“No,” he said flatly.
“You,” I said, “look at life through a peashooter. You can focus on one incident at a time. Don’t you ever try to relate each incident to a whole series?”
“Not this time.”
“Miss Owen and I know who did it, Lieutenant.”
“She drinks tea too, eh?”
“You don’t want to know?”
“Not interested. Go play games. Go play cop. Maybe it’s a part of your education.”
We left. “For a time there he seemed brighter than that,” I said.
We got into the car. “Joe,” she said. “Joe, why don’t you go back to New York? Why don’t you tell Mr. Flynn that in your opinion Arthur Marris did it? Why don’t you let him take over? He could build a fire under the lieutenant. Why don’t you go to New York and take me with you?”
“Shameless!”
“Determined. You’re not getting out of my sight again, Joe.”
“I propose and what do I get? A bloodhound yet.”
“Take us home, Joe.”
“Home! Haven’t you ever heard the old adage about street cars?”
“Yes, but you have a season ticket. Home, Joe.”
What can you do?...
I finished the unfinished yarn, folded one copy carelessly and shoved it into my pocket. I finished it Saturday. Tilly, who’d driven down early, was singing in the small kitchen, banging the dishes around.
“I go to leave the epic,” I said.
“Hurry back. And, Joe, bring two of the biggest steaks you can find. The biggest. I’ve never been so hungry.”
I felt like a commuter going to work. Kissed in the living room. Kissed at the door. Waved to. Told to be careful, dear.
Although the brethren with Saturday morning classes were at them, the others were in bed, most of them, with a few others looking squinty-eyed at black coffee in the dining room. I had some coffee with Step Krindall. This morning his baby blue eyes were bleary.
He moaned at forty-second intervals, wiping his pink head. He said, “That wrist watch of yours, Rod. Could you wrap it in your handkerchief and put it in your pocket? The tick is killing me.”
“A large evening?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t counted my money yet. I missed the curfew and the bed check and the last bus out here.”
“Seen Arthur around this morning?”
“He was coming out of the communal shower as I went in. A ghastly memory. He smiled at me. He slammed the door.”
I finished my coffee.
“You slurp a little, don’t you?” he said weakly.
I gave him a hearty slap on the back and went back to the row of senior rooms. I tapped on Arthur’s door.
“Come in!” He looked up from the desk. He was studying. He frowned and then forced a smile.
“I came in to tell you I was a little off the beam the other day, Arthur. I’m sorry. Must be the heat.”
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that, Rod. Frankly, you had me puzzled. I was going to suggest a checkup at the infirmary. Sometimes the boys get working too hard. A lot of times you can catch them before they crack.”
I looked at him blandly. “Too bad you didn’t catch Ted Flynn in time.”
He nodded. “I’ve felt bad about that ever since. Of course, it was Harv Lorr’s responsibility then. But all upperclassmen should look out for all the other brothers, don’t you think?”
“I certainly think so.” I pushed myself up out of the chair, said good-by and left quickly before he could call my attention to the folded second-sheets I’d left tucked visibly between the cushion and the arm. I had written it up without my name so that anyone would naturally read it to find out whose it was. And I was depending on the narrative hook I’d inserted in the first sentence to keep the reader on the line until it broke off on page nine.
I went and bought two steaks as thick as my fist, frozen shrimp, cocktail sauce, an orchid with funny gray petals edged with green, a bandanna with a pattern of dice all adding up to seven or eleven, gin and vermouth, both imported, and a vast silly shoulder bag of woven green straw. I wanted to buy her the main street, two miles of waterfront beach and the Hope diamond, plus a brace of gray convertibles that would match her level eyes. But I had to save something to buy later.
When I got back, she was gone. I stowed the perishables in the freezing compartment and jittered around, cracking my knuckles, humming, pacing and mumbling until she came back at quarter to one.
“Just where do you think you’ve been?” I demanded.
“Hey, be domineering some more. I love it.”
“Where did you go?”
“I took a bus to school and found Molly and talked her out of this.” She took it out of her purse and handed it to me. It was ridiculously small. On the palm of her hand, it looked as vicious and unprincipled as a coral snake.
“Her father gave it to her,” Tilly said.
I took it and broke it and looked at the six full chambers. I put out one load and snapped the cylinder shut and made certain the hammer was on the empty chamber.
“I thought we ought to have one,” she said in a small voice.
“You’re cute,” I said. “You’re lovable. Come here.” I opened the bottom bureau drawer and took out the .357 Magnum. If the one she brought was a coral snake, this is a hooded cobra. “Now we’ve got an arsenal.”
“How was I to know, Joe?”
“Look at me! Am I a bare-handed type hero? Am I a comic-book buccaneer? Uh uh, honey. At moments of danger you will find Arlin huddled behind the artillery. You should have seen me in the war. Safety-first Arlin, they called me. The only man in the navy who could crawl all the way into a battle helmet.”
Suddenly she was in my arms and shivering. I laid the weapons on the corner of the bureau and paid attention. “I’m scared, scared, scared,” she said.
“Hold on for twelve hours,” I said. “To yourself — not to me. Junior will move fast. He has to. The chips are on the table. The mask has slipped. The hour is on the wing and the bird in the bush has become a rolling stone.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“What do you expect? Get out from under my chin. Stand over there. Okay. This is the order of battle. Arthur will show. He has to. He will show in one of two ways, but first night must fall. He will either come in here playing house president looking for an opening, or he will sneak.
“We will have the daylight hours in which to be gay. Then, come night, we must be boy scouts. We must guard against the sneak play. The surf makes considerable racket. A sneak will come from the beach.
“Thus, the answer is to be invisible from the beach and to be brightly lighted. The south corner of the living room answers that purpose very neatly. We will move the couch there and sit pleasantly side by side with weapons available and wait. In that way we shall be facing the door at which he will knock, should he decide to come openly. Should he knock — you, in great silence, will dart into the living room closet.
“Either way, we shall have two witnesses, you and me. Should he come openly, you must rely on my reflexes and my glib tongue, darling.”
“I love your reflexes.”
“On the ice you will find two mastodon steaks, shrimp that need no cleaning and one wild flower. The wild flower is for you.
“If the steaks turn out poorly, due to the cooking thereof, I shall take away the flower.”
Oh, we were glib and gay throughout that long afternoon. We swam, drank, ate, told jokes, sang, held hands. Nothing did very much good. Our laughter was too brittle and high, and our jokes were leaden.
There were ghosts lurking behind our eyes.
Violence belongs in damp city alleys and shabby tenements and sordid little bars. It doesn’t fit into an environment of white sand and the blue-green gulf water, and the absurd and frantic running of the sand pipers, and the coquinas digging into the wash of wet sand. Murder doesn’t go with the tilt of white gull-wings against the incredibly blue sky, or the honeyed shoulders of the girl you love.