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Authors: Thomas Tryon

All That Glitters (62 page)

BOOK: All That Glitters
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After she had gone, I turned and stared at Faun, who’d remained in her chair, curled up like a cat, idly smoking her cigarette. “Thought you were going to bed,” I hinted. I, too, longed for my pillow.

She said she was going, but made no move to do so. Said she was waiting for the pills to hit her. Suddenly the lights blinked out and the room fell into darkness. “
Oh
!” She leaped up with a startled cry. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Relax. We lost our power again; it’ll come back on. Do you want me to walk you over?”

Declining my offer, she stayed huddled on the sofa, her figure picked out in the firelight. I stepped into the hallway and called to Ling, but then realized he must be upstairs with Maude. I knew from experience that there wasn’t any use fiddling with the fuses: the lights would come on whenever they chose to. I went back into the Snuggery and sat across from Faun, who’d helped herself to a drink. Pills and booze? Great.

I rang the bell-pull, then sat. She didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. It was eerie, sitting there like that. She eyed me in the light from the flickering flames. I wondered what it would feel like, my hands around that white neck, choking the life from her. They say it takes time to choke a person to death.

I went on staring at her and presently my look had its desired effect: tossing her hair back, she demanded to know what I thought I was looking at.

“Only looking,” I answered blandly. “Cats and kings, you know.”

“But you’re thinking things. Shitty things.”

I laughed shortly. “Do you really want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking of Fay Bainter.”

“Who?”

“An actress; you’re too young to remember her. She was a friend of your grandmother, though. Fay Bainter was once in a film with Bette Davis; it was called
Jezebel
.”

“What’s that have to do with me?” Faun asked, feigning boredom, but I could see she was curious.

“Suppose I tell you, then. Jezebel was a woman in the Old Testament, and when Bette asked Fay Bainter what
she
was thinking, she replied, ‘I was thinking of someone called Jezebel—who did evil in the sight of the Lord.’”

Faun colored and leaped up. “That’s a terrible thing to say!” She stood over my chair, favoring me with her most menacing glare. “You son-of-a—”

“I know the rest of that one. Tell me, sweet thing, what do you intend doing with those Xeroxes you have there?”

“They’re going where no one can get their hands on them. When Nana’s check is put through, I’ll send them to her.”

“The hell you will!”

“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?”

“No, I don’t!”

“It’s a rough world, Charlie; a girl like me has to think of herself, you know. Think of the check as a first installment.”

“And you’ll be back for more.”

“A girl gets homesick sometimes.”


Sick is right
!” I jumped to my feet and threw myself at her. She began to scream, kicking and flailing with her arms. The table went over with a loud crash. With one hand I held her down while with the other I tore the bag from her. As I yanked it open and fumbled for the papers, she sank her teeth into my hand and I let out a yowl. I struck her hard and she went limp. I crouched at the fireplace and fed the pages, one after the other, into the flames, while my shadow danced on the wall behind me. As I went on my task I looked back and saw Faun unmoving on the couch. “I’ve killed her,” I thought, but didn’t stop until the last page had been consumed. Then I was aware of a glow from the opposite side of the room. Maude had hurried in with a lighted oil lamp.

“What is it? What’s all the noise?” she demanded, then she saw Faun hanging over the edge of the sofa. “Good heavens, Charlie, what happened? You didn’t kill her?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s not too late,” I muttered.

Maude grunted in what I took as ironic assent. Setting down the lamp, she slipped her hand into mine and gave an anxious squeeze; her fingers were like ice. I released her hold and straightened Faun out on the sofa, then put some cushions under her head.

“Thank God,” Maude said as Faun stirred. “Poor thing; poor poor thing,” she murmured with genuine feeling. Then to my astonishment she stroked Faun’s head and laid her cheek alongside her granddaughter’s.

“She loves her,” I thought, “loves her after all.”

We got wet towels and revived her. Suzi and Ling appeared with more lanterns and we formed a circle around Faun as she moaned, then opened her eyes. When she realized where she was and what had happened, she didn’t bother with any Camille act. She jumped up and started screaming at Maude about how I’d assaulted her.

Maude paid no attention, only asked Suzi to go up and put a lamp in the yellow room and turn down the covers; Faun would be sleeping there tonight.

“Like hell I will! Do you think I want to be murdered in my bed by this Mafia motherfucker?” I saw Maude flinch and I put my arm around her. Faun burst between us, flinging us aside as she swooped up her torn bag, and we watched her go stumbling through the terrace doors into the darkness.

“Let her go,” Maude said to Ling, who had started after her. A spate of strident profanity rang in the outside air, then died away as she ran across the wet grass toward the Playhouse. Maude sank wearily into her chair, then gave me a humorous look.

“My hero.”

“Hero?”

“My knight in shining armor. Again you’ve come to my rescue. You needn’t deny it. Isn’t that what white knights do—defend a lady’s honor? Weren’t you defending mine? And my husband’s?”

Embarrassed, I demurred. She smiled wanly, and when Ling and Suzi went out, she asked me to make her a drink. “Just splash a little what-have-you on some ice.”

I got up to investigate. I unearthed a half-empty bottle of bourbon tucked away in the under-bar cupboard, but there wasn’t any ice.

“That’s all right, I’ll take it neat,” she said. I thought she was suddenly—oddly—cheery, and I wondered what that meant. Maude was not being Maude. Or was she acting? I splashed the bourbon into a glass and handed it to her. She sipped and made a face, then took a good gulp. “You could take the paper off a plaster wall with that.” She laid her head back wearily. “So. Little man, what now? I gather we are to have the Antrim Memoirs after all. Is that correct?”

I said not to worry about it. She grinned wryly. “Did I hear something about copies? Xeroxes? You burned them, I gather. But there are others?”

“I said don’t worry. Why don’t I find out who her publisher is and see if the thing can’t just be quashed, on a gentlemanly basis? It’s been done before. Might cost a little, but…”

She thanked me, but no, she didn’t have any faith that such an obvious ploy would work. “In any case, this is family business and I prefer to keep it in the family.” She fell silent for a time and I could see that her mind was hard at work. Her hands had made fists and she was biting her lower lip, and her fingers tapped the chair arms. Then she looked up, her eyes fastened on the bronze bust of Crispin on its mahogany pedestal. After a moment she turned to me, her eyes sparkling with tears. “He doesn’t deserve it, you know,” she said reproachfully. “He really doesn’t.”

Just then the telephone rang. “Ah,” she said, sitting forward. “I guess we know who that’s bound to be. Let someone else answer it.” After a moment Ling slipped in to say it was Missy Fonn, complaining that her lights were out, too, and her rooms were cold.

“She can’t say we didn’t warn her,” Maude said.

“I go fix,” Ling began, shrugging on the yellow slicker he’d brought along.

“Yes, all right, Ling. I’m sorry, but it might be better if you went. I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me again.” She took another sip from her glass, then glanced away into the fire.

“Maybe you’d like me to come along?” I suggested to Ling. He shook his head and went out through the terrace doors. I sat again; Maude was sipping her drink and staring at the ashes scattered across the hearth:
Skeletons from our Closet.

The clock ticked, the rain dripped, the room breathed slowly, like a slumbering dog.

“Maude?”

“Hm? Oh—yes, Charles. I know. You want to know what was in those letters that I fear so much. But I won’t tell you.
Can’t
tell you, I should say. I pledged myself—to him—never to tell. So you’ll just have to read it for yourself in Faun’s book.
Skeletons
indeed.”

“Are you telling me this is something that will make a difference to anybody?”

Again her eyes went to the bust on the pedestal. “It’s a question of the family honor,” she replied. “At my age I find that things make very little difference. She’s right, you know, I won’t be around much longer. I know that. I’ve been prepared to go for a long time. I
want
to go. It’s almost twenty-one years and I still miss him, every day I miss him. I’ll be so happy to see him again. But I don’t want to meet him knowing that that wicked girl over there has besmirched the name of Crispin Antrim.”

Her look was fervent and her glass shook, glittering in the firelight. Her voice had begun to go hoarse. “Nothing’s enough for her; there isn’t enough love or understanding or compassion—or money—in the whole world to satisfy the greed that’s in that girl.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “She’s bent out of shape.”

Maude looked up sharply. “Bent! What a felicitous word! She
is
bent. And—
I

simply

will

NOT

have it
!” Her face was drained of its blood and she spoke in a voice of brimstone. She was Lady Macbeth or Clytemnestra, Medea, all the great vengeful women. It was something to see. When she had polished off her drink she handed me the empty glass. “‘Please, sir, may I have some more?’” What was wrong? Was she going to get plastered tonight? And on Old Overholt?

I got up and splashed a little more into her glass and carried it back to her.

“Well,” she said, holding up the glass against the flames, “here’s to crime.”

I glanced sharply at her but she was staring into the fire again. We heard footsteps on the terrace and Ling stood in the doorway, embarrassed because of the water he was dripping onto the floor.

“It’s all right, Ling, don’t worry about a little wet. Come in. Is she all right?”

Ling came into the room and shut the door. “Missy Fonn all pass out. I no can move her, she go sleep on sofa.”

“Oh, the foolish creature!” Maude exclaimed impatiently. “She’ll catch her death over there.”

“Why don’t I have a look,” I said. “I can carry her up to bed.”

“No, you stay here, please,” Maude said abruptly. “Ling, fetch me a coat, and come along.”

In seconds Ling was back with another slicker. I helped Maude into it and opened the door again, letting in another damp blast of air. The two went out together; I closed the door and sat down to wait. After a few moments I went to hot up the fire again. In a moment the clock chimed. I circled the room, peering out into the darkness; then I sat and waited some more, but recurring pangs of nervous energy and curiosity propelled me from my chair again and I went to the doors, cupping my hands as I peered out. All I could see among the dark trunks of the trees was a glimmer of light through a downstairs window over at the Playhouse. Finally I opened the door and stepped out onto the terrace. The rain had stopped, but the gutters and eaves were dripping noisily. Again I peered across to the Playhouse, then decided to investigate. I loped across the lawn until I came under the beeches, whose wet branches sent cold drops down my neck. When I came abreast of the house, I looked in the nearest window. The room was empty. I opened the door and went in. The place was cold; there was no fire.

“Hello?” I called between the stairway’s carved balusters. When there was no reply, I went up. At the top I saw the dim glow of light from the bedroom. The floor squeaked badly as I crept up to the threshold and peered in. I could see Faun lying on the bed bundled under a comforter, while on the far side of the room, by the porcelain stove, Maude and Ling were huddled, lighting matches and whispering together.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

Maude all but jumped. “Oh. It’s you,” she said. “What a fright you gave me. You really needn’t have come.” I detected a note of annoyance, as if she didn’t want me there. Suddenly I was no longer her hero but an inconvenience.

“Can I help?”

“No, thank you. We have it now.” She nodded to Ling and they stood. Ling adjusted the gas and went to the doorway.

“She asleep?” I asked, nodding at Faun.

“See for yourself.” Maude turned down the cover and I saw Faun’s pale face. “Dead to the world; you couldn’t wake her with an earthquake.” I thought her voice sounded more natural now. She stood beside the bed, gazing down at the sleeping form, absently smoothing the cover for a moment or two; then she glanced around at the stove. “I don’t think there’s anything else, Ling,” she said. “We can go along now.”

I turned and went out, Ling behind me. Maude had started out with him, but at the last moment she went back into the room, leaving the two of us to continue along without her.

Downstairs, Ling faced me with his usual deadpan expression. His dark eyes shone in the light from the lamp that burned on the table. We waited; after a moment he went to the stairs and called up in a stage whisper. “Missy Maw’ come quick now, please?”

There was a slight sound from above, then silence; presently he moved to the door and opened it. A gust blew in, wet and chilly, lifting the corners of the rug. Above us, Maude’s feet came into view on the staircase. “Come, Mistah Cholly, please, we go now.” Ling actually ushered me out by my elbow, and I found myself among the dark, dripping trees. A moment later, I heard Maude’s voice and saw her appear in the glow of the lamp Ling held in his hand. He led her out and shut the door from the outside.

“Wait, you forgot your lantern.” I started back.

“No, no—I left it,” she said quickly, “for Faun. She might wake up—be frightened.”

Odd, I thought, Maude having just said an earthquake couldn’t waken her. She’d taken my arm and was moving me away from the entrance. “Come along, do let’s get out of this nasty wet before we drown.” I could feel her hand shaking and her breath came in little pants as she urged me along. We bridged the distance between the two houses and came up to the terrace doors; then we were back inside.

BOOK: All That Glitters
8.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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