“About what, Nana?”
Maude clamped her lips into a tight line and her face reddened. “Hear me, young woman. If you dare to write so much as one derogatory word concerning Crispin Antrim, you will never see me again. You will never set foot in this house, your allowance will be cut off forever, and I shall alter my will to the extent that it still benefits you. Do I make myself clear?”
Faun spoke softly, reasonably. “But, Nana, don’t you see, if I publish my book, I won’t need an allowance; had you thought of that? It’s only right now I need the money. After that you won’t ever have to give me another cent. When my book gets published, I can sell the movie rights for lots and lots of money.”
“You would do this thing? You would dare to write wicked things about your grandfather, that dear man—your own flesh and blood?”
“Just give me the money, then, and that’ll be the end of it. I’ll go away and you’ll never hear from me again. That’s fair enough, isn’t it? Nana? Do say something.”
“I shall say nothing more. I refuse to discuss it further. Either say you’ll give up this vile notion or I shan’t be responsible for the consequences. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go to bed.”
“Wait, Nana!” she wailed. “I need it. You’ve got to give it to me or—”
“Or what? Go on, tell me.”
“It won’t be my fault. I’ll only be doing what you’ve forced me to do. I don’t want to do it, Nana, really I don’t, but you’re making me do it. It’ll be your fault, then.”
“Is that what you think? Do you really believe that? I am making you do it. What a joke. And what a foolish creature you are. I am more ashamed of you than of anything in my entire life. I regret the day your father ever planted the seed of you—or that your mother ever allowed you to be born.”
“That’s all you ever talk about—Mother! I don’t want to hear about her. I’m only here to talk about what’s going to happen if you don’t give me the money.”
Maude’s indignation turned to scorn. “Money! It’s always a question of money with you, isn’t it? You’re money-mad. You have dollar signs for eyeballs. You speak and coins fall from between your lips!”
“I need it!” She beat her fists on her knees and her voice strained with urgency.
“I have no doubt you may need it. But not from me, not now and not ever.” She sat back and refolded her arms, defiant, contemptuous. “And tell us, my dear—is that why you—”
“Why I what?”
“Is that why you shot poor Frank, because you needed money and he wouldn’t give it to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you, though!” Maude suddenly jumped up and stood over Faun, her whole body trembling. “I’ve had just about enough of you and your lies. No more, Miss, no more. We know perfectly well it was you. We all know. Tell her, Charlie.”
Faun turned to glare at me. I could see the fear in her eyes, fear that I’d say something she didn’t want to hear.
“Don’t look at me as if you don’t know what your grandmother’s talking about,” I told her. “You know goddamn well you shot him.”
“You’re crazy! I never did! Nobody ever accused me.”
“No one accused you because we all agreed we wouldn’t let you get hurt—for your mother’s sake. If we’d turned you in, you’d have gone to jail, maybe you’d have been executed. Do you think your grandmother wanted that? You’re goddamn lucky we didn’t tell what we knew.”
“You bastard! You do hate me, you’ve always hated me, you’d do anything to—to—”
“I’d do anything to protect your mother, if that’s what you mean. I’d do anything to stop you from causing her any more trouble than you have. You’re right, I do hate you. You’ve done nothing but cause people misery for years and years—all the way back to Bucky Eaton. Poor Bucky—what a mess you made of his life.”
“Bucky—what’s Bucky got to do with this, for God’s sake?”
“He was the first of your victims, poor fellow. God knows how many others there’ve been. But it stops, it all stops right here, tonight, in this room it stops, do you understand? And as for this nonsense about your book, I think you’re just bluffing. You don’t know diddly about Crispin Antrim, so why don’t you just run along and peddle your papers.”
“Oh you—!” Unable to think what to call me, she un-snapped her bag with a crisp, declarative sound and her hand brought out a packet of envelopes.
“What are those supposed to be?” I demanded sarcastically.
“What do they look like? Nana—what do you think they are?”
Stiff in her chair, Maude regarded the letters as if they might bite her.
“Five letters, and very interesting ones. Letters of a highly incriminating nature. Look closely, Nana, maybe you’ll recognize the handwriting.”
She held them up so that Maude could see the superscription, then took them quickly away as if she was afraid someone might snatch them from her.
“How did you come by those?” Maude asked.
“Quite easily, as a matter of fact. When I was in New York I saw an old friend of yours, Nana. I wonder if you can guess who that might be?”
“I wasn’t aware we were playing guessing games.”
“This—friend of yours—had lots of interesting gossip to tell me. But, then, Claire usually does, doesn’t she? Yes, darling Auntie Claire. And would you care to hear what I learned from her?”
“I’ve no time to listen to your wicked talk. I said I was going to bed and I am.”
“But, Nana, don’t you want to hear what Claire had to say? Don’t you want to know what’s in these letters? I’m sure someone like you would find it ver-ree interesting. Especially in the light of the way Claire behaved at the funeral.”
Maude was struggling to maintain her equanimity in the face of this cat-and-mouse game, and I wanted to give Faun a good crack in the chops for baiting her.
“Then perhaps Charlie wants to hear. Maybe he’ll appreciate what I’ve got here that’s worth fifteen thousand dollars.” She held the letters up again and I tried to grab them but she put them quickly behind her. “Tch tch—didn’t your mother tell you it’s not polite to grab? Very well, I’ll explain what these letters contain.”
“I’d rather you did not,” Maude said.
“But, Nana, he’s family, I’ve heard you say so. To Mummy—‘Charlie’s like one of the family now.’”
She slipped some pages from the first envelope and held them up. “Wait,” Maude said. She looked at me. “It’s true, Charlie is one of my family, but I do not care for him to hear the contents of those letters. Charlie, be kind enough to wait outside for a moment or two while I speak with Faun. Perhaps Ling could make us some coffee.”
I went into the kitchen and asked Ling to put the coffeepot on. He set up the silver tray with sugar and cream; then we sat on opposite sides of the counter, hardly speaking, watching the pot, which, as is proverbial, took long to boil. Then the Snuggery numeral clicked up in the little box and Ling poured the hot brew into the silver pot and set it on the tray.
He managed to mask his indignation when I said I’d carry it in. In the Snuggery I found Maude and Faun more or less as I’d left them, only now Maude was holding the packet of letters in her hand, while Faun lit another cigarette à la Claire.
“Ah, I can smell Ling’s coffee from here,” Maude said as I set the tray down at her elbow. “We’re sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Charlie, but Faun and I had certain matters to discuss. Happily, our differences have been resolved, isn’t that true, Faun?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Nana dear.”
I poured coffee for Maude, then offered a cup to Faun, who shook her head and yawned at me. “Not for me, thanks; I don’t want to stay awake another night.” She took out a prescription bottle and spilled two capsules into her palm: good old Tuinals.
I threw another log on the fire, and as I turned, she
covertly showed me a filled-in check with Maude’s shaky signature and made a supercilious face meant to be amusing. I didn’t find it so.
“Before I toddle off, Charlie, I’ll bet you’d like to know what’s in those letters that’s worth all that money, wouldn’t you?”
“If you’d care to tell me.”
“Why don’t you tell, Nana?”
Maude set down her cup and picked up the packet from her lap. “Come here, Charlie, please,” she said. I went and stood by her chair. She put the letters in my hand and firmly closed my fingers around them. I looked down at her, then at the letters, saw the handwriting, and identified it as Crispin’s. The letters were addressed to Claire Regrett. When I looked up, I recognized the wish in Maude’s eyes and bent to set the packet on top of the flaming logs.
“Thank you.” Maude picked up her cup again and took a sip of coffee.
Faun began to laugh. “Fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of ashes,” she said as the draft carried black scraps up the chimney and out onto the marble hearth. “What do you think of that, Charlie?”
“I think it’s all over now,” I said sternly, “I think you have your money and I think you’d better leave. That’s what I think.”
“My.” She put out her lip. “Very well. To bed, to bed.” She got up and glanced in the mirror, but didn’t seem to like what she saw. Turning, she smiled at Maude, saying, “Good night, Nana. I knew you’d see things my way. And just in case you’d thought of stopping this check”—she waved it daintily—“you’d better think twice about that. I have Xeroxes.” She folded the check, and when she put it in her bag she slipped out the corners of some white folded pages.
Maude sat taking this in; then her face crumpled and she began to weep and I jumped to take the cup from her hands. I knelt beside her, murder in my heart. Maude pushed me aside and got up unsteadily, refusing to look at Faun. I rang for Ling and when he came and saw his mistress in tears he glared at Faun and then followed Maude out into the hall.
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.