Chocolate Cobweb

by Charlotte Armstrong

  He let her go.

  She staggered back, rubbing her shoulder, and the tears kept flowing. “I wouldn’t hurt your father.”

  “All right,” said Thone.

  There was a long minute of silence under the tree. Sun and shade played nervously on their faces. She said in a low voice, “Will you leave there? Will you go away?”

  “No.”

  She crossed her arms, still feeling the bruises. “Then I can’t help it. I’ll have to do it. Have to. Because I’m the only one in the world who can.”

  He moistened his lips. “Do what?”

  “Come up there,” said Mandy, flaming at him, “and walk into your place. All right! Since you won’t believe it, suppose you pull up a chair and watch her try to murder me!”

  CHAPTER 10.

  HE SANK, AFTER A SHOCKED MOMENT, down on the grass again. Mandy crouched, peering at his face. “Have I convinced you?” she dared at last.

  He passed a hand over his eyes and looked at her wearily. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “for coming so near to beating you, after all.” She brushed this off with a little movement of her head. “You’ve convinced me of one thing,” he said wryly. “You are convinced about it.”

  She said, “And I do—love your father.”

  “Yes, I—” His eyes fled from hers. “What am I going to do with you?” he murmured.

  Mandy wiped her face on her sleeve and sniffled. “Let it go the way it is. Look,” she said with an air of great reasonablenessr “what can the harm be in letting her think we were mixed up? When we were born? And just see. If I’m right there’ll have to be something.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “He’ll never believe you’re not his son,” said Mandy promptly. “Will it hurt him to claim us both for a little while?”

  “It’ll hurt your mother,” he surprised her by saying.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you explain to her?”

  “To Mother? Can’t.”

  “I don’t agree with you.”

  “She wouldn’t let me near that house. Ever again. Can’t tell her.”

  “She’d understand,” said Thone stubbornly.

  “Of course she would,” flared Mandy. “But my mother loves me. She’d want me safe. Don’t you see?”

  He was silent a long moment. “Why, yes,” he said at last, not looking up. “I guess I see.” He put his palm flat on the grass. “Suppose I say no?”

  “Then,” said Mandy, “I’ll maybe have to go to the police.”

  He caught his breath but he didn’t say anything. “You don’t take it seriously enough to be careful,” she wailed. “I couldn’t trust you to be careful. And I have to sleep nights. Samaritan type,” she added flippantly.

  “All right,” he said suddenly, meeting her gaze with grave eyes. “As long as you don’t upset my father.”

  “It would upset him quite a lot, I think,” said Mandy quietly, “if you should die.”

  He gave in, let something go. “Obviously, you’ll have to be up there.” She nodded.

  “I think she wants to watch me. I think she’s puzzled. I—really think so.”

  “I know you think so,” he said.

  They sat in silence a moment, a strangely peaceful silence. She didn’t know, couldn’t guess what he was thinking. She stirred. “Maybe you could help push it along. Let her suppose you think I’m the real child.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” he said lightly, “but have it your way, on my conditions.” There was something faintly suggesting mischief in his eye, something a trifle warmer, a mere hint that he, too, might like to watch her. “I hope you realize we are almost certainly going to prove you’ve been having nightmares.”

  “Just so they stop,” she said, lightly, too. “What about Fanny Austin? She mustn’t tell Ione how I was faking.”

  “I’ll see she doesn’t,” he said, rather absently. In a moment he got to his feet. And she rose also. “Shall we tell your mother? What shall we tell her?”

  “You just say good-by,” said Mandy with a funny little twinge of jealousy. “I’ll tell her something or other.”

  They went in, and Kate, searching their faces, saw that the storm had passed, having, apparently, done no damage. Thone took Kate’s hand to say good-by. That was all he said. “Good-by, Mrs. Garth.” But it wasn’t all that passed between them. Mandy chewed on her lip. Her Kate! She felt outraged and at the same time enlightened. How it must feel, for Thone, when Tobias so plainly liked her! She said good-by to him rather humbly.

  Then, when the house was empty of his presence, when it seemed to sigh and let go at its seams, Mandy turned. “You liked him, Mother.” It was more accusation than question.

  “Yes, I did,” said Kate calmly.

  “I am going up there. I’m going to accept. I’m going Friday.”

  Kate’s eyes came up, waiting to be hurt. Mandy plunked herself on the floor at her feet, “Mamma,” she said, leaning her head childishly on Kate’s knee, “now you’ve seen him, I would like to state that I’m in love with that guy I don’t think he’s interested. But—a Garth doesn’t give up—so soon, hm?”

  She heard her mother’s breath stop, catch, and go on. Kate’s hand pushed down through her hair, rough with her quick response. “Sic ’em, babe,” said Kate shakily. And Mandy turned her face and howled into her mother’s skirt.

  Gene said, “You’re going up there Friday, for a week, huh? And I can’t have any dates! Fine thing!”

  “Well, but Gene, I’ll be their house guest.”

  “Who’s they? This Garrison’s the artist, the one who’s going to learn you art. And—?”

  “His wife and his son.”

  “Son,” said Gene. “About how old?”

  “Oh, Gene …”

  “Mandy, don’t kid me.”

  “O.K. He’s twenty-three and very attractive.”

  “Yeah,” said Gene. “Art.” He lit a cigarette. “Listen, remember that handkerchief? Did that have anything to do with this Garrison bunch?”

  “Well, yes, it did.”

  “Don’t you go, Mandy.”

  “But it’s all right!”

  “How do you know?”

  “Gene,” she said earnestly, “you’ll have to let me go the way I’m going.”

  His red-brown eyes were hurt for just a moment. Then he answered, “Sure, Mandy, if you say so,” stoically. “But any time, say for instance you’d need a bodyguard …” He drew his forefinger along the back of her hand.

  “I’ll remember,” said Mandy thoughtfully.

  He squirmed. “You better,” he said darkly.

  Thone came for her on Friday afternoon, in the convertible. Mandy wore the cream-yellow suit, with her black shoes and bag, and a navy-blue blouse. When she saw that the top was down she tied a yellow scarf around her hair. Kate was at the office, so there was no one to whom she must say good-by. He took her suitcase and her paints. She locked the cottage door.

  It was a bright afternoon, windy and clear. On all sides the hills were visible and sharp, cutting the flat land into valleys. The brilliant light picked out the brightest colors, greens in the landscape, red, orange, magenta flowers, and beat them to a sparkling blend. No color could be garish in this sun. Nor could there be too much color. The bright air consumed it all.

  “What a day!” Mandy sparkled.

  “Pretty windy,” said Thone. “Will you be warm enough?”

  “In this? Oh, yes.”

  “Same outfit you wore at the galleries,” he said, astonishing her. “Did you bring those trousers?”

  “N-no.”

  “Too bad.” He put her things in the back. “Like to drive?” he said.

  She gasped. “Oh, I’d love to! Do you mean you’ll let me?”

  “Hop in.”

  As he got in beside her, he passed a hand over his eyes. “Headache?” she said.

  “No.”

  She found what to push and started the car and was charmed wi
th the sensation of handling it. “It’s Ione’s car,” he told her. “Too windy for Dad today. So they’re off in his sedan.”

  “They’re off?”

  “They’ll be home by the time we get there.”

  If this was an adventure, it felt, for now, like a gay one The day, the car, the man who was here, no matter if his mood was remote, whose profile in the corner of her eye was so unaccountably satisfying … Mandy acquired confidence and drove with ease. In the breeze, a corner of the scarf whipped and vibrated back of her ear. They slid smoothly through Glendale. They topped a rise. And there the far mountains cut the sky, huge, silent, and clear.

  “How beautiful they are today!”

  “Chinese,” said Thone.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. These views strike me …”

  “Have you been in China much?”

  “Some, during the war.”

  “Oh, but you did live out there, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, a long time. But a good ways from China. Hawaii for a while. Tahiti …”

  “It must be … ummmm,” she sighed. She thought of Belle, whose memory must be entwined with all those years. “Were you in the Army?” she asked, changing time.

  “In a way,” he said. “I had an awful time getting them to use me at all. Turned out I knew a few languages that were handy in the East. Lucky for me.”

  She said, “Oh, so you talked yourself into it?”

  “Uh-huh,” he smiled. “Talked me a good war. Jabbered myself right through it.”

  “Action?”

  “No battles,” he said shortly.

  “Now you want to be an architect. Fanny told me.”

  “Fanny must have done a good bit of talking.”

  “I like her.”

  “Who could not?” he said briefly. “Yes, I’m trying to learn. Did Fanny tell you I can afford it?”

  Mandy frowned. She didn’t answer. A shadow crossed, not the bright scene, but her sense of it.

  He said, “I beg your pardon.”

  She said lightly, “Yes, I think you might. However, she told me. You’re lucky, aren’t you? So am I.”

  “In what? How do you mean?” He turned to look at her.

  Mandy’s mouth had a sweet curve to it. “I’m studying, too. I have my chance. I think that’s lucky.”

  “So it is,” said Thone mildly, and they rode on. Later he said, “Don’t turn yet. We’ll have to take the lower road. You won’t mind a little climb, will you? Up the garden? Ione keeps this thing in the lower garage.”

  Mandy’s knuckles whitened where she gripped the wheel. “Just tell me where,” she said, not quite controlling her voice.

  He told her where to turn. They began to enter a fold of the mountain. The road was flat. The ground rose on either side, higher and steeper.

  “I see,” said Thone pleasantly, “that Fanny also told you how Belle died.”

  They had passed out of light into shadow as if the canyon swallowed them. The shade, to sun-dazed eyes, was somber and shocking. Amanda shivered. Two or three houses, huddled at the roadside, backed against the slopes, odd in shape as if the terrain had forced them to eccentricity, as, indeed, it had. “I wouldn’t care to live in these,” she said, to cover the shuddering.

  “There were no houses down here at all six years ago,” said Thone. “No, I agree with you. I’d rather be up, and look over.”

  They came to a set of doors and a concrete apron. The flat-topped building was tucked into the steep side of the hill, almost, although not quite, like a cave. Thone said, “Here we are.” She stopped the car, hesitantly. The doors were open, swung back and caught in a form of hook on either side.

  The inner space looked very tiny. Bare, just a box, with a few steps at the back to a small door halfway up the wall. Thone said, “Run her in.” She eased the long car in. “Good,” he said. She set the brake and turned the key in sudden panic. The motor died.

  He made no move to get out. “You’re afraid of what I may be feeling, aren’t you? Don’t be.”

  “N-no, I—”

  “This is where she died. Dad won’t face it. They built another garage, squeezed it in up above. He can’t come here. But I can.”

  “He must have adored her,” said Mandy tremulously.

  “And so did I.” He was silent a moment and Mandy quivered with the wish that he’d go on, that he’d let himself tell her, and with the fear that she’d spoil it, with the sudden thrill of being so near to being near him.

  “I figure,” said Thone quietly, “that you needn’t worry where you die. Death sanctifies. It’s solemn enough to make its own shrine, wherever it happens. I thought that many times, during the war.” He shifted his shoulders. “God knows it hurt me when Belle died, but I try to remember that it didn’t hurt her. She fell asleep. If she slept all the way out, here, on this not very clean floor, why, something here is holy now. So I feel—just that. Do you see?”

  “I’m pretty ignorant,” said Mandy softly. “Please forgive me.” She lay back and closed her eyes to catch the tears.

  “But I’ve been thinking over what you suggested.”

  “Oh!”

  “I couldn’t help it. Well, you see, she’d had some chloral. It knocked her out. There was chloral around the house. She used to fix it for Dad. No one else touched it. That’s why we think she got it by mistake.”

  Mandy opened her eyes. “But how could she? Doesn’t it taste?”

  “Sure does. But Belle liked a liqueur. Herbsaint. Ever have any? It’s terrific. It’s as strong a drink as you’d ever want to taste. She called it her firewater. She liked to roll it around on her—” He stopped and changed sentences quickly. “Well, she had some that night. She almost always did have a little after dinner in the evening. The only thing we could imagine was—somehow in the liqueur, she didn’t notice, or …” He hesitated. “There wasn’t a thing to help us, you know. The glasses we’d used—hers, Dad’s, mine—I had a Coke—were washed and put away by the time we knew what had happened. Elsie and Burt came in about midnight. Dad never got out of his chair after dinner except once, to answer the phone. Nor did I. There wasn’t another soul in the house.”

  Mandy shook her head.

  “He fell asleep.

  I was reading. We were waiting for her.” He roused himself suddenly and continued in a brisker voice. “Of course, long ago, I decided that she took it on purpose. Oh, no, not that! I mean, to get the effect that Dad gets. Dad takes his in milk. It doesn’t knock him out. It makes him drowsy. But chloral in alcohol works like lightning. It must have worked like that with her. So, I wonder if her putting the stuff with alcohol wasn’t the real accident. I don’t suppose she thought of it as dangerous. I tell myself that’s the way it was.”

  “Yes,” said Mandy. Her throat hurt.

  “One thing,” said Thone. “I’m sure she didn’t want to die.”

  “Oh, don’t—don’t. Don’t tell me all this. Don’t bring it all back. I’m sorry.”

  “Part of my treatment,” said Thone gently. “I’m curing a delusion.”

  And Mandy’s heart swooped, sank sickeningly. She said nothing. She tried to smile. But to herself, she thought, There is no delusion. There was poison in the chocolate.

  He helped her out, closed the doors, barred them. The place was very dim after he had done so. They went up the steps and he opened the door at the top and let her through it to a kind of workshop and storeroom that sat against the hillside half a story above the garage. It was crammed with stuff, the kind of thing that accumulates in a garage, and it was lit, rather eerily, by a broad band of glass brick, high on the back wall, through which they could not see. Thone crossed this place to another door and used a key from the key case to unlock it. They emerged on the first of a series of terraces.

  Here they stood above the garage, yet far below the house, which she could see now, ugly and rather terrifying from this strange angle. The hillside garden was shut in by a w
all, a wall that traveled almost vertically and had to do so in steps and angles.

  Thone said, “That wall just about kills me. Isn’t it ugly? Dad had it built last fall to protect his privacy. It’s mad, isn’t it? Somebody crept up the back way a couple of times to gawk at him. Now the only way in from below is through the garage and all those doors. Nuisance.” He threw the keys up and caught them again. “Got your breath? Come on.”

  So they rose from terrace to terrace, sometimes by a short flight of steps, sometimes by a rambling path that took hairpin curves. They wound slowly upward to come at last to a door in the bottom level of the house.

  The guest room was on this level. Thone said maybe she’d like to know that Elsie and Burt had their quarters on this level also. “It’s pretty weird, I know. Feels like the house was pressing you down. But you aren’t isolated. Must you—wash or anything?”

  “No,” said Mandy, sweeping the odd-shaped room, the door to a bath with one fierce glance. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” She thought to herself, I’ll get on with it. He isn’t with me. Nobody is. If there is any evil in this house, I’m all alone against it.

  CHAPTER 11.

  TOBIAS WAS MORE THAN CORDIAL. It wasn’t long before Mandy began to feel that the situation she had herself set up was developing with breathless speed, leaping and bounding and running away from her. For Tobias engulfed her. They talked for hours. Or, rather, he talked, spilling out thoughts and ideas, observations and theories that tumbled forth in cascades, in floods, as if they’d been damned up too long. Mandy was fascinated. Receptive, charmed, excited, she listened and learned. Thone was there, receptive also to his father’s thought, but oddly remote from Mandy. They made an unfinished triangle. Tobias at the apex. The base line between the boy and girl not drawn.

  As for Ione, she came and went. She ran the house around them. She was like the captain of a ship, who kept the vessel on its physical course while they, the passengers, rode on the winds of the mind, scarcely noticing how their bodies were carried.

  Saturday was the same. All morning, in the studio, Tobias was wound up and spun on. He was almost feverishly happy.