Further Tales of the City

by Armistead Maupin

  He stood in the middle of the lawn, assessing the house, looking from left to right.

  Emma made a dash for the kitchen, then let herself out into the garage. The garage door was still open, so she slipped into the darkness, ran across the front lawn, and crept through the arbor in the side yard until the intruder was once again in view.

  This time she was behind him.

  The man moved closer to the house.

  Then he tried to open the door to the sunporch.

  “You!” shouted Emma. “Jim Jones!”

  The intruder spun on his heels, locking eyes with the rail-thin old woman who stood on the lawn with a pistol in her hand. He raised his arms in a gesture of supplication and uttered his last word in a surprisingly placid tone of voice.

  “Sister,” he said.

  Then Emma shot him between the eyes.

  Not Gay

  ONLY MINUTES AFTER JON LEFT MICHAEL’S APARTMENT, Brian showed up on the doorstep.

  “How’s the media widow?” asked Michael.

  “Rotten,” replied Brian. “You feel like a walk?”

  “Sure,” said Michael, “but only if misery loves company.”

  “Oh, no … what is it this time?”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “What is it every time?”

  “Uh … Jon?”

  “You win the cigar.”

  “I saw him upstairs,” said Brian. “Is he back for good?”

  Michael shook his head. “Just the wedding … as far as I know.”

  “Do you want him to stay?”

  Michael sighed wearily. “You aren’t, by any chance, a spy for Mrs. Madrigal?”

  “I just thought things might get complicated.”

  “More complicated?”

  “I mean … with Bambi and all.”

  “Oh God,” said Michael, suddenly remembering. “Things have already gotten more complicated. You haven’t heard the latest!”

  As they walked to the Marina Green, Michael told Brian about Jon’s sighting of the “kidnapped” twins.

  “Does Mary Ann know this?” asked Brian.

  Michael nodded. “She called while you were at work. She’s coming home in the morning, by the way.”

  “Thank God. What the hell are we gonna do about Bambi.”

  “You got me. Jon says she’s already had a knock-down-drag-out fight with Mrs. Madrigal.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Christ.” Brian shook his head. “That place is a madhouse.”

  Michael smiled. “Jon said the same thing.” A period of silence followed. Then Brian said: “Is he here to get you back?”

  “Yeah,” said Michael. “I guess he is.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Michael turned and looked at his friend. “Can I pass on that one right now?”

  Brian laid his arm on Michael’s shoulder. “You bet. I wouldn’t rule it out, though … just because he needs you a little bit more than you need him.”

  Silence.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s that way with me and Mary Ann … and she didn’t rule it out, thank God.”

  “Brian … she loves you very much.”

  Brian gave his shoulder a brotherly shake. “Needing and loving are two different things.”

  Another period of silence ensued as they skirted the dark rectangle of the newly-named Moscone Playground. A large car passed them, screeched to a halt, and backed up until it was even with them.

  A man in the passenger seat rapped his hand noisily against the side of the car. “Hey faggots! You a couple of cocksuckers?”

  Brian kept his arm on Michael’s shoulder. “What’s it to you, fella?”

  “Hey,” Michael whispered, “you’re supposed to say ‘yes, thank you’ and smile.”

  The man leaned out the window as the car kept pace with them. “What did you say to me, cocksucker?”

  “Just keep walking,” muttered Michael.

  “Huh, faggot … huh? Would you like to suck my cock, cocksucker? Is that what you want?”

  Michael noted that this witticism provoked raucous laughter from the back seat. There were at least four people in the car; one of them was a woman.

  “Hey,” said Michael. “I think it’s time to run for it.”

  “Fuck that,” said Brian.

  “What did you say, faggot?”

  Brian wheeled around and raised his middle finger to the heckler. “I said fuck you, buddy. Piss off!”

  The car lurched to a stop. People spilled out of it like circus clowns from a fire engine. The first one went straight for Michael, kicking him squarely in the groin. He toppled backwards, his head striking the sidewalk with an audible thud.

  He opened his eyes to see someone’s hands moving in on his throat. The man raised him from the sidewalk almost gently … then slammed his head back down against the pavement. The noise this time was muffled, liquid.

  “Hey,” someone shouted, “over here!”

  The man released Michael’s throat and ran to join the other two. One of them was straddling Brian’s chest; the other was holding his ankles. “O.K.,” said the man who had jumped Michael, “you ready to die, faggot?”

  When Michael saw the sudden flash of steel, he screamed in disbelief. “Please … please don’t … he’s not gay! He’s not gay!”

  But the knife came down again and again.

  Home Again

  WHEN MARY ANN SPOTTED HER LE CAR IN THE long-term parking lot at San Francisco International, she felt an unexplainable surge of optimism.

  “You know,” she said, taking DeDe’s arm, “somehow I think the worst part is over.”

  DeDe’s expression was hollow, devoid of hope. “Please don’t try to make things better,” she said. “You’ve done enough already. Really.”

  “I’m not trying to make things better. I really feel that way. If he came back with them on the ship … in full view of everybody … then, he must not have intended to kidnap them. Not in the usual sense, anyway. I mean … he may be crazy, but it doesn’t sound like he’s dangerous.”

  “Sure,” said DeDe. “That’s what they said back in ‘78.”

  Mary Ann proceeded cautiously. “But … we don’t really know for sure if this Starr guy was really …”

  “Stop saying that. I know. I know he is. He acted out that nursery rhyme, didn’t he? And Prue’s description seems perfectly compatible with …” She stopped in mid-sentence.

  “With what?” asked Mary Ann.

  “With … the way he looked.”

  “What did she tell you, anyway?”

  “Who?”

  “Prue. When you talked to her alone.”

  DeDe looked away. “This isn’t the time for that.” Mary Ann unlocked the door of the car, climbed in and unlocked DeDe’s door.

  DeDe got in, saying nothing.

  “When will it be?” asked Mary Ann.

  Hesitating, DeDe looked directly at her friend. “Later … all right?”

  “All right,” said Mary Ann.

  It was simple fatigue that prompted the long silence on the drive to Hillsborough. They needed time for healing, Mary Ann realized—time to be free from the crisis at hand … and each other. When they pulled into the circular drive at Halcyon Hill, Mary Ann approached the subject directly.

  “I think we need a break,” she said, “and some sleep. Why don’t you let your mother pamper you for a while? I’ll call in the morning and we’ll talk.”

  DeDe leaned over and hugged her. “You’ve been great. I can’t imagine anyone doing what you’ve done.”

  “That’s O.K.,” said Mary Ann.

  “I hope they aren’t mad at you.”

  “Who?”

  “The station. For missing your show.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t told DeDe about Bambi Kanetaka, and this was no time to start. “I think I can patch things up.”

  “I hope so.” DeDe climbed out of the car and closed the door. “Sleep
tight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “DeDe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think it’s time to call the police.”

  DeDe remained surprisingly calm. “Yeah. So do I.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Well … it’s come to that, I guess. We’ll map it out tomorrow.”

  Mary Ann peered up at the house. “You’re sure your mother is here?”

  “Her car’s here,” said DeDe.

  “Shall I wait for you to see?”

  “No. I’m fine. Go home, Mary Ann. Climb in bed with Brian.”

  Mary Ann checked her watch. 7:57 A.M. “It might not be too late,” she smiled.

  DeDe winked at her. “It’s never too late for that.”

  Pulling away from the house, Mary Ann watched DeDe in the rear-view mirror until she saw Emma appear at the front door. With that question resolved, she settled herself behind the wheel and began composing her explanation to Bambi.

  This was the anchorwoman’s third day of captivity, she realized.

  Unless, of course, Mrs. Madrigal had been unable—or unwilling—to hold her that long.

  She hadn’t checked the newspapers at the airport. It was entirely possible that Bambi had already released the story. And what if Bambi had brought criminal action against Mrs. Madrigal and the others …?

  She had almost reached the gates to Halcyon Hill when she heard the commotion behind her. She looked in the mirror again to see DeDe running down the driveway, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “STOP! COME BACK, MARY ANN! COME BACK! …”

  Corpus Delicti

  THE MAID SAT IN A STRAIGHT-BACK CHAIR, HER HANDS folded regally in her lap, while DeDe and Mary Ann encircled her frantically.

  “Where is he?” asked DeDe.

  “Out back,” answered Emma. “I drug him behind the garage.” Seeing Mary Ann frown, she added: “He creeped right up in the dark, Miss DeDe. Miz Giroux … she called and said he was on the way, and your mama, she already tol’ me he was Jim Jones … and I couldn’t wake her up for nothin’”

  “The children weren’t …?”

  “Miz Giroux has ‘em.”

  “They’re …?”

  “He didn’t harm a hair, Miss DeDe!”

  DeDe closed her eyes and swallowed. She reached out and took Mary Ann’s hand, sharing the moment with her. Emma looked at both of them with tears in her eyes. “The Lord looks out for us,” she said.

  DeDe rushed forward and knelt next to the old woman, embracing her vigorously. “It wasn’t the Lord, Emma; it was you. God bless you, Emma. God bless my wonderful Emma!”

  The maid pressed her hand against DeDe’s cheek. “He was messin’ with my family,” she said.

  DeDe laughed and hugged her again. “Is Mother all right?”

  Emma shrugged. “She ain’t woke up yet.”

  “You mean … she doesn’t know?”

  “Not a blessed thing,” said Emma. “She took three more o’ them pills last night.”

  “Jesus,” muttered DeDe. “I told her to take one.”

  “I tried to wake her,” said Emma. “When Miz Giroux called, I …”

  “Does she know?”

  Emma shook her head. “She never called back.”

  “And you didn’t call the police?”

  “No’m. I knew you was comin’ back. I reckoned you’d want to call ‘em yourself … after you knew the babies was safe.”

  “Exactly right.” DeDe turned to Mary Ann. “I’m going out to the garage. Why don’t you stay here and keep Emma company?”

  Mary Ann was relieved, but she felt a nominal protest was in order. “You don’t want me to go with you?”

  “Actually,” replied DeDe, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  She was gone for ten minutes. When she returned, her face was virtually expressionless. “Can I talk to you?” she asked quietly.

  They conferred in the library, leaving Emma in the living room.

  “I have to know something,” said DeDe.

  Mary Ann felt horribly uneasy. “Yeah?”

  “What do you plan to do with this?”

  “You mean … the story?”

  DeDe nodded.

  “Well … I hadn’t really … DeDe, is it him?”

  “Put that aside for a minute. We’ve got some fast decisions to make. She shot him in cold blood, Mary Ann—he wasn’t even in the house, and he was unarmed. There’s bound to be a murder trial, and that old woman is gonna go through hell all over again….”

  “But surely … if he’s who you think he is …”

  “Then Emma and Mother and the children … all of us … will be subjected to the most hideous kind of public scrutiny. I’ve had it, Mary Ann. I’m tired of torturing my family. This is as close as I’ve ever gotten to a happy ending. I’ll do anything I can to hang onto it.”

  “DeDe … what are you saying? What do you want?”

  “I want you to tell only part of the story. You can say all you want about my escape … and the Cuban stuff. I just don’t want you to mention anything after that. You offered to do that once. I need to know if the offer still holds.”

  “DeDe … you know I would, but …”

  “But what?”

  “Well … there are other people who know about it.”

  “Just Mother, really. And she slept through the bad stuff.”

  “And Prue,” added Mary Ann.

  “Are you kidding? She was sleeping with him, Mary Ann! She’d like nothing better than to forget it ever happened. She didn’t even call back after she warned Emma. Forget about that bitch.”

  “DeDe … we can’t just forget a body in the backyard. We can’t just pretend it never happened.”

  DeDe looked at her long and hard. “Why not?” she asked.

  “You mean …?”

  DeDe nodded. “If we hurry, we can do it before Mother wakes up.”

  A Tangled Web

  MARY ANN NOTICED, WITH SOME DISMAY, THAT there were still traces of mud on her shoes when she and DeDe arrived at Prue Giroux’s townhouse on Nob Hill.

  “God,” she said, frowning down at them, “I thought I’d cleaned all that off.”

  DeDe rang Prue’s door bell. “She won’t notice. What’s a little mud, anyway? It could happen to anybody. How’s your back, by the way?”

  “Better,” said Mary Ann.

  “Good.”

  “I’m not used to that kind of exercise.”

  DeDe’s smile was sardonic. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  At this point, Mary Ann could only smile back. “What did you tell her?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “Prue.”

  DeDe shrugged. “Just that we were coming over to pick up the kids.” Then, hearing the door open, she squeezed Mary Ann’s arm and whispered: “Don’t worry. Let me do the talking.”

  * * *

  There was little talking, however, when DeDe caught sight of her children. She fell to her knees and scooped them into her arms, weeping copiously.

  Mary Ann and Prue watched in silence, also crying.

  Only the children were free from tears, accepting the reunion as a matter of joyful inevitability. Released from their mother’s embrace, they gamboled about her ecstatically, attempting to recount their adventures in DeDe’s absence.

  “Now, now,” said Prue. “Your mommy’s tired right now, so why don’t you …?”

  “It’s all right,” beamed DeDe. “Let them yammer all they want.” She reached out for Edgar again and hugged him. “It’s sheer music.” Looking up at Prue, she asked; “How … how did it happen?”

  Prue flushed noticeably. “He … well, it’s silly, but he came back on the ship.”

  “We know,” said DeDe, standing up again.

  Prue was obviously thrown. “How?” she asked.

  “A friend of Mary Ann’s saw him.”

  “Oh … then you …?”

  “How did he get here?” asked DeDe. “
That’s what I meant.”

  “Oh … well, he just brought them by the house.”

  DeDe frowned. “When?”

  “Uh … last night. I called your mother’s house immediately. That’s when Emma took the message.”

  DeDe’s brow furrowed. “But the ship got in yesterday.”

  “It did?”

  “Yes,” said DeDe darkly. “It did.”

  Silence.

  DeDe studied the columnist’s face. “He didn’t suggest to you where he might have been for a day?”

  “No,” replied Prue. “Nothing.”

  “Why did you tell Emma he had lost his mind?”

  Prue looked away. “I don’t think I phrased it exactly that way. He was upset, of course … mostly because he’d been stuck with the kids for the rest of the trip. He waited for us back on the ship that day. When we didn’t show up, he was angry. And worried.”

  “But it didn’t occur to him to tell anybody? The ship’s officials, for instance?”

  Silence.

  “Prue … why did you tell Emma that Mr. Starr had lost his mind?”

  “I told you … I …”

  “You told them to leave the house immediately!”

  “Well … he was extremely upset. I’m sorry if I gave her the impression that …”

  “Why didn’t he bring the children directly to Halcyon Hill?”

  “Uh … well, he didn’t know the address. He knew mine, so he brought them here …”

  “And then you called Halcyon Hill and told Emma to get my mother out of the house immediately. What sense does that make, Prue?”

  “Well … he was furious at your mother, and I didn’t want her to be subjected to …”

  DeDe rolled her eyes impatiently. “If he was coming to Halcyon Hill anyway, why didn’t he bring the children with him?”

  Prue’s eyes welled with tears again. “DeDe … please … I don’t know…. He wasn’t making any sense. I thought you’d be grateful to have your children back.”

  DeDe employed a more lenient tone. “I’m just trying to get at the truth. You can understand that.”

  Prue nodded, wiping her eyes. “He was acting funny. That’s all I can say. It was just an instinct I had. If your mother had stayed at Halcyon Hill, she would have seen that!”