“But you’ll pass out.”
He looked wise and winked at her. “Never pass out. Funny thing. Get plastered once year, but always stay on m’ feet.” He squeezed her tightly, then shoved her away. “Don’t be killjoy. Forget it. Have fun.”
He staggered away from her and joined a group of people in the library laughing over off-color jokes. He put his arms about two of the women and seemed intensely interested in the group, but his attention was elsewhere. He was watching Joey and Faye drinking and talking together just beyond the edge of the group. He caught an occasional word or two of their conversation and knew that that part of the plan was going well. Joey had been talking about the delights of Reno ever since she had arrived and was still at it, only by that time Faye was doing most of the talking. It was exactly as Clark had figured. Joey had put the idea of a sudden flight in her head and she was worrying it like a dog with a bone. The more she drank, the more excited she became over running up to Reno for a little gambling.
She did not approach Clark until after five, as the first guests started leaving. Then she lumbered toward him, where he was talking with Ricki and some other men, and tucked a hand under his arm. “Darling,” she gushed, “I’ve the most wonderful idea. How would you like to fly me up to Reno?”
He looked at her owlishly, hiccuped, and asked, “Reno? What’s with Reno?”
“Why, those wonderful gambling halls, of course. I just love it up there and sometimes I do get very lucky. Besides, you have nothing else to do tonight. You’re not going to that big party, are you?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t we do it? We can gamble all night and come back tomorrow.”
Ricki frowned and said, “For God’s sake, Faye, use your head. Clark’s in no condition to fly a plane anywhere.”
Clark turned his silly grin on Ricki. “You’re wrong there, chum. Remember birthday one time — during war — plastered to the eyes. Suddenly hadda take C-forty-seven Long Beach to Dallas. No problem. Fly just as well drunk, I guess. But I’m not going Reno. Too much fun right here in a m’own little old house.”
“Sure. Don’t listen to Faye.”
“Don’t intend to. Reno? You take my share.”
When Faye walked away he thought that possibly he had overdone it, but Joey had done a good job of lodging the idea firmly in her mind. She had only walked away for another drink and was soon back. The guests were beginning to leave in a steady stream, but most of them were aware of Faye’s attempts to argue Clark into the flight. None of them worried about it, as they didn’t think he was capable of balancing on his feet much longer.
Ricki and Ione were the last to leave. Ricki went ahead to their car but Ione lagged behind and walked to the door with Clark. She ran her fingers affectionately through his hair and told him, “You’d better hit the sack, Buster. You’re falling apart.”
He staggered against her and laughed and said, “Don’t I know it.”
“You’re nice, though. I’m glad you got drunk. I had an idea you steered clear of alcohol because you were worried about something in your character. Many people are like that. I’ve seen the nicest people turn absolutely vicious when they were drinking. But you’re nice. You just get happy. I’m surprised you don’t drink all the time.”
“Just don’t care much for it.”
“Keep it that way.” She kissed him lightly and whispered, “It’s going to be a big help for us — later.”
He watched her go up the walk to the car and was almost sober. In the palm of my hand, he thought. All I have to do is ask her. But he turned away and went back into the house.
Faye was waiting for him with two fresh drinks. Joey was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, watching them, tiny lights of amusement in his little eyes. Faye started arguing again at once. Clark kept waving his hand, as if to brush her aside, but after a few minutes he started grinning, then said suddenly, “Hey, maybe not such bad idea. Nice place, Reno. No sense you ’n’ me just knockin’ off. L’il flight do us good.”
Joey joined them then and said, “No dice. A little earlier it would’ve been O.K., but now you’re fractured. You climb in the hay, kid.”
Faye snapped at him, “I’ll thank you to keep out of this, Mr. Malloy. We know what we’re doing.”
“In a pig’s ear. The two of you are looped.” He glanced at his wrist watch and said, “Look. I gotta run down to the Lodge for a few minutes. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Clark waited until he was safely gone, then burst into laughter. He put his finger to his lips, winked at Faye, took her hand, and tiptoed with her out of the house. Once in the car, though, with the wind blowing some of the cobwebs out of her brain, Fave was not so sure Clark would be able to fly. He hastened to reassure her. “Do that with left hand. Honest. Don’t give it a thought.”
The Bonanza, completely serviced that morning, was on the ramp waiting for them. The sun had just dropped below the horizon, but it was still light and the sky was clear. Clark hurried Faye into the cabin, warmed the engine, gave his destination to the tower, and taxied out to the take-off point. As he got into the air and the wheels started coming up he noticed that Faye was again beginning to worry. He banked away from the field over the bay, then opened the glove compartment, where he had placed a pint of whisky for just such an emergency, and handed the bottle to Faye. She gurgled it down neatly and smiled at him and relaxed. Clark kept the nose up and climbed steadily to ten thousand feet, knowing what the rarefied atmosphere would do to a person loaded with alcohol. Faye pulled her mink coat about her shoulders, leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and went to sleep. Her jaw went slack and in a moment she was snoring.
Clark lifted the bottle from her lap and swallowed a heavy slug of the raw whisky. Jees, he thought, this is the first time I’ve really needed it.
The flight over the mountains was uneventful, with Faye sleeping all the way and Clark concentrating on the directional radio and flight maps. They landed at the Reno airport at eight-thirty and took a taxi into town.
He continued his pretense of drinking at the first bar they hit, but after a knowing wink and a five-dollar bill slipped to the bartender his glass held ginger ale instead of champagne. Faye’s champagne, on the other hand, was heavily laced with slugs of brandy. She could hold amazing quantities of alcohol, but it began to have its effect and she became drunkenly kittenish. She did very little gambling. Now and then she wandered to a table to place twenty-five-cent bets, but most of her time was spent at the various bars. Clark watched her closely and finally came to the conclusion that the time would never be more opportune.
They were by themselves, at the far end of the last bar, with no other customers around and the bartender busy elsewhere. Faye was babbling away about her luck — she had won a dollar and a half — so Clark waited until she had run down on that subject, then said, “Y’ know, you’re amazing woman.”
She mooed at him, “Really, darling?”
“Absolutely. Most amazing woman ever known. Nothing like these little squirts running around today. You got something. All woman. I like that.”
“You do love me, don’t you?”
“Crazy ’bout you. You feel the same?”
“Oh, you know I do. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, like everything inside is just churning around and around.”
“Then what the hell we waiting for? I feel good. Don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“O.K. I been thinking. We’re in the right place for it, so let’s get married.”
She stared at him blankly, then gasped, “Now?”
“Certainly. Don’t have to wait around in Reno.”
She threw herself at him and almost knocked him from the stool. “My darling! My precious darling!”
They were married in a brief ceremony before a justice of the peace with his wife and a taxi driver acting as witnesses. They took the cabbie to one of the best bars in town and got him drunk, then tri
ed to get a hotel room. But it was Saturday night and all the hotels were filled. The cabbie suggested a motel. They picked up enough liquid refreshments to start another party and went on a tour of the motels. They found a very nice one on the edge of town and got a large, airy room with bath and dressing room and a small pantry. The cabbie joined them for another round of drinks, then left. Clark found himself alone with Faye.
She pretended to be momentarily distressed at not having a nightgown or anything else for an overnight stay, but nevertheless wasted no time getting undressed. Her skeletal structure was almost that of a man, with broad, square shoulders and long arms and legs. Her hips, though, were broad and flat, and her soft skin was creamy and glowed with health. She looked more bovine than ever, yet Clark found himself regarding her as at least a healthy and well-built cow.
Her manner of making love was not at all as he had anticipated. She was suddenly demure and wanted to succumb to him, to be conquered. He tried to think of someone else, of Ione, or even of Elsie, but she was too big. He had to accept the fact that this was Faye and that it was impossible to imagine anyone else in his arms. Yet in spite of himself he was stirred by her, and he was surprised to find that she was easily satisfied. Cowlike, she demanded very little. Clark was so relieved that he figured living with Faye was not going to be so difficult after all.
But a thing happened that almost unnerved him. As he lay back on the pillow, in his mind’s eye he suddenly saw Hibbard down in the roiling water of the channel being smashed soundlessly against the rocks.
He wanted to sleep, he was tired and he needed sleep, but he could not close his eyes. Faye fell asleep at once and started snoring and breathing alcoholic fumes in his face. Clark lay stiffly at her side, staring into the dark and seeing Hibbard in the water, or at a bar, or lying at Faye’s side as he was doing. He had given virtually no thought to Hibbard since the day at Point Lobos, and what little conscience he possessed had not been at all disturbed, but now, at Faye’s side, he suddenly realized that he was in Hibbard’s shoes and the man became more real than he had ever been when he was alive.
Jees, he thought, maybe this isn’t so good. Just being with her is going to keep reminding me of the guy.
Clark was a man who always fell asleep whenever he pleased, but that night he was awake for hours before his eyes finally closed.
Chapter Ten
CLARK WAS THE FIRST AWAKE in the morning, got dressed without disturbing Faye, and went to the motel office. There was a telephone in an adjoining room where he could talk in privacy. He called Joey.
“Hi, kid. You in Reno?”
“Yes.”
“Got it made?”
“All wrapped up. We’re at a motel just outside of town. Mrs. Holt is peacefully snoring in our little nest.”
Joey chuckled and said, “I’ll bet that’s somethin’ to listen to. So it’s all in the bag.”
“Right. Anything happen at home?”
“Plenty. I made like I was worried when I found you was gone and called Ricki. He hadn’t left for that other party yet. So we get together and call the airport and they inform us you and the Guernsey took off for Reno. So then Ricki and Ione and everybody else gets worried and they all sit around thinkin’ of you crashed somewheres in the mountains.”
“Didn’t you call the airport here?”
“Sure. So they call back and let us know when you land and that takes off the heat, and they go to the other party. But that Ione is sore as hell at Faye for talkin’ you into such a damn fool flight, as she thinks.”
“Good.”
“I’ll bet the mornin’ papers — Hey, wait a minute. Hang on.” Joey was gone from the phone for some time, but at last said, “Yes, sir, it’s here. I just got the mornin’ squawk outside. Right on the second page.” Joey read aloud, ‘Faye Tyrell Hicks, heiress to the fabulous Tyrell shipping fortune and widow of the late Hibbard L. Hicks, was married last night in Reno to Mr. Clark Holt of Pebble Beach.’ How you like that? Them wire services sure work fast.”
Clark was grimly silent for a moment, thinking of Ione reading the same item, then said, “It should be all over the place down there by noon. O.K. People will start calling you to see if it’s true. Maybe not Ione, but Ricki.”
“And plenty others. This is choice, kid.”
“I know. So you have a little story to put out. They all know I was drunk.”
“Look, sweetheart. For God’s sake, credit old Joey with some brains. I know the line to give. I tell ’em I heard from you and then I hint you’re a plenty confused character and don’t know what hit you and the rest of the bull. Don’t worry. I’ll make it look like it was somethin’ Faye talked you into when you was plastered.”
“That’s the idea.”
“But you know what, don’t you? They’re gonna think, so O.K., the guy married the wrong queen when he was fractured, so what’s wrong with an annulment?”
“I have that figured out. You’ll see when I get back. Right now I’d better wake up my little dove. See you later, Joey.”
“I’ll take a quart of milk, a pound of butter — ”
“You go to hell.”
Faye was awake when he returned to the cabin. She looked pale, hung over, and a little frightened. When she saw him she burst into tears and clasped her arms about his neck.
“Here, here. What the devil — ”
“My precious,” she moaned. “You scared me to death.”
“Why?”
“I woke up all alone and thought it was all a dream and there was nothing here to remind me of you and only this ring on my finger and I knew I was drunk last night and I didn’t know just who I’d married.” She tightened her hold on his neck and kissed him and cried, “Don’t ever do that to me again. Oh, don’t ever do that. I’d die if it happened again.” Then she mumbled, “God, how I need a drink! Just a little something.”
“Look. It’s only nine in the morning.”
“Hangovers aren’t regulated by clocks.” She gave him a simpering grin. “You naughty boy, you. You got drunk, too.” She moved away from him, then spun about to face him with a look of horror in her eyes. “Clark!” she screamed. “You didn’t marry me because — because — because you were drinking.”
She was so terrified by the idea that he burst into a laugh and put an arm about her. “That’s the silliest idea I’ve ever heard. You know better than that, Faye.”
Tears again welled into her eyes and she leaned against his shoulder. “Well, just for a second there, knowing you don’t drink …” She paused, then sighed and murmured, “I’m so happy. It’s hard to realize we really are married.” She lifted her head and stared at him with the round eyes of a child. “I’ll make you a good wife, Clark. I promise. I didn’t have much chance with Hibbard, he was always a remote kind of person even before his drinking, but I’ll work at it hard with you. Really I will. You’ll be proud of me.”
He looked coldly into her eyes and nodded. “I’m sure I will.”
“Are you happy, too?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be here, otherwise.”
“I’m so glad. We’ll have a wonderful time together, won’t we? You know,” she giggled, “it’s such fun to be in love.”
She turned away from him with a peck at his cheek, took a glass from the bureau, poured it half full of bourbon, then went into the bathroom and filled it with water. She came back to the room, dropped to the edge of the bed, and sipped at her drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. He was pacing the floor, nervous over the idea of possibly having to spend the day pent up in that room. She patted the bed at her side and he frowned, but sat down.
“You know,” she suddenly cried, “I just thought of something. We’re really on our honeymoon.”
“Sure.”
“Why, how wonderful! Our honeymoon. You and me. What shall we do, darling? Where shall we go? Somewhere romantic, of course. Somewhere far away. We’ll fly. Yes. We’ll just fly off into the blue skies togeth
er.” A new thought struck her and she said, “Oh, my God, here I am on my honeymoon and not even a camera. Clark, we must go downtown at once and buy a camera.”
“Today is Sunday.”
“Camera stores are always open on Sundays. That’s when they do their biggest business. But if not, we can always buy one in a drugstore. They carry cameras, too. We simply must do that.”
“O.K. I’ll call for a taxi while you’re dressing.”
They went downtown and found the streets virtually deserted. No camera stores were open at that hour of the morning, so they went to the Riverside Hotel and had breakfast. Faye found the announcement of their marriage in the papers and squealed with delight, though the stolid mastication of her food was hardly interrupted. She had to have a champagne cocktail in the bar after breakfast, then they walked over the bridge spanning the Truckee River and located a camera store just opening. Faye chose a reflex camera and a light meter and a half-dozen rolls of film. The bill was close to four hundred dollars.
She started to write out a check, but Clark stopped her and paid the bill with cash out of his wallet. When she stared at him with amazement, he said, “You’re Mrs. Holt now, remember? I’ll take care of the bills from now on.”
“But — but — ”
“No arguments. After all, I can afford anything you and I want or care to do. Besides, that’s the way I like it.”
She was so pleased that she had to go to another bar at once and have another cocktail. But the next few hours were misery for Clark. She posed him and took pictures of him all up and down the main street and had him snap pictures of her, always in some dramatic posture. He heaved a great sigh of relief when she finally ran out of film.
He got her at last into a taxi and told the driver to take them to the airport. “We can’t stay here,” he told Faye. “I just remembered I have a suitcase of clothes in the plane, but you don’t have a thing with you.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I can buy what I need.”
Up a Winding Stair Page 13
