The Dark House
Page 32
“So much money,” Elizabeth said finally, with some hesitation. “I had no idea that Cornelia had come into another inheritance. You didn’t tell me that.”
“Didn’t I?” Sloane replied innocently. “I thought I had.” Then, as to a child: “You’ve been under so much stress, my dear. It can affect your memory.” He brightened as he took in Rollins and Marj. “Well, look who we have here. Hello again.” He reached out a hand to Rollins, who was too startled to do anything but shake it. The hand did not feel human.
“And, Marj, isn’t that the name?” He reached a hand toward her, but she didn’t take it.
“As if you don’t know.”
“You all—you all know each other?” Elizabeth asked, sinking deeper into her pillows.
“You know how it is in real estate,” Sloane said cheerfully. He came closer to her as if to reclaim her from the two strangers by her bedside.
Elizabeth recoiled from him. “Here for your money, are you, Jerry?” She practically spat out the words. “So that’s why you’ve come around, acting so sweet, so attentive. I can’t believe I fell for it. Ten million—is that what I’m worth to you? Is that it?”
“Please, Lizzie. Don’t talk like that. The money has nothing to do with it. You know I’ve always cared about you.”
“You—!” Elizabeth’s eyes flared. She gasped, then coughed—a terrible wracking cough as if she were trying to expel something that was lodged deep within her. Her face turned nearly purple, and the veins bulged out all over.
The nurse rushed in. “She needs air,” she shouted. She wheeled the oxygen tank over to the bed, turned a knob, and clapped an oxygen mask over her face. “Okay, now breathe, Elizabeth. Easy now. In and out.” Elizabeth relaxed back into the pillows. “Doctor!” the nurse shouted.
The ponytailed nurse rushed in, trailed by a bearded doctor in a white coat. “You’ll have to leave now,” Daryl announced, reaching for Rollins and Marj with his hands. “Out, out. Both of you.”
Rollins stepped out to the corridor, followed quickly by Marj. They turned back toward the room only to see the door shut with Sloane still inside. The bald-headed woman came up, apparently drawn by all the commotion.
“That man who went in there with Elizabeth—” Rollins began.
“Jerry?”
Rollins nodded.
“He’s over here all the time. I figured they were lovers. But Lizzie never said. Nice guy. Seems devoted to her.” She looked downcast. “I don’t know what he’ll do without her.”
“He’ll manage very well,” Marj said.
The bald-headed woman gave Marj a strange look, then went on down the hall. Rollins and Marj were about to follow her to the exit when the door opened again, and Jerry Sloane emerged and closed the door behind him. He came up to Rollins and Marj, then ushered them a ways down the hall, presumably to get well clear of Elizabeth’s door.
“Listen to me, Rollins,” Sloane began quietly. “I’m only going to say this once.”
“So you do know my name,” Rollins said. He’d called himself Harris at their only previous meeting.
Sloane ignored that. “Back off. You got that? You’re playing with fire here.” He turned toward Marj. “And you, too, sweetheart.”
“So you get the money,” Rollins said.
Sloane raised his voice. “I’m warning you—back off. Just walk down that hall there and never come back. That’s my advice to you.”
“I’m going to fight you, Jerry. You’re not going to get a penny.”
“You—fight me? You? That’s good. I know all about you.”
Rollins did not back down. “Oh? And what do you know?”
For the first time, Sloane seemed uneasy. “I don’t think I should tell you this in front of your girlfriend there.”
“Go ahead,” Marj said.
“Yeah?” Sloane moved right into Rollins’ face. “You’re nothing but a fucked-up little prick who doesn’t know shit.”
With that, Rollins’ right fist flew out and struck Sloane in the soft part just below his rib cage. His midsection gave like a pillow where the blow landed. Sloane produced a terrible gargling sound and doubled over.
Marj grabbed Rollins by the shoulders. “I think we better go.”
Sloane was still hunched way over, his arms around himself, gasping for breath. “You asshole,” he managed to rasp out.
“Nice talking to you, Jerry,” Marj told him. The two of them hurried out into the hall. A few other patients, some just in bathrobes and slippers, were headed slowly toward Lizzie’s room, obviously drawn by the strange sounds. Rollins and Marj picked their way past them, then made it down the hall to the stairs. An elderly priest was just coming up the stairs. “You have a nice day now,” he told them as they went past.
Rollins and Marj had made it to the front hall when Schecter suddenly burst in the door. “Oh, good. You’re there,” he yelled, seeing Rollins and Marj. “Don’t come out this way. Jeffries is out there.” Schecter turned to the nun at the front desk, who was gaping at him in terror. “Where’s the back exit?”
“Through there.” The nun pointed at the double doors she’d forbidden Marj to pass through. “Down to the right.”
Schecter gave Rollins a shove. “Go! Now!” Then he pushed Marj that way, too. “Both of you! Quick!”
“What’s going on?” the nun cried out.
“Lock the front door, would you please? Don’t let anyone in! You got that, Sister? No one!” Schecter led Rollins and Marj through the double doors and down the hall, past a nurses’ station and an administration area. Various professionals looked up at them in astonishment. The last room was a small kitchen, where an older woman held a teakettle in her hand. “Where’s the rear exit?” Schecter demanded.
The woman pointed to the hallway, where some mops were leaned up against the wall. “Through there.”
Schecter charged past, and Rollins and Marj hurried after. Schecter turned the bolt to open the door. He stepped outside, then gestured for them to follow. The back door led into a narrow alley between fenced yards. Around them, a few dogs started to howl. Once they’d gotten clear, Schecter had them duck down by some trash cans along one high concrete wall, hiding them from the hospice while he figured out their next move.
Over their heads, Rollins could hear a window slide open. Then a voice boomed: “You out there, Rollins? I’m going to get you, and the girl, too. You’ll pay for this. I’m going to get you!” It was Sloane.
“What a fucking dope,” Schecter muttered. “I’ve got to teach that guy the facts of life.”
“That what you did with Tina?” Marj asked.
Rollins reached out a hand toward her. “Marj, please.”
“You hurt her, didn’t you?” Marj demanded.
Schecter glowered at her for a moment. “I do things my way, you got that?”
When Marj went quiet, Schecter asked where Rollins had left his car. Rollins told him about the municipal lot, which was only one street over.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” Schecter said. “Both of you.”
Rollins let Schecter lead him and Marj along the high wall, keeping their heads low, and down the side alley to the street. There, Schecter had them wait by some thick bushes while he checked to make sure the coast was clear. He crept out to the sidewalk, then signaled to them to come. “Go through that little deli there,” Schecter said, pointing to a glass-fronted shop across the street. “It backs up on the lot. It’s less visible that way.”
“What about you?” Rollins asked.
“I’m going back to have a little chat with Jerry.”
“Look, you sure that’s safe?”
“The guy’s all bluff. Besides, you’re the one who sets him off.”
Marj tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, Rolo. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” Rollins nodded. He tried to shake Schecter’s hand. He wanted to apologize for Marj, to offer his gratitude, to explain. “Look, Al—” he began.
“You better get going,” the detective replied.
“Thanks,” Rollins said. Then he and Marj dashed across the street.
Rollins and Marj made it back to the Nissan and returned to the Ritz by a circuitous route, all the while checking to make sure they weren’t being followed. Finally they were safely back in their suite with the door bolted behind them. Rollins dropped down on the bed while Marj opened up the mini bar. “We need a drink,” she told Rollins.
“Not just yet.” He reached into his pants pocket and removed the envelope. It had gotten a little crumpled.
Marj was crouched by the mini bar, but she turned back toward him. “You’re sure you’re ready for that, Rolo?”
Rollins nodded.
“It could be bad, you know.”
“I know.” Rollins smoothed out the envelope on his thigh, then slid a finger in under the flap. There was only a thin strip of paper inside, with several lines of what looked like poetry written in black ink. It had to be Cornelia’s handwriting; it was more upright and assertive than Lizzie’s. The lines were a fragment of poetry. Rollins held the paper under the light of the window, while Marj came over to read it over his shoulder.
September 14, 1993
For so long Henry
I dreamed about you
coming for me at night
“Oh, Jesus,” Rollins said. He let his hand drop.
“What?” Marj took the paper from his fingers, and she read the rest out loud.
I became the night,
silent, dark
Until dawn at last broke
the memory of you
and me
Marj turned the paper over, checking to see if the poem continued on the back, which it didn’t. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Who’s Henry?”
It took Rollins a little while to speak, his mind was in such turmoil. To steady himself, he gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on the branch of a distant tree.
“My father.”
Nineteen
Rollins turned away from Marj to face the wall, where it was calmer.
They were on the couch in the sitting room. The shades were pulled on the Newbury Street side. Rollins had thought he’d be able to rest here for a while, to recover. He could hear the cars on the street below, but they seemed distant, forgettable. Mostly, he was conscious of the stillness and the quiet of the room. He might have stepped into a painting by Vermeer, where everything is silence and light. But he was aware of a great heaviness within him.
Beside him, Rollins could hear Marj get up off the couch. She came around to kneel down in front of him, her head against the side of his leg. “You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?” she asked finally.
Rollins could hardly track his own thoughts. He was a child again—innocent, shockable.
“Remember how I asked you where Neely was when you were supposed to be watching Stephanie?”
Rollins tensed. He could feel what was coming.
“And you told me that your mother was on the phone, and your brother was watching TV?”
He nodded.
“Rolo, I think you know where Neely was.”
Rollins pushed his palms over his ears so hard that he heard sea sounds, and his fingertips dug into his scalp. He saw it again, that image from the Overnighter. But the image was not from the Overnighter. It was from inside him, where it had been buried long ago. It was just a flash, like so many memories when they first stirred.
Her bare shoulders, and his hands on her.
Rollins could feel Marj’s hands tugging on his. “You need to hear this,” he heard her say. She must have been shouting, to get through.
Within him, the light brightened, and spread.
On that worn carpet in the billiard room by the couch. Just the tops of their heads at first. Then her bare shoulders, red in places, and breathing, and everything happening so fast.
Rollins clamped his hands down over his ears all the harder—so hard his pulse thundered in his palms—and he squeezed his eyes shut.
The Garbo rule. He had to be alone. Just him, deep inside his head where he was safe.
Still, Marj’s voice came through, as if from another world. “You know it, Rolo. You’ve always known it. She was with your dad.”
Father and Neely. As if lit up by lightning.
Marj crouched down before him: “Speak to me, Rolo. When did Stephanie die that Saturday? Tell me when.”
A crushing weight on his chest. Still, he had to speak. “Late.”
“How late?”
He could hardly draw breath. “I don’t remember. It was dark.”
Dark outside in the bushes, when he looked in the windows.
“When they were doing it,” Marj said quietly.
He dropped his hands, watched her. She seemed so tender, so forgiving.
“And you knew, Rolo, didn’t you?”
Rollins slid off the couch and down onto the floor. He pulled his knees up, propped his chin on his hands.
No repeats. See something only once, and you don’t get involved. That was the whole idea.
Heads together. Her shoulders bare. The thrashing.
“What did you see, Rolo?”
“Nothing. I didn’t see anything.”
“Tell me. You saw something. What was it?”
Rollins was a child again, a little boy in red high-tops, wandering the dark halls of the too-big house. But Marj was with him now; he could feel her by his side. “I was by the billiard room. No one went there. The pool table was really old. No one played. It was way off in the back of the house. Dusty. Never used. I was in the hall when I heard a noise from there. From inside. A kind of groan. I went closer—to look. The door was open, just a little. I saw—”
The writhing.
“What?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t know. It was too fast. It all happened too fast. Just—just a flash. But maybe it was—God! I didn’t know. I don’t know. I was only six! I just ran. I put it out of my mind. I put it out. Out!”
Their heads so close.
“Easy, Rolo. Relax.” Marj’s hands were on him, gently loosening his hands from his ears so she could speak to him. “Easy. Come on, just breathe. Easy, now.” Her voice was a lullaby, soothing him.
He spoke more quietly, his voice almost all air. “I ran back to my room. I—just sat on the floor. I played with my cars. I loved those little cars. Then my mother called up to me to watch Stephanie in the bath. But I couldn’t.”
“You said it was because your mother had yelled at you for seeing Neely the other time.”
“That’s right. That’s what I thought. That’s all I thought. Of seeing Neely. That registered. I wasn’t supposed to see Neely. And I had. I’d seen her.” He could feel the tears trickling down his face.
“And you’d seen her again,” Marj said.
Neely’s bare back. Father’s hands on her.
Rollins felt an icy coldness drip down the inside of his body, and he hugged himself for warmth.
The look on Mother’s face when she shouted at him.
“Edward! Edward!”
His nose was clogged, his cheeks were wet, and his face felt puffy around his mouth.
“She knew, Rolo. Your mother knew. Why else would she slap her?”
“It was because Neely was so upset! It was to calm her!” He could hardly force the words out, he had so little belief in them.
“Right, to calm her. As if that’s going to calm her.” Marj took Rollins’ hands in her own. “Then tell me this, all right? How long did Neely stay on after Stephanie died?”
Rollins’ head throbbed. He’d surely get a migraine now. “Three days,” he said finally. “She left the day I went back to school. I remember, she gave me a big hug when I went off that morning. She was crying. But she’d been crying a lot those days. She was gone when I came back.” He turned to Marj. “But it was only because we didn’t need her anymore. That’s what my mother told me.”
“She hired somebody else. An old cow named Mrs. Callahan.”
“There. You see?”
His father and Neely—and Stephanie floating facedown. And he didn’t go in. And his mother knew. She knew! And still she screamed “Edward.” Rollins was afraid that he might burst. He lurched forward and grabbed on to Marj, and he clung to her while his entire body quaked—frightening convulsions that pulsed from his belly up to his shoulders—and the tears poured down his cheeks and an awful howl rose up from the deepest part of his chest.
“It’s okay, Rolo,” she whispered. “It’s okay, honey.”
He closed his eyes and he felt a wind on him from somewhere, and he was moving through empty space, a place without light or love or warmth or anything to touch or see or do. It was nothing, just as he was nothing, had always been nothing.
“Edward!”
But somehow he could still feel Marj cuddling his head in her arms. “It wasn’t you, Rolo,” she was saying. He felt her warm hands on his hair. “You weren’t the reason the family broke apart. It wasn’t because you weren’t watching. You weren’t supposed to be watching. Neely was. No wonder Lizzie said she was sad. All those years, Rolo, she felt guilty.” She paused. “Stephanie would never have died if it weren’t for Neely and your father. And your fucking mother knew, Rolo. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you. It was them.” She stroked his head, sweeping her fingers through his hair. “Oh, honey.” The strokes stopped and Rollins could feel Marj moving around to face him. She was crouched down before him, the sides of his head cupped in her hands. Her palms pressed against his ears; her fingers dug into his scalp. She had him, just as he wanted her to have him. “You don’t have to watch anymore,” she said, with new emphasis, shaking his head a little. “You don’t have to follow any more cars. You don’t have to look in any more windows. You can relax, Rolo. You can relax. You can live your own life.”