Up a Winding Stair

by Dixon, H. Vernor

  “You don’t like anything to remind you of him?”

  “Heavens, no! Do you think I’m eccentric that way? Like when Daddy passed on, I got rid of everything belonging to him. It’s not that I’m squeamish about a person dying, it’s just that I don’t like being reminded of them again. I think it’s better for them to live on in my heart.” She paused, then asked brightly, “But tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  He stretched his legs out before him and examined the tips of his shoes. He said casually, “Nothing much. A little business. Thought I’d take a whirl at real estate.”

  “Oh. What would you do?”

  “Well, build subdivisions mostly, apartment buildings, possibly hotels, that sort of thing.” He smiled lightly and said, “It wouldn’t interest you.”

  “But it does and I think it’s simply wonderful. I really do. Won’t it interfere with your aviation business, though?”

  “Well, that’s the point of the whole thing. I’ve been thinking about pulling out of aviation, at least the export end. I have altogether too much money tied up in it, and besides,” he said pointedly, “it’s time I settled down somewhere.”

  She failed to grasp the implication in his words and asked, “Why?”

  Clark was feeling far from the courting mood, but he said, “It concerns you, naturally. The export business is all right for a bachelor, but not for a married man. It would take me away too much.”

  She cuddled into the crook of his arm and beamed at him. “You’re so thoughtful, darling. All this time I’ve been worried about you and here you’ve been planning the future.”

  “Of course. That’s a man’s job.”

  She asked breathlessly, “When may we get married? Must we wait very long? Another week?”

  Clark almost burst into laughter, but controlled himself. “My God, no! I’m not exactly a conventional person, but even so — ”

  “Another month?”

  He turned it over in his mind and knew that time was not particularly an important consideration. People would talk and laugh too, probably, regardless of when he married Faye. “We’ll talk it over later,” he said. “There’s no rush.”

  She crushed her mouth against his and mumbled, “There is with me.”

  He broke loose from her on the plea that he was hungry. After lunch in a large dining room overlooking the Golden Gate, she wanted to go downtown with him, but he explained that he had an important business engagement and had to get back to Pebble Beach. She was dismayed to learn that he was not staying overnight and pleaded with him, like a child, to remain. He told her that was impossible, but promised to return again as soon as he could. He left her practically on the verge of tears.

  The visit, however, had been a profitable one. He had planted the idea of a new business in her mind and had increased her hunger for him. That was all he had meant to accomplish. The springboard for plunder was already in place.

  Ione was a half hour late meeting him in the lobby of the St. Francis, but he had expected that. They had a drink in the cocktail room, then went around the corner to Solari’s for dinner. Ione had been chatting gaily about her shopping expedition, but finally ran down and wanted to know what he had been doing.

  “Well,” he said, “I thought it would be a good idea to call on Faye.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked affectionately into his eyes. “That was sweet of you, Clark. I should have thought of that, too. But I guess I just can’t picture Faye in mourning. How did she seem?”

  “About as usual. You know Faye. I don’t think anything could ever affect her very deeply.”

  “A man could.”

  He said uncomfortably, “Well, maybe. Anyway, I feel a certain responsibility there. I was with her when it happened, you know.”

  She toyed with her food, pushing it about with a fork, staring thoughtfully at Clark. “I know. Clark, do you really think he slipped from that rock?”

  He felt a chill settle in his spine. “How do you mean?”

  “Hibbard was an unhappy man. Maybe he chose that opportunity simply to end it all.”

  Clark sat back and breathed easier. “Well, that I don’t really know. I was standing a few feet from him, but I wasn’t exactly watching him at that moment. All I know is that suddenly he was falling and I was too far away to reach him.”

  Her shoulders quivered. “It must have been horrible. Did he cry out?”

  “Not a sound. Look, if you don’t mind — ”

  She reached across the table to place a hand on his and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. That was a morbid thing to ask. But I’m glad to hear Faye is taking it well. Were you there very long?”

  He chuckled and said, “I couldn’t get away. She’s become rather attached to me.”

  Ione raised a delicately arched eyebrow and said softly, “Oh?”

  “I’m afraid so. As I said before, I feel some responsibility toward her, but she must think it’s deeper than that. At least, she acts that way. I’m now placed in the role of father confessor, counselor, and everything else. Perhaps she just needs someone to cling to temporarily and I happen to be convenient. It’s embarrassing to me, but what the hell, I can stand it for a while. Anyway, I feel sorry for her.”

  Ione said sincerely, “Don’t let her down. She probably needs someone right now, especially a man.”

  “I’ll keep in touch with her now and then, until she gets over the shock, anyway.”

  He turned his attention back to the food, more than pleased with the way matters had gone. He was not yet ready to make a complete break with Ione, and, in fact, dreaded the idea. Now he could continue on as usual with no worry that Ione would become suspicious of his relations with Faye. He felt rather smug about the way he was handling what would otherwise have been a ticklish situation.

  It was late in the evening when they started back to Monterey. The shopping tour had tired Ione, so the moment they were airborne she curled up in the right-hand seat of the plane and fell asleep. Clark trimmed the ship for level flight and sat back to let it fly itself. He looked out at the stars and the silvery path of the moon over the ocean, then glanced at Ione. A hard lump came into his throat. Ione’s dress was disarranged, revealing the beautiful contours of her slim legs, but he was not thinking of her entirely in the physical sense. He was more aware of her personality and character and the almost overpowering urge to smash all of his plans for her sake.

  God, he thought, why couldn’t I have that damn cow’s money and Ione, too?

  He suddenly sat up straight and his lips thinned into a hard smile. Maybe it could be done — if he worked it right.

  Chapter Nine

  DURING THE FOLLOWING WEEKS Clark was busier than he had ever been. He needed all the cash he could get, so he worked hard at his exercising and his golf and managed to pluck two more pigeons, one for nine thousand and the other for six. He was fast getting the reputation of a heavy money player with a fantastic streak of luck, but no one, as far as he or Joey knew, was suspicious of him. He had established himself too well for that.

  His afternoons and early evenings were generally spent looking over property and conferring with real-estate brokers. He selected one large tract of land, worth three quarters of a million, on the shoreline just south of Carmel and took a ninety-day option on it for a few thousand dollars. The newspapers, however, gave it a large spread as a sale and he was deluged with more offerings. He selected two more parcels, all on options, then learned that the owners of the General Fremont, Monterey’s largest hotel, could be induced into parting with their holding. He opened negotiations with them, but cagily steered clear of an option.

  He saw Ricki often and played golf with him, though for small sums, and occasionally ran into Eric Bothello about the Lodge or the courses. Eric had not changed his opinion of Clark, but he kept it to himself, and though cool, was polite whenever they met.

  His circle of acquaintances was expanding rapidly. H
e chose all the moneyed and influential people as his friends and virtually held open house every week end. Joey made every gathering a success. He bussed all the good-looking women, stirred drinks with his fingers, ate with his hands, told oft-color jokes deliberately selected for shock value, interrupted any conversation, no matter how serious — and everyone thought he was wonderful. He was the perfect party clown and an excellent foil to soften Clark’s rather stiff manner. The Clark Holt cocktail parties became the talk of Pebble Beach and people sought eagerly to be invited. He was in solid with all the “right” people.

  His cup of bliss, however, was not without its bitter flavor. He was beginning to worry about Elsie. Whenever he wanted her, which was often, she came to his room without argument and even showed some response to his love-making, but she was becoming strange. She had been withdrawn before, but now she seemed totally isolated from everything about her, even to the point of being absent-minded. Apparently she performed her duties efficiently, she always got everything done, but her routine was often upset through forgetfulness and quite often Clark came upon her simply standing in one spot staring blankly into space. She never had anything to say beyond what was absolutely necessary. It was impossible for Clark not to feel some affection for her, so he occasionally tried to be friendly and make small talk with her. But whenever he attempted it she froze as rigid as a statue. The hard shell she had built around herself was thickening, and it worried him.

  Joey told him, “Sure. What the hell’s in it for her? She’s just somethin’ you use, and she ain’t that kind. But it ain’t nothin’ to worry about. One day she’ll get guts enough to pack up and leave and that’ll be that.”

  Clark was not so sure. He was not even sure, in spite of his worry, that he wanted her to pack up and leave. After all, she was useful.

  His worry about Elsie was closely interwoven with his feelings toward Ione; whenever he saw Ione his blood was at a boil until he got home to Elsie, the purgative. He was beginning to see Ione often, taking her to dinners, dances, and house parties about the Peninsula. They made an unusually attractive couple and it was obvious to everyone how Clark felt about her. Friends smiled indulgently and whispered that a match was certainly in the making. Ione was aware of what was being said and kidded Clark about it. He always paled, looked grim, and changed the subject. Ione was puzzled.

  Faye wasted no time in resuming her week ends at the Lodge, more often than not running one week end into the next. At first she tried to act the grief-stricken widow, and big tears of self-pity welled into her eyes whenever an acquaintance commiserated with her, but that soon faded and died entirely. She wanted to have fun and proceeded to do so. She ate and drank as much as usual and went to as many parties as she pleased and it was as if Hibbard had never existed. A few people were shocked, but most who knew her simply shrugged and told each other, “What else could you expect of Faye? That’s the way she is.” They began inviting her out again.

  Clark was pleased with the way it was going. Faye’s actions were dovetailing neatly into his plans. His only difficulty was in keeping her at arm’s length when others were around. She loved his cocktail parties, was the first to arrive and the last to leave, and her manner toward Clark was singularly possessive. He wanted a little of that to show, but not too much. He wanted people to think, as they did, that she was more than a little attached to him, but that he had given her no reason to assume that attitude. It was a neat juggling trick, yet he managed it. Ricki thought the situation was hilariously amusing and unendingly ribbed Clark about it.

  Even Ione was amused, but she told Clark, “Careful there, Buster. She may fall on you sometime and smother you with sheer weight.”

  The situation was finally exactly the way Clark wanted it. He talked it over with Joey one evening in the library. “It’s really too soon for any widow to be getting married again,” he said, “but the timing is right.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, right now everyone seems amused by the way she follows me around, but that won’t last. The Ransons, particularly, will be expecting me to put a stop to it pretty soon.” He laughed and said, “My so-called sympathies aren’t supposed to continue on forever.”

  “Yeah.” Joey slanted a wise look in his direction. “You know what you’re lettin’ yourself in for?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maybe you don’t. Maybe I should put it on the line for you. When you marry Faye, believe me, there ain’t nobody in this place is gonna speak to you again. Take a look at it from the Ransons’ angle, or anyone else around here. You’re young, you don’t eat with your knife, and you’re supposed to be loaded with moola. So why in hell should you marry a cow like Faye? It don’t make sense. So the only thing they can think is you’re strictly a phony who’s pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. They put you down as a fortune-hunter and scratch you off the list. How do you get around that?”

  “It can be done.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “O.K. My thirtieth birthday is coming up in a few days. I’ll throw a party this coming Saturday afternoon, a big one. Now, get this: At this particular party I’m feeling pretty good about everything so I push the ginger-ale routine aside and get myself nicely plastered.”

  “You get drunk?”

  “Sure. At least, I’ll make it look like I am.”

  “But everyone knows you don’t drink, except for two short ones.”

  “That makes it all the better. I’m not used to it, so I can’t handle my liquor. The guests will probably get a big bang out of it. But while this is going on I want you to work on putting an idea into Faye’s head.”

  “What kind?”

  “Reno. I found out she likes the place. Takes a little jaunt up there every once in a while. She gambles strictly with quarters, but she loves it. So you get her talking about Reno and what a great place it is and what fun she has up there. Get her itching to take a run up and try her luck. The main thing, though, get her thinking she can talk me into flying her up. You know how she is. If she once gets an idea in her mind she keeps harping on it till hell won’t have it.”

  “Jees, that’s no lie.”

  “You see how it shapes up? I’ll put on an act that I want no part of flying anyone anywhere. But I’m drunk, you see, and in the end, as soon as the party starts to break up, I’ll give in and tell her O.K., I’ll fly her up. You try to stop me — I’m not supposed to be in any shape to fly anywhere — but I get away from you, take Faye out to the airport, and fly up to Reno. Once we get there all I have to do is whisper, ‘Let’s get married,’ and believe me, she’ll be dragging me before the judge. But no one needs to know about that end of it.”

  Joey looked perplexed. “So where does all this get you?”

  “Gripes, can’t you see? It kills any idea that I’m a fortune-hunter. Here’s a guy who can’t handle his liquor, gets drunk, and gets talked into making a flight he doesn’t want. So, while still under the influence, he somehow winds up marrying a gal he normally wouldn’t consider. Happens all the time, you know.”

  Joey started to grin. “Yeah.”

  “You see? I’ll stay away for a week or two and make like a honeymoon, but I’ll call you first thing, presumably to let you know what happened and how it happened. Then you spread the word, so when I get back people will be feeling sorry for me instead of laughing about it.”

  “Not me, kid. I’ll be laughing myself silly.”

  “Just so you’re the only one. Now, how about it? Do you think it will work?”

  Joey considered it and nodded. “Sounds good. I’m beginnin’ to get the pitcher.” He suddenly looked at Clark sharply and suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute. You still got that Ranson doll in your mind.”

  Clark chuckled and said, “We’re getting real smart, aren’t we?”

  “So that’s the rest of it. You know, kid, you’re getan’ to be a pretty good class A-one conniver.”

  “It may work out.”

  “Y
eah. Maybe it will, at that. It’s pretty cute.”

  Clark discovered that one of the bigger social events of the year was also being held that same Saturday night. That worked out perfectly with his plans, as most of his guests would be leaving early, which was the way he wanted it. He had no intention of actually getting drunk, but he knew he would have to do some drinking to carry it off, and he had no desire to fly through the Sierra Nevadas late at night with more than his normal quota of alcohol aboard. The earlier his own party broke up, the better it would be.

  The party got under way at two that Saturday afternoon, with caterers to serve hors d’oeuvres and two hired bartenders in attendance. A few guests were prompt, but the majority of them, including Ricki and Ione, did not arrive until four. Faye, of course, was there before anyone, complete with photographic equipment to immortalize Clark on his thirtieth birthday. It was a large party that filled the main room and the library and overflowed onto the terrace. Drinks flowed a bit more heavily than usual and the guests circulated about in a gay mood.

  To make sure that everyone knew he was drinking, Clark took his glasses from the guests rather than from the bartenders. Apparently he didn’t care what he was drinking and mixed highballs and Martinis with wine and a potent rum punch. He sipped at each glass, but carefully dumped its contents over the terrace the moment he was unobserved. Even so, he was consuming far more alcohol than he was used to and had no difficulty acting the role of a drunk.

  With the exception of Ione, the guests were all amused. His quota of two drinks a day was well known and so resented by the heavier drinkers. It made them seem weak and lacking in will power. So when he got drunk they happily welcomed him to their fold with open arms.

  Ione, however, got him aside, smoothed back his hair, which had become disarranged, and straightened his tie. “Please,” she said. “You’ve had enough, Clark. You can’t handle the stuff.”

  He put an arm about her shoulders and gave her a silly grin. “Nonsense. Intend get plastered. This m’ birthday, darling. Always get drunk birthdays. Only time.”