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More Good Old Stuff Page 12

by John D. MacDonald


  “Matthew!” she called. “Matthew, darling!” Her voice was lost in a thousand echoes against the great dark ceiling.

  Suddenly she stopped running, stood still and was carried off into the darkness, her figure diminishing until at last it was a tiny white glowing spot against the black horizon before it was gone altogether.

  He stood in the blackness and the loneliness.

  He awakened standing near the windows, cold and trembling. Exhausted, he found his way back to the bed.

  Susan lay rigid in the darkness, her mind filled with loathing. Beside her, Roy Bedford stirred in his sleep and his hand touched her shoulder. With infinite care she moved further away so that he no longer touched her.

  It had gone wrong. Incredibly wrong. They had stood in the small cheap parlor of the marriage mill and she had said, her voice trembling, her tone light, “By the way, Roy. I sold all my stock to Patience just before you picked me up at the house.”

  His lips had drawn back from his teeth in a parody of a smile. “You what!”

  “Oh, it was legal enough. Bill of sale and everything. It was Matt Otis’ idea. I suppose you don’t want to marry me now.”

  He had looked at her with those unreadable eyes for long seconds. Then, while the man waiting to marry them had coughed and fussed with the book, Roy had laughed. Humorless laughter. A senseless bray that twisted his body.

  When he could get his breath he said, “Matt Otis’ idea? Oh, that’s great! Yes, Susan, I want to marry you. Very much.”

  The tears stood in her eyes as he fitted the ring on her finger. But his wedding kiss wasn’t tender. He had put a hard hand at the back of her neck and brought his lips down on hers with ferocity. His teeth had bruised her lips and she had gasped with the pain. When she had pushed him away, tasting the warm blood from her lip, he had laughed again. The man who still held the book was embarrassed and a bit angry. Roy had laughed at him, too, and had flung a ten-dollar bill at him. His hard fingers had bruised Susan’s arm as he led her out to the car.

  He was asleep now. She felt soiled from the touch of him. She wanted to go and scrub her body, but she was afraid she would awaken him. She felt lost and young and hopeless.

  It was at that moment that she began to wonder if she had the courage to kill him one day.

  The bedside phone rang insistently. Matthew Otis reached up out of his sleep, lifted it from the cradle and held it to his ear. The luminous dial of his wristwatch said that it was a quarter to four.

  “You’re Matt Otis?” a woman’s voice said.

  “That’s right,” he mumbled. “Who is it?”

  “Rosie Carney. I saw you a long time ago.” Her voice was slurred. He could imagine the loose drunken lips, the wet eyes.

  “I remember you,” he said.

  “I’m glad you remember me, Matt Otis. I saw you that night your girl died. She was Roy’s girl, you know.”

  “Look, it’s four in the morning. What is this? A little talk about old times? Save it until tomorrow, will you?”

  “Save it?” She laughed. “Sure, old Rose Carney’ll save it. For a long time. Wanted to tell you ’bout that night. Wanted to tell you Roy took me home and left me. And came back later.”

  She hung up. “Hello! Hello!” he shouted.

  He put the phone back on the cradle. Drunken woman. Probably went off the deep end when she heard about Susan. Talking nonsense. He went back to sleep …

  Rose Carney stood in her stocking feet on the sand and looked up at the beach house. She held the bottle of wine by the neck. She could hear distant fragments of music. The night was cold, but she didn’t feel cold.

  It was like waiting for something exciting to happen. She lifted the bottle and drank deeply. She threw it from her, heard it shatter on the rocks.

  At last the little glow touched the windows. Breathless, she watched as it grew brighter.

  All my nice clothes, she thought. All the records. They’ll melt and burn. All the wine bottles will break. Present for Roy. Li’l present for my boy Roy.

  At last she could hear the crackle of the flames above the noise of the sea. The flames flickered up from the flat roof into the night air. The huge front window went and she felt the heat against her face.

  “Too hot out here,” she mumbled.

  She put her fingers in the neckline of the white dress, ripped it down, stepped out of it. She tore off the bra and pants and threw them aside, standing naked on the sand.

  She heard the distant wail of sirens and it was like a signal she had been waiting for. She turned and walked down the slope of beach into the water. Oddly, it felt warm. As a wave smashed against her thighs she stumbled and almost fell. When it reached her waist, she began to swim straight out with a smooth crawl.

  She was all-powerful. She could swim forever. She felt the lift and drop of the waves. Her body was warm, clean and strong.

  After many strokes she paused and looked back at the beach house. It was a pillar of flame. Dark figures passed between her and the flame.

  She floated for a long time. Then, rolling over onto her stomach, she resumed her long, strong stroke, swimming straight out into the night.

  Patience met Matt at the door. She was looking lovely in a dark green dress.

  “Just a minute while I get my coat,” she said.

  She came back and he asked, “Do you know who’s going to be there?”

  “Just you and I and Evan and the bride and groom, as far as I know,” she said. She handed him the keys. “Will you drive?”

  Drive to Roy’s party at the Ocean Club. Drive on the mountain road. Oh, fine. Better let Patience drive. Better tell her that she might end up staring up at the dark sky.

  He found himself reaching for the keys. He said, “I’m a little rusty.”

  He got behind the wheel, took a moment to find the starter. It was a dark green coupe, fairly new.

  “I never thought he’d marry her,” Patience said softly.

  “Maybe it was my fault, Pat.”

  “Nonsense! If he was going to marry her anyway, it’s a blessing that he doesn’t get his filthy paws on the company at the same time.”

  He backed out of the garage, turned down the drive.

  “Did Sue ask you or did he?” Matt asked.

  “He did. I thought that a little strange. He said it was just a small intimate dinner for friends of the bride and groom. He said that Susan has particularly asked that you and I come. And Evan, of course.”

  “Evan is in love with you, Pat.”

  She looked at him quickly. “Don’t be absurd!”

  “I think he always has been. What a tangle of emotions this little dinner party will be! And I suppose the guest of honor will be Rose Carney, who burned the house down and skipped out.”

  “She got a raw deal, Matt.”

  “Who doesn’t get a raw deal from the great Bedford?”

  As they drove through town and turned left on the road to the Ocean Club, a fine rain started. Patience turned on the windshield wipers.

  The wheel felt strange under his hands. Time had been turned back. He was going to the Ocean Club on a night like that night nine years before—

  Patience reached over to the dashboard and turned on the car radio.

  “… the body was identified as being a Miss Rose Carney. There is no evidence of foul play. The nude body was washed ashore early this evening near Toll Point six miles south of town. Police state that Miss Carney’s garments were found near the scene of the fire that destroyed her home last night. It is believed that Miss Carney set fire to her home and committed suicide by swimming directly out from shore.”

  Patience clicked off the dial and shuddered. Her voice trembled as she said, “Another mark on Roy Bedford’s sterling record.”

  Matt stared ahead and frowned. “I must have been the last living soul she talked to. If I’d known—”

  “What!”

  “She called me up at four this morning. I couldn’t make out what
she was driving at. She was drunk.”

  “Poor Rose.”

  “Poor Susan,” he said.

  The road climbed higher and higher. Twice he had to shift into second to ease the laboring motor. At the very top was a wide parking place, a favorite spot for sightseers and the high school group. Far ahead, down on the flats, he could see the lights of the Ocean Club. The road dipped down. It turned into the long straight stretch where, nine years before, a blond girl had lain, her sightless face turned up toward the misted sky.

  His jaw ached with tension. The dark night sped by. Ahead were the sharp turns.

  “It happened right along here, didn’t it?” Patience said softly.

  “That’s right,” he said, amazed at the calmness of his own voice. “On a night just like this one—nine years ago.”

  He pressed down on the brakes, slowed for the sharp curves and, minutes later, turned into the parking lot of the Ocean Club.

  As it was an off night, there were few cars in the lot. Also, the Ocean Club trade usually arrived later than eight-thirty.

  The man at the door said, “Mr. Otis? Follow me, sir.”

  He led them to a stairway at the far end of the dance floor, and said, with a smile, “The room at the head of the stairs, sir.”

  Matt followed Patience up the stairs. Roy, affable and urbane, met them at the door, took Patience’s coat, told Matt where to put his, then led them over to the table where Evan stood talking to Susan.

  Patience kissed Susan and said, “How are you, dear?”

  “Very well, thank you,” Susan said.

  Matt was shocked at the change in the girl. She seemed to have lost that quality of exuberance. Her eyes were large and there were dark shadows under them. Her lips curved in a careful smile and she stood very straight.

  As Evan shook hands with Matt, Roy put his arm around Susan and pulled her against him as he said, “Now isn’t she a beautiful bride?”

  Matt noticed the sudden twist of Susan’s lips, the haunted eyes.

  “She certainly is, Roy,” he said, with forced joviality.

  “That’s right,” Evan said, matching Matt’s tone.

  There was a tall shaker of martinis. Roy poured two for Patience and Matt. Evan was obviously drinking too much. Roy did not appear to be drinking. Susan sipped her drink with downcast eyes.

  “A toast to the bride,” Evan said, lifting his glass.

  “To the bride,” they echoed. Susan smiled her careful smile and her eyes were dead.

  Roy laughed loudly. “Say, you folks thought you were pulling a fast one on me, didn’t you? Getting Susan to sell that stock of hers! What kind of a guy do you think I am? I’m going to take over that company anyway, you know. I married Sue for her sweet self.”

  “You make it sound so easy, Roy,” Patience murmured. “I mean, the way you’re going to take over the company.”

  His eyes showed no expression, but his smile revealed his white, even teeth. “It is easy, Pat. When you know how. How about dinner, folks? The house recommends steak or lobster.”

  The round table was on for five. A fire was lit in the fireplace.

  Roy sat with Susan on his right and Patience on his left. Evan sat between Patience and Matt. Susan was on Matt’s left.

  The food was excellent, and Roy skillfully kept the table talk away from any personal topic. Matt was almost enjoying himself. Susan said little. Patience kept glancing across at Susan, her eyes puzzled. Evan talked loudly and expansively and, between topics, glared at Roy Bedford.

  After a time Roy switched the conversation to China and Matt found himself talking about some of his experiences. Patience seemed to be the only one who gave her undivided attention.

  At last there was a pause in the conversation. Patience said firmly, “It was too bad about Rose Carney, Roy.”

  He frowned. “Too bad? The house was insured. She’ll get the insurance money when she shows up.”

  Matt tried to warn Patience with his eyes, but she kept on. “Oh, I thought you’d heard.” Matt saw Susan’s hand tighten on her coffee spoon. “They found her body early this evening. She drowned herself.”

  Susan slumped against Matt. Roy merely said, “Now that was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  Matt carried Susan over to the leather couch by the fireplace. She was unconscious. Evan rubbed her wrists while Patience swabbed her forehead with a wet napkin.

  Roy said in a low tone to Matt, “She seems a bit upset. I think I’ll run her home. I was going to get her back early anyway. Excitement, you know.”

  He bent over Susan as her eyes opened. She looked up at him without recognition, and then her eyes narrowed.

  “Get away from me!” she said in a low tone. Low and deadly.

  It made no dent on Roy Bedford. He said, “You’re a little upset, darling. Come on. I’ll take you home.” The calm assumption of authority overcame Susan’s momentary revolt.

  Roy got her coat and helped her into it. “There’s no reason to break up this little party,” he said. “All Susan needs is rest. I’ve ordered some decent brandy for after dinner. You folks stay around and we’ll be with you in spirit.”

  He and Susan went down the stairs together. Evan sat down heavily, suddenly quite drunk, and said, “Come on, folks. Cheer up! This is a party. Remember? A big celebration.”

  “That’s right, Evan,” Patience said.

  They finished the coffee and the waiter came in with the brandy.

  Patience pounded lightly on the table with her fist and said, “What has he done to her? What on earth has he done to her?”

  “Acts dead,” Evan said.

  “Exactly,” Matt added. “Just as though he had cut the heart right out of her. Did you see how meekly she went along?”

  “She’s frightened of him,” Pat said, as though discovering a great truth.

  After that they sat and talked of Roy Bedford, of Susan’s future, until the fire burned low and Evan put his head down on the table and began to snore softly.

  Matt moved over beside Patience, put gentle fingers under her chin, tilted her face up and kissed her. It worked the same magic as before.

  “You look different,” he said softly.

  “I’ve felt different. All day. I’ve felt as though all the problems I’ve had have belonged to someone else.”

  “In my own way,” Matt said, “I’m being as unfair to you as Roy is to Susan.”

  “How do you mean that?”

  “I came back here to get rid of a ghost with golden hair. Alicia. She’s been in my dreams for nine years. She won’t stay dead. She tries to tell me something. At last she drove me back here. I’ve got to be honest with you, Patience. You’re something very rare and very sweet. Maybe I’m in love with you. I don’t know. But Alicia has been very close to me for nine years. The only time she is really away from me is when I kiss you.”

  She looked at Matt for long moments, her eyes brimming. “That’s good enough for me, Matt,” she whispered.

  “Has it happened to you this quickly, too?” he asked.

  “Stupid! It happened to me back in those days when I wore the filthy white shoes and the ankle socks and my legs were too thin. It happened when I took your picture away from Susan a million years ago. I knew you’d come back. I knew it!”

  Suddenly they both looked at Evan and began to smile. He looked so peaceful, the lines of strain ironed out.

  Matt said, “I hate to wake him up.”

  “Why do it, then? They don’t close until four. It’s just a little after midnight now. We can get him over to the couch and he can get some rest. He’s got his car and after some sleep he’ll be in shape to drive. We can tell the manager.”

  Evan, half awake, blundered across the room and fell on the leather couch with a sigh of relief. Matt clicked the lights out and, holding Pat’s hand tightly, walked down the stairs with her.

  The manager nodded with quick understanding and said, “Certainly, sir. We’ll wake him up
when we’re ready to close. He’ll be all right then, I’m sure.”

  They walked out into the parking lot and he saw the mist form in shining droplets on her dark hair. The sound of the sea was a whisper in their ears. He reached for her as they stood by the small green car. She came into his arms with a small purring sound.

  After a moment she said, “Don’t we know enough to get in out of the rain?”

  “You drive,” he said.

  She looked up into his face, her head tilted on one side. “Scared?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then you drive.”

  “But, Pat, it was a night just like this. The same place, the same road. Now that I’ve found you, I can’t take a chance on it happening again. Ever.”

  “You drive,” she said.

  “But I can’t remember what happened that night. I can’t remember what I did! For all I know, I’ve got some compulsion neurosis that made me drive it right off the road.”

  “You drive,” she said.

  At last he got in under the wheel. On the way down the hill it had been bad enough. This was immeasurably worse. This was nightmare. Already he had gone beyond the bounds of memory. On that night nine years before he must have walked out of the Ocean Club and driven out of the parking lot onto the wet highway that reached, dark and shining, toward the hills.

  Patience sat with her hands folded in her lap. He glanced at her quickly and saw that her face was calm. Her calmness lent him strength.

  A dream, he thought. I am living a dream. I sit here, tense in the midst of nightmare. Nothing will happen. I will drive up the hill and down into the city and it will all be over.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind a thin silver voice was calling him: “Matthew Otis! Matthew, darling!” The thin voice echoed as in a vast, empty room where she stood frightened in darkness.

  The road began to lift toward the sharp turns. His hands were tight on the wheel and his mouth was a thin, hard line. His shoulders ached from the tightness of his grasp.

  “Matthew, darling,” the voice called. Thin and far away. A voice that reached over nine years.

  He hit the first turn a shade too fast, braking as the car rocked. Patience said nothing. The night was dark. The mist was thick in the blue-white headlight beams. The muted lights of the dashboard were an orange glow.

 

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