Slater slapping her that way. She should learn to leave it all alone, let Slater work it out himself, however he chose to do it.

  Slater had gone up to bed angry at her. Another First, she thought sadly; last night a sock in the jaw, tonight going to bed in a huff. They never had those kinds of quarrels, never. There was not a thing in the world which could happen between them, that their bodies near each other could not diminish in seconds… Yet tonight, she had gone into the bedroom to get the keys to the car, leaned over Slater and touched his shoulder: “I’m taking Donald home, darling.”… “Do as you please, darling,” he had answered sarcastically… And for a horrible few moments as she went down the stairs, she had the feeling he missed Carrie, and that Slater and she were all wrong together; why hadn’t she known that all these years? Why hadn’t she listened to Chris? He had warned her Slater was too complicated. Carrie knew how to handle him.

  “I did everything wrong tonight,” Donald Cloward said beside her.

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “Now I have Mr. Burr angry at me.”

  “He was angry at me, Donald. He’s under a lot of pressure, and sometimes I forget that.”

  “I don’t see why he didn’t tell me good night. It’s as though he knew I’d called Leydecker.”

  “No, he didn’t know it. And I won’t tell him tomorrow. It was a quarrel we had, in the kitchen. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”