Where Love Has Gone (1962)

by Robbins, Harold

  “No. It seems the only practical solution to me. Mrs. Hayden is an extremely responsible person. She’ll make certain that Dani has everything she needs.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Miss Spicer said dryly. “But, then, if what you tell me is true, so did her mother.”

  I knew what she meant. Nora had given Dani everything she seemed to need and still it hadn’t prevented anything. “Mrs. Hayden will be able to devote much more time to Dani. She doesn’t have the outside interests that Nora has.”

  “You know, of course, Colonel, that your daughter is not a virgin. In all probability she was having an affair with the man she killed.”

  “I’ve guessed as much,” I said frankly.

  “Miss Hayden said she hadn’t been aware of it.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  “It seems to us that Dani has little conception of sexual morality. And from what we’ve been able to find out, her mother hasn’t set a particularly good example.”

  “I think we all realize that,” I said. “That’s one of the reasons why I feel Dani would be better off living with her grandmother.”

  She looked at me. “That might be true. But we’re a little concerned about it. If the grandmother wasn’t successful in curbing the impulses of her own daughter, how successful could she be with the grandchild?” She finished her cup of coffee. “Perhaps the best thing for the child would be to remove her from that environment completely.”

  She got to her feet. “Thank you very much for talking with me, Colonel.”

  In the lobby she stopped for a moment. “There are two things that still puzzle me.”

  “What are they?”

  “Why did Dani kill him if she loved him?”

  “And the other?”

  “If she did kill him, why is it that no matter where we turn we can find no evidence that Dani possessed a violent enough temper to explode into murder?” She hesitated a moment. “If we only had more time.”

  “How would that help?”

  “We have to find the cause before we can recommend the cure,” she said. “We’re working against time. We recommend a course of action and hope that we’re right. But if we can’t turn up the reason, we have to recommend that the child be sent to Perkins for a study in depth. We have to be sure.”

  “What’s your batting average?” I asked.

  She looked up at me and smiled suddenly. “Surprisingly good. It’s always a source of wonder to me.”

  “Maybe you people are better than you think.”

  “I hope so,” she said seriously. “More for the children’s sake than our own.”

  I watched her walk out of the lobby, then went back to my room. I called Elizabeth again, but again the telephone just rang and rang. Finally, I gave up and went across the street to Tommy’s Joynt and had some big German knockwurst and beans and a stein of beer for dinner.

  On Sunday I drove out to Juvenile Hall. Dani seemed to be in a good mood.

  “Mother came out to see me twice this week. You just missed her. She said they were fixing it so I can live at Grandmother’s when I get out. Both times she came with Dr. Weidman. You know him, Daddy?”

  “I met him.”

  “He’s a head-shrinker. I think Mother likes him.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She gave me a sly grin. “He’s Mother’s type. You know, talks a lot and says nothing. Art and all that jazz.”

  I laughed. “How about a Coke?”

  “It’s a deal.”

  I gave her two dimes and watched her walk over to the vending machine. Quite a few of the tables were occupied. It looked more like Parents’ Day at a school than a detention home. Only the matrons at the doors and the bars on the high windows told me it wasn’t. Dani came back and put the Cokes down on the table.

  “Do you want a straw, Daddy?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll take mine straight.” I raised the bottle to my lips and took a swallow.

  She looked at me over her straw. “When I do that, Mother says it’s vulgar.”

  “Your mother’s an expert on vulgarity,” I said quickly, the regretted it. We were silent for a minute.

  “Do you still drink the way you used to, Daddy?” Dani asked suddenly.

  I stared at her in surprise. “What made you ask that all of a sudden?”

  “I just remembered something,” she said. “How you used to smell when you’d come to pick me up. It’s nothing. I just thought of it, that’s all.”

  “No, I don’t drink like that anymore.”

  “Was it because of Mother?”

  I thought for a moment. It would be easy enough to say it was. But it wouldn’t be altogether true. “No,” I said. “That wasn’t the reason.”

  “Then why did you, Daddy?”

  “For a lot of reasons. But mostly because I was trying to hide from myself. I didn’t want to face the fact that I was a failure.”

  Dani was silent while she thought about that. Then she had her answer. “But you weren’t a failure, Daddy,” she said. “You had your boat.”

  I smiled, thinking how simple her logic made it. But in a way she was right. She probably didn’t know that I’d ever tried anything else. “I was an architect. I wanted to be a builder but it didn’t work out.”

  “But you’re a builder now. One of the papers said so.”

  “I’m not really. I just work for a builder. I’m really a construction foreman.”

  “I’d like to be a builder,” she said suddenly. “I’d build happy houses.”

  “How would you go about doing that?”

  “I wouldn’t build a house for any family unless they were happy together and wanted to stay together.”

  I smiled at her. Right was right. She had the only foundation you could build on. But who gave the guarantees? God?

  “Since we’re playing truth or consequences,” I said as lightly as I could, “would you mind telling me a few things?”

  A look of caution came into her eyes. “Like what, Daddy?”

  “Exactly whose boyfriend was Riccio? Yours or your mother’s?”

  She hesitated. “Mother’s.”

  “But you—” It was my turn to hesitate.

  She met my gaze candidly. “Did they tell you we were making out?”

  I nodded.

  She looked down at her Coke. “That’s right, Daddy. We were.”

  “Why, Dani?” I asked. “Why him in particular? Why not anyone else?’

  “You know Mother. She likes to be the wheel in everything. Just this once I wanted to show her she wasn’t.”

  “Did you?” I asked. “Is that why you killed him?”

  Her eyes fell away from mine. “I didn’t mean to,” she said in a low voice. “It was an accident.”

  “Were you jealous of your mother, Dani? Is that why?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said stubbornly. “I told them everything at the police station before they brought me here.”

  “Unless you tell them the truth, Dani,” I said, “they may not let you live at Grandmother’s.”

  She still didn’t look at me. “They can’t keep me forever. When I’m eighteen they’ll have to let me out. I know that much.”

  “Three-and-a-half years is a long time out of anyone’s life to stay locked up.”

  “What do you care?” She looked at me defiantly. “Next Tuesday when this is over, you’ll go home and you’ll probably never come to see me again. Just like before.”

  “But I do care, Dani. That’s why I’m here now. I told you why I couldn’t come before.”

  Her voice was sullen. “That’s a lot of crap! You’d have come if you had cared enough!” She looked down at the Coke bottle again. I wondered what she saw in the brown liquid through the green glass that was so absorbing.

  “It’s easy for you to come back and say things like that,” she said in a low voice. “It’s always easy to say the right things. But it’s not s
o easy to do them.”

  “I know that, Dani. I’m the first one to admit that I’ve made mistakes.”

  “All right, Daddy.” She looked up and suddenly she wasn’t a little girl any longer. She was a young woman. “So we’ve all made mistakes. Let’s drop it. I said I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s my life and there’s nothing you can say that will change anything for me. It’s too late now. You’ve been away too long.”

  She was wrong and she was right. Like there’s nothing ever completely black or white.

  “Was there ever anyone else? Other boys, I mean?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re not lying to me, are you, Dani?”

  Her eyes looked right into mine. “No, Daddy. I’m not lying. I couldn’t do it with anyone else. I might have started because I wanted to show Mother, but it wound up something else.”

  “How did it wind up?”

  Her eyes were clear and soft and there was a sadness in them. “I loved him, Daddy,” she said quietly. “And he loved me. We were going to run away and get married. Just as soon as I was old enough.”

  The sun was finally beginning to break up the fog. I walked away from the window restlessly. I picked up the paper and turned to the amusement page. I thought of going to a movie but I’d seen almost every picture in town. I turned on the television. Ten minutes later I switched it off. I was the in-between generation for the daytime offerings. One generation too old, one generation too young.

  Then the telephone rang and I jumped to answer it. Maybe Elizabeth had got over her mad.

  “Colonel Carey?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Lorenzo Stradella. Remember those two letters we sent Anna to get?”

  “What about them?”

  “Well, I still have them,” he said.

  “What are you calling me for? You know who bought them.”

  “That’s right. But she’s already paid. I figure you ought to be good for these two.”

  “Not interested,” I said. “Take them to Miss Hayden.”

  “Wait a minute! Don’t hang up.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I can’t take them to her. I’ll give you a good deal.”

  Suddenly I understood. Of course he couldn’t take them to Nora. Nora would tell Coriano. And Coriano didn’t like his boys holding out on him. I tried it out.

  “Okay, but I’m not dealing with any small fry. Tell Coriano to get in touch with me. That way maybe I’ll be sure no more of them turn up later.”

  I had guessed right.

  “No Coriano. This deal is between you and me.”

  “Coriano won’t like that.”

  “I’ll make it so cheap he won’t have to know.”

  “How cheap is that?” I asked.

  “Five Cs.”

  “Goodbye, Charley,” I said and hung up. I had just time to light a cigarette before he called back.

  This time his voice was a little softer. “What do you call cheap?”

  “Fifty bucks.”

  “That is cheap.”

  “You’re talking to a real cheap guy. I’m from the poor side of the family.”

  “I’ll make it easy on you. Two-fifty.”

  “One hundred is as high as I’ll go.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and I figured he was thinking.

  “It’s found money,” I said.

  “You’re on.”

  “Bring them on over.”

  “Not so fast. You’re the square type. You might have the cops there.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.”

  “You be in your room eleven o’clock tonight. I’ll send someone over with them.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Remember. No tricks. Hand over the dough, you’ll get the letters.”

  The telephone went dead and I put it down. I went over to the table and wrote a check for a hundred dollars. Then I went downstairs and cashed it. I kept my fingers crossed all during the time the cashier was counting out the money. I only hoped there was enough dough in the bank to cover it.

  16

  __________________________________________

  When I got back to my room the message light was blinking on and off. Nora had phoned and wanted me to call her back. I dialed the number.

  “This is Mr. Carey, Charles,” I said. “Is Miss Hayden there?”

  “Just a moment, sir. I’ll put her on.”

  I heard a click and then her voice. “Luke?”

  “Yes,” I said. “What did you want?”

  “I want to talk to you. Can you come for dinner?”

  “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t feel right.”

  “Don’t be old-fashioned. I won’t eat you. I want to talk to you about Dani.”

  “What about her?”

  “We’ll talk at dinner.”

  I hesitated a moment. A good meal wouldn’t do me any harm. I’d about had it with the knockwurst and beans. “What time?”

  “Come early enough for a drink. About seven o’clock?”

  “See you then,” I said and put down the telephone wondering what in hell brought that on all of a sudden.

  When I rang the bell at seven Charles opened the door almost immediately. “Good evening, Colonel.”

  “Good evening, Charles.”

  It was almost as if I’d never been away. “Madam is in the library. You know the way,” he said with a faint smile.

  “I know the way,” I answered wryly.

  I knocked at the library door and went in. Nora rose from the big couch facing the desk. Dr. Weidman was a fraction of a second behind her. She came toward me, her hand outstretched. “Luke. I’m so glad you could come.”

  I knew that tone of voice. It was warm and friendly as if there’d never been any real difference between us. The company voice she had always used whenever she had an audience.

  Still holding my hand she turned toward the doctor. “You remember Dr. Weidman? He was at Mother’s.”

  How could I forget? Especially after what Dani had said. What was I supposed to do, give the bride away?

  “How are you, Doctor?” I would have held out my hand only for some reason or other Nora still held on to it.

  He bowed slightly. “Good to see you again, Colonel.”

  Then Nora let go of my hand. “There’s a fresh bottle of bourbon on the bar. Bourbon is still your drink, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. She’d made her point. I walked over to the bar. “Can I fix something for you?” I asked automatically. It was as if I still lived there. I used to ask that whenever we had drinks in the library.

  “No, thanks. The doctor and I are having martinis.”

  I turned to look at them. That was one of the tipoffs that Nora was interested in the doctor. She was a Scotch drinker basically, but there were two things she picked up the moment she found a new man—his brand of cigarettes and his drink.

  We all sipped. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized I’d gone behind the desk to my old chair. I took another sip of my drink and put it down on the desk. “Nothing’s been changed,” I said, looking around the room.

  “There was no reason to change it, Luke,” Nora said quickly. “This was always our room.”

  I wondered why she’d said that. Nora had no sentimentality about things like that. “It seems to me I’d have changed it around,” I said. “If only to avoid annoying memories.”

  She smiled. “I had nothing to avoid.”

  Dr. Weidman finished his drink and got to his feet. “Well, I really must be going, Nora.”

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner, Doctor?”

  He shook his head regretfully. “I’m due back in my office,” he said. “I have an eight-o’clock appointment.”

  Nora put down her drink and got up. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  Weidman turned to me. This time we shook hands. “Nice seeing you again, Colonel.”

  “Goodbye, Doc
tor.”

  I watched them walk out of the room and then I sat down behind the desk again. Idly I opened one of the drawers. There was an old blueprint there. I took it out and looked at it. It was for the pilot house of my first project.

  So many years ago and yet like yesterday. I studied the plans. It was still a good house. There were only a few things I’d change if I were building it today.

  Nora stood in the doorway watching me. “You see, nothing has been changed, Luke. I didn’t even empty the desk.”

  “So I see.” I put the plans back and closed the drawer. “Exactly why did you ask me to dinner?”

  She smiled and closed the door behind her. “That can wait until after dinner. You’re always much more reasonable on a full stomach.”

  She came over and stood in front of the desk, looking down at me. “I always said that rooms are for people. Somehow this one always seemed empty to me without you in it.”

  “Come off it, Nora.” I smiled to take the sting out of my words. “The audience is gone. You’re not sentimental about silly things like that.”

  She laughed suddenly. “We have no illusions left, have we, Luke?”

  I shook my head. “I guess not.”

  She walked over to her drink and picked it up. She looked at it for a few moments, then suddenly set it down with a thud. “Be a good sport, Luke. Fix me a Scotch and soda. I don’t see how anyone can drink these damn martinis. They smell like cheap perfume.”

  I got up and fixed her a drink, then walked it to the couch. She took a sip from it and nodded. “That’s much better.”

  I walked back and picked up my drink. I leaned back against the desk and raised my glass to her. She raised hers. We both drank.

  “Dr. Weidman has such an interesting face. Don’t you think so, Luke?”

  I gestured with my hands.

  “Do you know what his first name is?”

  “No.”

  “Isidore. Can you imagine that? Isidore. In this day and age. You’d think he’d change a name like that.”

  “Maybe he likes it.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully. “But he’s too proud to admit it. That’s one thing I’ve noticed about these Jewish doctors. They’re very proud.”

  “They’ve got every reason to be.”