Up a Winding Stair

by Dixon, H. Vernor

  Later on he went into Carmel to pick up some of the things Faye had bought and dropped into the quaint bar in Pine Inn at the cocktail hour. He sat at a small table off in a far corner overlooking the patio and ordered a Scotch and soda. He was feeling at ease and, thinking of the new account, expansively wealthy.

  His nostrils picked up the scent of a familiar perfume and he looked up. Ione was standing before the table looking down at him. She was wearing a skirt and blouse and a little bolero jacket, with a tiny knitted cap on the back of her head. There was a faint suggestion of circles under her eyes, yet Clark had never seen her so beautiful. As usual, his pulse quickened and his mouth suddenly felt dry. Before he could stand she slipped onto a chair at his side and lightly placed a hand on his arm.

  She said breathlessly, “I have only a minute or so. Eric is meeting me here.” Her voice dropped to a huskier tone as she asked, “Clark, how are you?”

  He adopted the harassed expression he had used with Ricki, cleared his throat, and replied, “As well as could be expected. It’s nice seeing you, Ione.”

  “Is it?”

  “Well — you know — ”

  “Yes.” She sat there looking into his eyes, deeply, searchingly, until he became uncomfortable, then she said, “Ricki told me about talking to you yesterday. I could have cried, Clark. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so badly about anything. God, how you must feel!”

  He mumbled, “It’s all right. Faye is O.K., you know.”

  She said with intense exasperation, “Oh, stop protecting her. It isn’t like you.”

  “No?”

  “On the other hand, maybe it is. I hadn’t realized you could be that way. Mother always figured there was something dangerous about you and I half believed it, too. So you turn out to be just the opposite. But Clark, honestly, don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Well, I would. You listen to me, Buster; you’ve really put your foot in a bear trap. I know Faye a lot better than you do. Some ways I like her and I’ve always felt rather sorry for her, but I can’t justify her for ruining someone else’s life. I don’t see how you can justify yourself, either, in trying to protect her and carrying on this farce.”

  He said hollowly, “She’s my wife.”

  “Oh, now, wait a minute. Maybe Ricki was supposed to keep it to himself, but he couldn’t and he told me everything you two were talking about.”

  “He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “But he did. So shall we stop playing games with each other?” She attempted a smile.

  Clark looked down at her hand on his arm, feeling the touch of her fingers in every cell of his body. He placed a hand over hers and said, “I’m sorry, Ione, but I don’t like talking about it. I’m probably just as much to blame for this stupid marriage as Faye.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I remember how drunk you were.”

  “Nevertheless, I feel a certain responsibility. Naturally, I’d be foolish to try to make this thing work, but on the other hand, I have no desire to cause Faye any suffering. So until I can figure something out — well …” His words slid to a halt and he shrugged expressively.

  “Poor Clark.” She looked across the room and saw Eric standing in the doorway, watching them with a deep frown. “Eric,” she whispered. “I have to run. But before I go — Clark, do me a favor?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Then don’t pull into a shell. You’ll work something out, I’m sure, it’s ridiculous to expect a situation of that sort to continue on very long but meanwhile don’t hide away from your friends.”

  He had no intention of hiding from anyone, but he said, “I’m afraid, considering the way I feel — ”

  “Clark,” she interrupted. “Please. I know it will be hard facing everyone, but you have to do it. And — and — well, I’d like to keep on seeing you. We have open house practically every Sunday, you know. Drop by. Bring Faye. Will you promise me?”

  He was silent for a long while, staring solemnly into her eyes, then he smiled and nodded. “For you, Ione, sure.”

  She squeezed his arm and whispered, “Be seeing you, Buster.”

  He watched her cross the room, his attention on the light sway of her hips and the lithe co-ordination of her body. She turned at the doorway, smiled and waved at him, and then was gone. Eric glowered in his direction before following her. Clark felt so good he ordered another highball. By God, he thought, it is working. I can have my cake and eat it, too.

  He started to grin, and for one of the few times in his life even his eyes were smiling.

  Chapter Twelve

  FAYE WAS GONE for three days and when she returned she brought along the whole staff of five servants, four cars loaded with luggage, and a large moving van loaded with personal belongings, linens, blankets, furs, and various knickknacks. It took the combined efforts of everyone and the work of two days to get everything unloaded and properly placed. Faye, operating as supervisor, loved every moment of it. She even discovered a room for the chauffeur and his wife, who was cook, under the house, which Clark had not known existed, so that all the servants were placed comfortably. Elsie kept her old room and was reduced to the simple duty of making beds, which allowed her to spend most of the day in her room doing nothing.

  Joey was appalled by all the domestic hustle and bustle and soon realized that his status in the household was becoming awkward. He got Clark aside and told him, “Look, kid. Maybe it’d be better if I cleared outa here.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You know, get a room or somethin’ for myself somewheres else. I’m stickin’ out like a sore thumb. And I think maybe Faye don’t like havin’ me around every time you sit down to eat.”

  “She hasn’t said anything.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t feel right.”

  Clark was at first tempted to jump at the opportunity of getting rid of Joey by degrees, but paused to think of what it would be like with only Faye to talk to. That would be pretty unbearable. Without Joey around he would probably wind up in an explosion with Faye, and that would be wise to avoid, at least for a few months.

  “No dice,” he said. “You can’t run out on me.”

  “But the Guernsey — ”

  “She likes you. I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll talk with her and see how she feels about it.”

  Clark brought up the subject with her that evening and Faye blinked at him with surprise. “But he’s such a dear person,” she said, “and I know he’s an old, old friend of yours. I wouldn’t dream of having him go anywhere else. After all, we have plenty of room. Doesn’t he like it here?”

  “Of course he does.”

  “Then that settles it. Besides,” she said, “he’s company for me when you’re away from the house, and you do seem to be gone so much. Does business have to take up so much of your time, darling?”

  Clark saw to it that business, or anything else that would keep him away from the house, would eat up as much time as possible. Some of his time was occupied in juggling the joint account. He would draw out large checks in varying amounts, place them on deposit in other banks, then draw against them to deposit in the Carmel bank. The sum of the joint account remained about the same, but he wanted it to be active and also wanted a large number of the deposit slips in his name. The account was shortly so confused that it would have been difficult for any accountant to know what part of the funds belonged to whom.

  He was also active with his real-estate ventures and had contractors and architects looking over the land on which he had options. He entered into negotiations, too, with the owners of the General Fremont Hotel, and finally had them in a position where they could discuss price sensibly. When he mentioned that he would be paying cash they were the ones who began putting on the pressure.

  During the evenings, however, there was no escape from Faye. She tired quickly of dining at home and insisted that they go out. She was highly gre
garious and always wanted to be where the most people gathered. In a short while they had covered all of the more frequented dining spots of the Peninsula. They ran into most of the people they knew, and Faye managed to entertain them with her cowlike adoration of Clark and the simpering posture of the blushing bride. She also managed to get thoroughly plastered every night.

  Her heavy drinking puzzled Clark for a while. He had thought that it was a result of drinking with Hibbard and that it would wear off in his own company. Faye, however, continued drinking as heavily as ever. He realized, then, that drinking had become a natural function with her, as much so as eating. After a few drinks she felt that she was more attractive, that her conversation was bright and gay, and that she was indeed a valuable asset to any gathering. Particularly, though, it made her forget her size, a matter that was otherwise a source of misery. On the few occasions when she was cold sober she needled Clark constantly and made him repeat over and over that she was really not so very big. So she drank. Then she needed no one’s assurances.

  Clark was disgusted with her drinking and heavy snoring at night and having to put her to bed on the few occasions when she passed out. He felt badly enough having to be seen with her constantly, but her making a drunken spectacle of herself almost every night was getting to be too much for him. He considered trying to get her on the wagon, or just to cut down a bit, but soon killed that idea. Faye was more tractable when she was drinking, and that he wanted.

  In fact, it was one evening when she was drinking heavily that he was able to get his first large sum from her. A few days before he had placed a down payment on ten Carmel lots for an accepted offer of fifty-five thousand. He had been told that a Mr. Warren, who owned an apartment house next door to the lots, also wanted the property, but had paid little attention to the information. On this particular evening, as Clark and Faye were about to leave the house, Mr. Warren called on the telephone.

  “Clark Holt? This is Ed Warren. I’ll come right to the point, Mr. Holt. I just learned you bought a block of lots I’ve been after the past six months. Would you mind telling me how much you paid for them?”

  Clark laughed and said, “Why should I?”

  “Well, it isn’t necessary, anyway. I know already. Fifty-five thousand. O.K. Now, I need those lots to expand an apartment house adjoining them, which I own.”

  “Then why didn’t you buy them before I did?”

  “I was trying to get the price down, damn it. You beat me in. So that’s all right. That’s business. But I want that property. What will you let it go for?”

  Clark noticed the note of desperation in the man’s voice and realized he had a real pigeon on the line. “I’m sorry,” he said, “they’re not for sale. You see, Mr. Warren, I intend building an apartment house there myself.”

  Warren screamed, “Next to mine?”

  “Why not? It’s a good location.”

  “Oh, no. You can’t do that. My God! Look, Mr. Holt. Put a price on them. You make it reasonable and I’ll go for it.” He attempted a shrill laugh and said, “You’ll go for a quick profit like the next man.”

  Clark glanced across the library at Faye. She had her coat on, ready to go out, but was mixing a new drink. He smiled and had a sudden inspiration. “All right,” he said. “But first, let’s understand one thing: I’m not a bargainer. You give me sixty-five thousand for the lots and they’re yours.”

  Warren choked and gasped, “Sixty-five! Are you out of your mind? That’s seven more than the other owners were asking and ten more than you paid for them.”

  “Sorry, Warren, but that’s your bad luck. But if you don’t care to meet the price — ”

  “Wait. Wait a minute.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You know my price. Frankly, I don’t care to sell them. I’d much rather build the apartment. In fact, I think I’ll have contractors over there in the morning. As I said before, I don’t bargain with anyone.”

  There was a short silence, then Warren groaned and said, “You know you’re holding me up, but it’s a deal. Meet me at the Carmel Bank at eleven in the morning and we’ll close it. That all right with you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He hung up and grinned at Faye, who asked, “Who was that, dear?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  He waited until they had gone to the Lodge, finished dinner, and then were in the bar for after-dinner brandies. By that time he had his strategy all planned. He told Faye, “Well, my dear, we just made a nice little profit.”

  Faye had forgotten all about the phone call and simply blinked at him. “We did?”

  “That phone call back at the house — that was a Mr. Warren. I bought some property the other day for fifty-five thousand and just sold it to Warren for sixty-five thousand. That’s a profit of ten thousand for a few minutes’ work.”

  “Why, how wonderful!” she cried. “You’re a genius, darling. You really are.”

  “Half of that profit is yours.”

  She gulped down her brandy, ordered another, and gave him a puzzled but interested frown. “Was I in on it, too?”

  She was not, but he lied, “You certainly were. Half of the eight thousand I used as a down payment was ‘yours. So, you see, you just risked four thousand and made a profit of five for doing nothing. Do you like that?”

  “Like it?” She leaned across the table and gave him a kiss. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before. You know, you’re a sly one. Here you make this wonderful deal and I know nothing about it. I think it’s just splendid.”

  “I told you before I could make money for us. Now you might believe me.”

  She looked hurt. “But I’ve always believed you.”

  “Then why don’t you come in as my partner?”

  “But, of course, I’d simply love to. A man who can make profits like that — Why, I’d love it. When do we start?”

  “Right now. I have an option on a beautiful piece of land just outside of Carmel for a half-million dollars. The option’s about run out, so now I have to pick it up.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  “Well, the trouble is, you see, I’ll have to borrow my half from you. That South American business is still hanging fire and I don’t have enough here to swing the deal.”

  “Isn’t there enough money in our joint account?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather not use that. If you have some securities you could cash in — ”

  She thought a moment, then smiled at him and said, “Of course. I’ll call my attorney in the morning and have the money sent down right away. Is that all right?”

  He permitted himself a brief smile. He called the waiter and ordered another brandy for Faye — a double.

  That night he did his romantic best to keep Faye in a loving mood. He made the mistake, however, of drinking with her to give himself courage, and he had an alcoholic dizzy spell and felt himself falling through space and again saw Hibbard falling from the rock into the channel. His body was chilled and he turned away from Faye, and in another moment she had passed out, for which he Was grateful.

  He stayed awake a few minutes longer reviewing his physical life with Faye. Whenever he thought of Hibbard he became impotent, and such thoughts were becoming increasingly frequent. He knew of no solution and realized that, in time, he would be totally impotent as far as Faye was concerned. He would have to speed up his schedule and get as much out of her as he could as quickly as possible, before a reaction set in.

  Mr. Colman, Faye’s attorney, became an unconscious ally the following morning. When Faye telephoned him about selling some securities he objected, explaining patiently that she had no need to speculate in anything when her investments were doing so well. Clark was in the library with Faye, listening to her end of the conversation, and prompted her in what to say. She explained to Mr. Colman that her husband was a business genius and told him about the deal with the block of lots. The attorney laughed and said that Clark had been luc
ky. Faye was so appalled by the idea that anyone could doubt her husband’s ability that she exploded, told the attorney that she was coming to San Francisco at once, and slammed the phone in its cradle.

  “Why, the very idea!” she gasped. “Luck! Of all things! You know, I never did trust that man very much. Clark, I’m going up there right now and take all my business away from him.” She put an arm about Clark’s neck and purred, “I hate to ask you, darling, but will you handle my affairs for me?”

  Clark frowned, thought it over for a long while, then said reluctantly, “It’s an added burden, my dear, but if you insist — ”

  She was gone for two days, canceled out all of her business with Colman and Smyth, and transferred all of her investments and securities to banks on the Monterey Peninsula. Clark had keys to all the safe-deposit boxes and, with Joey’s help on the bookkeeping, soon owned a list of Faye’s total assets, a sum in excess of eleven million.

  Joey groaned, “And to think we was wastin’ all these years kickin’ a golf ball around. Kid, we’re really in the blue chips at last.”

  But Joey was not aware of the fact that when Clark picked up the option and paid a half million on the first big piece of land, only two names were on the deed, Mr. and Mrs. Clark Holt. The cashier’s check used in the transaction also had the same two names. Joey went to work lining up architects and contractors to start the new subdivision, thinking that the deal had been swung through the original limited partnership and that he personally was safely launched in big business. Joey became an extremely happy man to have around and loved everyone. He also did 90 per cent of the work, and gladly.

  Clark opened a separate bank account in Pacific Grove and slowly began bleeding the joint account into the new one. He, too, was a happy person.

  Clark wanted to keep Faye away from the Ranson family as much as possible, but one Sunday afternoon she insisted that they call on them. Clark was on the verge of arguing her out of it, but lost his reluctance when he learned that Ione’s mother was away on a quick trip to Europe. It was Mrs. Ranson’s apparent shrewdness that worried him, not that of her children. He agreed to go along and looked forward to a few pleasant moments alone with Ione.