Unspeakable

by Graham Masterton

  "What? There's nothing that nobody can do for him in hospital."

  "So who's his doctor?"

  Mrs. Beale lifted Casper up in her arms. His wrists and his ankles were as thin as wooden spoons. "Keep your nose out, okay?I'mtaking care of him. Nobody else can take care of him the way I can."

  "Mrs. Beale, I'm going to come inside and I'm going to talk to Casper. I insist."

  "Shove off, will you?"

  "Mrs. Beale, you don't have any choice. If you try to stop me from talking to Casper, Iwillcall the police."

  Holly had to wait in the living room while Mrs. Beale changed Casper's pajamas. It was airless and stuffy and grotesquely overfurnished with Louis XIV-style armchairs and glass-topped wine tables and crushed-velour cushions. One side of the room was dominated by a forty-inch plasma-screen TV with a home movie center; the other by a glass-fronted liquor cabinet that was crowded with bottles of bourbon and brandy and amaretto. On the wall, in a lavish gilded frame, hung a blown-up color photograph of Mrs. Beale at Disneyland with Thomas and Kyra and Goofy. No sign of Casper.

  Thomas and Kyra loitered in the living-room doorway, staring at Holly with those poisonous-pudding looks on their faces. It occurred to Holly that they probably weren't allowed into the room itself. There were too many breakable statuettes and fragile knick-knacks and simulated-crystal souvenirs. On one table, on a little lace doily of its own, stood a snowstorm of Las Vegas, complete with Eiffel Tower.

  Mrs. Beale reappeared carrying Casper in her arms. She propped him in one of the armchairs and sniffed her fingers. "Nothing worse than puke," she said.

  She had knotted a red spotted scarf around Casper's head and changed him into faded red pajamas. He sat with his head resting against one of the cushions, staring at Holly unblinkingly. Holly shifted herself closer to him and took hold of one of his chilly little hands. He still smelled of vomit.

  "Casper, my name's Holly. I've come by today to say hello and to make sure that you're okay."

  "I'm okay," Casper whispered.

  "I heard that you were kicking up kind of a fuss this morning."

  "It was something and nothing," Mrs. Beale put in. "What do you expect when a kid's as sick as that? He doesn't understand that he has to get sicker to get better."

  "I'm not going to get better," Casper said, and coughed.

  "Of course you're going to get better," said Mrs. Beale. "Before you know it you'll be playing outside with Thomas and Kyra."

  "I've heard you talking on the phone," Casper insisted.

  "Casper, little boys who listen to other people's conversations will go to hell, I'm telling you that, as sure as eggs is chickens."

  Casper rolled his eyes toward Holly and feebly squeezed her hand. "I'm going to die," he assured her. He was so certain, so calm, that Holly felt a painful constriction in her throat. "I'm not scared. Sometimes I wish that I could go to sleep and never wake up."

  Afterward, out on the porch, Holly said, "Mrs. Beale, you have to give me the name of Casper's doctor."

  Mrs. Beale kept pulling at her gold chain necklaces, over and over, as if she were trying to saw her head off. "Dr. Ferdinand, that's his doctor."

  "Dr. Ferdinand? Okay, where?"

  "What do you mean,where?"

  "I mean which clinic-which hospital?"

  "East Portland Memorial, the children's cancer clinic."

  "You have a number?"

  "Go find it yourself. I have to go back to Casper."

  "Okay, thanks for your help."

  Mrs. Beale blinked at her aggressively. "What's that, 'Thanks for your help'? You trying to be smart or something?"

  "I just said 'Thanks for your help.' You don't have to read anything into it."

  Mrs. Beale started jabbing her finger again. "You listen to me: You're a deaf person. Don't you come round to my house trying to tell me how to take care of my kid. Don't you even think about it. If I hear that you've been harassing Dr. Ferdinand, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You got that?"

  Holly stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. She was trying to look as if she couldn't be intimidated, no matter what, and that she intended to do whatever it took to check up on Casper's condition. But she could see that Mrs. Beale was unimpressed. In fact, she wasn't even interested. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were thinking about something else altogether.

  "Well, there's no doubt I'll see you again," said Holly, and Mrs. Beale immediately closed the door.

  Holly was walking back to her car when a woman in ill-fitting high heels came tottering across the street toward her. She wore a yellow checkered dress and scarlet lipstick, and there was blobby mascara on her eyelashes. "How is he?" she flustered.

  "Oh, you mean Casper? Not too good, I'm afraid."

  "I feelsosorry for Hannah. What a terrible thing, to watch your child wasting away like that."

  "Yes, it's tough." Holly unlocked her car and threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat.

  "We were all hoping that we could give him one more vacation," the woman told her. "Do you think he's going to be well enough for that?"

  "I don't know," said Holly. "I'm going to be talking to his doctor; he should be able to tell me." She paused, and then she said, "Who's 'we'?"

  "The Casper Beale Cancer Fund. It's just me and six or seven neighbors, but we've managed to raise thousands. We sent him to Disneyland last October, and we've paid for all kinds of special treatments."

  Holly frowned. Now that this woman came to mention it, she vaguely remembered reading something about The Casper Beale Cancer Fund in thePortland Tribune. There might have been an item on TV too.

  "The last thing we bought was that car, so that Hannah could take him on outings and to the Tasco Clinic in Seattle. Twenty-one thousand dollars we raised for that."

  "That's wonderful. Hannah's real lucky to have neighbors like you."

  "Well, we're pretty damn proud of ourselves. That's what my husband likes to say. He was in the Navy."

  "Mickey Slim"Comes to Supper

  When she parked in the alleyway beside Torrefazione, she was surprised to see Mickey's black Aurora parked there too. She climbed the stairs, and as she put her key in the lock she heard laughter from inside her apartment-Daisy's and Mickey's laughter- and the television playing. She walked in to find Daisy and Mickey on the couch together and Marcella in the kitchen chopping onions.

  "Mommy!" said Daisy, jumping up. "Uncle Mickey's been helping me with my math homework! He showed me how to do multiplication! It'seasy!"

  Holly gave her a kiss but kept her eyes on Mickey. "It'sUncleMickey now, is it? When did you marry my sister, Mickey, not that I have one?"

  "Heeeyy ," said Mickey, sprawling back on the couch. "I thought it sounded more family, you know?"

  "I see." She took off her raincoat, hung it up, and propped her briefcase and her laptop on the chair by the kitchen door. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

  "I can leave it till tomorrow if you like. I don't want to be a nuisance or nothing."

  "You promised to stay for supper," said Daisy, jumping back onto the couch next to him. "Uncle Mickeycanstay for supper, can't he, Mommy?"

  "What is it you want, exactly?" Holly asked him. "It's been a long day, and I'm due in court first thing tomorrow."

  "Hey," said Mickey, standing up. "I totally understand. I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me. I just thought that, since I was passing and there were one or two things I needed to talk to you about "

  "I'm sorry."

  He peered at her bruise. "All the colors of the rainbow already. That's a sure sign that it's getting better."

  She didn't say anything, but Mickey stayed where he was and didn't take his eyes off her. Then he said abruptly, "I'm out of here."

  "No!" Daisy insisted. "Youhaveto stay for supper. Youpromised."

  Mickey picked up his coat. "Sorry, spud. Your mom needs to rest. She needs to take a bath, close her eyes, and think about
puppies and ponies and bright-colored candies. I'll come for supper some other night."

  Holly hesitated for a moment. Then she went to the kitchen doorway and said, "Marcella, what are we having tonight?"

  "Peperonata con carne di maiale-pork with peppers."

  "You cooked enough for three?"

  "Three? I cook enough for three hundred."

  "In that case, Mickey, you're staying. Come on-it'll do me good."

  "You're sure?"

  She nodded. Itwoulddo her good. Being deaf, it was always easier to shut herself off from other people, especially when she felt distressed, but maybe she should take a few more risks. Maybe she should even risk Mickey's sympathy.

  "Sounds great to me," grinned Mickey. "Look, I took the liberty of pouring myself a glass of your wine. Do you want some?"

  "Yes, yes, thanks. Daisy, why don't you go help Marcella?"

  "Oh, do Ihaveto?" said Daisy.

  "Please, pumpkin. Mommy has to talk to Uncle Mickey about work."

  Mickey poured her a large long-stemmed glass of pinot noir. "You heard any more about Daniel Joseph?" he asked her.

  "Still critical but stable. He's holding his own."

  In the kitchen Marcella was noisily frying red and yellow peppers. Daisy came out with the knives and forks and set the table. Marcella put her head around the door and mimed,Supper in two minutes, Ms. Summers!

  "Thanks, Marcella."

  Mickey said, "The other thing is-the reason I came around here-we located Merlin Krauss. One of our guys recognized him yesterday afternoon in the Compass Hotel on the waterfront."

  "That was good work."

  "Well, yes and no. We still don't have any idea who his hit man is, or who he's arranging to hit-if he's actually going to hit anybody-or on whose behalf he's going to hit her. But we do know that he's set up some kind of import-export business on Kearney, under the name of John Betchuvic."

  "Coming to the table now!" called Marcella, and Holly waved back to show that she had understood.

  Mickey leaned even closer. "So far as we can tell, Krauss isn't involved in drugs or gunrunning or anything serious like that, but he's running a couple of minor scams up and down the coast. Like, he's avoiding duty on imported sportswear by shipping the tops into Portland and the pants into San Diego. Separate tops and pants are no damn good to anybody, so he picks them up at U.S. Customs auctions for practically nothing. Then he matches them up again and sells them at premium prices. Illegal, but not exactly Al Capone."

  "So what do you want me to do?"

  "How do you know I want you to do anything?"

  "Because you wouldn't have bothered to come around here otherwise. You would have sent me a text message."

  "I came around because Daisy needed urgent help with her multiplication."

  "No you didn't."

  "All right, I came here to give you your birthday present. Sorry it's two days late."

  He reached down beside the couch and produced a large box wrapped in shiny gold paper with a silver bow on it.

  "Mickey, for goodness' sake. You didn't have to do that."

  "Of course I did. I love you more than any child welfare officer I know. Go on, take it."

  "Not until I know what you want me to do."

  "You see right through me, don't you?"

  "No, I can't. I can't see round corners."

  "All right," he said. "Merlin Krauss does most of his business at the Compass, in the Sternwheeler Bar. I've been talking to the barman and Krauss kind of holds court there while various people come and go. I'd like to take you there tomorrow afternoon and see if you can pick up on anything he's saying."

  "I have a welfare appointment in the Hawthorne District at three."

  "Can't you put it off?"

  "No, I can't. Supposing it turns out to be another Daniel Joseph?"

  "Okay, Friday, then. How about Friday?"

  The Beauty of the World

  After supper, when Marcella had washed up the dishes and gone home, they sat in the living room together and finished the bottle of pinot noir. Daisy sat close to Mickey, and Holly could tell that she loved having a man in the house. David had been killed when Daisy was only three years old, and she could scarcely remember him, although she kept a faded color photograph of him next to her bed and she always talked to her friends about the times when "my daddy used to take me for long, long walks" and "my daddy always let me have as much candy as I wanted." Holly had never told her that the "long, long walks" had been a single stroll around Hoyt and Irving one August evening, and the candy had been a single bag of M&M's.

  "Come on, Daisy, bedtime," Holly said at last.

  "Can't I stay up late tonight?"

  "You have school in the morning and I have to go to court."

  "But Uncle Mickey's here."

  Mickey said, "I'll tell you what: If you go to bed now, I'll tell you a story. It's an old, old story that my mother used to tell me, and my grandmother used to tell my mother, and my great-grandmother told my grandmother. It's probably the oldest story in the world, except for the story I always tell when I'm late for duty."

  Mickey sat on the edge of Daisy's bed while Holly had to share the pine rocking chair in the corner with about fifteen knobbly-kneed and sharp-elbowed Barbies. Holly was beginning to feel very tired, but she hadn't seen Daisy so happy for such a long time, and she managed to raise a smile. Daisy's eyes were shining in the light from her pink frilly bedside lamp.

  Holly thought to herself:I wonder if I could let another man into my life just for Daisy's sake?

  Mickey said, "This is a story about a lonely king who was looking for a queen. The lonely king went riding in the forest one winter's day,clippety-clop, clippety-clop. The ground was covered in snow, and as he came to a clearing a raven came and perched on a hollybush next to him-caw! caw!-to peck at the bright red holly berries. The lonely king said, 'I am not going to rest until I find a queen who has hair as black as that raven's wing, and cheeks as white as the snow, and lips as red as those berries.'

  "He went riding on a little further,clippety-clop, clippety-clop,and he came to a churchyard. Four men were sitting outside the churchyard with an open coffin in which a dead man was lying, with the snow falling on him. 'Why don't you bury him?' asked the lonely king, but the men said,'Boo-hoo,we don't have enough money for a funeral.'

  "The lonely king said, 'He must be buried; it is only right,' and he laid five gold coins on the dead man's chest and went riding off,clippety-clop, clippety-clop. He rode and he rode, and as night fell he realized he would have to find somewhere to stay for the night. After a while he saw somebody swinging a lantern in the darkness. It was a red-haired man all dressed in leather, with a sack on his back. He said, 'My lord, I know where you can rest your head this very night, and also find your heart's desire.'

  "The lonely king invited the red-haired man to climb up on the back of his horse, and the red-haired man guided him to a tall, crumbling castle by the sea. They knocked on the door,rappity-rap,and they were answered by an elderly king with a long white beard, who invited them to stay for the night and to share some of his meat loaf.

  "While the lonely king and the red-haired man were eating their meat loaf, a beautiful girl came tripping down the stairs,trippity-trip,with hair as black as a raven's wing, and cheeks as white as snow, and lips as red as holly berries. For the lonely king-whoa!-it was love at first sight.

  "He asked the elderly king if he could take his daughter's hand in marriage. The elderly king agreed, but the daughter said, 'You shall not have me unless you keep safe this comb and give it back to me in the morning.' She gave the lonely king a silver comb and he put it in his pocket.

  "When they were getting ready for bed, however, the red-haired man said, 'Do you still have the comb, master?' And when the lonely king searched in his pocket, he found that it was gone. He went to bed deeply upset, and wept so much that he soaked his pillow. I mean, some crybaby, or what?

  "But the
red-haired man opened up his bag, and out of his bag he took a dark cloak and some slippery shoes and a sword made of shining white light. He tippy-toed downstairs, and he saw the daughter leaving the castle with the silver comb in her hand. He followed her to the seashore, where she threw a seashell into the water-splish!-which magically became a boat. He did the same-splish!-and he rowed behind her to a rocky island.

  "On the island, next to a flickering fire, sat a giant. The daughter gave him the silver comb and told him what she had done. 'Lock it in your treasure chest,' she said, 'and keep it safe for me.' The giant dropped the silver comb in his treasure chest, but the red-haired man fished it out again with the tip of his sword before the giant had time to lock it, and he rowed back to the mainland.