“Need you ask?” Jay shrugged. He fished in a pocket for cigarette and matches and, having found them, did nothing further about them. “Surely it’s evident by this time that a sense of responsibility is not one of Terry’s attributes. Her father didn’t want to cut her off, but he hoped a delay would bring a little more maturity. Wishful thinking, I’m afraid.”
Fanny rose, took the cigarette and matches from Jay’s hands, lit the former with one of the latter, and sat down again.
“Since you are not going to smoke this,” she said, “I may as well. I must say, Jay, I’m not completely convinced. Is there any particular reason why Terry should suddenly have decided to go back to Los Angeles?”
“She was always threatening to. She didn’t want to come to Handclasp in the first place. She was never happy here. If the offer by the university hadn’t been so attractive, I’d probably have stayed in Frisco.”
“If she’s gone back to Los Angeles, it should be easy to check. As you say, she’d certainly get in touch with this Mr. Feldman, because of the allowance and all. Why don’t you call him and ask?”
“I intend to, this evening.”
“Why don’t you call him now?”
“No. I’ve decided to wait a little longer.”
“There you are, Fanny,” Farley said. “I hope you’re satisfied and will stop making a nuisance of yourself.”
Fanny’s retort, which was on the tip of her tongue, was stymied by a knock on the door. Her first thought was that here was Terry, home from the wars. But, on second thought, it would be ridiculous for Terry to knock on her own door. On the other hand, she might consider it wise, under the circumstances, to throw in her hat before entering.
It was not Terry at all, of course, but Otis Bowers.
“Hello, Otis,” Jay said. “What can I do for you?”
“I wonder,” said Otis, “if I could borrow some matches. I seem to be out.”
“Sure.” Jay stepped back, giving Otis a clear view of Fanny and Farley, whom Otis had been trying to see around Jay’s shoulder. “Come on in.”
Otis came in. Jay headed for the kitchen, where the matches were.
“Hello, Fanny, Farley,” Otis said. “I just knocked on your door, Fanny, but I couldn’t raise you.”
“Obviously,” said Fanny, “since I am here and not there. What are you looking for, Otis?”
Otis’s head, which had been turning this way and that, suddenly assumed a fixity, eyes front, as if he were afraid of the consequences of turning it at all.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. I just came to borrow some matches.”
“I thought maybe you were looking for Terry. If you were, you can quit. She isn’t here.”
“Little sister,” Farley said, “why don’t you shut up? If Jay wants a mouthpiece, I’m sure he’ll ask for one.”
“Well, what’s the matter with you, Farley?” Fanny said indignantly. “What’s the harm, I’d like to know, in telling Otis that Terry isn’t here when he can plainly see for himself that she isn’t? I don’t understand your attitude at all.”
“Oh, I give up!” said Farley. “By God, I do!”
“What’s all the fuss about?” Otis said. “Didn’t Terry get home last night?”
“No,” Farley said, “she didn’t.”
“Jay thinks she went to Los Angeles,” Fanny said. “Isn’t that so, Jay?”
“Yes.” Jay, having completed his round trip to the kitchen, handed Otis half a dozen matchbooks.
“But why Los Angeles?” Otis said.
“We’ve been all over that,” said Fanny. “If you want to know things, Otis, why don’t you get in at the beginning?”
“Never mind,” Jay said. “There’s no point in dwelling on the matter. Otis, I believe there’s enough matches there to last until you can get more.”
“Yes. Yes, this is plenty, Jay. Thanks very much.”
Jay, when he had come away from the door after admitting Otis, had left it open, possibly as a hint to his guests, but the effect, unfortunately, was only to gather another. Otis, on his way out, was suddenly face to face with his wife. Ardis had appeared on the threshold and was nosing into the room.
“Otis,” she said, “what are you doing down here? I thought you were just going across the hall to borrow some matches from Fanny.”
“Fanny isn’t home,” Otis said.
“As you see,” said Fanny.
“Did you get some matches?”
“Yes. Jay loaned me some.”
“Then we had better go back upstairs.” Ardis leaned forward into the room and craned, like her husband before her, this way and that. “Where’s Terry? Didn’t she come back last night?”
It was evident from her tone that she considered it Jay’s good luck if Terry hadn’t. Jay obliged woodenly by confirming her hopes.
“Jay thinks she’s in Los Angeles,” said Fanny.
“Los Angeles! Whatever for?”
“There are good reasons,” said Fanny, “that are too involved to relate.”
“Is that so?” Ardis shifted a sweetly venomous stare from Fanny to Jay. “Even if there are, I’d look closer to home before leaping all the way to Los Angeles. As I have good reason to know. Even, next door or upstairs is not too close for Terry’s operations. Jay, have you asked Brian O’Hara if he knows where she is?”
Otis was pink and Jay was white and Farley was red, but Fanny was mostly interested.
“What the hell do you mean by ‘next door’?” Farley said.
“What I would like to know,” said Fanny, “is what she means by ‘Brian O’Hara.’ Jay, what does she mean?”
“Shut up, Fan!” Farley said. “For God’s sake, shut up!”
“Brian O’Hara,” Jay said stiffly, “is a local and lesser version of Arnold Rothstein. He is a gambler who specializes in collegiate athletic contests. He owns a couple of night spots geared for college students. He is reputed to be honest by his own liberal standards. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, I know who he is, of course,” Fanny said. “What I mean is, what does he have to do with Terry?”
“Ardis is trying to tell me,” Jay said, “that Terry and O’Hara have been seen together under suggestive circumstances. Thanks, Ardis, but I already knew.”
“Well, you may have known, but I didn’t,” said Fanny. “Did you know, Farley? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m no damn scandal-monger, that’s why,” Farley said. “Besides, it’s incredible that you hadn’t found out. It’s a miracle.”
“It’s evident that I’ve said too much,” Ardis sniffed. “I was only trying to be helpful. Come along, Otis!”
She marched away, Otis trailing. Passing through the doorway, he cast a glance backward.
“Jay, thanks for the matches,” Otis said miserably.
“You’re welcome,” Jay said.
When they were gone, Farley rose and turned immediately to Fanny with grim decision, as if he were prepared to do violence if necessary.
“You, too, Fan. Stand up. Let’s leave Jay alone.”
“Surely.” Fanny stood up as ordered. “You are quite right for a change, Farley. I must say, too, that you were quite right in the hall upstairs last night. I am always inclined to see the good in a person instead of the bad, but that Ardis is a bitch.”
8
It has been said of patients in mental hospitals that one of the therapists’ most difficult problems is to get them to do anything. Although some kind of work is thought to be as important to the cure of mental disorders as aspirin to the alleviation of a headache, the patient displays a remarkably obdurate insistence on submitting to the tricks of his nervous system. Jay Miles was not a mental patient, but in this respect, at least, he felt and acted like one.