The Enigmatic Mr. Dawsley

by Michael Bergquist

  “Will you call Ms. Maloney?” he asked after a brief period of quiet.

  “I am not sure.” I responded.

  “And why is that?”

  “I made a fool of myself at the mixer.”

  “Women tend to like fools. Do not assume she has so easily cast you away. After all, she left her number after you had made a buffoon of yourself.”

  “I suppose that is true.”

  “It is. Call the woman, Truman.” said Dawsley as he stood up and placed his silk napkin upon the table. “She sounds like a delightful person.”

  With that comment, he walked out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom, where he had been spending more and more of his time as of late. It was starting to concern me, but I did not want to risk annoying him with questions about it. I would simply have to observe and piece together what I could. Perhaps I would have to investigate. I did not know how I would go about that, though, as Dawsley was always in the mansion at the same time as myself. Searching his bedroom would be almost impossible under the circumstances.

  I sat in the piano room, drinking bourbon casually and thinking of potential ways to infiltrate his room for my investigation. I wondered if it would be an immoral action to do so, but quickly decided that it would not be, as his secrets, whatever they were, could very likely ruin the lives of many people including myself. I just hoped that he was not courting Ellie. Ellie, who had pulled him in so close before with her teasing, only to abandon him and break his heart. He had been a different man ever since the congressman had made the deal with him. It was a subtle difference, one that only a man in my position would be able to see, for I was with him quite often and had developed a sort of sixth sense for reading the man’s moods.

  Chapter 22

  That evening, Dawsley and I dressed casually, though not poorly. The driver took us in the limousine to the club and deposited us right outside of the front doors. The bouncer, sensing our importance, immediately allowed us to enter before the crowd of complaining twenty-somethings standing in line.

  Dawsley seemed excited. He entered the club as if it were his personal kingdom, the people all his subjects. I made my way over to the bar, as alcohol would be the only way I would be able to tolerate such an environment.

  For starters, the club was roughly the size of a broom closet. The floor was sticky and the air was humid with sweat and body heat. I soon discovered the drinks to be watered down and had great difficulty unsticking them from the surface of the bar. The bartenders reminded me of Sandra, though Sandra occasionally smiled and displayed personality. The crowd on the floor were bouncing around to music of such a volume that it dulled the effects of the alcohol and sobered one up instantaneously, unless presumably, one was hopping around like a lunatic.

  I looked for Dawsley, but could not find him on the outskirts of the crowd. It was then that I looked into the heart of the crowd and saw him dancing like a maniac with several other people. I drank my drink and his and walked back over to the bar, careful not to rest my arms upon the surface of the bar. I ordered another drink and downed it quickly. I ordered another and did the same once more. Drunkenness came after a few minutes, but the pounding music kept me in a state of alarm and the liquor could not work its soothing magic on my nerves and mind.

  I exited the club and sat on the curb. Dawsley would be occupied in the club, looking for love apparently, and I would have to wait patiently for him. It was then that I realized the opportunity to conduct my investigation of the man’s bedroom. I hailed a cab and requested he drive as fast as humanly possible to the Dawsley estate. He did as I asked and was tipped quite well for it.

  I entered the mansion quietly, so as not to alarm Sandra and raise her curiosity. I ascended the stairs and approached Dawsley’s bedroom door. I turned the knob and found it to be locked. I cursed under my breath and looked all around me. Where could the key have been? I checked under a piece of loose carpet and in the potted plants nearby, but found nothing. I looked up at the door frame and ran my hand across the top of it. I felt cold metal and managed to pick it up. It had turned out to be the key. I unlocked the door silently and opened it.

  Dawsley’s room looked almost exactly like mine, though his was in a much more disorderly state. Clothes from previous days were all over the place and crumpled up pieces of paper littered his bed. I picked one up and opened it. It was addressed to Ellie Bell. I heard the sound of Sandra shuffling into my room to tidy it up. I was running out of time, but still did not have any evidence that he had sent letters or received any. I ransacked his drawers, not at all cautiously, as the mess he had left would surely disguise any potential misplacement of items.

  I found the letters he had received from the woman back when he had been courting her and she had been pretending that they stood a chance of being together. She was a selfish woman at heart, but Dawsley was able to see past it due to either denial or obliviousness. I found nothing to imply that the two had resumed writing to each other and I went to leave the room. Sandra’s footsteps approached the door quickly. I panicked, but she only lingered for a few moments in front of the door before shuffling down to her own room and entering it. I breathed a sigh of relief and left the room.

  I descended the stairs and called for another cab. One arrived shortly thereafter and brought me back to the club. I sat down on the curb again, listening to the echo of the music emerge from the building whenever the doors opened to let someone in or out. I waited for about a half hour before a sweaty, joyful Mr. Dawsley emerged. He lifted me up and patted me on the shoulder.

  “There is no love to be found here, dear Truman.” He said as he attempted to regain his breath. “But what wonderful fun!”

  I chuckled and the two of us returned to the estate in the limousine. Dawsley told me of the music and the dancing and the women he had met. He agreed with my earlier statement that there was no class to be found in a club, but he debated it partially, saying that everyone regained their class upon leaving. His idea sounded reasonable so I nodded to him in agreement. I wanted to ask him about the crumpled up letters to Ellie. I wanted to know why he had written them, why he had discarded them, and why he was still thinking of her. I suppose I knew the answer to that last question, but the other two were perplexing in an irritating sort of way. They left the possibility open for that devastation I so feared. I did not raise the issue with him for obvious reasons. I had violated his trust by entering his room while he was out and despite the good reasons I had for doing so, I still felt immoral.

  Chapter 23

  We arrived back at the mansion fairly late in the night. Sandra was nowhere to be found and I deduced that she had gone to bed. Dawsley and I sat in the piano room in front of the fire as we so often did at the end of a long day. We drank bourbon casually and not in order to become intoxicated. I, however, failed and entered into the realm of slight drunkenness. This would prove to be tragic.

  “You’re writing to Ellie.” I said suddenly. Dawsley looked at me in light shock.

  “Pardon?” he said.

  “You’re writing to Ellie Bell.”

  “Truman, you are drunk. Ellie and I ended our communications quite a long time ago.”

  “I was in your room. I saw your crumpled up letters.” I said. Dawsley rose from his chair in anger.

  “You entered my room?!” he shouted.

  “Do you have any idea what you are doing?” I asked.

  “I would ask you the very same question! You are a guest in my home!”

  “Mr. Dawsley, do you know what could happen?”

  “Do you think I don’t know?”

  “Then how could you risk so much?”

  “For your information, Truman, I have not sent her a letter in many months.”

  “Then why are you writing them?”

  “Because it is easier to put feelings on paper than to bottle them inside!”

  I sat quietly, my entire being consumed by regret. Dawsley looked upset.

&nb
sp; “I owe you no explanations, Truman. You are the one who has committed wrong here.” he said.

  “Mr. Dawsley, I --”

  “See yourself out, Truman.” he said as he walked out of the room.

  I sat there, stunned and ashamed of myself. I stood up slowly and left the room, ascending the stairs and entering what was now my former bedroom. I collected my few possessions that I brought with me and packed them in my suitcases. I was unsure of if I should knock on Dawsley’s door to apologize or not. I finally decided after a few minutes of contemplation that it would not be a wise decision at this time. I turned the light off in the room and left.

  There was no car waiting for me in the driveway when I left the mansion. I had not called a cab either and so I walked out to the street. The night was a bit cold and the ground was wet from light rain that must have occurred sometime earlier while I was inside the house. I made my way into the populated area nearby to the mansion and waited for a cab to drive by. While I was standing there, a familiar face approached me.

  “Hey, man, I know you.” said the man. It was the mugger from the park. He was dressed much nicer than he had been when we encountered him and he had the appearance of having gotten his life together.

  “Hello,” I said, “how are you?”

  “Look at me! I’m doing quite well!”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Why so glum, friend?”

  “It’s nothing. Tell me, how exactly have you risen so high from robbing people? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

  “I don’t mind at all! You see, I took that money you guys gave me and I was on my way to buy some booze with it. Before I made it to the store, a fancy-looking man approached me and offered me an investment opportunity. Normally I’d say no to people like that, thinking it was a scam or something, but this guy had a monocle. You don’t see things like that too often these days. I figured he was the real deal and took him up on his offer.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Samuel something.”

  “Finlow?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You know him?”

  “Only from what I read in the papers.” I lied.

  “He’s a real smart guy. Doesn’t like your pal too much, though. He was always talking about how much he despised him and stuff like that.”

  “Do you have any idea why?”

  “Not really. Something from when they were kids. Who knows. All I know is he hates your buddy more than anything in the world. It’s pretty creepy actually.”

  “What was the investment?”

  “The mining industry. Big bucks to be made there, too!”

  “That’s great.” I said as I hailed a passing cab. “I have to run, but it was good seeing you. Glad you’re on the up and up.”

  “Good to see you, too! Tell your friend I’m forever in his debt!”

  “Will do.”

  I entered the cab and almost requested to be taken to the Dawsley mansion out of habit. I told the cabbie the address of my apartment, of which Dawsley had been paying the rent while I was staying with him. I assumed that that arrangement was over now. We crossed the vast, metallic bridge which brought a great sorrow into my heart. I had betrayed the most good-hearted man I had ever known and all for naught.

  Chapter 24

  When we pulled up to the apartment, I tipped the cabbie and exited with my possessions. The building was the same as it had been when I left, all brick and no soul. I walked up the creaking stairs and entered my room, quickly tossing my suitcases onto the floor and falling down into bed.

  The next morning I awoke to the familiar sounds of sirens and car horns. I ate breakfast alone, which consisted of toast and old orange juice. The mail did not come, nor did the paper, as Dawsley had had my mail forwarded to his mansion. I spent the afternoon changing my mailing address back to the apartment and sitting with my guilt.

  I put my hands in my pockets and found the note from Kate with her phone number on it. I thought about calling her for several minutes and finally summoned up the courage to do so.

  “Hello?” said Kate on the other end of the line.

  “Hi. Kate?” I replied.

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Thurgood.”

  “Oh, hi! I was wondering if you’d call me. How are you?”

  “Not bad.” I lied. “How are you?”

  “Not bad myself.”

  “That’s good. I was wondering if maybe you would want to have dinner tonight?”

  “I’m afraid I already have plans for dinner. I’m free for drinks after that, though.”

  “Okay, that sounds great.”

  “Okay!”

  She gave me the address of the bar we would meet at and we said goodbye and hung up. I dialed the number for the Dawsley estate, but hung up while it was ringing. I sat in front of the phone for a few more minutes before I got up and went to take a shower. I always thought best in the shower, but on this day I could not focus on any one particular thought.

  I dressed in my old clothing and put the television on for background noise. The news was on and the weatherman was pointing to a map of the tri-state area. Apparently a cold front was headed this way and it was suggested that we wear warm clothing in preparation for it. It was an odd forecast for the season, but then again most things were odd lately.

  I called for a cab and went down to the street to wait. I sat on the curb and watched people going about their days. I did not care to speculate as to what they were doing, due to the immense amount of things bouncing around in my mind. The cab pulled up soon after and I told him the address of the bar.

  I arrived a little later than we had agreed and I found her sitting at the bar alone. I approached with the most genuine smile I could muster.

  “Hi!” she exclaimed.

  “Hi! Sorry I’m late.” I replied. “I had to come across the bridge and there was traffic.”

  “You were outside of Atlantia?”

  “Yes. I was home.”

  “I thought you lived with Dawsley.”

  “I did. We had a falling out recently.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “If you don’t mind sharing, what happened exactly?”

  “I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.”

  “And where was that?” she asked. Her curiosity piqued my own. Our conversations seemed to continuously center on my relationship with Mr. Dawsley.

  “I thought he had taken a shirt of mine, so I broke into his room to snoop around. He found out, we argued, and now we’ve parted ways.” I lied.

  “You parted ways over a shirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I don’t think I’ve asked you yet what kind of work you’re in.”

  “Let’s order drinks first.”

  We ordered a couple of strong drinks that she had recommended and sipped them slowly.

  “So, about your line of work.” I said.

  “I’m an engineer.” she replied.

  “How interesting! What kind?”

  “Civil.”

  “Is it a good job?”

  “Not particularly, though it pays well. I suppose that is the only reason I stay.”

  I nodded and finished my drink. Kate signaled to the bartender and he fixed me another one of the same type. I had begun to become quite drunk about half way through the second. Kate was still working on her first slowly.

  “Where do you work?” I asked.

  She told me the address and I made a mental note of it. She was such a lovely, wonderful woman and I decided that I wanted to surprise her with flowers at work some time like characters in movies sometimes did.

  “So what are you doing for work now?” she asked. I had not thought about that at all since returning home.

  “I am not quite sure.” I replied.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing?”

  “No
, what I mean is I don’t have another occupation and I’m not sure where to apply.”

  “Oh.”

  “It will be okay. Maybe I’ll try mining.” I joked.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Apparently the industry is booming over here.”

  “You don’t strike me as the mining type.”

  “And what is the mining type?”

  “Large and muscular. You are too clean cut as well.”

  “You wound me.” I laughed. She laughed as well and apologized for any perceived insult.

  We drank more and talked about nothing of particular importance. She mentioned Mr. Dawsley a few more times, but I steered the conversation elsewhere each time. At the end of the night we kissed on the cheek and went our separate ways, agreeing to see each other again.

  Chapter 25

  Back in my apartment, I wrote the address of her workplace down so as not to forget it come morning. I went to bed smiling and feeling happy for the first time in days. The next morning I ate alone once more. I again considered calling Mr. Dawsley, but I could not think of what I would say. I let the issue drift from my mind and I left the apartment. I hailed a cab and had the driver take me to the nearest florist. I purchased some roses and had the driver bring me to the address that Kate had given me. When we arrived, the location she had told me turned out to be a dental office. Confused, I entered the building to inquire as to the whereabouts of the engineering offices.

  “There’s no place like that around here.” said the receptionist.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.”

  I left the building and stood on the sidewalk. Something was very wrong with the whole situation. I had a cab bring me back to my apartment and I immediately called Kate. I had a feeling I knew what was going on.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hi, Kate.”

  “Oh, hi! How are you?”

  “Quite well. How are you?”

  “Quite well myself.”

  “That is good. Dinner tonight?”

  “I’m all tied up at work until later tonight.” she said. “How about drinks again?”