The Misfortunes of Others

by Gloria Dank

  Snooky backed away.

  When he tried to talk to Jennifer, she leveled a glance on him that, like Elmo’s, froze his blood. With her height and her dark good looks, she was a formidable personality. He tried the affable smile again. “Hi.”

  She was cleaning her paintbrushes and putting them neatly away in a case. “I heard what you and Elmo were talking about. Leave me alone.”

  “If you know who’s doing all this, why don’t you tell Weezy? Maybe she could put a stop to it. It seems like you almost don’t want it to stop.”

  She did not reply. Her beautiful face was set in a frown.

  “Just answer one question. Why won’t you tell her?”

  She finished putting her brushes and tubes of paint away, and closed the case with a snap. “Why doesn’t she know?”

  “What?”

  She straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “Why doesn’t she know? Isn’t it obvious? Who’s the one nutcase in this class?”

  “You mean Alice.”

  “If I were Weezy, I’d have gotten rid of her a long time ago,” Jennifer said with venom. She picked up her case and stalked away.

  Nikki, in contrast, was thrilled to talk to him. She showed him what she had done that day, and blushed happily when he complimented her on it.

  “It’s very nice. Not that I know anything about modern art, but I like this, I really do.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to know anything,” she said seriously. “There’s such a mystique about it, but I don’t understand why, myself. It’s just things you like and things you don’t like. Don’t you think so?”

  “Yes, in fact, I do,” said Snooky, a little surprised. “But Weezy doesn’t. She says I’m a philistine.”

  This threw her into confusion. “Oh, well … I don’t want to … I didn’t mean to contradict what … oh, my goodness, well, you understand what I …”

  “Don’t worry. Weezy doesn’t care whether we agree with her or not. She’s perfectly happy with her own opinion.”

  This made her laugh, a nervous little giggle.

  “Listen,” he said, watching her closely. “You know that Weezy’s very upset over what’s been happening in here. Do you have any ideas about it?”

  Her eyes widened. “Me? Any ideas? Oh, no, I couldn’t … I wouldn’t be able to … I haven’t even thought …”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. And I bet you have a pretty good idea who’s behind it, too.”

  Then Nikki, like Elmo earlier, surprised him very much. She put her chin up, and an unaccustomed steely look came into her eyes.

  “Well, yes, I do,” she said. “I do have an idea. And I have been thinking about it, quite a lot. I think I know who’s been doing everything. And I’m quite sure I know who wrecked Alice’s paintbox, because, you see, I saw it happen.”

  Snooky stared. “You saw it?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. And I’m glad.”

  “Glad it happened?”

  “Yes. Because, you see, the person was only doing it to get back at—at her.” Her glance flickered over to where Alice stood, talking to Weezy.

  “At Alice?”

  “Yes. And—” her chin went up even higher, “and I’m glad!”

  “You hate her that much, then?”

  Her gaze went back to Alice, as if drawn there by a magnet. A shadow passed over her face. She put up her hand and rubbed her eyes. “I hate her,” she said in a low voice. “She’s so mean all the time, I … I hate her.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Snooky said, also in an undertone. “But if you know who’s doing all this—”

  “Oh, Weezy can’t do anything,” she said dismissively.

  “Why not?”

  “What can she do?”

  “She can get rid of whoever’s messing things up.”

  Nikki stared at him, her eyes dilating wildly. “But that’s just what I don’t want!” she cried. “I don’t want that—that other person to go! I just want Alice to go! So does everybody else! It’s all her fault that this is happening, anyway. It’s all her fault!”

  Snooky looked into her round moon face and her wide, angry eyes. For some reason he felt compassion stir in him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just … sorry.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then rushed out of the room.

  On his way over to Alice, Weezy stopped him and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just talking. Just chatting to people.”

  “Well, stop it. You’re making me nervous. You look like a spy.”

  “That’s what Elmo said.”

  “Well, he’s right. Leave my students alone. I don’t think you should come to class anymore, it’s making everybody crazy.”

  “I don’t think it’s me that’s making people crazy.”

  She pushed back a curl of hair irritably. “Well, maybe not. But leave my students alone. Nobody likes to talk to a spy. Did Bernard put you up to this?”

  “Oh, no, it was my own brilliant idea.”

  “So he did, did he? Well, he’ll pay. He’ll pay.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll think of something,” she said darkly.

  Alice had already left by the time Snooky looked around for her. He managed to trap Mrs. Castor on her way out the front door by sidling up to her and offering her his arm.

  “Thank you, young man,” she said, smiling at him.

  He helped her down the steps, where an elderly white-haired man was waiting. “This is my husband,” said Mrs. Castor. “Tom, this is Snooky Randolph. He’s in my class.”

  “How do you do,” said Mr. Castor, and shook hands cordially. He turned to his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ready to go, Lizzy?”

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  After Mrs. Castor was safely installed in the car, Snooky leaned in the window. “Do you mind if I ask you one question before you go?”

  She eyed him curiously. “No, not at all.”

  “Who do you think is causing all the trouble in the class? Is it one person, or is it two? You’ve been there for a while, do you have any feeling for what’s going on?”

  She sat very still, looking straight ahead of her. When her husband started to turn the key in the ignition, she patted his arm and said, “One minute, Tom.”

  Snooky waited patiently. Finally she stirred and said, “I don’t know who’s doing it. I can’t answer your questions. But I do feel one thing very strongly.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think that Alice is a genius. Well, I do. And there’s a lot of jealousy around. Artists are so insecure, it’s hard for them to believe in their own work. They hate anyone who they think is better. Yes, they do, Tom, I’ve told you that many times,” she said into the car. She turned back to Snooky. “You know what La Rochefoucauld said.”

  “No … no, I don’t.”

  “Nous avons tous assez de force pour supporter les maux d’autrui,” she quoted in her soft voice. “We all have enough strength to bear the misfortunes of others.”

  Snooky laughed.

  “Yes, but it’s true,” she said earnestly. “I see in their faces that they’re enjoying what’s happening. They’re enjoying Alice’s misfortune, and they don’t care what happens to everyone else’s work.”

  “Who? Who is ‘they’? All of them?”

  She sat quietly, fiddling with her cane. “I shouldn’t say,” she said at last. “It’s not for me to point someone out. But there’s a lot of hatred there … a lot of hatred.”

  “Yes,” Snooky said heavily.

  “Can I give you some advice, young man?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I think you should convince Weezy to take a vacation. Whatever’s going on in there is unhealthy. She should take a break. The students will survive without her.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that myself. I
think it’s a good idea. It would give everything a chance to settle down while she’s away.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Castor. You’re very kind. Weezy always sings your praises, and I can see why.”

  This made her smile. “Oh, it’s my pleasure. I’ve been meaning to mention it to her ever since this whole thing started. Oh, well, would you like to hear something else that clever man La Rochefoucauld said?”

  “Yes, by all means.”

  “He said, ‘Old people like to give good advice, as solace for no longer being able to provide bad examples.’ ”

  Her husband chuckled and started up the car. Mrs. Castor waved as they pulled away.

  A few days later, sorting through her mail over morning coffee, Weezy said suddenly, “What’s this?”

  She held up a white envelope. Her name and address had been painstakingly lettered on the front with shiny stick-on gold letters. There was no return address.

  “Let me open it,” said Snooky.

  “Oh, come on. What do you think it is, a letter bomb?” She turned it over and ripped it open.

  The thin sheet of paper inside had no handwriting on it, just the same metallic gold letters that were on the envelope. Weezy unfolded it and smoothed it out.

  I DESTROYED YOUR PAINTINGS BECAUSE YOU DONT DESERVE TO HAVE AN EXHIBIT YOU HAVE NO TALENT YOU ARE NO GOOD DO YOU HEAR ME YOU ARE NO GOOD

  SIX

  WEEZY COULD not even speak. She felt physically ill. She felt the gold letters rise up before her dazed eyes and claw at her. She turned her head away.

  Snooky read the letter impassively. He folded it and stuck it back into the envelope. Then he turned to her and took her in his arms.

  They stood that way, clinging to each other like limpets under the water, for a long time. Finally Weezy said,

  “I’m scared, Snooky. I’m really scared.”

  He nodded, pressing her to him. “Yes.”

  “What … what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll think of something. I don’t want you to worry.”

  She gave a gulping laugh. “Oh no, I’m not worried. I’m not worried.”

  He nodded and held on to her tightly.

  They decided, after some deliberation, to show the letter to the police, and to Maya and Bernard. Snooky insisted on the police; Weezy insisted on Maya and Bernard.

  “I have to show her,” she said stubbornly. “I want to show her. If something else happens, I want her to know what was going on. I don’t want to disappear without a trace.”

  “Maya maybe, but why Bernard?”

  “Well, first of all, because she’ll tell Bernard right away. Of course she will, Snooky, there are no secrets between them. And also, I want Bernard’s opinion. He has a very clear mind.”

  “What about my mind? My mind isn’t clear?”

  “You’re right about the police,” she said mutinously, “and I’m right about Maya and Bernard. Let’s not argue about this.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” Snooky turned the letter over in his hands. According to the postmark, it had been mailed two days earlier in Manhattan. “Just like the flowers,” he said, staring at it.

  Weezy, huddled in her chair, suddenly began to cry. “I don’t understand,” she said, rocking back and forth. “What have I done? What have I done? I feel like I’m being punished, and I don’t even know why.”

  “Now, now. It has nothing to do with you. It’s some nut out there.”

  “Some nut who knows all about my exhibit. Some nut who slashed my paintings!”

  Snooky pulled her onto the sofa and stroked her hair. “Now, now.”

  “Why me, Snooky? Why me?”

  “I don’t know,” he said soberly.

  “I’ve never done anything—anything!—to anyone. I’m always so careful about hurting other people’s feelings. I’ll bend over backwards not to hurt anyone. I’ll go out of my way. I spend all my time feeling resentful because people aren’t as nice to me as I am to them. And now, this.”

  “I don’t see how you could have made such an enemy,” Snooky said. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

  She took a Kleenex from him and blew her nose noisily. “An enemy,” she whispered. “That’s what it is. An enemy. I have an enemy. Why? Why do I have an enemy? I haven’t done anything!”

  “Apparently, you’re too talented.”

  She shook her head wearily.

  “You were going to have an exhibit. Maybe the person who sent this to you thinks he or she deserves one instead.”

  She was silent.

  “That’s what it said, you know, that you don’t ‘deserve’ one.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Somebody with a chip on their shoulder.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now who in the world could that be? Who has a chip on their shoulder about their talent? Who thinks everybody else isn’t as deserving?”

  Her fingers clenched on his arm. “It’s not Alice. I’m telling you, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t have done that to those paintings, she just wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do this to me.”

  “Are you positive, sweetheart?”

  She shook her head dumbly.

  A little while later, Snooky kissed the top of her curly head and picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The police.”

  “Fat lot of good that will do us. They were useless about the studio. Remember how they found one of Bernard’s footprints and got all excited?”

  “I haven’t completely ruled Bernard out as a suspect yet. Hello, Ridgewood Police? Who do I talk to about a threatening letter?”

  Bernard read the letter slowly and carefully, as if he were searching for something to eat on a particularly interesting menu. When he was finished, he placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

  Maya, Snooky and Weezy looked at him expectantly, three pairs of anxious gazes.

  “Well?” said Snooky.

  “Well, what?”

  “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “It’s a disgusting piece of trash. What else do you want me to say, Snooky?”

  “I don’t know. Something else. Something we don’t already know.”

  “Well,” said Bernard, “apparently they don’t sell punctuation marks along with those gold lettering sets. Either that, or the writer was in a hurry. I feel there’s never any excuse for poor punctuation.”

  “Sweetheart,” said Maya icily, “I don’t think you understand. This isn’t a joke. This letter is … well, it’s frightening. It’s an outright threat.”

  “So it is.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “What did the police say?”

  Weezy shrugged. “Nothing much. Took down the information, made a photocopy of the letter, said they’d get back to us. What can they do, after all? They said if I was worried I should hire a bodyguard.”

  “I’m her bodyguard,” said Snooky.

  Bernard looked at him sadly. “I think they were referring to somebody competent, Snooky.”

  “I am competent.”

  “Maybe Weezy should come live with us for a while. Get out of the line of fire.”

  “I suggested that,” said Maya eagerly, “but she says no. Tell her to stay with us, Bernard, she’s crazy not to.”

  Weezy was shaking her head. “I don’t want to get the two of you involved in this. It’s not like my whereabouts would be a secret, anyway. My God, it’s impossible to keep a secret in a little town like this. Besides, you don’t have a security system and I do. I’ll be okay.”

  Bernard unfolded the letter and looked at it again. “You are no good,” he mused. “Said it twice, in fact. You have no talent. Somebody who really needs to tear you down, Weeze. Who could it be?”

  “Don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “Where can you get these gold stick-on letters?”

  “Any art supply store in Ma
nhattan, any stationery store. They’re everywhere, you’ve seen them.”

  He nodded. “Any of your students spring to mind?”

  She lifted her hands in a gesture of bewilderment. “I don’t know. I mean, there’s been all these weird things happening in there, but … what do they have against me, Bernard?”

  “Your talent, my dear.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not that talented, believe me. Not talented enough to deserve this kind of treatment.”

  Bernard folded the letter up and put it away in the envelope. He held it out to Snooky. “Do you want to keep this?”

  Snooky regarded it with distaste. “No. Do you think we should throw it out or burn it?”

  “Neither,” said Bernard. “I’ll keep it. You may need it later, as evidence.”

  “Evidence?”

  “Yes.” Bernard turned and bent a kindly gaze on his wife’s best friend.

  “Come stay with us for a couple of days,” he said. “Just long enough to get your feet back on the ground. Leave your security system on and come let us take care of you. Snooky can cook for everybody and I think both Maya and I would like to have you around where we can make sure you’re okay.”

  This, for Bernard, was a long speech. Two tears rolled down Weezy’s pale cheeks.

  “Okay,” she snuffled, “if … if you’re sure.”

  “We’re sure,” said Maya, patting her arm. “Come stay here, and Snooky can dance attendance on all of us.”

  “Thank you,” said Weezy, and, with a trembling sigh, she put her head down on Maya’s shoulder.

  “Did you notice how both my sister and Bernard emphasized the part about my cooking and dancing attendance on everybody?” Snooky remarked later. “Am I wrong, am I overly sensitive, or did you notice that too?”

  “Oh, Snooky.” Weezy folded a sweater and put it neatly into a suitcase. “They were being kind.”

  “Oh, yes, tremendously kind. Maya gave me some pointers afterwards, a list of things they’d like to eat. That’s kind, too, don’t you think? Does the phrase bloodsucking parasites spring to mind?”

  “You never mind cooking for me.” She folded a blouse and put it on top of the sweater.

  “That’s because you’re you. You’re not my sister or Bernard.”