I dressed and went over to the house. After breakfast, I went to work on the grass again. I’d just about shaken off the worrying. Like a guy will, I’d swung down through the bottom of the blues and come up on the other side. I wasn’t entirely up, but I was coming up fast.
It was probably a couple hours after I went to work that I heard Fay stirring around in the kitchen. Then, maybe thirty minutes later, she came to the door and called to me.
I dropped the scythe and started across the yard. Wiping the sweat out of my eyes, mopping my face and arms with my handkerchief. I went up the steps and across the porch, opened the door, and went in. And—and then I just stood there, staring at her. Because I’d known she was beautiful, that she had the stuff to be, but I’d never thought Fay could be this beautiful. I didn’t think that any woman could.
Her eyes were sparkling, crystal clear. Her hair had that soft, brushed-shiny look, and her face was rose-and-white softness that seemed to glow from the inside. She was wearing tan shorts, and a white off-the-shoulders blouse. She took a deep breath, smiling at me, and her breasts swelled. And I could see she was wearing nothing beneath the blouse.
“Well?” She tilted her head to one side, smiling. “How do I stack up as an advertisement for prohibition?”
“F-fine. You stack up period.”
“Mmmm? Really think so? But you ought to make sure, shouldn’t you?”
“Fay, Fay, honey—” I took a quick step forward, then I stopped, looking down at myself. “I guess with you so clean and pretty and everything, I ought to—”
I hesitated, kind of hoping she’d say it didn’t matter. And I think she did start to say that. But this was something that meant a lot to her, as much probably as marriage would have meant, and in a sense it was marriage. It was something she wanted to be perfect, so, after a moment, she nodded.
“All right, Collie. It’s a nice thing, as I recently remarked, so why louse it up?”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Just as soon as I wash up a bit.”
“And you know where I’ll be.” She smiled. “I’ll be ready. In fact, I think I may as well…”
Fay tugged suggestively at the blouse. Then she turned and went through the living room and into the bedroom.
I couldn’t move for a second or two, and then I beat it out of there fast. I ran across the lawn, and up the stairs to my apartment. I turned the water on in the tub, and started shaving. I finished shaving, got in the tub, and scrubbed and soaked myself. Then, I put on all clean clothes and went back down the stairs again.
In all, I guess it had taken me about twenty-five minutes. It couldn’t have been any more than that. But in that little time—just that little time—everything changed for me.
I hadn’t heard the car leave; I wouldn’t have heard it with all the noise I was making in the tub. But it was gone and, of course, she was gone, too. I looked in the house, hoping against hope, hoping that it wasn’t like I knew it was. But she was gone. Apparently, she’d gone dressed as she was, taking a coat with her maybe.
I sat down in the living room, and for a while I just sat, staring into space, staring at nothing, my mind a blank. Then, gradually I began to think again. And what I thought was that this was all so unnecessary, that it was one more piece of the pattern that had put me where I was.
Doc Goldman. Doc and the dozens of other doctors I’d come up against. They said that my thinking was one-sided, and, hell, compared with theirs, mine had more sides than a bar. They knew all about me—at least some of them did. But they knew me as something kind of isolated, something set off by itself and not really a part of the world. I was a case, not a person. What I thought or felt was of minor importance, if any. It was unreliable. I knew nothing, and they knew everything. And if I’d just hold still long enough, a year, two years, fifteen years, why, they’d fix me up in fine shape. Yes, sir, they’d take care of my case. Or if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Because life would have passed me by.
I’d been listening to doctors for half my lifetime. But I couldn’t remember one that had really listened to me, who’d actually given any thought to what I’d said. And why not? Tell me why not. I was the guy most concerned. I was the one guy who knew exactly what I was up against. I was the world’s best authority on Kid Collins—not a case, but the Kid himself. I knew what he’d taken and how much he could take. And most of all, most important of all, I knew how people took him.
There wasn’t any theory about it. There wasn’t any of this business about how people ought to or should act. I knew, I’d learned by first-hand experience. and if anyone had listened to me, if Doc had listened…
Yeah, sure. I was in on a pretty rotten deal. But it had taken me more than fifteen years to get into it—more than fifteen years of holding still, of being the nothingness of a case. And…and Doc hadn’t known about the deal. All he’d known was that I seemed to be getting along fine, that I had something to live for for almost the first time in my life. And still he hadn’t listened to me. What I knew didn’t matter, only what he thought.
I got the telephone directory, and looked up his number. I dialed it, and he answered immediately. I said, “Collie,” and waited.
“Collie?” He hesitated. “Look, fellow, uh, where are you?”
“Right where I’ve always been.”
“But—” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You remember, I didn’t make any promises, Collie. I said we’d let it stand for the time being. And I only agreed not to see her. I didn’t say that I wouldn’t, uh, telephone.”
“I know. You’re a man of your word, Doc.”
He was silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice sounded a little bewildered, kind of half-angry. “I didn’t say a word that should have alarmed her, Collie. On the contrary, I was very careful to reassure her.”
“Well, that makes her kind of crazy, doesn’t it? She shouldn’t have been alarmed, and she should have been reassured. But it turned out exactly the other way. She didn’t react properly, did she, Doc? She’s abnormal, isn’t she?”
“Judging by her attitude, yes! She—”
“I know. I remember the time I had three spine taps in one month, and the time I had the electric-jolt treatment and the insulin-shock routine. There wasn’t anything wrong with the treatment, you know. It wasn’t the treatment’s fault that I couldn’t focus my eyes or stand up or remember my own name. That was mine; I just didn’t react properly.”
“Collie. Please listen to me.”
“I remember a doctor at one of the places I was in, a guy that specialized in lobotomies. So he performed one of them right after another, and of course he was absolutely correct in doing it. But somehow the patients just wouldn’t cooperate with him. They didn’t react as they should have. He’d give ’em these swell prefrontals, just the prettiest jobs you ever saw. And these damned stubborn patients just wouldn’t turn out right. I guess they probably liked being idiots, wouldn’t you say? They liked being so stupid that they couldn’t button their own pants or count the fingers on one hand. They liked—” I broke off, choking. “Let it go. Just let it go.”
There was a pause and I could all but see him frowning. I could see the worry in his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry, Collie, but you must know that it was the only thing I could do. It’s hardly my fault if Mrs. Anderson adopts an attitude that is completely unreasonable.”
“That’s the word all right, Doc. Now maybe you’ll tell me what a reasonable attitude would be. She lives alone, remember, and her nerves are in pretty bad shape and she hasn’t known me much more than a week. So tell me, Doc, just how should she have acted?”
“Well, I—I certainly don’t think that she…” He paused. “Now, listen to me, Collie! I said I was sorry.”
“You don’t know, do you? You didn’t know, but you know now. And you found out the easy way. Why didn’t you do it to yourself, Doc? Why didn’t you go to some of your normal people and tell ’em you were a mental case, and see ho
w they acted?”
“Collie…” And now I could visualize the red flush on his face. “I did what I had to. I’m sorry that Mrs. Anderson took it as she did, and I’ll be more than glad to—Is she with you, now?”
I laughed. I didn’t say anything.
“You’re at her house? Well, stay there and I’ll come right out. I—you know I’m your friend, boy. I don’t mean to throw anything up to you.”
“I know. I’m glad I can remember.”
“You’ll stay there then—give me a chance to straighten this out?”
“I’m leaving here,” I lied. “I’m hitting the trail again.”
“No! No, Collie. If you don’t feel that you can stay there, you must come back over here. We’ll go ahead, just as we planned.”
“I’m leaving, Doc. I’m hitting the trail, and don’t try to pick that trail up. Because if you do…I might stop remembering.”
I hung up the phone.
A minute later it started ringing again; it rang and rang, and then finally it stopped. And I went on sitting here, looking into nothingness. The tears streaming down my face.
9
I waited there at the house until around midnight. Then, I went out to the garage, stretched out on the bed and waited. At four in the morning, when I fell asleep, she still hadn’t returned.
It was almost noon when I awakened and I was conscious of someone being in the room with me, I lay still, keeping my eyes slits, and looking out from beneath the lids.
It was Uncle Bud. He was seated near the bed, his hat pushed back on his smooth white hair. He was watching me, studying me rather. There was a thoughtful, calculating look on his too-friendly face; and I felt that I knew what he was thinking as well as he did.
So what if the Kid is a little off?—and it couldn’t be more than a little. I can still use him. Use him, and then get rid of him…with Fay’s help. Because the way she feels about the Kid, now, she’d be even more anxious to wash him up than I am.
I waked up; I opened my eyes, I mean. I looked surprised, and Uncle Bud apologized for walking in on me. He’d just that moment come in, he said, and I told him, sure, it was okay.
I went into the bathroom and washed. When I came out, he had that warm, warm smile turned on. The friendliness and sympathy stuck right out at me.
“You know what happened, Kid? Fay had a pretty big load on when she showed up at my place, and I’m not sure I got things straight.”
“I know what happened. I checked with my friend the doctor.”
“A hell of a note! Yes, sir, a hell of a note.” He shook his head sadly. “Two people hitting it off like you were, and then a thing like this has to happen. But she’ll snap out of it, Kid. Just give her a little time to get used to the notion, and she’ll come around.”
“Sure, she will. It won’t bother her a bit.”
“Well—” He glanced at me sharply. “Well, no, of course it won’t. But we better not rush it, huh Kid? We better wait for her to lead. And, speaking of that, you just take it easy here and I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
Uncle Bud went over to the house and fixed me a tray, bacon and eggs and a big pot of coffee. Fay was really knocked out, he said, so sick and hungover she could hardly stand up. And that kind of put us on the spot, didn’t it? It really fouled up the ball game, didn’t it, Kid?
“It sure does. If we’re going to pull it today, we ought to be leaving in a couple hours.”
“Or less, Kid. Or less. I’d say to wait until tomorrow, but how do we know she’ll be straightened out by then? Once she starts batting that jug, she’s liable to be on it for a week.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Kid…” He hesitated. “What do you think, anyway? I’d take her place, go with you myself to take care of the boy. But I’m pretty well known in this town, and if someone should see us together…”
“Yes?” I said.
“Well, I don’t think it would be a good idea. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything, and maybe it would. The way I look at it, there’s just no sense in taking chances.”
I filled my coffee cup and lighted a cigarette. He waited, kind of fidgeting, wanting me to grab the ball and carry it. And I let him go right on waiting. I had to be absolutely sure, you see. It had to be his proposition.
“Well,” he said, at last. “What d’ya say, Kid? What do you think? Me, now, I think you can swing it fine. You can do it just as well by yourself, as you could with Fay.”
I took a swallow of coffee, hesitating; pretending to think it over. I screwed up my face thoughtfully, and slowly drained the cup. He watched every move. He leaned back in his chair, one arm thrown over the back, trying to appear easy and unanxious, but feeling so much the other way he just couldn’t put it across.
Fay had called the turn on him all right. He was stupid—stupid and cheap. A little squeezing, and it cropped out all over him. It oozed out of him like sweat.
“Well,” I said. “I’m pretty dumb myself. But if you think—”
“Yeah? Yeah, Kid?”
“If you think it’ll be all right, why, okay.”
“Swell! That’s swell!” He jumped up beaming. “Now, if you’re all through there, we’d better start getting you ready.”
My hair is blond, almost yellow. Maybe I told you that? Well, anyway, it is—it—was—and the real chauffeur’s hair was black. So that was where the dye touch-up came in.
I shaved, shaving extra close. When I was through, Uncle Bud took the razor and shaved my neck. He stood back and looked me over. He went over my face again, taking care of any little places I’d missed, and then he went to work with the dye.
I looked pretty funny when I was through—the sides and back of my hair black and the top of it yellow. The outsize sunglasses covered my lashes and brows, so we let them go. I put on the uniform, everything including the cap, glasses and gloves. Then, after Uncle Bud had checked me over, I stripped off the cap, jacket, glasses and gloves, and put on my hat. I was wearing a sports shirt. In the car, I’d look just about like any other guy out for a ride.
Uncle Bud helped me carry the uniform stuff downstairs. We put it down on the floor of the station wagon, behind the front seat, and I got in. Uncle Bud wished me luck. He beamed at me—almost laughing, he was so happy. And I almost laughed myself. I drove off, wondering why it was always the stupid people who figured everyone else to be stupid. Why they always think they can outsmart the other guy. Because I wasn’t supposed to be bright, of course, but even an idiot could have seen through this stunt.
I’d never meant anything to him. Now that I didn’t mean anything to Fay either, and since I’d practically told him how he could cash in and play it absolutely safe…Well, you see what he was going to do. What they were going to do.
And it looked like a very sweet set-up for them. Everything seemed to fit together perfectly. They could even use Doc Goldman to back up their story.
Fay had felt sorry for me, and given me a job. Then, when Doc had told her about my background, she’d fired me—giving me until the following day, Monday, to clear out. She’d slept late that day, this day, and when she waked up she found that I’d stolen her car. She hadn’t known quite what to do—being so innocent and unworldly, you know. So she’d called Uncle Bud, and he remembered I’d done some talking about the Vanderventer boy. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, just supposed it was some wild talk. But if I was an escaped lunatic and a car thief…
Well, maybe I didn’t have it figured exactly right. But it was close enough. I was due to get killed. Uncle Bud was due—or thought he was—to be a hero.
Knowing what I did, I couldn’t say why I was going ahead. Somehow, I didn’t really think about the why of it. It just seemed like something I had to do—like I’d been set in a rut and had to follow it out to the end. I was hurt, of course; hurt and sore at the whole world. And probably that was why. But I don’t know. All I knew was that I had to go ahead, and that I needed an angle to
do it. Something that would pull them into the deal, and hold them in it.
It would drive them nuts, I thought. They figured on cashing in fast and easy, and it wasn’t going to be that way. I’d make them go ahead. They’d have to play it right out to the end…with an escaped lunatic for a partner. A lunatic who was suspicious of them, who knew they’d tried to kill him. And before it was all over, they’d probably be ten times crazier than they thought I was.
But I needed an angle. I had to have an angle.
10
That neighborhood was the finest in the city, just about the fanciest I’d ever seen anywhere. There were a few apartment houses, with pools and fountains in front and long wide walks leading up to them. But almost everything was estates. The houses sat far back from the street, so far and so hidden by trees that they could hardly be seen. Most of them, most of their yards rather, were enclosed by walls that cut them off from the street. I was parked at the corner of one of these walled places.
The playground was just across the street ahead of me. It covered a square block, and it had about everything you could name in the way of play equipment. Practically all of the kids that came here, of course, had as much or more at home. But this private park gave them something they didn’t have at home—something that ordinary kids take for granted; a chance to play with other children. So I guess their folks felt it was necessary.
The grounds were enclosed by a high spiked-steel fence, with a gate on each side. Across one end, fronting on this street and a side street, was a brick clubhouse. I suppose you’d call it that. Anyway, it was a place where the kids could romp in bad weather, and with rest rooms and so on.
The gates weren’t guarded; I guess a guard for each one would have been pretty expensive. They weren’t locked either, since the matron had twenty-five or thirty kids on her hands and she couldn’t keep running back and forth to the gates.