by Gore Vidal
The next day, however, I was sitting up in bed ready to receive callers. My head ached terribly and I was extremely weak. Otherwise my mind, such as it is, was functioning smoothly.
A trained nurse was the first person I saw on my return to the vale of tears. She smiled cheerfully. “They took out two quarts,” she said.
I moaned.
“Now it’s not as bad as all that.”
I said that it was as bad as all that. I asked her what time it was. “Eleven forty-seven. You can have milk toast now if you want it.”
I said that it was unlikely I should ever want milk toast at any time; in fact, the whole idea of food, despite the complete vacuum in my stomach, was sickening. I asked if it was day or night.
“Daytime, silly.”
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“About ten hours, since last night. You came to once or twice while Doctor was pumping your stomach; you made things very difficult for Doctor.”
“For Nurse, too, I’ll bet,” I said, remembering my hospital-talk from an appendectomy of some years before.
“I’m used to difficult cases,” she said with some pride. “We had a very difficult case, Doctor and I, a week ago. It involved a total castration and my gracious …”
“Send for Lieutenant Winters,” I said weakly, putting a halt to these dreadful reminiscences.
“Well, I’m not sure that …”
“I will get up and go to him myself,” I said, sitting up with a great effort.
She grew alarmed. “You stay right there, dear, and I’ll go get him. Now don’t you move.” I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to.
A moment later she returned with Winters. He looked upset; as well he should have been. He motioned for the angel of mercy to leave the room.
When we were alone, he said, “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?”
“Take all those sleeping tablets. According to the doctor you took over a dozen, of the strongest type. If you hadn’t knocked the receiver off the hook and the butler heard the phone ring in the pantry, you would’ve been dead now which, I suppose, is what you intended to do.”
“Winters,” I said softly, “when I go you go with me.”
He looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“Only that I did not take any sleeping tablets, that I was deliberately poisoned.”
“Are you sure of this?”
I called him several insulting names. He took them gravely, as though trying to determine whether or not they suited him.
“Who do you think gave them to you, and how?”
“They were given me by the killer you failed to apprehend and, as for the how, they were slipped rather cleverly into the coffee I drank after dinner. Mrs. Rhodes serves something which tastes not unlike Turkish mud, very expensive and heavy, so heavy that it’s impossible to taste whether it’s been tampered with or not.”
“Why do you think you were poisoned?”
“Because I know who did the murders.”
“You do not.” Winters sounded suddenly like an angry schoolboy trying to put a braggart in his place.
“I do, too,” I said, mocking his tone. He blushed.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t see how you happen to know who did the murder from the information available.”
“It may be that I have a better mind than yours.”
It was his turn to attribute rude characteristics to me. I smiled seraphically all through his insults. When he finished, I suggested that this was hardly the way to speak to a man who has only recently returned from the other side. Then, all passion spent, I spoke to him reasonably. “As soon as I have enough evidence I’ll let you know.”
“When will that be?”
“Tonight at dinner,” I said gaily, not at all sure that I could produce enough evidence but undisturbed by any thought of failure: so great is the love of life. I had recovered; I was not to die just yet. It is a feeling common to soldiers and those who survive operations and accidents of a serious nature.
“I insist you tell me now.” Winters became suddenly official.
“Not a chance in the world, friend,” I said, pulling myself up in bed. My head still ached but I was no longer dizzy. “Now you tell the doctor to give me a shot of something to put a little life back into me and then, like Dr. Holmes, full of morphine or whatever it was he took, I shall proceed to arrange the evidence in such a manner that not even the police will be confused.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Will you do as I tell you?”
“No. If someone did try to kill you, and I have only your word that they did, the police would never allow you to be without protection.”
“You may protect me as much as you like.”
“Damn it, man, you’re withholding evidence from the proper authorities, do you realize that? Will you stop playing detective long enough to allow us to do our job properly?”
I was irritated by this. “If you’d done your job properly Rufus Hollister would not be dead and I would be feeling much more fit than I do. Since you can’t be trusted to do it on your own, I prefer to do it myself.”
Winters bit his lower lip furiously. It took him a second to regain control of his temper. His voice shook when at last he spoke. “I have my own methods, Sargeant. I know what I’m doing. I was perfectly aware that there was a good chance Hollister had been murdered. But we must be thorough. We can’t go off after every harebrained theory which occurs to us, even if it happens to be the right one. We have to build slowly and carefully. It happens that at this moment we are on the verge of some new evidence which may bring us closer to the murderer, assuming Hollister was not a suicide. Amateur help is not much use because amateurs usually end up dead. We were fortunate, I suppose, that we could save you.” This was a good point and I softened considerably.
“I am,” I said, “very moved by your rhetoric. The fact that you people saved my life is one point in your favor. So we’ll make a bargain. I will get up today. I will collect what evidence I need and contrive, if possible, a trap … one which will be sprung tonight. I will then, if successful, give Lieutenant Winters full credit for the amazing apprehension of a clever killer. Does that satisfy you?”
It did not satisfy him. We fought for half an hour; finally he agreed, but only after I told him that even if he arrested me I would never reveal what I knew in any way except my own. Reluctantly, he consented. He insisted on following me about all day and I said that he could.
He then called in the nurse who called the doctor who gave me several shots; the nurse then brought me bread and milk which she insisted I eat. Winters excused himself. He would, he said, join me when I was dressed.
“Come on, dear, finish the nice bread.” Nurse did everything but stuff the concoction down my throat. I found to my surprise that I liked it, that it restored the lining to my stomach. The return of bulk made me gurgle pleasantly; it was nice to have the body functioning again and my head felt less sore.
“Now, you rest there like a good boy for twenty minutes before you get up. Doctor’s orders. Shots must have time to take effect.” With that she was gone. As she went out the door, I saw that a plain-clothes man was standing guard over me. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, preparing myself for the battle ahead. It was going to be a full day.
There was a sudden commotion outside the door and I heard Ellen’s clear commanding voice ring out over the gruff tones of the law: “I insist on seeing him. He happens to be my fiancé.”
“Let her in!” I shouted; the door was opened and Ellen swept in.
“Bloody oaf,” she said, plumping down in the chair beside the bed. Her voice softened. “Poor darling! You tried to kill yourself for love of me, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you and Walter Langdon living together in Garden City with a dog and little ones.”
“I should’ve known that I wasn’t the cause of your suicid
e. I never am. No man ever seems to want to kill himself on my account.”
“Someone tried to kill me, though, on general principle, I suspect.”
Ellen frowned suddenly and looked nervously at the door, as though expecting a gunman to be lurking there. Then: “Rufus was killed, wasn’t he?”
I nodded.
“And the same person who killed him killed my father and tried to poison you?” I nodded again. She looked thoughtful. “I figured that out some time ago. I didn’t believe the story that you tried to kill yourself.”
“Was that what the police said?” I was incredulous.
“Of course … they’d hardly admit their case wasn’t closed.”
I whistled. “Winters is pretty smart. If I had died he would have said I was a suicide and that would’ve been the end of the case … everything would be just ducky.”
“They’re so corrupt,” said Ellen, betraying more feeling for me than I had thought possible.
“I wonder why Winters didn’t let me quietly drift off to a better world?”
“Because, my darling, I for one raised such a fuss and summoned the doctor. It was completely a matter of self-esteem. I couldn’t take the chance of your killing yourself for me (as Verbena Pruitt maintained you had, out of jealousy over Walter) and then having you actually die and there be some doubt. I insisted you be saved so that the world could hear from your own foam-flecked lips that it was because of me you wanted to end it all. How in demand I should’ve been!” She chuckled: then, seriously, slowly, “Peter, do be careful. Of all my fiancés I am fondest of you, at this moment anyway. For God’s sake be careful.”
“I will, dear. I have no intention of letting myself get killed.”
“You haven’t done so well so far,” she said. She paused; when finally she spoke, her voice trembled and for the first time since I’d known her she was no longer in control. “I’m terrified,” she whispered. “There’s something I should’ve told you when Father was killed. You remember I said then I knew who did it? Well, in a way, I did. When Mother …”
But she wasn’t allowed to continue. At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Rhodes entered. “Ah, Ellen, I didn’t know you were here.” She seemed disagreeably surprised. But quickly she became all sympathy, brushing past her daughter to me. “Mr. Sargeant, I do hope you’re better; I tried to see you earlier but you were still unconscious.”
“It looks as if I’ll be all right, Mrs. Rhodes,” I said with a gallant smile.
“I’m glad. One more tragedy would have been too horrible to bear.”
“It seems,” said Ellen, “that he did not kill himself for love of me.”
“I never thought he had,” said Mrs. Rhodes with a certain sharpness. “Verbena is the romantic one …”
“Well, if I had tried to kill myself, Mrs. Rhodes, it would have been for your daughter’s sake.”
“A pretty speech,” said Ellen; she looked drawn and tired.
“Are you getting up now?” asked Mrs. Rhodes.
“Yes, I have an appointment downtown. I’ll be back in time for dinner; you must be so sick of your boarders by now.”
“Not at all. In any event, when you come back from your appointment I should like to talk to you.” Over her mother’s shoulder Ellen shook her head suddenly, warningly.
I told Mrs. Rhodes that I would be glad to see her later in the afternoon, if we had time. Mother and daughter withdrew.
Carefully I sat up in bed and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Some fairly discreet fireworks went off in my head. I was weak but not ill. Slowly I dressed. I was tying my tie when Miss Flynn rang me from New York.
Her usual composure had obviously suffered a shock. “You are well?” was her first majestic misuse of an adverb. I told her I had survived, that the report she had read in the newspaper about attempted suicide was not true. I assured her that I would see her the next morning at my office in New York. She was very much relieved. I asked her for news and she told me that all Gotham was Agog at the thought of Hermione’s recital. It was generally considered that I had pulled off the public relations stunt of the minute. I told her to contact the editor of the Globe and tell him that I should have another article for him on the Rhodes murder case and that, since it would be the eyewitness account of the murderer’s arrest, I would expect X number of dollars for this unique bit of coverage. Miss Flynn agreed to Talk Turkey with the Globe. “I trust, however, you will be very careful in the course of this most Crucial Day.” I said that I would. I then asked her to check, if possible, some records and to call me back at five o’clock. She said that neither rain nor sleet … or so many other words, equally prolix … would keep her from finding out what I wanted to know.
2
The day went smoothly.
Winters went everywhere I did but, perversely, I kept throwing him off the track, to his fury. He could say nothing, though, for it was part of his official pose that he knew already, on his own, who the murderer was. I am fairly certain that he did not figure it out until the business was finished.
Before I left, I requested that Johnson Ledbetter be asked to dinner that night, without Elmer Bush.
On our way downtown, I read the afternoon paper. My attempted suicide appeared on page ten, with very little tie-up to the Rhodes affair. The Ledbetter affair occupied the front page, however. He was quoted at length to the effect he had been smeared by the opposition. There was even an editorial on the subject of morality in politics. Everyone was having a good time with all this and none of the papers seemed aware that either the Governor’s fiasco or my own misadventure was in any way connected with the recently “solved” murder. All this was to the good, I thought, with some satisfaction. It would make the beat all the more exciting.
“What’s our first stop?” asked Winters.
“Our first stop is the Party Headquarters and the office of one Verbena Pruitt.”
“But …”
“There will be neither ‘buts’ nor outcries. You will in fact have to wait outside in the anteroom while I speak to her.” There was considerable outcry at this but I won my point.
Verbena’s office was large and comfortable. Its position on the second-floor corner, southern exposure, indicated her importance in the Party. I was allowed to come in right away. Winters waited outside in the hall, trying, no doubt, to listen through the door.
“Come sit over here, beside me,” boomed the second or third lady of the land from behind a dainty knee-hole desk which looked as if it might crumple at any moment beneath the weight of her huge arms.
I sat down and she swiveled around in her chair and fixed me with her level agate-gaze. “You look green,” she said at last.
“I don’t feel so good,” I admitted.
“Love!” she snorted. “Root of all evil if you ask me … money certainly isn’t. I’m all for money … it’s pure; it’s useful; you can measure it … or at least you could before they started monkeying with the gold standard.”
“I didn’t kill myself for love, Miss Pruitt.”
She brightened. “Money worries? Career on the downgrade?”
“Just the opposite. I was doing too well and someone decided to kill me.”
“You’re a very daring young man,” said Miss Pruitt enigmatically.
“I suppose so. I wish you’d help me, though. There’s a lot at stake.”
She smiled. “How do you know that I may not be ‘at stake’?”
“I’m fairly sure. I don’t know everything of course; that’s why I want you to help me.”
To my surprise she said nothing to show that she was surprised by this turn of affairs, that the murderer of Lee Rhodes was still free and dangerous. Instead she said: “Ask me what you like and I’ll answer what I like.”
“How long did you know Lee Rhodes?”
“Twenty-five years or so.”
“Were you in love with him?”
This was daring. She sat back in her swivel chair; I was afr
aid that it might give way under her, tipping the great lady on her head, but she knew what she was doing. “You’re awfully fresh, young man,” she said.
“I was curious.”
“Then to satisfy your curiosity, yes, we were very close at one time. Shortly after Ellen was born, Lee wanted to divorce Grace and marry me. I may say with some pride that I talked him out of it. We were fond of each other but I was almost as fond of Grace. I didn’t want to wreck her life; though, since, I’ve sometimes wondered if it was the right thing.”
“You mean not separating them?”
She nodded, her eyes focused on the far wall, her voice dreamy. “They never got on of course. Grace would’ve been so much happier with another man, I’m sure of that, but the opportunity never arose again and they settled down with one another, neither contented.”
“You went on seeing a great deal of both?”
“Oh yes. I saw them through a hundred crises. When Ellen was supposed to marry that nephew of mine, it was I she came to after her father annulled the marriage. I was the one who reconciled them … though not for long since she went away as soon as she was of age. I practically brought her up. They were the most helpless family you ever saw when it came to managing their private affairs.”
“Mrs. Rhodes disliked Camilla, didn’t she?”
“Not really. She hated the idea of her, naturally, when she found out. Grace is a woman of high principles, you know, and it was a devastating blow for her, finding out Lee had had a by-blow, as they say back home. I think she was quite indifferent to Camilla one way or the other, as a person.”
“You obtained the contract for Roger Pomeroy before he came to Washington, didn’t you?”
She looked startled. “You’re very well informed,” she said coldly. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did.”
“You must’ve known all along that he had a pretty good alibi in case of arrest.”
“I did. As a matter of fact Grace and Ellen and I discussed the whole thing the morning of the day Pomeroy was to be arrested. I had discovered that that young fool of a policeman was going to arrest Roger and I talked it over with the family: should I or should I not let the police know that I had helped Roger get his contract before he came to see Lee. Roger himself begged me not to. I must say I didn’t want to: I would’ve found myself in a very uncomfortable position. On the other hand, we didn’t want Roger arrested. I will tell you, frankly, that none of us knew what to do until Rufus saw fit to kill himself and Roger was released, ending, I may add, one of the worst days of my life.”
