by W. L. Heath
He thought of the three men upstairs in 201 and a chilling idea came back to him: suppose they planning to hold this place up tonight. Ain’t I in some fix though? Gret God, they liable to shoot old Sugar down in cold blood. He shook his head. Naw, I doubt if they planning on anything like that. They won’t mess with no chicken feed like us, not them three. Anyhow, they most likely some kinda Law, down here to check up on something. Just the same, if Miss Benson don’t put in her appearance before long, I may just close on up and try to get me a night’s rest. I could leave the door unlatched so she can get in by herself. I declare it makes me uneasy to think about a gun in a suitcase. What would a man put a gun in a suitcase for? Unlessen he meant to hide it. Don’t seem like a man would do a thing like that. If he was a guv’munt agent though. You take a guv’munt agent, he got to shake it around right queerly in order to nab these crim’nals. Most likely they under orders of some kind.
My, my, don’t I need me one though? I liable not sleep a wink for that gun. I know one thing, if I go to dreaming about somebody with a gun in a satchel I ain’t going to rest well at all. I never did like a gun in a suitcase. Seem so underhanded. I cain’t make out what them three doing here anyhow. Naw man, I ain’t seen nothing of that style around here before.
If they was to come down them stairs right now and go to robbing this place, I declare ain’t a thing on earth I could do to stop them. I ain’t even armed. I’m a unarmed man. Best thing for me to do in a case like that is just haul ass. Naw man, I ain’t able to stop them. Best thing for me to do is just talk to them dogs, right through the door and on down the street. I mean leave here. They ain’t nothing like that liable to happen though. It would’ve done happen if it was going to, I guess. I ought to be armed though, keeping this late desk ever night. I must speak to Mr. Neff tomorrow. Right now I’m just as unarmed as I can be.
Maybe I ought to told Mr. Neff. He ought to known about that gun before bed. Naw, on the other hand, it wouldn’t done no good. If they is the Law it’s all right, and if they ain’t the Law it won’t do to provoke them. A man with a gun in a suitcase don’t take much to provoke either. He liable to lose his head and go to shooting. Best let a sleeping dog lay. That’s right. Besides, I done stuck my nose too far in the hole already. I be better off not knowing half I already know. Lord, don’t I wish I could mind my own business though? A man ought to have his head examine.
The water cooler at the end of the hall clicked on and Sugar jumped out of his chair. When he heard the hum of the motor he sat down again and sighed with relief. Man, I sure do need a little something to study my nerves. Mercy.
“Don’t start the car,” Emily said. “We can talk right here all right.”
“What if somebody comes out and sees us?” Bill said. “You know what they’re going to think, don’t you?”
“Never mind what they think. Besides, it would be much worse if we disappeared somewhere. You know that. If we leave, then they will have something to talk about.”
“Okay, we’ll stay here, then. But I don’t know why you bothered to come out at all, if this is all we’re going to do, just sit here in front of the house.”
“Just what do you think I came out for?”
“Well, you said to talk.”
She sipped her drink and shook her head. “You were the one that said that. You said we couldn’t talk inside.”
“All right, I said it, then. But we still can’t just sit here like this.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because.”
“Because why?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Emily, are you trying to drive me nuts? You know what I mean. We can’t just sit here in front of the house. Any minute somebody’s liable to come out and see us here.”
“Well, so what? We’re only talking, aren’t we? Is there anything wrong with us sitting out here and talking?”
“Frankly, yes. And you know it.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. What did we come out her for, anyhow?”
“You tell me.”
“To neck?”
“Emily, don’t be so damn blunt all the time. You can drive a man out of his mind.”
“Well, that is what we came out for, isn’t it? At least, I’m beginning to think that’s what you came out for. Where’s all that love talk you were giving me in the house?”
“Look, Emily, put the drink down, won’t you? You’re getting way too much, baby, no fooling.”
“I’ll decide how much I can drink and how much I can’t, Bill Clayton. All I want you to decide is what you brought me out here for.”
“We came out to talk.” Bill took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “We came out to talk and get a few things straightened out. But you don’t seem to want to, all of a sudden.”
“What do we want to get straightened out? If I don’t miss my guess, you’ve already got something straightened out. But it won’t do you any good. Not tonight it won’t.”
“Emily, for God sakes.”
“All right, so we came out to talk. You said that. You started saying a lot of stuff in the house there about being in love with me. But I’m beginning to have my serious doubts. You may be in love, all right, but I’d hate to say what part of me it’s with.”
“Emily. Look, baby, don’t drink any more, please.”
“Come to the point,” she said. “What are we supposed to be talking about, love or just plain old sex? Tell the truth now, don’t give me the run-around.”
“Emily, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Let’s take a little ride in the cool air. It’ll do you good and then we can talk all we want to.”
“You make that word sound like something else.”
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Go for a little ride.”
“No. I told you three times. What do you think I am, a whore? I can’t jump in the car and run off with you, and Boyd in there. Even if I wanted to.”
“You could tell him you had a headache and asked me to drive you home.”
“Yeah. He’d be sure to believe that.”
“We wouldn’t be gone long.”
She looked at him curiously. “You know what’s the matter with you? You’re adolescent. Pubescent. You can’t grow up, can you?”
“Emily, don’t drink that. Let me finish it for you. You’ve had too much, baby.”
“No, and stop calling me baby. I’m not your baby. I’m Boyd’s baby.”
“All right.”
“All right what? You brought me out here you said to talk. Well, let’s hear it. I’ve got to go inside pretty soon.”
“Okay, here it is …”
He took a quick look toward the house, then pulled her to him and kissed her. She let him, not resisting, not responding, but being careful to hold her drink out so it wouldn’t spill.
“Well,” she said. “Now that we’ve talked, I better go back in the house.”
“No, wait a minute. Why do you act like this?”
He pulled her back and kissed her again and put his hand between her legs.
“Stop, Bill.”
“No.”
“Bill, will you please stop that?”
He embraced her, trying to kiss her again, but she resisted, turning her head from side to side. They struggled quietly in the dark; then she got her hand free, spilling her drink, and slapped him solidly across the jaw.
There was a moment of total silence.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she said. “You’ve made me spill my drink all over the car.”
“All right,” he said. He reached across her and opened the door. “Get out. Go on get out, you little bitch.”
“Don’t tell me to get out.”
“You heard me.”
They stared at each other in the dark.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll get out. You’re damn right I will. I’ll be only too glad to get out.”
“Do it then!”
&n
bsp; She opened the door and slammed it resoundingly behind her. Then she turned and stuck her head inside again. “So you’re in love with me, eh? I see. Well, you can go straight to hell!”
“Go away,” he said. “Go on in the house, you drunken bitch.”
“You go on, too,” she yelled. “Go on home and suck your thumb. It’s the best you’ll ever do!”
When she was halfway up the walk she heard Bill Clayton’s car scratch angrily away from the curb and bump one fender against the light pole, and in the same instant she saw the front door open. She stopped and stood where she was until she saw that it was Pete Brayley. Pete had his hat on backward and he looked pretty tight. She didn’t care if Pete saw her, and she decided to speak to him; but Pete didn’t even look up. He was in a huff about something. He angled unsteadily across the sloping lawn and disappeared into the night.
I better go in the back door, Emily thought. Boyd is probably beating the bushes for me by now.
She walked along the side of the house, looking in the windows, and around to the back porch. No one was in sight, so she opened the screen door and went into the kitchen where a dozen or more people were laughing and talking loudly. The first person she saw was Boyd. He was standing alone in the hall, between the kitchen and the dining room, and he was looking directly at her. He’d seen her come in the back door, but that was all right too. He hadn’t seen Bill Clayton – had not seen her with Bill Clayton, at least. She gave him an equivocal smile and leaned over the breakfast bar to watch the crap game now being played by Ed Harriman and Fred Eubanks, but out of the tail of her eye she was still watching Boyd. He was coming toward her down the hall, looking a little belligerent. When he reached her elbow, he said quietly, “Mind telling me where you’ve been?”
She looked at him with surprise, then leaned over the bar again. “What do you mean, where I’ve been? I’ve been out in the back yard.”
“With who?”
“With whom, darling.”
“All right, with whom, then.”
“With myself. I needed some air.”
“Bill Clayton must have needed some too.”
“Really? I wouldn’t know about that.”
“He was with you.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“That’s a lie.”
She turned and looked straight at him, noticing for the first time that she couldn’t quite focus her eyes. “Look,” she said, “if you want to call me a liar, wait till we’re home, will you? I’d rather our friends didn’t know.”
“Come out on the porch.”
“All right.” He walked grimly ahead of her, bumping the door frame with his shoulder as he went through.
“Now,” he said, when they were alone on the porch. “What kind of a deal are you trying to pull off?”
“Nothing.”
“Zat so.” He was swaying a little as he looked at her. “Well, listen, I happen to know Clayton was out there with you.”
“Out where?”
“In the back yard.”
“He most certainly was not. If you insist on knowing, Boyd, I went out there because I had to go to the bathroom and that stupid Wally has everybody locked out.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“All right, don’t. I don’t give a damn.”
“Did you, Emily? I mean, was that all you were doing? Bill wasn’t out there at all?”
“Bill Clayton went home hours ago, Boyd. You must be drunk.”
“Don’t lie to me, Emily.”
“Boyd.” She took his arms and pulled them around her. “Baby, don’t accuse me of things like that. You know I couldn’t be unfaithful to you if I tried.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “God knows I don’t want to believe it, Em.”
“Of course you don’t. And you mustn’t either, because it makes us say bad things to each other. Things we’re sorry for tomorrow. Come on now, kiss and make up.”
He kissed her. “You want to go home?”
“In a little while.”
“I’d like to go home now, I don’t feel so good.”
“You poor baby.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned against him. “You and me’ve both had too much drinkie, baby, you know that? Look at us, we’re waving around all over the place.”
“I’m drunk. I didn’t mean to either. You’re sure about Bill Clayton? He wasn’t out there?”
“I told you, Boyd, I went out in the yard to piss.”
“Emily, I don’t like for you to talk like that. I wish you wouldn’t do it. When you get like this you always start talking ugly. Vulgar talk. What makes you do it?”
“I dunno.” She had her arms around him, her head against his chest, swaying slowly to the music that issued from deep in the house. “I honestly don’t know what makes me do it, Boyd. I’ve got a common streak in me, I guess. It comes out, don’t it?”
“Just when you’re tight like this. I wish you wouldn’t though. It sounds like hell to hear a pretty girl saying some of the words you say.”
She giggled and snuggled closer to him. “Dance with me, baby. Come on, you’re not dancing.”
“Promise me you’ll watch the language?”
“I’ll watch it, I promise. Don’t you want to dance?”
He set his glass on a chair and they danced.
“Better?”
“Much better. Oooh, things going round and round.”
“Maybe we ought to stop.”
“No, don’t stop. You’re my man. Am I your baby, Boyd?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Nobody else’s?”
“Nobody else’s at all.”
“And you love me good? All of me?”
“I really do.”
“I love you too, Boyd. I may be a bad girl, but one thing I do, I love you. I want you to remember that forever and ever.”
“I will.”
“Listen,” she said. “Was that thunder?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I did. I thought it was thunder.”
“If it’s going to rain, maybe we ought to head for home.”
“Yes, let’s go home,” Emily said. “I don’t want it to rain.”
I’m insane, Harry Reeves told himself. That’s what’s the matter with me. I’ve lost my mind. I belong in an institution somewhere. Harry was hiding behind a tree on Barker Street, near Fenton’s used-car lot, and by looking down the narrow dirt street that ran behind the Commerce Hotel, he could see all the windows along the rear of that building. He was watching one window in particular, but it was dark like all the others.
Harry’s friends would scarcely have recognized him if they’d seen him there. Instead of his usual dark business suit and white shirt, he was wearing an old cotton jersey and a pair of paint-smeared jeans. A brand-new black baseball cap was on his head, and instead of the conservative, wing-tip shoes he usually wore at the bank, he had on sneakers. He was in disguise. Dressed for sin, he told himself bitterly. Costumed for the vilest depravity. His hands shook. He cried a little and blew his nose, looking up and down the dark street. What’s the matter with me? he thought. I am insane. Just as sure as anything I’ve lost my mind. I’ll kill myself.
He looked at his watch and pulled the bill of the cap down lower over his eyes. The lights of a car swept the corner behind him and he flattened himself against the tree, heart pounding. Caught, he thought. No, they’re going the other way. Thank God for that. He peered around the tree and saw the taillights disappearing. I will be caught, though. Sooner or later I’m bound to be. I can’t go on like this. Look at me. Peeping around trees like an idiot. I’m insane, all right. I belong in an institution. But I don’t care. I don’t care. I can’t help it. God knows I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s got into me. Fifty-five years old and doing a thing like this. A family man, respected, trusted, a deacon in the church. Now look at me. A Peeping Tom. Yes, go on and face it, because that’s all I’ve become, a Peeping
Tom. I should be locked up somewhere away from decent people. But I don’t care. I swear I don’t care if I suffer in hell for it eternally. I can’t help it. Oh my God, I can’t help it.
He cried again and blew his nose, watching the rear of the hotel.
Harry Reeves’ ordeal had begun just three weeks ago, although when he thought back on it, it seemed an eternity ago. One night as he was walking home from a Civitan meeting he had taken the shortcut behind the hotel, and accidentally had seen Miss Benson undressed in her room. It wasn’t intentional. It was the most innocent thing in the world. He just happened to glance up and there she was. She was washing out some stockings in the basin. He just glanced up, not even thinking what he was doing, and there she stood revealed from the knees up in the open window, wearing nothing but her step-ins and a brassiere. He looked away quickly and walked on down the street toward home, but in that glance, in that split second of surprise, something terrible had happened to him. He did not sleep well that night, even though he embraced his wife; and all the next morning the memory of that lighted window kept drifting to the surface of his thoughts.
At noon of the next day as he was walking home to lunch, he saw Miss Benson come out of the five-and-dime store wearing her white nurse’s uniform and carrying a large paper parcel. He was walking fast and would have overtaken her in half a block, but instead he slowed his step and stayed behind, watching. He fed his eyes on the motion of her hips straining the white poplin skirt as she walked, and the deft switching back and forth of the hem of her skirt above the seams of her stockings. It filled him with desire, and he had to look away from time to time, drawing deep breaths of the hot summer air.
He told himself then that he must be careful. He must not allow himself to think such thoughts. But that night at nine o’clock he discovered that he was out of cigarettes, and he walked to the drugstore for a pack, taking the short-cut behind the hotel. He was disappointed this time, however. There was no light in Miss Benson’s room and actually he was glad, he told himself. But when he reached the drugstore he hung around for a while, drinking a Coke – which he ordinarily never did at night because they kept him awake – and when he started back home again he walked slowly along the street behind the hotel, looking at the window. When he passed the window and was near the comer of Barker Street, he remembered that he probably needed some razor blades too, and he walked back a second time to the drugstore. But even then, passing the window for the fourth time that night, he saw nothing. Miss Benson was out on a date and would not be in till midnight or so, and there was no excuse to invent that would keep him out that late.