She drew on her cigarette, her strange blue eyes looking far down the road through the windshield. After a while she began to speak softly. “When I first met Bob Levi, he was a bright, laughing young man, always with a smile and eye for the future. He had high hopes and ambitions.”
The cigarette was short in her fingers and she tapped it out in the ashtray on the dash. There was a note of sorrow in in the sound of her voice now. “It has been many seasons since I saw him smile. His ambitions are no more, and it has been as long and troubled for me as it has for him.”
Her strange eyes looked up at mine. “We have a saying in my country—there is no sorrow that love does not precede. It is so. For our love, because of me, my husband must spend his days in exile.”
She reached for another cigarette. I took one and held a match for her. I didn’t speak.
She kept watching me until my cigarette was glowing. “So you see why he dare not speak,” she said. “I would not care for you to think he was a coward.”
“I didn’t think that,” I said. “But why couldn’t he say something?”
“Matt Brady is a terrible man,” she said slowly. “He found out that Bob brought me to this country illegally. His detectives could not find anything about Bob so they found out about me. All Bob wanted was for us to be together after he returned, so he bought a Shanghai visa and false papers and I came in that way.
“We were happy together until Mr. Brady’s detectives told Bob that he knew what had happened and that if Bob did not lay off he would inform the authorities. Bob did the only thing he could. He quit. It was better to him that way than for me to go back to Japan.”
I remembered what Paul had told me about the Con Steel case. It had been settled by a consent decree after Levi had quit the department. Without him the case had fallen apart at the seams. Matt Brady must have been real proud of himself.
I didn’t know what to say. These poor people had gone through enough. There was no point in my adding to their troubles. I kept quiet, letting the smoke drift idly out of my nostrils.
Her voice caught at my ear. “My husband is not happy, Mr. Rowan.”
I looked at her, startled.
“Every day I watch him die in little pieces,” she said. “He is a man working like a boy.”
I knew what she meant but didn’t know what she was getting at. “What can I do to help, Mrs. Levi?” I asked helplessly. “I’m practically at the end of my own rope.”
“Bob knows more about Matt Brady, business and personal, than anybody else in the world,” she said, watching my face. “If you would give him a job, he would be of real help to you.”
“He could have a job in a minute,” I protested. “But I can’t shove it down his throat. You just told me why.”
She looked down at her cigarette. “He does not know that I came after you. I told him I was going to town to market. I will return and tell him that I spoke with you and told you the truth. Then he will go to you.”
“Do you think he will?” I asked, a faint hope stirring inside me once more.
She got out of the car and stood there in the country road, the wind blowing her hair about her face. “I will make him go, Mr. Rowan,” she said softly. “No matter what it costs. It is not pleasant to be the instrument of your husband’s death.”
I watched her get into the station wagon and make a U turn in front of me. I could see the painted letters, Krystal Kennels, as she passed me, going back. She waved her hand but there was no smile on her face. Only a look of tense concentration.
I looked up in the rear-view mirror. The station wagon was almost hidden in the cloud of dust behind it, then it disappeared around the curve and was gone.
I looked at the clock on the dash. It was almost four. I turned the key and pushed in the starter. With an almost silent hum, the big motor started. I put the car in gear and began to roll. I would have to make time if I were to be at Elaine’s cocktail party at five o’clock.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SAY something nice about somebody and nobody will listen. Make it mean, malicious, sandalous and everybody in town will help you spread the word. Within three days we were an item in every major column in the papers from coast to coast. Our pictures were in every yellow rag that had the space to print them.
In four days we were the town’s biggest romance, the hottest affair. For all I knew we might even have made the Sightseer’s guide. We were seen at the latest shows, the most fashionable restaurants. Heads would turn to watch us as we walked by, mouths would gape, people would whisper, their knowing chuckles following us.
But the kid was great. She kept her eyes front and her head up. If she heard the talk, she didn’t show it. If it hurt her, she never let me see it. The more I saw of her, the better I liked her.
I tried to explain to Marge what I was doing, but after that fight she wouldn’t listen. Even Jeanie looked at me cross-eyed. They both made like they didn’t know I was alive. Even my father didn’t buy my story.
The papers had done too good a job. They got to everybody except the man they were supposed to reach. Each morning we asked each other the same question. “Did you hear from Matt Brady?” And each morning the answer was the same. “No.”
But on Wednesday morning when I got her on the phone, I got my first break.
“Aunt Nora called me,” she said.
“Who’s she?” I asked.
Her voice was surprised. “Uncle Matthew’s wife.”
“I didn’t even know he was married,” I said. “I never heard a word about her.”
“You wouldn’t,” she explained. “Aunt Nora’s an invalid. She’s been in a wheelchair for almost forty years now. She almost never leaves the house.”
“How come?” I asked. “What happened to her?”
“Her legs and hips were smashed in an automobile accident a year after they were married,” she answered. “Uncle Matt was driving a new Stutz and it turned over. He was thrown clear but she was pinned beneath it. He’s never forgiven himself for that.”
“It’s good to know he has some human feelings,” I said callously. “I was beginning to give up hope that I would ever find any.”
“Brad, don’t be vicious,” she said reproachfully. “It’s a terrible thing. Aunt Nora was only a young girl then. Nineteen, I think.”
I paused. “What did she want?” I asked.
“She thought it might be a good idea for me to come down and visit,” Elaine answered. “She was disturbed by everything she read in the papers.”
“Did Uncle Matt have anything to say?” I asked.
“She said he had been very angry about it at breakfast but said that he had warned me once and that was all. That’s why she decided to call me.”
“Good,” I said. “Don’t go. Let him boil.”
She hesitated. “Brad, are you sure we’re doing right? I don’t see where it’s helping.”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I told you it was only a long shot anyway. All I’m trying to do is loosen him up a little and hope that he’ll slip somewhere.”
“Okay, Brad,” she answered. “I’ll call Aunt Nora and tell her.”
“We have a lunch date,” I reminded her.
“I know,” she said. “Aren’t you getting a little tired of the act?”
“Who’s acting?” I smiled into the phone.
Her voice grew soft. “I said no more, Brad. We have an understanding about that, remember?”
“All I know is that I’m with you,” I said. “When I’m with you, nothing else matters. Business, money, Matt Brady, nothing,”
“Nothing, Brad?” her voice was softly questioning. “Your family?”
I closed my eyes. I hesitated a moment.
“Don’t answer, Brad,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t being fair.”
The phone went dead in my hand and slowly I put it down. She didn’t want me to answer. I wondered if she was afraid of what I might say. The intercom buzzed. I flipped th
e switch.
“Mr. Robert M. Levi to see you,” Mickey’s voice crackled.
I had almost given up on him. I should have known better than to think a woman like his wife would miss—not after having seen that look on her face as she drove off. “Send him in,” I said and turned to face the door.
If he hadn’t been announced I would never have taken him for the same guy I had seen up in Wappinger Falls. He was wearing a dark grey suit, white shirt and maroon tie. His face was tanned from the sun and there were tiny squint wrinkles in the corners of his brown eyes. I got to my feet.
There was a warm smile on his lips. “I would have come in on Monday,” he said. “But all my suits were too big on me. I had to get a tailor to take them in.”
“The investment may never pay off,” I said.
His gaze wandered slowly around my office, and finally came back to me. He took out a cigarette and held a match to it. “I’ll take a chance on that,” he said. “That is, if your offer’s still good.”
I liked him. This was a bright smart guy. But he had something else about him that I liked even more. There was a quality of decency in the set of his mouth and chin. You would never have to lose any sleep worrying about this guy when your back was turned. I stuck out my hand.
“Welcome to the big city, farmer,” I said.
He grinned as he took my hand. “By cracky,” he said in as good an imitation of an upstate twang as I ever heard. “You got mighty fair diggin’s here.”
His grip was firm and solid. From the moment our hands touched I knew we would be friends. I think he knew it too. “Where do I hang my hat? “he asked.
It was my turn to surprise him. I hit the buzzer on my desk. Mickey’s voice came through the box. “Yes, boss?”
“Everything ready?” I asked.
“All set, boss.” There was a smile in her voice.
I beckoned him to follow me and went out into the corridor to the office next to mine. I stopped in front of Chris’s old office and waited for him to catch up to me. I gestured at the door.
He stared at it for a moment and then turned to me. He gulped and finally spoke. “My name’s on the door already.”
I nodded. “Been there since I got back that day.”
“But—but how’d you know I’d come?” he managed to ask.
“I was getting a bit worried,” I admitted smiling. “The office looked so good I wanted you to see it before we had to close down the place.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “It’s that bad, eh?”
I held the door open for him. “Pretty rough,” I answered, following him into his office. “Our mutual friend has done a pretty good job up to now. He’s ahead on all score cards.”
He walked around behind his desk and sat down. I could see his fingers resting lightly on the polished wood of the desk. There was something almost loving in their touch.
“Hilde’s waiting in the station wagon downstairs,” he said. “I brought down a batch of my records on Brady and the Con Steel case with me. I thought they might come in handy.”
“Good,” I said. “We’ll send a boy down after them.”
A kind of disappointment flashed across his face. I caught on quickly. “Then I’ll call my garage and have them send a man around for the car,” I added. “That way she’ll have time to come up and see the office.”
I walked to the door. “I’ll give you time to get used to the place,” I said. “After lunch we’ll have a staff meeting and you’ll meet the gang. Then we’ll settle down and see where we go from here.”
He got up behind his desk. “Thanks, Brad,” he said earnestly. “I don’t know anything about this business but I hope I’ll be of help.”
“Just your being here is a help,” I said. “Not many guys would jump on to a sinking ship.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I LEARNED more about Con Steel that afternoon that I had learned in all the last few weeks. But there was nothing there that I could put a finger on. Matt Brady had been too smart.
It was almost seven o’clock when I leaned back in my chair wearily and rubbed my eyes. I pushed the stack of papers on my desk to one side and looked over at Bob. “I’ve had it, kid,” I said. “My head’s spinning. We better pick up in the morning.”
He looked at me, smiling. He seemed as fresh as when he came in that afternoon. I envied his youth. “Okay, Brad,” he said, getting to his feet.
The telephone rang and I picked it up automatically. “Yes.”
“Mr. Rowan?” The voice was female, questioning and vaguely familiar but I was too beat to place it.
“Speaking,” I answered.
“This is Sandra Wallace,” she said.
I forced a smile into my voice. “Sandy, it’s good to hear from you.”
She wasted no time. “I want to see you, Brad.”
I closed my eyes and leaned over the desk. This was no time for romance. I was too tired. Besides, if she didn’t know the score by now, the game wasn’t for her. “I’m pretty jammed,” I said. “I can’t get down there just now.”
“I’m in the drugstore in your building,” she said.
I was beginning to sharpen up. This was no passion call. “Come on up then,” I said. “Don’t be so damned formal.”
I could hear her laugh as she hung up the phone. Bob was looking at me with a curious look in his eyes. I put down the telephone. “Maybe to-morrow will be better,” I said.
He didn’t answer, just nodded and started for the door. Half-way to it, he stopped and turned back to me.
“Yes, Bob?” I asked.
“Tell me if I’m out of line,” he said. “But there’s something I don’t get.”
“What?” I asked.
His face flushed. “This stuff in the papers about you and that Schuyler dame.”
He didn’t have to say any more. I knew what he meant. “I’m not trying to crawl, if that’s what you mean.” I got to my feet. “Elaine is an old friend. She’s on our side.”
“I suppose you know what you’re doing,” he said. I could tell from his voice that to him the story didn’t altogether make sense.
For the first time I began to feel that maybe it hadn’t been too good an idea. Marge and my old man might be prejudiced, but this guy had nothing to gain from what he said. It was a completely outside point of view. “I had to try something,” I said weakly.
His voice softened but didn’t altogether lose that quality of scepticism. “I met her several times in Washington. She’s one of the most attractive women I ever saw.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “She’s as good as she looks.”
A flash of understanding glowed for a moment in his eyes, then he quickly turned away. “I’ll see you in the morning. Brad,” he said, reaching for the door.
It opened before he could touch it. Sandra stood there. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s okay, Sandy,” I said. “Come on in.”
“I was just leaving,” he explained. “Good night, Brad.” The door closed behind him as I came around the desk.
“Good to see you, Sandy,” I said, taking her hand.
She smiled. “You didn’t sound happy over the phone.”
“I was tired,” I said, steering her to a chair. “Your boss is doing a good job of kicking my teeth in.”
“My ex-boss, you mean,” she said. “I’m looking for that help you promised.”
I was surprised, and showed it. “You finally quit?”
“To-morrow,” she answered. “He doesn’t know it yet.”
“What made you change your mind?” I asked. “I thought you could take it.”
“You did,” she said. Her eyes looked into mine. “I know I haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell with you. But I can’t sit in that office all day and help him.”
It wasn’t often in my life that I felt humble. But I was humble before the honesty in her glance.
“You’re very kind,” I said.
She got to her feet and came towards me, her eyes still on mine. “When I left you that day I told myself that it was over, that there was nothing you had for me. You belonged somewhere else. But when the days went by and I saw what was happening, and knew each time he hurt you, I hurt with you, I made up my mind.”
I didn’t speak. She was very close to me now and I could sense the urgency in her body, the purely animal sexuality she had for me. I fought the pull and waited.
“You may have nothing for me, but I have a feeling about you. I’ve known enough men to know what I’m saying. No one ever made me feel the way you do; no one ever can.”
“You’re young,” I said huskily. “Some day a guy will show who’s just for you. Then I’ll be like nothing in his shadow.”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
I turned and went back around my desk. I lit a cagarette. “You’re really leaving him?” I asked.
She was still watching me. She nodded. “Believe me?”
I had no answer.
She returned to her chair. “You said you would get me a job.”
I hesitated.
“Were you lying?” she asked quickly.
I shook my head. “I was a lot more cocky then. I didn’t know what Matt Brady could do.”
“Then you won’t help me?”
“I didn’t say that,” I protested. “I just don’t know whether I have enough friends left who will listen.”
“But you’ll try?” Her eyes were still on my face.
“I’ll try like crazy,” I said.
She got to her feet. "That’s all I ask,” she said. She looked at her watch. “There’s a plane back in an hour. “I’ll just make it.”
I came around the desk. “You’ll call me Monday?”
Never Leave Me (1953) Page 13
