by T E. D Klein
Herb shrugged." Yeah, but so are we all. I mean, this kind of stuff could apply to anyone here. It's really no better than that column in the News. You know, The Stargazer's Prophecy, or something like that.
My secretary lives by it."
George had moved away from them. He stood by one of the windows, staring out at the night, trying to disguise the pain in his stomach.
Because of the light inside it was impossible to see well, but he could hear the tapping of dead leaves against the glass. He heard, too, a few of the women squealing over Phyllis's card, The Lovers, and he thought of the one he had drawn forth, and had returned to the deck so hurriedly after the briefest glimpse-an amorphous mass of gray, like the back of some huge animal, illuminated as if by moonlight. It had seemed disturbingly familiar. Amid the babble of voices its memory was already beginning to fade, but not the uneasiness it had aroused, the vague, half-buried guilt… With a start he noticed his own reflection in the window, and saw the savage twist of his mouth. He smoothed back his hair, smiled, and turned back to the company.
Entropy had set in. All but a few had tired of the game and had once again broken into smaller groups, those most bored drifting toward the bar like sediment to the bottom of a pond. Sidney Gerdts was holding forth to the Goodhues and the Fitzgeralds-the fall of the dollar, or perhaps the rise of crime-and Phyllis was trying to get Paul Strauss to talk to poor Cissy Hawkins. Fred Weingast was making himself another drink. Over by the corner Herb and Milton sat on the couch comparing the achievements of their children. Others had wandered off to the kitchen and library. For the time being they all seemed occupied; he passed among them unnoticed, on his way back to the bathroom.
"I've never seen him like this," Herb was saying." He's been so evasive. Usually he'll brag about a smart deal till you're sick of listening, but this time he played modest with me. I could tell something was funny the minute I came in."
"You mean that bit about 'just lucky, I guess'? Jesus, wasn't that something!" Milton shook his head.
"Yeah, all he'd say was the guy went a little ga-ga and sold him this place for a song."
"Is that what he told you?"
"That was it. But, well, you seem to know a bit more about what really went on."
Milton stared down into his glass, watching the ice cubes shrink and change shape." Well, I don't know all that much."
"Aw, come on. I hear you've been riding him about it all night."
"Maybe I've sobered up a little since then."
"Aw, hell, you know I'll keep this to myself."
He studied Herb's face, and saw the endless cocktails of expense account lunches, the daily betrayals disguised as good fellowship.
Herb would make a good story out of this.
"How about it?"
"Well Milton watched George sidle through the room and head upstairs."
Okay, why not?"
In the room upstairs Walter slept fitfully. A floorboard groaned outside the door-George on his way up the hall-and was echoed by the huge limb of an elm beyond the window. Walter turned heavily onto his side, buried his face in the pillow, and slept on, one hand twisting a wrinkle of quilt as if clenched upon a steering wheel.
The women on the couch had begun talking about food costs, and Tammie was bored. It took parties like this to remind her that she preferred the company of men." I'm sure they are better for you," Janet Mulholland was saying, "but the prices they charge in those health food stores are outrageous." Tammie looked around for her husband; he was in the corner by the window, talking with Milt Brackman. Pretty soon they'd be swapping dirty jokes.
A bridge table had been set up near the bar, piled high with paper plates and plastic forks. Big Mike Carlinsky was bent over it, showing something to his fiancée-what was her name? Gail.
"You want your fortune done?" He smiled up as Tammie strolled over; Gail looked at her coldly." According to this, I'm gonna have five kids, but Gail's only gonna have two!" Laughing, he pointed to an open page in the booklet, but Tammie couldn't read a word of French.
"You still got your card?"
The green box lay next to an empty hor d'oeuvres platter, Tarot cards piled haphazardly beside it where guests had left them. The top card showed a stone tower crumbling as a bolt of lightning hit it. In the background the sea raged furiously.
"No, I put mine back in the box. There were just too many people ahead of me. But let's see, I think I can find it again." She began sorting through the deck, aware that Mike's eyes were on her; he was probably trying to decide if she was wearing a bra." Hey, look at this," she said, producing the picture of a regal woman." I like this one better than my own card! What's it mean?"
"The Queen of Swords," said Gail." You're not allowed to choose, you know. You can't just pick the prettiest card and say you want it." She looked guardedly at her fiance.
He was already flipping through the booklet." Queen of Swords, huh?
Sounds dangerous." He stopped and read to himself, lips moving."
Something about old age, I think." Tammie stiffened.
"Isn't 'vielle' the word for old?" He saw she wasn't grinning, and his own grin faded." But apparently it means one thing if you hold it one way and something else if it's upside down."
" It was right side up, wasn't it?" said Gail.
"The other way," he went on, "it means the woman tyrannizes her husband.
Hhmm! Poor old Herb! And I always thought he wore the pants."
Tammie forced a laugh." Oh, I let him think so, that's all!" She looked over at her husband, still deep in conversation with Milton.
"Now I want to find the card I really picked."
She scanned the pack. Most of the cards were bare but for groups of symbols-seven cups, four pentagrams, a series of sticklike objects-reminding her of the canasta deck at home. But some of them bore full-color illustrations, archetypes even she could respond to.
"This is nice. A chariot, I guess. Ugh! Here's Death." The skeleton leaned casually on his scythe." I thought The Hanged Man was supposed to be the death card."
"I guess not," said Gail." See? Here it is." She turned the card upside down, so that the figure stared at them." And, see, he's smiling."
"What's this one?" asked Mike." Looks like a phallic symbol, doesn't it!" He glanced at Tammie. The card showed an enormous hand emerging godlike from the clouds, clasping an upright stick.
"That's the Ace of Wands," said Gail. And, in explanation: "I've got a paperback at home. I haven't bought the cards yet, though. I've seen much prettier decks than this. Remember, Mike? Down in the Village?
But it seemed like a waste of money."
"Mmm." He turned over some cards that had been left face down.
"Maybe I'll buy you a pack. For slow parties." He laughed guiltily.
"What do you think this one's supposed to be?"
She took it from him and stared at it. It was a night scene, with a few stars low in the background. At the center was a gray liver-shaped thing; animal, apparently, though the head was turned away." Gee, I don't think I've ever seen this kind before." She handed it back to him, not looking at it." Of course, every set is different. I like the modern ones best. Like the deck we saw that time in the Village."
Tammie studied the card for a moment, then gave a tentative smile."
Reminds me of veal cutlet!" A moment later she joined Mike's laughter, laying the card face down on the table." Do you think there are any of those cute little sausages left?"
"Well, the platter's gone, but I can look in the fridge." He put his hand on Gail's shoulder." Be back in a second, honey."
The foot tapped against the wall, paused, then tapped eight times in succession. Seated at the foot of the bed, the orderly looked down at the paper." Eighteen, that's… P- " The foot tapped twice, then once. U Once, then four times.
"I got the story from Bart Cipriano," Milton was saying." He works in Commissioner Brodsky's office at the capitol, and he's buddy-buddy with Georg
e. So's Brodsky. At first I was surprised they weren't here tonight, but then I realized they'd already been to this house-and often, I'll bet. Besides, George may be just a little ashamed of them."
"Why? Who is this Brodsky?"
"He's with the State Highway Commission."
"Oh yeah, I remember hearing that George had a bit of clout in that department. Not bad for a guy with an office in New York."
"But don't forget, he's lived here in Connecticut all his life. And until a few months ago he was living right down the block from Brodsky.
Big poker players, both of them." He looked for signs of interest in the other's face. Herb's gaze never wavered." Anyway, according to Cipriano, the state had been planning a big highway up here to replace 81-"
"It's about time! The roads are so dark I damned near had an accident getting here." ,,-and it was supposed to cut right through this property." He made a slicing motion." Yep, that's right-all this land, this house, even, was right in the path of the highway. So some people were going to have to get out of the way. Not that many, of course. It's pretty underpopulated around here. Tobacco country, mainly, and a few small farms. I guess that's why they picked this place to run the road through."
"Jesus, you mean they're gonna demolish this place?"
Milton shook his head." Not so fast. Just after the notices were sent out-you know, 'Dear Sir, You've got six months to find another house,' or something like that-the crooks in the governor's office cut back funds and the whole plan was canceled. No road after all. But thanks to the usual red tape-you know how these state governments are-they decided the cutback wouldn't be official till the end of the fiscal year. Which means that, all this time, Brodsky had a letter sitting on his desk junking the project, except that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone." He paused for effect." Well, guess who he told."
" George?"
"Your friend and mine. I guess he knew that George was looking for a bigger place and, who knows?, maybe he owed him a favor. Let's not be naive-this sort of thing goes on all the time. And maybe George had something on him, I don't know. Anyway, he gave George the go-ahead. He said, in effect, Pick yourself whatever house you like from Beth Head on up to Tylersville, and we'll get it for you." He took a sip of his drink ." I expect a little money may have changed hands."
"I don't understand. You mean he had free choice? Any place he wanted?"
"That's right. And he wanted this." He shrugged." Who wouldn't?
Just look around. I don't think George had ever seen the inside of this place, though, till he watched the state marshal's break down the door.
You see, the guy in here wouldn't get out. A bit of a crackpot, they say."
"And once George was in, you mean-"
"Exactly. They announced the highway wouldn't go through after all. And by then it was too late."
"But how about the guy they'd kicked out? Couldn't he sue, for Chrissake? I mean, he had a pretty good case for himself, and…
Hell! He could bring'em all to court for a stunt like that."
"Nope, not where he is now. I told you he was a loony, didn't I?"
"You mean "Uh-huh. They had him put away." Milton grinned." Oh, that part was all aboveboard, nothing funny about that. From what I hear, he was a real straitjacket case. Kicked like a wild man when they took him away, biting and spitting… And calling for his son to come back and help him. 'Petey,' he kept screaming, 'Petey, Petey,' over and over. At least that's what it sounded like. I guess he thought his son would come to his rescue. Only..."
"Only what?"
"Only he didn't have a son."
"Tsk tsk tsk. Poor guy."
"Yeah, well, that's what I thought. But Cipriano says he wasn't too charming a character. He said the marshals had to literally hold their noses when they broke down the door, that's how bad it was. Like the lion house at the zoo, he said. Maybe the guy had pets and never cleaned up after them. Cost George a fortune to have the place fixed up." He stared into his drink; the ice had shrunk and lost its shape, floating on the surface like a jellyfish, evolution in reverse." Still, he made a killing on this deal. He bought the house from the state, and got it for next to nothing."
"How about the other people they moved out? They put up a stink, too?"
"That supposed to be a pun?"
Herb guffawed." Never thought of that!"
"You don't understand-they never had to move anybody else.
They just held off till George was home free, and then Brodsky announced the cutback. The notices were rescinded, and everybody was happy.
"Oh, I get it." Herb looked disappointed." So it's too late now, huh?"
"Too late for what?"
"To pick up a place like this for myself."
***
"R.U.N. Run?"
The man on the bed nodded. His foot tapped once, twice, and three times; once, twice, and five times.
"Run away."
The man on the bed nodded.
***
Irene Crystal put her hand on Phyllis's." Excuse me," she whispered,
"we're going now, I just wanted to say good-bye."
Phyllis left Cissy to fend for herself." Oh, what a shame!" she cried automatically." Can't you stay just a little longer? It's so early yet."
"I'd love to, dear, believe me. But Jack's folks are coming over tomorrow morning, and if I know them"-she rolled her eyes comically-"they’ll be ringing the bell at nine."
Phyllis kept Irene talking while ushering her toward the coat closet, anxious lest the sight of one early departure produce a mass exodus among the others." Well, I certainly do hope you'll find the time to come out again real soon. It's not as far as it looks, really, once you know the way."
"Oh, no, honestly, it wasn't a bad trip at all." Jack was already standing by the coat closet. Phyllis looked nervously at the other guests." It's just that his folks are coming down, otherwise we'd never think of leaving so soon."
Jack leaned toward her." I wanted to thank George," he said solemnly, a small boy remembering his manners, "but he was in the bathroom. You will thank him for me, won't you?"
"God, is he in there again?" Phyllis grimaced." Yes, of course I will."
"Tell him we think it's just the most fantastic place we've ever seen.
The find of a lifetime."
A few of the people at the bar had noticed them. Fred Weingast glanced at his watch." Yes, of course I will." Phyllis wished the two would hurry up and leave quietly.
"I'm still amazed about what you said upstairs."
"Pardon me?"
"Upstairs," Irene went on." In your bedroom. About the man before you living here all alone."
Phyllis watched Weingast out of the corner of her eye." Quite a character, wasn't he?"
" But why a nursery?"
"What? Oh, the nursery! Well, we tried to keep things the way we found them. It was like that when we came. Maybe we'll turn it into another guest room." She flashed a big grin at the Crystals." That way you'll be able to come more often, without "No," Irene persisted, "I mean, it was already here when you moved in, right? But you said that man never had any children."
Damn it! Now Arthur Faschman was looking at his watch." I'm sure I don't know," she said hurriedly." I guess it was here when he moved in."
"With all those toys? A lot of them looked used."
"Maybe he played with them himself. I told you he was crazy."
"Honey, we're going to have a long drive as it is," said Jack." I don't want to get back too late." He moved into the front donning his overcoat.
Phyllis held the door open for them." Whew! These November nights are freezing out here! It's the open fields, George says-no wind resistance." She backed away from the blast of cold air. Then, as if by rote: "Just make sure you drive carefully and get home safe."
Irene smiled." I only allowed him two drinks all night." She kissed Phyllis on the cheek." Bye-bye, dear, and thanks."
"Be sure to thank George for us," said Jack as
the door was closing.
***
"So you think you're gonna run away, huh?" The man on the bed shook his head "No, sir! You ain't going nowhere, buster. Last time an inmate got out, we caught up with him in less than twelve hours, and that was before we installed the new alarm system. Uh-uh, no way!"
The man on the bed shook his head, more violently this time; his mouth twisted into a snarl.
"I get it, you want me to run away?"
More violently still. Then, quickly.- eight, two, and one; one and four .
H.U.N.G.R.Y
***
The voices from the living room were lost in the twistings of the corridor, and the library stood dark and deserted. The door had been left open, but Ellie lingered in the hall, reluctant to enter. Running her hand along the inside of the doorway and finding no switch, she inched toward one of the heavy floor lamps that stood beside a desk, the two forms outlined by moonlight. The rug felt thick and silent beneath her feet, like animal fur. There was something about the room that made one tiptoe, lest some presence be disturbed.
The lamp's sudden glare dazzled her, and in the instant before blindness she saw something rise from the desktop. A cry came from them both, but the other was first to speak.
"Who…? Uh-oh, what time is it?"
"Doris! God, you gave me a fright! Who were you hiding from?"
"Sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I was in the middle of this story"-she indicated the book that lay open on the desk'and I thought I'd take a little nap. It's such a long trip home, and if I know Sid he'll be in no condition to drive." She rubbed her eyes." He's been looking for me?"
"I'm sorry to say you haven't even been missed."
"Why, what time is it?"
"Not yet eleven, I think."
"Well that's a relief. Still early, then. Sorry I scared you. I probably shouldn't have turned off the light."
" What were you reading?"
She slid the book toward her." It's a translation of one in the living room. A children's book, I think. I'm amazed he'd buy two copies."
"I gather you were using it as a pillow."
Doris smiled." Yes, I- Oh my gosh, did I get print all over my cheek?"
