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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75234-0.txt b/75234-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c233e51 --- /dev/null +++ b/75234-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13199 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75234 *** + + + + + + "WHO HE?" + + By ALFRED BESTER + + THE DIAL PRESS + NEW YORK + 1953 + + Copyright, 1953, by Alfred Bester + _Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 53-9322_ + + DESIGNED BY WILLIAM R. MEINHARDT + Printed in the United States of America + By The Haddon Craftsmen Inc., Scranton, Penna. + + To + ROLLY + + + + + CHAPTER I + + +Every morning I hate to be born, and every night I'm afraid to die. I +live my life within these parentheses, and since I'm constantly walking +a tightrope over hysteria, I'm perceptive to the dilemmas of other +people as they cross their own chasms. + +I'm a script-writer by trade, specializing in mystery shows. I'm +married to an actress. We're both of us second-raters in the +entertainment business ... mostly anonymous to the public, fairly +well-known to our colleagues. Between us we make from ten to twenty +thousand dollars a year, depending on the breaks. This is only fair +money in our business. + +It seems like a fortune to our families, and we dazzle them with our +glamour. We hate this, but we can't dispel the illusion that General +Sarnoff claps me on the shoulder and calls me by my nickname. Now +we've given up trying. We realize that people want their friends to be +glamorous, so we've stopped trying to avoid undeserved admiration. But +I can't stand deception, and if I appear to be cynical in this story, +it's because I'm leaning over backwards to tell you the truth. As a +matter of fact I'm the reverse of cynical ... rather naive, in love +with adventure and romance, with the moral and ethical standards of an +Eagle Scout. + +This is all I intend telling you about myself, because the story isn't +about me; it's about some tightrope walkers I know, and their strange +adventures in this fantastic frontier town we natives call The Rock. +The Rock, of course, is Manhattan Island, the only part of Greater New +York that we consider to be the genuine New York; and in our business +there is a very small society of natives born and raised on The Rock. +You'd be surprised at how few there are. + +The Rock is the roaring frontier of the new life we are all beginning +to live, a life that is a terrifying mixture of the conscious and +unconscious levels of our minds. It is new and terrifying because the +unconscious depths which were concealed up to now, have become exposed, +and participate openly in our every-day life, turning it into a savage, +merciless war. + +It's like those subway rides you take on trains that tunnel deep under +the city, emerge abruptly into the daylight to roar past third-storey +windows, and then plunge down into the lower levels again. So, when you +meet people on The Rock, you never know when some unexpected turn will +carry you up for a flashing glimpse through the windows of their souls, +or down into the black depths of their hatreds and formless desires. + +Adventurers from all over the world crowd into our town, just as +fortune-hunters went west a century ago. In the old days in Denver and +Fargo you fought for your life and your fortune, but in our frontier +town you fight for your sanity as well. The drives and ambitions, +the deep passions and compulsions, the blind search for symbols and +compensations that bring the bandits to The Rock are naked and exposed, +and this is where the danger lies. A man may declare war on you because +you're a threat to his job, or merely because you're the symbol of a +threat to his precarious stability. When you cross a street you never +know whether you're going to be sandbagged by a thief's blackjack or a +neurotic's nightmare. + +The Rock is so wild and wide-open that nobody ever pretends to mask the +deep chasms and smouldering fires in their lives. We carry our fears +and fixations like naked weapons as we walk our tightropes, and we use +them as quickly and murderously as Billy The Kid used his six-gun. The +result is that we fight, love and adventure on all levels and never +bother to distinguish reality from illusion because both are equally +living and dangerous. + +I'll try to separate fact from fancy in this adventure I'm going to +tell you, but in the end I think you'll agree that it's unnecessary. +Like the classic bartender in the classic Western, you'll duck behind +the beer kegs at the first shot, whether it comes from a real gun or +the explosive ferment in a man's mind. And don't imagine for a moment +that this story is a plug for psychoanalysis. Whether you believe +in analysis or not, you must admit that man, like the iceberg, is +nine-tenths submerged. I'm simply going to describe what life is like +in our frontier town where the submerged levels float up to the surface. + +The locale of this story is a show I never worked. It's a TV variety +clam-bake called "Who He?" ... one of those lunatic mish-mashes that +started out as a panel quiz show and ended up as a musical. It stars +Mason & Dixon, supported by Kay Hill and Oliver Stacy. It's directed by +Raeburn Sachs, written by Jake Lennox, with music by Johnny Plummer. +It's produced by Melvin Grabinett Associates and costs the client, Mode +Shoes, $50,000 a week. + +"Who He?" is not an expensive show as TV variety shows go. It's in the +middle bracket. I think you might be interested in a rough break-down +on the budget which will give you some idea of the stakes for which the +people in this adventure were fighting. The monetary stakes, that is. +The network charges $25,000 for a half-hour of coast-to-coast time. Mig +Mason, the star, gets $2,000 a week. Diggy Dixon, who is co-starred +with him, doesn't get a nickel because Mason's a ventriloquist and +Dixon is the dummy. Stacy, Kay Hill and other talent and specialties +including the dancers get $3,000. + +The writers, Jake Lennox and Mason's gagmen, split $1,500 between +them. Lennox also gets a small cut in the producer's take for helping +create the show. Incidentally, one of the gagmen got married for the +first time on his forty-third birthday. The marriage broke up after +two weeks. The bride went home to Canada and the gagman went down to +Washington and became a spy for the government. We're still trying to +figure it out. Maybe he decided that any tight rope, even an espionage +tight rope, would be safer than the one he was on. + +Raeburn Sachs gets $750 a week for directing "Who He?". How Sachs got +started in the business is one of the great legends, and the only +explanation for his weird public and private life. He was a stencil +clerk in a Chicago advertising office, and one day he drove to work +in a new Cadillac. He also wore new clothes and a new look. Everybody +asked Ray if he'd robbed a bank. Chicago-type joke. Ray told them +proudly that he'd written a hit tune called "Lumbago" or something like +that. + +Nobody ever heard of the tune. The office did a little detective work +and discovered that "Lumbago" did exist, had truly been written by Ray, +and had been recorded as a favor to him by a cousin who led a band +working for a Chicago recording company. The gimmick was that there was +another side to the record, the Flip, they call it, and Sinatra was on +the Flip. Sinatra made the sales, but Ray shared the money. That made +him a reputation and started him as a variety expert. He's been trying +to justify that wrong Flip ever since. + +Here's a little more budget: Johnny Plummer, married to the most +exotically beautiful noodnick in the world, is allotted $1,500 a week +for orchestra, copying and his own fee. The noodnick has standing +orders to keep out of the theater because she disrupts the camera men, +and camera time is counted like radium. Cameras and technicians cost +$2,000. Sets and props cost $3,000. Special effects like rain, snow, +Acts of God and Rear-Projection cost $500. + +The producer, Mel Grabinett (Mr. Blinky to his enemies; he has no +friends) takes $3,000 which he cuts up with Jake Lennox and Ned Bacon +who developed "Who He?" with him. Jake and Ned get two and a half bills +each. That's $250. Borden, Olson and Mardine, the advertising agency +representing the client, adds 15% of the gross cost of the show for +agency fee, and that plus prize money and incidentals comes to $50,000 +a week to demonstrate the superior quality of Mode Shoes. + +Some forty hard-working, variously talented people put together "Who +He?" every week ... artists, technicians and business men. Each of +them is walking his own private tightrope, but all of them must walk +the communal tightrope of the show on Sunday night at nine o'clock +before 37 million viewers. The individual pressures added to the common +tension of the show make it seem inevitable that the program will +blow up during rehearsal and never get on the air. Yet "Who He?" has +appeared 39 weeks in succession without mishap. Without mishap, that +is, until the performance on New Year's night. + +It was one of those nightmares. Everyone who saw the show knew +something was wrong. Mig Mason performed so badly that you could see +his mouth twitch and his neck muscles jerk during the ventriloquist +routines with the dummy. Oliver Stacy handed out the wrong prizes. +Johnny Plummer missed his cues. Floor managers and stagehands wandered +dazedly before the cameras. The dancers went through the production +numbers as though they expected the roof to collapse at any moment. +_Variety_ happened to catch the show that night and murdered it. + +_Variety_ was unfair. Their reviewer should have checked first. He +would have learned that the show went out the window because one man +fell off his private tightrope with such a disastrous jar that everyone +else was shaken. He would have discovered that less than five feet of +sight-line saved the theater audience and the TV viewers from the +spectacle of a dead man hanging by the neck from the iron grid above +the stage. + +For twenty-nine minutes and thirty seconds, stars, actors, dancers +and technicians went through the motions of playing "Who He?" under +a corpse with starting eyes and swollen tongue ... a victim of the +savage, merciless warfare in our frontier town, murdered by the ferment +in a man's mind. + +I knew the corpse. I know what killed him. I'm still friendly with most +of the cut-throats who watched him die. I've spoken to them, questioned +them, and heard what they couldn't say as well as what they said. I've +pieced out all the strands that wove themselves into a rope around a +man's neck. This is the story of what happened.... + + + + + CHAPTER II + + +Jake Lennox had been fighting a losing battle with himself for ten +years, and it was a struggle he had never been aware of. The two levels +of his mind hated each other and were tearing him apart. Jake had a +conscious ideal, the model of the man he wanted to be ... austere, +kindly, infallible, sophisticated. Like many of us, he suffered +from the Mignon Complex. He was bitterly ashamed of his background. +He had had a squalid childhood as the son of a drunken Long Island +clam-digger, and would have liked to awaken one morning to discover +that he was really the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk. + +But deep down inside, Jake was a hell of a rowdy guy; full of laughter +and boisterous energy, yearning for ribald friends and a burning girl +he could love and marry and riot in bed with. He was not aware of this. +He believed in the conscious image of what he wanted to be. And while +the lusty passions within him fought to overturn and destroy the world +he had made for himself, his conscious mind was fighting desperately to +hold it together. + +Occasionally the conscious mind gave way, which is why Jake Lennox +awoke on Christmas night in the role of another man. He was convinced +that he was Mr. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia. I got this story from +Jake and from Aimee Driscoll when I went up to her apartment to claim +Jake's overcoat and precious gimmick book. Jake couldn't face Aimee +again. She represented the turmoil inside him which he could not +acknowledge. + +Aimee (how about that name?) is a blonde with a poached face and +the fattest behind and bosom in the hustling racket. If you looked +at her through a gin bottle you might imagine that she was a busty +Swedish acrobat, which was what betrayed Jake. There are front-men and +rear-men, Aimee kindly explained to me, and she parlays both into a +lovely living. Mr. Clarence Fox was an All-Around Camper. + +He awoke, still drunk and still bloody from the brawl in Ye Baroque +Saloon where he had acquired Aimee. He wore his underwear and was +cramped into an overstuffed sofa and covered with a gritty Navajo +blanket. It was dark. Lennox let out a roar that slid into a ballad +which he'd composed the night before and with which he'd been injuring +ears ever since. + +Aimee heard the racket, ran into the living room and turned on the +lights. Lennox winced, closed his eyes, and sneezed three times in +stately waltz tempo. + +"Less light," he muttered. "A switch on Goethe. I am excessively +educated, and all by hand. Need more crud in my blood." He began to +roar again. + +"Stop that noise, Clarence!" Aimee called from the door. "Stop that +goddam singing." + +Lennox finished the ballad which included every dirty word he knew. +Seventeen, by actual count. + +"And stop talking dirty," Aimee told him primly. She was wearing a bra, +panties and high black net stockings; not, she pointed out, in hopes of +arousing the beast in Mr. Fox. It was her conventional uniform. As a +matter of fact she knew he was still drunk and hoped he wouldn't start +anything. She waddled to the sofa and bent over Mr. Fox solicitously. +He had been very generous to her even though her professional services +had not yet been requested. Mr. Fox stared up at her bursting cleavage, +then suddenly thrust his heavy hand down into it. + +"The All-Mother," Lennox laughed. + +He hurt her. Aimee squawked and jerked back. Lennox held on to the bra +and tore it away. He began to cheer: "Brah! Brah! Brah!" waving the bra +like a college pennant. + +"You goddam lousy bum!" Aimee screamed. "You're mean. You're mean dirty +drunk. I never liked you from the beginning, you goddam lousy son of +a--" + +"No, no," Lennox protested. "An act of admiration. 'Fair is my love, +for April's in her face, her lovely breasts September claims his +part....' Poem by R. Greene. Speaks for C. Fox." + +He lurched up from the sofa, captured Aimee and clutched her +reverently. He pressed his face between her breasts. He had not shaved +in a day and a half, and his beard was excruciating. Aimee fought and +twisted and thrust him away. Lennox straightened and rocked like a high +mast. + +"'But Cold December dwelleth in her heart,'" he mumbled sorrowfully. +"Where's the woman who'll give passion with the sweetness of virgins +and the lunacy of whores? You give, Aimee, but you taste like money." +He staggered, tripped on a mass of cardboard and wrapping paper, and +fell heavily into a three-foot Christmas tree that expired with a +jingle and pop. + +Aimee burst out laughing. She was revenged. Lennox arose in a fury, +seized the Christmas tree by the butt and beat it savagely against the +wall. Aimee protested. He leaped toward her and lashed her across the +high fat buttocks. Aimee screamed. Lennox slipped and bruised himself +on a solid square object covered with tissue paper. He clutched it. + +"You leave that alone, Clarence," Aimee yelled. She forgot all other +outrages and ran across the room. She clawed at Lennox and tried to +pull him off. The tissue paper tore away. + +"What'r you protecting? Virginity?" Lennox growled. + +"It's the Christmas present you gimme. You bought it last night. Don't +you bust it!" + +Lennox peeled away tissue paper to reveal a dark wood console and a +twelve inch TV screen. + +"The Monster!" he cried. "The One-Eyed Beast!" He hammered the top of +the set with his fists. Aimee fought him helplessly, then darted away +and returned with an empty quart beer bottle. She swung it with both +hands and clubbed Lennox across the back of the neck. He fell forward +into the rubbish like a tackle throwing a rolling block. He was the +size of a tackle. + +Lennox climbed to his feet, his throat working convulsively. +"Bathroom," he croaked. He was sick. Aimee knew the symptoms well, and +no vendetta was worth another cleaning bill. She turned Lennox around +and pushed him competently through a narrow door into the small bedroom +and then into the bathroom. She turned on the light, flipped up the +toilet lid and with the skill of long experience, bent his head down to +the bowl. Then she backed out and slammed the door. + +During the preliminary moment of agony, Lennox thought: "They play +Boys' Rules. Oh Virgins! Respectables! Learn from them--" Then the +purge began. + +When the heaving stopped, Lennox straightened painfully, flushed the +toilet, then examined his face in the mirror. To him it was the face of +Mr. Clarence Fox, the visiting Quaker from Philadelphia. His cropped +hair was still sleek; nothing could ever muss it. But his dark eyes had +heavy purple shadows around them, and his lined face was bruised. + +He was purged, still drunk, but beginning to sober. He staggered to +the bedroom, found his clothes neatly hung in a closet, and dressed. +He went out into the living room. Aimee had straightened it. She wore +a white housecoat blemished by green and scarlet petunias, and was +kneeling alongside the new television set plugging it into a wall +outlet. + +"If you got any on the floor you better clean it up," she said icily. + +"Merry Christmas," he answered. "Happy to pay for damage to life and +limb." + +Lennox reached into his pocket, took out his wallet and was fingering +through it for money when his eye noticed the identification card. + +"This isn't my wallet," he said. + +"What?" + +Lennox plucked at his shirt dubiously. "Not my clothes either." + +"What are you talking about, Clarence? Them's your clothes." Aimee +switched on the set and fiddled with the controls. + +"No. Not mine. Belong to somebody else. Character named Lennox." + +"Who?" + +He extended the wallet for Aimee to examine. "My name's Fox. Clarence +Fox from Philadelphia. This is Jordan Lennox, says here. See? Jordan +Lennox. How'd he get into the act?" + +The screen ignited, herringboned, then sprang into life. The blast of +Johnny Plummer's orchestra filled the room with bright expectation. +A Main-Title card displayed white comedy letters against a cartoon +background while the voice of Oliver Stacy read it with frenetic sell: +THE MODE SHOW ... STARRING MIG MASON AND DIGGY DIXON ... PLAYING--'WHO +HE?' + +"Who He!" Aimee called over the burst of studio applause. I love that +program. I get every question right. I could make a fortune if I could +get on." She backed up, feeling for a chair, her eyes fixed on the +screen. + +Jake Lennox's consciousness ignited, herringboned, then sprang into +life. + +"'Who He!'" he burst out, stunned and bewildered. "That's my show." + +Clarence Fox stole back to Philadelphia. + +"That's my show," Lennox repeated. + +"How do you mean, your show?" + +"I write it. I own a piece of it." + +"That's a hot one," Aimee laughed. + +"Don't you understand? It's my show. I'm Jake Lennox. I write +that--I--What the hell am I doing here? I'm supposed to be at the +theater." + +Lennox turned and stumbled out of the apartment. He clattered down the +brownstone stairs and fell half a flight. It was bitter cold on the +street. Snow and rain were falling, and the air was like ice-water. +Lennox ran west to 3rd Avenue, the great exposed nerve of The Rock's +delirium. It was empty. The bars exuded urine-colored light. The +antique shops blazed with cut-glass chandeliers. Alongside him, a +darkened barber-pole still revolved its red and white spiral with the +sound of guillotines. + +A small man in a derby, pea-jacket and white duck trousers passed him +and addressed him brightly: "Hiya, Dan. Nice to see you again." The +man in the derby continued up 3rd Avenue greeting empty doorways in +friendly tones: "Hello, Jerry. Long time no see.... Hiya, Pete? How's +the family? Glad to see you, Ed." Lennox stared at him, then saw a cab, +ran for it and leaped inside. + +"Gotham four one thousand," he called to the driver. He shook his head. +"No. That's the backstage number. I--Let's take it from the top. Venice +Theater. 50th and Sixth. I'm in a rush, Mr...." He tried to focus on +the license card above the glass partition. It would be considerate to +call the man by his name instead of Mac or Bud. His eyes bleared and he +gave it up. + +He sat on the edge of the seat, terrified by his abrupt return to +sanity, fighting to recapture the Lennox he admired and wanted to +be ... the sober Lennox, the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk. He +found his wristwatch in his jacket pocket and put it on, Nine-three. +Mig Mason would be starting the first Mason & Dixon spot on the show. +What was it this week? The football routine. Mason in moleskins. The +dummy under a sheet. _What football player made ghosts famous? For five +hundred dollars, Who He? Red Grange. That's ab-so-lute-ly_ CORRECT! +(Applause). Lennox began to shake, + +"What's happened?" he muttered. "Where've I been? I'm in a panic. Why, +for five hundred dollars?" + +Lennox sorted through his shattered memory of the past twenty-four +hours. He was afraid to unearth, uncover, reveal; yet compelled, +like a man exploring the pain of an aching tooth. The fragments were +incomprehensible and crumbled under the most delicate touch. A Chinese +face appeared, then faded. A series of meaningless explosions sounded +like a vanishing execution squad. There was a knot. A gleaming African +smile. The knot again. A brass-bound staff and the brazen uproar of +gongs. A knot. A target. A knot. + +"And fear," Lennox said. "Fear. For God's sake, I was drunk, that's +all. Nothing more. Why am I afraid? What've I done?" + +He examined his wallet. Twenty three dollars left out of four hundred. +How much had gone for that television set bought for the blonde.... +What was her name? Anna? Mamie? Bought for her by a Quaker. Mr.... Who +was it? Charles something? Claude? Lennox winced and shook his head. +The memory was going ... going ... like the streets disappearing under +the sleet. Twenty four hours, and nothing but veiled patches left. A +Quaker. A blonde. A knot. + +"Christ," he prayed. "Dear Christ stand by me. Stand by me now." + +Lennox discovered he was crying. He was outraged. An austere, kindly, +infallible, sophisticated man didn't weep. It was that other character +he was forgetting with sickening speed ... a lurid, roaring, shameful +savage. He pounded his fists together, then looked again at his watch. +Nine-seven. Oliver Stacy and Kay Hill in the first song spot. Stacy +dressed in sheik's robes singing to Kay wearing an English riding habit +and making like Agnes Ayres. _For seven hundred and fifty dollars what +famous actor was the first famous sheik? Who He? Rudolph Valentino, +(Applause). Play-off from orchestra and segue into Intro for drama +spot._ + +The cab jammed in traffic at 42nd and Vanderbilt, and again at Madison. +Lennox resisted the impulse to thrust his head out the window and roar +at the hacks and busses. He fought for control. Nothing remained from +the lost night but a Quaker, a blonde, a knot and terror. He turned his +back on the fragments and the fear and clung to the framework of the +world he knew. He was Jordan Lennox who owned a piece of and wrote most +of "Who He?" He had never won a Pulitzer Prize but he had never been +less than a contract writer in his life. He had never auditioned for a +job in his life. He had never been fired from a job in his life. In ten +years of brawling and knifing his way up in the business he had never +lost a fight. + +"No, by God!" he said suddenly. "What have I got to be afraid of? +They're all afraid of me." + +When he got out of the cab at the stage door he was no longer +tremulous. He was again the Jake Lennox we all knew, sardonic, hostile, +unyielding. He poked a dollar at the driver for the fare, and another +dollar for a present. "Merry Christmas, Mac," he said, not unkindly, +and walked into the theater. His feet left black prints on the +sidewalk. The city too was covered with sleet. + +It was 9:31-30. The show was two minutes off the air. Lennox pushed +through the crowd of wives and friends that crammed the backstage +corridor and reached the wings. Instantly, he halted. He smelled +trouble, and the prospect recharged him with energy. He stared around +with quick, guarded eyes. + +The house was emptying out. The two glass control booths at the back of +the orchestra were filled with gesticulating agency men who might or +might not be berating Raeburn Sachs, the director, and Sol Eggleston, +the network camera-director. Jake's nostrils dilated. The stage was in +a turmoil. Six dancers in snow-crystal costumes dashed past him with +their duck-footed gait, whispering nervously. + +"Angie ... Flo ... Ruthanna!" Lennox called. They were his favorite +pipe-lines to the backstage. They glanced at him with frightened +eyes, looked away and scampered up the iron stairs to the dressing +rooms on the balcony overlooking the stage. In a corner book-fold set +representing Santa's workshop, Oliver Stacy was snarling at Kay Hill, a +thin, attractive girl with acid eyes and a slack mouth. + +The camera crews and stagehands were striking equipment and sets in +silence. There was no chatter or laughter despite the fact that the +Grabinett office had slushed them with Christmas graft and it smelled +as though the graft had been sampled. Lennox turned and looked across +the house to the right boxes where the musicians' platform was built, +searching for his friend, Sam Cooper, the rehearsal pianist. The +musicians were leaving. Sam was nowhere in sight. Lennox mustered +himself for another fight. Carrying his naked weapons ready for quick +murder, he strode to the star dressing room on stage, knocked once and +entered, prepared for attack or defense. + +The star stood in scarlet Santa costume with half a beard clinging to +his lantern jaw. Mig Mason was thin, dark, young, with a good hairline +and a bad nose-job. He was sobbing hysterically. His wife, Irma, in a +mink coat, wearing Christmas orchids, a bad platinum dye and a good +nose-job, was trying to soothe him. The producer, Mel Grabinett, +blinking and jerking, was roaring at Tooky Ween, Mason's agent. Diggy +Dixon, the dummy, in gnome's costume, sprawled on the dressing table +alongside the door and regarded the scene with a wooden grin. + +"I don't care how much you're worth," Grabinett stuttered. "I don't +care how much goddam billing you handle. What the hell are you trying +to do? Bury my show?" + +"What are you trying to do?" Ween rumbled. "Bury my property?" + +"It ain't bad enough you gouge my budget for three grand. Three +Almighty Grand for that special skyscraper set so he can crawl around +like a cowardy cockroach and drop the dummy and turn my show into a +trappisty--" + +"I told you I had to have three hours' rehearsal on camera," Mason +shrieked. + +"He had to have three hours," Irma said. + +"But then he has to bitch the telephone contestant!" The producer's +face twitched hideously. "She give him the right answer. Kris Kringle, +she said. My operator was monitoring that Kansas call. She heard it. +The dame give the right answer." + +"She did not," Mason cried. "Tell him, Tooky. The right answer was St. +Nicholas." + +"The right answer was St. Nicholas," Irma said. + +"It was Kris Almighty Kringle, you no-talent son of a--" + +"Lay off!" Ween broke in. He glared at Grabinett. "Lay off my property. +You ain't just talking to talent. He's a star." + +"The question," Grabinett told the star with exaggerated calm, "was: +You seen me play the part of Santa Claus in our comedy sketch. Now, for +five thousand dollars, can you tell us another name for Santa Claus. +That was the question. And she give the right answer. Kris Kringle. +But no, you said. Sorry, you said. That's not right. Thank you. Merry +Christmas. And you hung up the phone and hung me up with the FCC. That +dame's husband is a lawyer. He called back before we went off the air. +He's so goddam mad he's suing us for fraud. He's suing the network." +Grabinett's voice broke in agony. "He's suing the client. The client!" + +"The answer was St. Nicholas," Mason shouted. + +"It was Kris Almighty Kringle!" + +Lennox could have backed out and disappeared unnoticed; instead +he thrust the dressing room door wide. The knob struck the dummy +and knocked it to the floor. Everyone twisted around and saw him. +Instantly they seemed to close ranks. Even the dummy shifted its eyes +malevolently. Lennox looked them over insolently, daring them to +attack. They attacked, + +"Ask him!" Mason cried. "Ask him! He wrote it. He's supposed to know +all the answers. The Thinker!" + +"It's his fault," Irma said. + +"Where the hell you been?" Grabinett blurted. "You know what happened? +If you'd been around tonight we wouldn't be in this jam." + +"You got one hell of a nerve writing a lousy show like this for my +property," Tooky Ween growled, "I want a new writer hired." + +"You don't need a writer," Lennox snapped. "You need an education. And +don't try to rap me for that skyscraper fiasco. F-I-A-S-C-O. I voted +for Rear-Projection at the conference." + +"You can't get laugh values with projection," the agent rumbled. "You +got to pin-point my boy on a genuine set." + +"And what happened on the genuine set? Lennox eyed Mason coldly. You +dropped the dummy? For laugh values?" + +"They never gave me a chance to rehearse the chimney," Mason wept. +"When I got halfway down with the bag of presents and I say to Diggy: +Hey Diggy! This ain't the right chimney. It smells wrong. And Diggy +says...." + +From the floor the dummy cackled: "Better get your paddle out, Mig. +You're up the creek." + +Lennox scowled. "I told your gagmen not to use that. We agreed to cut +it." He enlisted Grabinett. "You backed me up, Mel. Yes?" + +"Yeah," Grabinett answered. He too scowled at Mason. + +"But it's the best boffola in the routine. When I did it on the +Oddfellows show last year they--" + +"Used it last year? You swore the Santa sketch was an original." Lennox +attacked Tooky Ween. "You guaranteed Mason would use nothing but +original material on this show. Fact?" + +"Listen," Ween began to explain, "My boy is--" + +"Your boy is going to lay a suit for breach of contract in your lap if +you don't watch him." + +"It was so strictly original," Mason protested hysterically. "Last year +we did it like a chimney sweeper and his helper. We--" + +"And next year it'll be a burglar and his friend. What happened tonight +in the two thousand dollar chimney? Two, Mel?" + +"Three!" Grabinett howled. "Three thousand bucks so he could get his +pants full of nails and drop the dummy trying to ungoose hisself. It +was a trappisty!" + +"Who'd he drop it on, Tooky?" + +"Who cares who?" + +"Mel and I care. We're still trying to find a laugh in that sketch." + +"I care on who." Irma raked Ween with her eyes. "Happens he dropped +Diggy on me. My head." + +Lennox kept his face straight. "Did it get a laugh?" + +"Nobody saw. I was behind the set." + +"Cuing him from the script," Grabinett sputtered. "He didn't even know +his lines." + +"If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do," Ween told him. + +"There's co-operation for you," Lennox said bitterly. "What does +he have to lose, Mel? He's got a network contract for his boy. Two +thousand a week guaranteed, work or no work. What does he care about +the show?" Lennox looked at Mason sympathetically. "But you ought to +care, Mig. It won't do you any good to go off and lose your fans while +Tooky collects his ten percent." + +"Fifteen," Mason snapped. + +"Oh? Three bills a week out of you? For what? Watching? Advising? +Protecting? No. 'If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do.' +Agents!" + +"What the hell are you trying to parlay?" Ween demanded. + +"I think you're looking for an excuse to get out of the show," Lennox +answered. "You're trying to duck the Kansas lawsuit. Your property got +Mel into this jam. Now you want out so he'll have to face it alone." + +"They'll never get away with it," Grabinett shouted. "Neither of you +both. You got me into this. You're stuck with it." + +"St. Nicholas!?" Mason cried. "St. Nicholas!" + +"Yeah? Show me where it says in the contract," Ween answered, "It ain't +our headache. It's yours." + +"Then how would you like it if I handed you a real genuine headache, +Mr. Ween? Something I had been protecting your Almighty property from." +Grabinett blinked ominously. "A nice little headache waiting for your +boy up at the office in a blue envelope. Number six, it is." + +"What?" Lennox exclaimed. "Another one, Mel?" + +"Yeah. Another one. It come special delivery this morning. What a +sweet Christmas card! Wait'll you read it, Jake. It got me so scared, +I--Wait'll Mig reads it." + +"What's this? What's this?" Tooky Ween said angrily. "You been holding +out on my property's fan mail?" + +"Not any mail he wants to read. Some elegant letters in blue envelopes +which--" + +"Mel! Hold the phone," Lennox interrupted. "We decided we weren't going +to mention those letters to anyone. Are you going to blow it?" + +"It's already busted wide open. If Kansas don't take us off the air, +them letters will." Grabinett shook his fist at Ween. "Threatening +letters which come addressed to 'Dear Who He' and signed 'Guess Who' +and they'll curl the hair off all his property, including that atom +bomb shelter he built in Westchester and this no-talent dummy-dropper." + +"Cut out them insults," Ween said furiously. + +"Cut out them grammar," Lennox murmured. Having turned the united +front back into civil war, he felt secure again; in full control of +the situation, austere and infallible. But the news about the letter +was alarming. It was another attack to be met ... a vicious, anonymous +onslaught, far more dangerous than the threatened lawsuit. + +"I been trying to protect my show," Grabinett continued passionately to +Tooky Ween. "I been trying to protect your lousy artiste so he could +earn his two yards and get us a rating, but if you're gonna rat on me, +then I'll--" + +"Why don't you leave me alone?" Mason screamed. "What are you trying to +do? Murder me? Leave me alone!" + +He scooped up the dummy, thrust past Lennox and dashed out of the +dressing room. The others stared in astonishment, then all four ran +after the star. Mason was at the prop table. He snatched up a ski-pole +and veered out on the naked stage, whirling the pole over his head, +making whimpering sounds. He smashed the single work-light hanging down +from the grid, and the stage was in darkness. Irma screamed. Grabinett +groaned. Tearing noises came from the back wall where the struck sets +were stacked. Lennox took over. + +"Angie! Flo! Ruthanna!" he shouted. His favorites heard him. They +opened their dressing room door and came out on the balcony. The stage +was flooded with dilute light from overhead. + +"What is it, Jake? What's the matter?" + +"Keep that door open. We need light," Lennox answered. He called to +the star: "Mig, don't be a fool! If you want to break something, your +agent's right here." + +Mason stopped ripping the flats apart, dropped the ski-pole, turned and +ran wildly behind the master switchboard in the left wings. An instant +later they heard the clatter of his feet ringing down iron steps. They +pursued him down the spiral stairs to the huge dressing room under the +stage where six naked ballet boys in half makeup were standing and +staring in bewilderment. + +"Excuse us, ladies," Lennox called. "Where's Mig?" + +They pointed to a heavy bulkhead door just oozing shut. + +"Jesus Almighty," Grabinett moaned. "He's down in the cellar." + +"Find the electrician," Lennox told him. "Tooky, get a flashlight. +Irma, you wait here." + +Lennox went through the cellar door, stumbled down an endless zig-zag +flight of concrete steps, clinging to the rail. He came to the bottom +of the steps, lost his grasp on the rail and was lost in blackness. + +"Mig!" he shouted. + +There was no answer. + +"Mig! Come back. It was St. Nicholas." + +He fumbled in his pockets for matches, listening for the sound of +footsteps. He heard faint echoes far ahead, and ran forward, meanwhile +pulling a book of matches out and trying to light one. "What a +Christmas," he muttered and blundered against a wall with a stunning +impact. The matches flew from his hand. He clung to the wall, waiting +for the crashing in his head to subside. + +"Tooky! Mel!" he called. "Hurry up with the lights!" + +There was no answer. There was no light. + +"There must be an easier way to earn a living," he told himself and +began to grope blindly. + +Suddenly he lost control again. For the second time in that monstrous +day he was attacked by panic. It was inexplicable and gut-chilling. + +"No," he said. "No. Please." + +He was blacked-out and could not withstand this second blow. He began +to wilt and fight for breath. The mass of the theater overhead pressed +down on him, slowly collapsing, painfully crushing. He clawed at the +wall and searched feebly for the stairs. He turned a corner, another, a +third. He was lost forever. + +A hard hand thrust into his neck. Lennox cried out and jerked his arm +up. He was struck savagely across the forearm by something stiff and +wooden. He backed away from this menace and blundered into a jagged +field of metal bones that rattled and clashed. Lennox sagged to his +knees and cried shamelessly. That was how Sam Cooper found him half +an hour later; kneeling in a cellar storeroom amidst overturned music +stands, sobbing before an imperious wooden Indian. + +Without a word, Cooper pulled Lennox to his feet, brushed him off and +led him back to the cellar stairs. His flashlight played erratically on +the glistening tunnels and rotting wooden doors. In the days of past +glory, the Venice had been one of the big musical houses and its vaults +were stuffed with the jetsam of ancient hits: Congo masks, Hessian +boots, racks of tarnished costumes, ear-trumpets, Civil War muskets, an +entire Merry-Go-Round with peeling poles and blind horses. + +"Love to steal them and deal them out to Mig's audience some night," +Cooper murmured. + +"The guns?" + +"The ear-trumpets." + +Cooper helped Lennox up the concrete stairs. As he thrust open the +bulkhead door, he said: "Easy. Gone home. The dancers." + +"Get reporters," Lennox said. "I found Judge Crater." + +They entered the empty dressing room which was still lit. Cooper sat +Lennox down before a bulb-ringed mirror, handed him a box of cleansing +tissue and a comb. Lennox cleaned himself wearily and pretended to comb +his hair. Cooper lit a cigarette and thrust it between Jake's lips. + +"I don't smoke," Lennox said, handing it back. + +"You smoke when you're plastered." + +"I'm not plastered." + +"It says here." Cooper took a drag. "They've got an old Bechstein Grand +in that cellar," he said softy. "I'm going to take your tape recorder +down some night and break it up with an axe. The Bechstein. Could sell +a dub to every pianist in town. Wish fulfillment." + +"Do me a favor," Lennox said. + +"Name it." + +"Break up the wooden Indian on the Flip." + +"I thought that was Judge Crater." + +"I thought it was Kris Kringle," Lennox said somberly, fingering his +neck. Suddenly he asked: "Where's Mason? Dead?" + +"Went under the cellar. Came up the other side. Went back to his +dressing room and doing very well I hear." + +Lennox grunted thrice in anguish. Cooper eyed him solemnly in the +mirror. His face wore a permanent expression of perplexity. He was +tall, compact, with strong hands, high cheekbones and deep-set narrow +eyes. He had the well-scrubbed Princeton look, and as a matter of fact +had been a big wheel in Triangle shows before he broke into television. +He was a mediocre song-writer and a magnificent rehearsal pianist, +which is a high art unappreciated outside the business. + +Cooper and Lennox had been close friends for over three years, and +for the past ten months Sam had been sharing Lennox's apartment. When +Lennox invited him, Sam had moved in his grand piano, seventeen copper +pots, one hundred and thirteen record albums, a complete Hi-Fi sound +system, two Siamese cats, and a mink-dyed skunk. He'd said: "Gosh, +fellows, let's room together all through school." They were still +together, despite the skunk. + +"Great God on echo!" Lennox said after a long pause, "I think I'm on my +way to the booby hatch." + +"Oh? Why the hell did you go charging down there? For Mig?" + +"I was playing the scene." + +"Rover Boys to the rescue. Which were you? Fun-loving Tom?" + +"No. Noodnick Jake. And then I lost hold...." + +"On Mig?" + +"Myself. You saw me down there...." Lennox winced in shame. +"Hysterical." + +"Maybe you're afraid of the dark." + +"I wish it were something nice and simple like that; but the cellar was +just the pay-off on something worse. I.... When did you see me last?" + +"Yesterday. After rehearsal. You went out for a drink with Avery +Borden," Cooper answered promptly. + +"I remember that. I remember the drinks. Then--I didn't sleep home last +night?" + +"Not last night. No." + +"Christ, stand by me!" Lennox muttered. + +Cooper looked bewildered. "You've slept out before. Why the production? +What plays?" + +"I've lost a day," Lennox said slowly. "I don't know where I was or +what I was doing from nine last night to nine tonight." + +"Um. Loaded?" + +"Looks like." + +"Smells like. What were you drinking? Caveat Emptor Reserve?" + +"I've got a feeling that I did something dirty.... Something that's +going to shock hell out of me if I ever find out.... Something as dark +as that cellar. Maybe that's why I blew down there." + +"You're not the dirty type, Jake." + +"But I'm scared. I--You know those newsreels where they dynamite a +smoke-stack?" + +"Yep. Always comes after the Miami water-skis. They play suspense-type +music in two-four." + +"I feel like that moment just before everything collapses. But what +blew up, Sam? What happened?" + +"You think something blew up between tonight and last night?" + +"I know it. That must be why I blacked out. I can remember ... I can +remember a Quaker and a blonde...." + +"Quaker? Man from Philadelphia?" + +"Yes. A Quaker and a blonde and a knot." + +"Blond woman?" + +"I think so." + +"What kind of knot?" + +"What kind could there be?" + +"Dozens. The kind you tie, like hangman's knot. How fast a ship goes. A +knot in wood. A knot in palmistry. A knot in--" + +"You're no help. I can't remember. Just a Quaker and a blonde and a +knot. It's crazy. Why'm I shaking like this?" Lennox tried to control +himself. His eyes burned with tears. "Look at me. Jake Lennox, leader +of men, crying like a fag." + +"You know something," Cooper told him solemnly. "On you it's becoming. +Makes you human." + +"Human!" Lennox burst out in contempt, grinding his eyes with his +knuckles. + +"You need a bath and some food," Cooper said firmly. "Leave us go +home. On your feet, Beaver Patrol. Watch it! You've got your hand in +something." + +"Robust Juvenile No. 4," Lennox muttered, peering at the makeup jar. + +"Robust and juvenile men.... Forward!" + +They left the dressing room, turned out the lights and mounted the +spiral staircase. A new work-light had been hung from the iron grid +high above the stage. Mason's dressing room was open and an informal +party was in progress, Mason had the dummy in one hand and a bottle in +the other. He was going through a comedy routine while Grabinett, Ween, +Irma and a dozen others shrieked with laughter. + +As Cooper and Lennox passed the door, the dummy cackled: "Ah! The +Thinker and the poor man's Paderoosky. Merry Christmas, boys." + +Lennox pulled to a stop despite Cooper's urging. "Peace on earth, good +will to all men," he answered savagely. "For five thousand dollars can +you tell us what it means?" + +Grabinett, Ween and Mason glared at Lennox with hatred. He scowled +back and then permitted Cooper to lead him to the stage door. As they +plunged out into the sleet, he growled: "I'll fight." + +"Who?" + +"I don't know ... but I'll fight. I'll go down fighting, and I won't go +down." + + + + + CHAPTER III + + +The Lennox apartment was on Knickerbocker Square which is one of scores +of hidden relics of the past concealed on The Rock. There are elongated +sycamore trees corseted with cement, a Greek cross of gravel paths, +four square patches of grass, and a black and brass fence surrounding +all. The houses facing the square are red stone Dutch style with copper +roofs, bottle windows and glass orangeries in the rear. The old night +lanterns and polished stone carriage posts are still standing. Lennox +occupied a floor and a quarter in Number 33. + +You entered from the street into the kitchen, decorated with Cooper's +cooking utensils and garish butcher charts he had charmed out of an +influential meat-packer in Grosse Pointe. There was also a lunatic +side-arm Oliver typewriter which he had charmed out of a Brooklyn +druggist. It wrote in minims and other pharmaceutical symbols, and +Cooper typed recipes on it. He once sent me one that read like Witch's +Brew. Turned out to be Fruit Soup. + +Past the kitchen, through a short hall lined with cupboards, you came +into the living room. It was forty feet long with high windows looking +out on a rear garden, and had evidently been enlarged from two smaller +rooms because there were two fire-places on the right wall. On the left +was the door to Cooper's bedroom, the door to the bath, and a narrow +flight of steps leading up to the other quarter floor Lennox had. This +was a second bedroom and study where Lennox slept and worked. + +The living room contained Cooper's piano, his Hi-Fi system, his records +and his two Siamese which hunted in pack. The mink-dyed skunk had +conceived a passion for the bathtub and only came out grudgingly when +the shower was turned on. Lennox had four or five hundred books in +walnut breakfront cases and a pair of butterfly wing chairs to which he +was devoted and over which he waged relentless war with the Siamese who +well knew how to punish him when he offended them. + +There was an Italian couch before one fireplace, which was kept +practical, as we say in the business, and a sawbuck table that doubled +as a bar against the other which contained an aquarium of adenoidal +goldfish. The walls were decorated with smouldering photographs +contributed by Cooper's sister who had studied with Berenice Abbott, +but had not yet recovered from the childhood influence of a Doré Bible. +There was a magnificent refectory table with six captain's chairs near +the windows. + +It was a warm, pleasant apartment since Cooper had moved in. His easy +style took the curse off Jake's stiffness. In the past we used to +dread going to Jake's parties. He was such a punctilious host that he +invariably chilled the guests. But Cooper, who came from fresh-water +society, had lived with protocol too long to be impressed by it. He +kidded Lennox into relaxing and showing us flashes of his real self ... +the Lennox that Cooper knew. I think everyone would have loved Jake if +they could have seen him the way he showed himself to his friend. + +But this Christmas night Lennox was not lovable; he was impossible. It +was his custom to make his prayers in the shower, asking God to keep +him austere, kindly, infallible and sophisticated. He never begged. He +made his request as one son of the Marquis of Suffolk to another. Now, +however, he was raging. He stood under the hot downpour with uplifted +head, fists clenching and unclenching, furious with himself and God. + +"What next?" he asked the shower-nozzle. "What else? Don't pull any +punches. I won't whine or beg off. Let's have it all, and I'll show +You!" + +He cut off the water, wrapped himself in a towel, kicked open the +bathroom door and stalked out into the living room. The mink-dyed skunk +galloped past him back into the bathroom and stamped its paws angrily +when it discovered the tub was wet. Cooper had a fire going in the +practical fireplace, and a pot of coffee tactfully exposed on an end +table alongside one of the wing chairs. It was half-past ten and the +Siamese were enjoying their bedtime magic hour, skittering crazily up +and down the apartment with crossed eyes and flattened ears. + +Lennox dried his back and rump carefully before he sat down. He poured +black coffee and drank it as though it were poison hemlock. Cooper came +in from the kitchen and appeared to be having a magic hour of his own, +for he was wearing his chef's hat and a dinner jacket. Lennox stared at +him. + +"Black tie tonight, Scout Lennox," Cooper told him, removing the hat. +"All out for the Christmas jamboree." + +"What the hell, Sam?" + +"Pull in your feet." Cooper poked at the logs with an old bayonet. +"Must apologize, Sir Jasper. Only a cad would touch another man's +hearth. They teach you that in Islip? Rules for Perfect Behaviour. Like +passing the port to the left." + +"They taught me nothing in Islip," Lennox growled. Nevertheless he +filed this lesson away, until he caught the gleam in Cooper's eye. +He squirmed a little. "What's this black tie routine? More Perfect +Behaviour?" + +"I'll tell you, son. There's no food in the house. So I thought we'd +accept Alice McVeagh's invitation and free-load. She's giving a monster +rally. A debutante party. Turkey, ham, chutney, kedgeree, boiled +mutton, boiled guests, boiled debs--" + +"Who's Alice McVeagh?" + +"You'll like her. She always passes the port to the left. Gives Square +parties. Strictly Square. Nobody in the business. A pleasant change." + +"I'm staying home." + +"Not a crust in the house, Jake." + +"I'm staying home." + +"Um. You want to brood, eh? In F-minor." + +"Sam, I need a party like a hole in the head." + +"The hole's there already. You need to fill it. Get dressed. We'll go +mingle." + +"Sit down." + +"Get dressed." + +"Sit down." + +Cooper cocked an eye at Lennox, then sat down in the facing wing chair. +Instantly one of the Siamese leaped on him. Cooper calmly extinguished +it with the chef's hat and deposited it on the floor where it struggled +ecstatically. + +"Death to the invaders," Cooper murmured. + +After a long pause, Lennox pointed to the frantic hat and said: "Look, +Sam. That's me." + +"The cat in the hat?" + +"Yes." + +Cooper gazed at Lennox with solemn perplexity. "You said you were like +a smoke-stack." + +Lennox waved his hand irritably. "I'm fighting blind, Sam. I'm in a +hassle. The show's in a hassle. You know about my blackout. You know +about Mason lousing the grand prize tonight?" + +Cooper nodded. + +"That's bad enough, but there's something worse. We've been getting +letters. Threatening letters. The filthiest crazy letters you ever saw +in your life. Five already. Blinky tells me there's a sixth up at the +office ... more dangerous than the rest. If I don't do something about +those letters, we may go off; but so help me, Sam, I'm so mixed up I +don't know what to do." + +"Told anybody about them yet?" + +"No." + +"The network?" + +"How can I? All they have to do is smell trouble ... particularly dirty +trouble like this ... and they'll yank us off. They've got a dozen +clients hungry for that nine to nine-thirty spot. They've got nothing +to lose." + +"Um. Dangerous letters?" + +"Filthy dangerous." + +"That means trouble if you stay on?" + +"Probably." + +"What kind?" + +"I don't know. It's an audience show. Suppose we let a lunatic in one +Sunday night. You draw the pictures. Anything could happen." + +"Police?" + +"I'm afraid to go to the police." + +"Why?" + +"That turns it from a private stink into an official stink. That's why +Blinky and I've been keeping it quiet. If the story gets out we'll be +cancelled." + +"Not positively." + +"I won't take the chance." + +"Why not? So you're cancelled. Is that the end of the world?" + +"I won't be cancelled," Lennox said grimly. + +"No, I guess not. You won't let anything be cancelled, will you, Jake?" + +"Nobody's going to end anything for me except me." + +"And you won't ever end anything." + +"Why should I?" Lennox exclaimed impatiently. "I like what I've got. +I'm thirty-five, Sam. I've come a hell of a long way from a kid +telegrapher counting words in Islip, Long Island. What kind of a +chicken-gut would I be to let it fall apart?" + +"This I don't follow," Cooper said plaintively. "You mean the end of +'Who He?' is the end of everything? Exit Jordan Lennox, homeless, +friendless, trudging back to that clam-shack in Islip, a broken man...." + +"For God's sake, will you level with me! I've had a hell of a day and +I don't feel like yakking it up. Who am I fighting, Sam? How am I +going to fight? Jesus Christ on camera!" Lennox pointed again to the +struggling hat. "I'm like that amateur tiger ... banging my brains out +against nothing." + +Cooper looked at the bounding hat, then back at Lennox. "Exactly like +that," he said softly. "The cat's doing it for kicks. So are you." + +"For kicks!" + +"Yep." + +"That's a lousy thing to say." + +"Why? It's a compliment. Everybody says you've got deep freeze inside +you. I know better. This is proof you've got emotions, Jake. Trouble is +you only let 'em out of hock once a year, so you have to turn it into a +production to make up for lost time." + +"Who's making a production? We've got a law suit coming. We've got a +lunatic knocking on the door. I've got a blank day full of memories I +don't want to remember hanging over me. I've got emotions. What do you +want me to do? Whistle 'Dixie'?" + +"I want you to calm down and spread it out over the rest of the year. +Make a note in your gimmick book: New Year's Resolution by Jordan +Lennox. I will faithfully--" + +Lennox started up from his chair. "My God! Where's the notebook?" + +Cooper shook his head. + +Lennox raced up the stairs to his bedroom. He carried a famous +black gimmick book in which he noted down ideas, gags, references, +characters, and so on. He had carried it for ten years. He was never +without it, and had developed a nervous mannerism of feeling for it +every few minutes ... a sudden sharp flexing of his right arm against +his chest to see if the precious gimmick book was in place in his +inside pocket. + +He came down the steps a minute later. "Where's my overcoat?" he yelled. + +"Which coat?" + +"The one I wore tonight." + +"You weren't wearing any coat." + +Lennox raced to the front closet, pulled it open and tore at the racks. +Then he swung around in dismay. "It's gone." + +"Which? The burberry?" + +"No. Yes. I must have carried it in the coat last night. I lost it in +the blackout." + +"Is the coat insured?" + +"To hell with the coat," Lennox cried. "I'm talking about my notebook. +It's gone. Lost. The gimmick book, Sam!" + +"Forget it. I was hoping you'd lose it. It was beginning to fall apart." + +"But I've got everything in it. A year of ideas...." + +"You transcribe 'em every week," Cooper said comfortably. "You've got a +complete file upstairs in the office. You haven't lost anything. Calm +down." + +"What the hell is the matter with you? Can't you understand? I've +carried that book for ten years. I've never been without it." + +"Then it's time you bought another one. Start the New Year right." + +Lennox paced in agitation. "I've got to remember where I was last +night. I've got to remember. I've got to find that gimmick book." + +"Oh come on, Jake. How long are you going to milk this hysteria +routine? Lost nights, lost books, threatening letters.... What d'you +think you're doing? Auditioning? You need a new script writer, boy." + +"You lousy bastard! Maybe I need a new friend," Lennox shouted. + +"Maybe you do at that. Want to start a fight? You want to end it right +now?" + +"I'm damned well fighting right now." + +"Then let's go." Cooper leaped up and faced Lennox aggressively. He +cocked his right fist and pointed to his chin. "Go ahead. Let loose. +I've been waiting three years to watch you throw a punch." + +Lennox looked at Cooper uncertainly. In his blind fury he could not be +sure whether Cooper was grinning in anger or amusement. At that moment +the Siamese burst out of the hat, leaped to Jake's rump and clawed its +way up his naked back to his shoulder. + +"Jesus!" All the pressure in Lennox exploded in a strangulated yell. +He doubled over. Cooper snatched the cat off his shoulder and hurled +it onto the couch. He shoved Lennox into the bathroom, held his neck +firmly and sluiced his back with rubbing alcohol. + +"My compliments to Captain Bligh," Lennox said through his teeth. He +stamped his foot in agony, almost trampling the mink-dyed skunk. + +"Mutiny never pays," Cooper murmured, kicking the skunk out of the way. +He swabbed efficiently with iodine, then led Lennox back to the fire +and sat him down on a stool to dry. The Siamese, no fools they, had +disappeared. Lennox sat rigid with control until the pain faded. He +remained rigid. + +"Stay mad; stay human," Cooper urged. "On you it's becoming. I could +kill those cats for lousing our brawl. Let's find them, Jake. I'll hold +them while you beat the bejezus out of them. Then the cats can hold me +while you beat the--" + +"Shut up. Don't be a damned fool, Sam." + +"Which of us is the damned fool, Jake?" + +Lennox took a deep breath and relaxed. "Me," he said. "A nuisance and a +noodnick. Don't tell anybody." + +"On the contrary. I tell everybody. That's why you're getting popular." + +Lennox stood up, took Cooper's shoulder in his big grasp and clutched +hard. He looked at his friend with a secret glance of devotion and +gratitude, then turned away in embarrassment. + +"After we eat," Sam said casually, "we'll go look for the gimmick book. +You'll start remembering. We'll find it. And don't worry.... You won't +remember anything to be ashamed of." + +Lennox choked. "How's my back?" he asked. "Is there blood?" + +"Nope. Just scars." + +"Tsk! And me with that Hattie Carnegie backless collecting dust in the +boudoir. Black tie?" + +"Black tie." + +Lennox went upstairs and dressed. + +Myself, I don't like Square parties; neither does my wife. Squares +are all right, but there's an invisible barrier between us and them. +For one thing, our tempos don't match. We can throw away a dozen gags +while a Square is beating a cliché to death. For another thing, Squares +persist in thinking about the entertainment business the same way they +did back in Victorian times. To them we're artificial, child-like and +irresponsible. When Squares learn that I'm a writer, I can see that +look pass over their faces ... the look that says: He's lazy and hates +to get up in the morning. + +They reveal this when they invariably ask the question: "Do you work +all night?" If I say yes, they gloat, and I have to restrain the angry +impulse to point out that I'm forced to work at night in order to avoid +the interruption of Square phone calls and luncheon invitations and all +the other pleasant devices which enable them to do four hours work from +nine to five. + +My wife has a tougher time. Her face and voice are highly expressive, +naturally, being an actress. Whenever she's with Squares they watch her +with appraising eyes and constantly interrupt with: "Oh stop it. You're +acting now, aren't you? Why can't you be natural?" Once my wife lost +her temper and answered a solid citizen: "You want to go to bed with +me, don't you? Why can't you be natural?" + +There was a gratifying hush of horror. I whipped out a pencil and +scribbled on my cuff. "I've been watching you all with my keen eye," +I announced, "and constantly analyzing ... dissecting. I'm going to +crucify you in the _New Yorker_." We swept out, and at the door my wife +turned and said: "What's more, we're not even married. He's my brother +and we're living in incest." + +Jake liked Square parties. He enjoyed winning respect by admitting that +he worked regularly from nine to five, by wearing proper conservative +clothes, by showing the outward signs of success which business +men understood and approved. He spoke about his profession like an +industrialist; and although he was a sensitive, gifted writer, he +pooh-poohed such matters as talent and inspiration, and discussed +creativity as merchandise, his stock-in-trade. + +He liked Alice McVeagh's party. It was given in her penthouse on +East End Avenue, a Georgian duplex with delicate curving staircases, +panelled study, oval library, a ballroom and two kitchens, one for +the staff alone. The buffet in the dining room glittered with silver +and crystal ... fresh caviar on crushed ice, scarlet lobsters, smoked +turkeys, great oriental melons oozing thick nectar, a frosted copper +cask in which peaches soaked in liqueurs, and dozens of coffee flagons +bubbling over alcohol lamps. + +The guests were charming. Cool young ladies and their energetic +mothers. Pleasant young men Cooper had known at Loomis and Princeton, +and the jolly old gentlemen they would in time become. They were all +exquisitely casual about the perfection of their dress and manners. +They were assured. They belonged. And how badly Jake wanted to belong +on their terms. How badly all of us want to belong on somebody else's +terms. + +He was painfully well-behaved. He stood tall and erect and moved +slowly, keeping his voice quiet and his hands at his side. He had two +sherrys at the bar and chatted respectfully with guests ... a burly +gentleman who owned half the cotton mills in New England and was +devoted to game fishing, the goggle-eyed son of a near-East ambassador +who discoursed in French and broken English on _Le Jazz Hot_, a +red-headed man loading up on white Martinis who confessed he taught +scene design at Yale, a pregnant young matron who had been a famous +debutante.... Jake's deep-lined face was wooden and unrecognizable to +Cooper who smiled privately. + +There was music in the ballroom and couples dashed in to the buffet +and back; crop-haired young men and boyish girls with delicious young +figures and stereotype faces framed in straight honey hair. Lennox +felt awed and hostile toward them. He escorted a brisk dowager to the +buffet. She took an instant liking to him (older women always adored +Lennox) and favored him with a ringing denunciation of the Metropolitan +Opera Management and glowing praise for Charles of the Ritz. + +Cooper rescued him at last and took him to the ballroom. "Eat enough?" +he whispered. Lennox nodded. "All right, boy. Leave us mingle." + +There was a Candle-Dance in progress in the darkened ballroom. Ten +couples were turning and circling through a simple dance figure while +the orchestra played "Pop Goes The Weasel." Each dancer carried a +silver saucer candlestick in which a white taper burned. When the +orchestra "Popped" the dance stopped, and the dancers tried to blow out +each other's flames. When a candle went out, the dancer left the floor. +The spinning and weaving of yellow flames gleaming on silk and satin +and jewels made an enchanting picture. + +Cooper nudged Lennox and handed him a candlestick and a burning taper. + +"No, Sam!" Lennox protested. + +"Come on, gents. All out for the sack-race." + +Lennox perceived that a second dance circle was forming. There were two +girls alongside Cooper, holding lighted candles and waiting impatiently +to join the circle. + +"But I've never danced this before, Sam. We had fire laws in Islip." + +"You'll pick it up." Cooper whispered introductions to the girls. "My +great and good friend, Arson Lupin. Ouch! Let's go." + +The four slipped into the second circle and began the dance. It was +bewildering for Lennox, but he had been a schoolboy fencer and was +quick and graceful for a big man. Also, he was intensely competitive. +He watched sharply, learned the simple figures and protected his flame. +By the time half a dozen had been eliminated from his circle, he was +able to look around and enjoy himself. There was one hand-clasp in +particular that had electrified him, and he was trying to identify the +owner. + +It was a woman's hand, warm, slender and strong. Each time he grasped +it, his spine tingled and he thought of the deep carpets in the +network offices that produced leaping sparks when you touched a light +switch. The hand had been helpful, too, turning him left and right +with friendly pressures, leading him through his first confusion. The +orchestra went "Pop." Lennox stopped, held his candle high and looked +around the circle. + +There was Cooper, looking solemn and perplexed in the glimmering light +as he blew mightily in the direction of _Le Jazz Hot_. There were +two honey-haired stereotypes in thin-strapped gowns, shielding their +candles with their hands. There was a horsy woman with an extinguished +flame, tramping off the floor. The music started again before Lennox +could examine the others. He was cynically certain that the horsy +woman had owned the hand. Then, as he circled, again came that +electrifying touch. + +He looked quickly at his partner. Lennox had a weakness for +straw-colored blondes, big-boned women who looked Swedish. This was the +exact opposite. She looked like a slave on a Moorish auction block; +cropped jet hair in tight ringlets, deep dark almond eyes, a full +mouth, strong white teeth. The head was beautifully poised on a long +neck. She had wide shoulders and the deep-cut jersey bodice revealed a +high full bosom. Her skin was astonishing, very clear, very dark, and +as lustrous as black pearl under the candle-light. She was slender, not +tall, and moved with a lazy grace that was familiar to Lennox but not +yet identifiable. + +The orchestra went "Pop." Lennox and the girl stopped and examined +each other, unmindful of their candles. She smiled. Her smile was +sudden and changing, like the unexpected dazzle of light reflected from +water. The music started again and she danced on to the next partner. +Lennox watched her circling and weaving and suddenly recognized what +was familiar about her carriage. She moved like a slender, graceful, +cow-puncher; the shoulders square, the slim hips swaying, the arms slow +and relaxed. + +In that moment Lennox remembered that he had written a thousand love +scenes and knew that every one had been a lie. There was a thundering +confusion in his head; exultation and terror pounded in his heart. His +whole life seemed drawn by the burning glass of this moment into a +focus on this girl. She was smiling now at Cooper and murmuring to him. +Lennox could have killed Sam. + +He murdered each of her partners in succession until she came around +the circle to him again. As he reached eagerly for her hand, the +orchestra went "Pop." The other dancers stopped. Lennox continued until +he was close to her and took her hand. In the flickering light, his +face was black and white with shadows and highlights and looked almost +ferocious. The girl's almond eyes widened slightly, and her smile +faded, but her body did not lose its easy poise. + +Dancers nudged Lennox politely. The music had started. The girl +released herself and continued. Lennox went through the motions and +grimly defended his flame from extinction while the girl remained +in the dance. _Le Jazz Hot_ left. The stereotypes left. Cooper was +eliminated. Six remained. Then five. Then three. Finally it was Lennox +and the girl, circling and turning, hand in hand, candles fluttering no +more than his own breath. + +They danced for timeless moments, and Lennox, dazed and intoxicated, +was not aware that he was speaking to her in silence ... by touch, by +glance, by moving expression ... revealing the secret part of himself +that had never been shown before. Then he did something extraordinary +for Jordan Lennox, the man who never quit, who never conceded, who had +wanted to win a victory before those awesome spectators. The music went +"Pop." He held out his candle to the girl, and with his right hand +extinguished the flame. + +There was a burst of applause. The lights went up. The orchestra swung +into a dance tune and the floor filled. Lennox lost the girl in the +crush and wandered aimlessly to the side of the ballroom where an +unidentified person took the candlestick from him. He went to the bar, +now inhabited exclusively by the red-headed teacher from Yale and the +bartender. + +"Listen," Lennox began incoherently, "A dark girl. In an +off-the-shoulder dress. She.... With cropped hair and oriental eyes. +She gleamed...." + +"Who?" the red-head inquired, weaving violently. + +"A girl with black short hair. She--You heard me. Do you know her? Know +who she is?" + +The bartender shrugged. The red-head eyed Lennox fixedly, meanwhile +shaking his head. "Never heard of her. Never-never-never. No such +thing's dark girls anymore. Species extinct. Like used t'be everywhere +poodles. Now only boxers. Poodles extinct. Also poodle brunettes, +Q.E.D.?" + +Lennox returned to the ballroom. He searched for the girl. He searched +for Cooper. Two steps led up to the white door of the oval library. +Lennox mounted them for a better view and found himself face to face +with _Le Jazz Hot_. + +"Who was she?" he burst out. + +"Pardon, M'sieur?" _Le Jazz Hot_ goggled at him. + +"The dark girl. In the dance with us." + +"I am so sorry." + +Lennox abandoned him, left the steps and prowled around the edge of +the ballroom. He went again to the bar, regarded the red-head and the +bartender without comprehension, wandered off and discovered, in a +hall of Chinese teapaper, a small Christmas tree hung with corsages. A +honey-haired girl in a thin-strapped evening gown was unpinning some +orchids from the tree. + +"I beg your pardon," Lennox mumbled. + +She looked at him curiously. + +"The dark girl who was dancing with us. Do you know her?" + +"Dancing with us?" All her charm disappeared in the bray of her voice. + +"My God!" Lennox thought in panic, "I haven't heard her speak. What if +she...." Aloud, he said: "The Candle-Dance. The dark girl in our circle +who--" + +"I wasn't in the Candle-Dance," the girl informed him coldly and turned +away. She was the wrong stereotype. + +Lennox went back to the library steps and began searching the dance +floor, couple by couple. Below him and to one side a voice called: +"Psst! Hey Jake!" + +He looked down. Cooper was standing there, grinning. "Three down from +the drums. With a guy in hornshell glasses." + +Lennox glared at Cooper, challenging derision, then stared at the dance +band. He found her and murdered the man in the spectacles. Without +moving his eyes he asked: "Who is she?" + +"Don't know." + +"I've got to meet her." + +"Grab her after this dance." + +"I've got to be introduced." + +"Come on, Jake! This isn't the nineties." + +"I want to be introduced. Can you swing it?" + +"I can try." + +Cooper departed. Lennox remained where he was, watching the girl as the +man in the hornshell spectacles whirled her out to the middle of the +floor. The dance ended, the couples applauded languidly and shuffled. +Lennox looked around desperately for Cooper. When he turned back to the +dance floor he had lost the girl again. Before he could get panicky +he saw her as the music started. She was alone on the floor, walking +toward him, with square shoulders and lazy arms and hips. He could not +believe his eyes. She came directly to the library stairs, stepped up +and held out her hand. Lennox took it and felt both of them tremble +slightly. + +"Why didn't you cut in?" she asked in a candid, transparent voice. + +He could not believe his ears. Drawing her with him, he backed into +the white and gold oval library. She was smiling uncertainly. After a +tremulous pause she asked: "Is this how it happens?" + +Lennox couldn't speak. There was a long silence; a long communication +that seemed to dread words. + +"I'm frightened," she said. + +Lennox shook his head. + +"At first I thought I'd help. You know, the dance? Then I thought you +were being hasty. And then it happened, didn't it?" + +Lennox nodded. + +"If you don't let go of my hand, I'll faint ... I think. What do we do +now?" + +Before he could answer, Cooper appeared in the door with a magnificent +white-haired woman wearing a bronze dress and a jade necklace. Both +smiled. + +"Ah! Just in time," Cooper said, "Our hostess, Madam McVeagh. Jordan +Lennox." + +"So nice to have you, Mr. Lennox." Alice McVeagh shook hands +magnificently. Everything about her was magnificent and overpowering. +"Gabby, dear, have you met the gentlemen? Jordan Lennox ... Sam Cooper. +Gabby Valentine." She overpowered Lennox. "Sam tells me you're an +author, Mr. Lennox. Do you write all night?" + +Lennox pulled himself together before the Presence. "No," he answered +in the voice of the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk. "I work from +nine to five, Mrs. McVeagh." + +"But how disappointing. Aren't you an artist?" + +"No, Mrs. McVeagh, I'm a business man. I sell ideas for a living." + +"Oh dear! And I had such a lovely picture of you ... working all night +and smoking opium." + +"Only when he's plastered," Cooper grinned. + +Lennox looked at him stonily. Poor Jake! Standing there on his best +behavior, tall and erect with his hands at his side; keeping his face +wooden and unrecognizable, trying to belong on Alice McVeagh's terms, +and destroying himself before Gabby Valentine. To his hostess he tried +to appear austere, kindly, infallible and sophisticated. To Gabby he +seemed hostile and unyielding. If only Cooper had come five minutes +later. When he finally departed with the hostess and Lennox turned to +resume the intimacy with Gabby, it was too late. + +"Gabby...." he began. + +"No," she interrupted, bitterly disappointed. "No. It was only the +candle-light." She took a deep breath. Her smile was no longer a +private matter between them. "Please forget everything I said. I +thought you--" She broke off. + +"You thought I what?" Lennox asked sharply. He was deeply hurt by her +abrupt change. + +"It doesn't matter." + +"It matters to me." + +"Please don't cross-examine me," Gabby said gently. "I made fool of +myself, that's all." + +"I think you're trying to make a fool of me." + +"No. It's all right. I'm the idiot, not you. What do you write, Mr. +Lennox?" + +"I write better scenes than this, Miss Valentine. My characters don't +play games." + +"Neither do I." + +"Then what the hell happened?" + +"Nothing happened. That's why I'm an idiot." + +Lennox was furious, and, consequently, icy and sardonic. He imagined +that this was an impudent young society girl, willful and cavalier, who +had taken it into her head to make an ass of him. He couldn't have been +more wrong. + +Gabrielle Valentine was a unique creature. You meet people like that +occasionally, and if you're not too cynical you treasure them ... +beautiful beings who've been loved and adored from birth and have grown +up unspoiled and trusting, completely honest and without guile. This +is rare because beauty is more often a curse for a woman and usually +sickens her unless she turns it into her profession. No plain girl will +believe this, but it's true. + +Gabby had received affection all her life and gave it as freely. +She was not brilliant, which was just as well. No one really likes +brilliant people. She was a girl of average intelligence who had grown +up in a world which she was able to treat with the disarming confidence +of a child. Half the world treated her with the tenderness reserved for +children. The cynical half could not abide her transparent honesty. + +She was twenty-eight. Her father had been an old-line Socialist and had +worked with Eugene Debs. He had come from a French Colonial family +which had lived in Indo-China for generations and, I suspect, probably +intermarried with natives. Certainly Gabby seemed to support the legend +that women of mixed French and Oriental blood are the loveliest in the +world. Her mother was still living and was a very smart couturiere. +Gabby didn't see much of her. She was too busy making her own +affectionate way in the world. + +She had trained, of all things, as an architect, and worked as a +free-lance draftsman. Drafting pays well and Gabby was able to afford +her own apartment in one of the better Village studio buildings. She +was political-minded, an inheritance from her father no doubt, and +was an invaluable asset in fund-raising campaigns. She had once gone +down to Wall Street and bearded a Republican financier in his den for +a contribution to the Democratic party. Or maybe it was a Democrat +for the Republican party. I forget which, not being political-minded +myself. The point of the story is that she got the money. + +She was an artist, but she didn't understand music. She had learned to +be chic, but wasn't interested in clothes. She liked good food, but had +to be told when it was good. She drank very little. She liked people +more than anything else ... liked to be with them and talk to them, +provided they were honest and unaffected. Everyone came to her with +their troubles and she gave all her affection and help. She had never +been in love. + +And then had come this burst of flame in the glimmering darkness with +Lennox, and there was a stranger in his body who had killed the flame +with his rigid poise before Alice McVeagh and was trampling on the +embers in icy fury. + +"Please go away," Gabby said quietly. "You're making me hate you, and I +don't like that." + +"I'm sorry, Miss Valentine," Lennox answered. "I don't know the rules +of your game. Is that a request or a challenge?" + +"Why should it be? Do you like to fight?" + +"I'm enjoying this fight ... with all my heart." Lennox showed his +teeth in a smile. + +"That's a sign of weakness, isn't it?" Gabby looked at him with steady +eyes. "Like sick dogs that bite. Please go away." + +"You've done the biting." + +"Oh. You're hurt. I'm sorry." + +"No, I'm enjoying the game. What do you do, Miss Valentine, when you +can spare the time?" + +"You can't be a very good writer if you talk like that," Gabby said +slowly. "You sound as though you like to hate people." + +"I'm a very successful writer." + +"There's a difference." + +"What big teeth you have, grandma." + +"I don't like to be with people who hate," Gabby nodded gracefully. +"Goodbye, Mr. Lennox." + +"The end of Round One?" + +"No. The end. I don't think we should see each other again." + +"You'll see me often," Lennox assured her. "We'll fight this to a +finish." + +"There's nothing to fight." + +"Something happened, and then you changed your mind. I'd like to find +out how your gears mesh. Professionally, of course. I can always use +a comedy gimmick." Automatically he flexed his right arm against his +chest and was appalled to remember that his gimmick book was lost, but +he was too angry with Gabby to concentrate on it. + +"Who did you hope I was in the dark?" he asked. "Aly Khan?" + +"You're making it worse." + +"Who did you think I was?" + +"I thought you...." She shook her head. "How can I say? I thought I--" +Suddenly her dark eyes filled with tears. "You're not very kind. I've +just made a fool of myself and I'm hurt too. Are you enjoying this?" + +"Passionately." + +"Please let me go." + +She broke away from him and descended the library steps to the +ballroom, her shoulders square, her carriage relaxed and graceful. +The bright chandelier lights gleamed on her skin. Lennox followed her +doggedly around the edge of the ballroom and into the bar. He could not +let go. He would not let up. Gabby bent over the red-head sleeping on +the bar. + +"Phil," she said. "It's time to leave." She shook him gently. + +The red-head snorted and slept. Gabby looked reproachfully at the +bartender who instantly became apologetic, as though he had personally +supervised the downfall of the teacher from Yale. + +"It's not your fault," Gabby told him. "He comes down from New Haven +full of undergraduate notions. He had to work his way through college. +He never had a chance to be hedonistic." + +Lennox stepped forward. "I'll take you home, Miss Valentine." + +"It isn't me that has to be taken. It's Phil." + +"To New Haven?" + +"What if I said yes?" + +"Bon voyage, Miss Valentine." + +"Oh, why are you so hostile?" + +"Because I'm a damned fool," Lennox answered furiously. "All right. +I'll take him back to New Haven for you." + +"Not New Haven. New York. The Harvard Club." + +"A neat one-two. Next time I'll know when to duck. I'll take you both +home." + +"Not me. Phil." + +"You and Phil both." + +"That's your price?" + +"It's a bargain, Miss Valentine. Snap it up." + +"I think I'd better get someone else." + +She left the bar. Lennox heaved the red-head up, powerfully but not +unkindly, and hauled him to the door. There, an efficient man in black +uniform located hats and coats without clues and helped Lennox dress +the red-head. Then Lennox dressed himself. When Gabby came to the +foyer with three eager admirers, Lennox looked them over and growled: +"I'm taking you both home. I'm prepared to fight for it. If you don't +believe me get ready for a scene." + +Her eyes flashed, but she dismissed the men and got into her coat. +Together they took the teacher downstairs in a burning silence and +propped him in a cab between them. As the cab drove off Lennox asked: +"Why the Harvard Club? He teaches at Yale." + +No answer. + +He contrived to peer past the red-headed barricade at her. She was +impassive. The street lights flickered on her skin like lightning on +jewels. He had never wanted anyone and hated anyone so badly in his +life; nor known anything so inexplicably out of his grasp. + +He said: "I worked my way through college too. I was a telegrapher." + +No answer. + +After five minutes he said: "Can you spell hedonistic?" + +No answer. + +They arrived at the Harvard Club and turned the teacher over to a +patient doorman. Lennox did not ask permission to re-enter the cab. He +got in and slammed the door. Gabby gave her address in the Village and +the cab started. Lennox was startled. He had expected a number on Park +Avenue. He revised his guess about her society background. + +The cab crunched downtown through crusted streets. The rain and snow +had stopped. There was no wind, but the air was still bitter. A few +blocks from Union Square, Lennox abruptly called to the driver: "Stop +here. On the right, two doors down. Don't argue with me. Stop." + +The cab stopped. Lennox opened the door and got out. To Gabby he said: +"Wait here for me. Understand? Wait." He turned and ran across the +sidewalk to the open door of a Salvation Army Mission in a small +store. There were candles burning in the window. He ducked into the +store, removed two candles from the window, dropped a five dollar bill +in their place, and ran back to the cab. He got in and shut the door. + +"All right, get going," he told the driver. He handed one of the +burning candles to Gabby without a word. + +She smiled; that sudden dazzle of light on water, then her face lost +its expression when she saw the cold fury in him. She shook her head. + +Lennox slid the glass partition panel aside. "Can you sing?" he asked +the driver. "Sing Pop Goes The Weasel." + +"Have a heart, buddy." + +"'Pop Goes The Weasel' ... in the key of C. Take it." + +"That ain't no Christmas Carol." + +"And this ain't no Christmas present." Lennox poked a bill through the +slit and dropped it. "Sing." + +The driver began a miserable croaking. Lennox sat back and eyed Gabby. +She blew out her candle and turned her head away. He dropped his candle +and trampled it. + +"Listen to me," he said. "My name is Jordan Lennox, I'm thirty-five +years old. Unmarried. My income is thirty-five thousand a year. I have +no family left, but the Islip YMCA director will provide a character +reference. My blood type is O. My eyes are twenty-twenty. My I.Q. is a +hundred and nineteen. I understand people, but I don't understand you. +I would like permission to get to know you better. If necessary, this +oral request can be followed by a formal letter from my attorney and a +bond will be posted." + +The cab stopped before a squat studio building with great duplex +windows, Lennox had the fare ready. He thrust it over the driver's +shoulder, then helped Gabby out of the cab and with a fierce secret +gesture signalled the driver to get lost. + +"Well?" he asked. + +She shook her head. He would not give up. He took her arm, escorted +her the five steps to the doorway, thrust open the door and handed her +through. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"Goodnight." + +"Why not?" + +"You wouldn't understand." + +"Make me understand." + +"Goodnight." + +His fingers gripped her arm. "Make me understand." + +"What can I say? I thought you were somebody else. I thought...." + +"What?" + +"Once," she said slowly, "I had to study chemistry. And in the +stockroom there was a glass jar filled with the most beautiful candy I +ever saw. Then someone told me it was poison. Crystals of poison.... +That's what happened." + +"Poison!" he exclaimed. "I'm poison to you?" + +"No; but you aren't what I thought you were. It's my fault. I made the +mistake and I--" Gabby broke off in astonishment. The color had drained +out of Lennox's face. The fury drained out of his body. He took a step +into the foyer and let go of the door which swung heavily and smashed +his hand resting limp on the jamb. He wrenched his hand free and took +another hypnotic step toward the row of brass letter-boxes on the foyer +wall. Each had a white call button underneath the name plate. In clear +block letters alongside VALENTINE was FOX. + +"What is it?" Gabby cried. + +"'Fair is my love, for April's in her face,'" Lennox mumbled. "Her +lovely breasts September claims his part...." He turned a wild face to +her. "What made me think of that? What's terrifying about it?" + +"What's the matter?" + +"I don't know," he answered, swallowing hard and lifting a trembling +hand to his face. It left blood smears on his cheek. "I'm lost. Again. +I.... Christ!" He shut his eyes and pressed his fists together. "Sam," +he whispered. "Sam. Come and get me. Please." + +"You'd better come in," Gabby said in alarm. She took him upstairs to +her apartment and through a barn-like studio to a tailored bedroom +where she helped him off with his coat and sat him down on a chaise +longue. He was shaking. He tried to joke. "We shouldn't be here," he +said. "Very suggestive." + +"It's too cold in the studio. What's the matter? What happened to you?" + +"Downstairs. That name ... Fox. It cut me off from everything. I don't +know why. I'm crying again," he groaned. "Crying. There's been nothing +but dirt and tears all day. I don't know what happened." + +"I'll get you a drink." + +"No. Thank you. I'm not sick. It's just something trying to come back +and hurting like sin." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I can't explain. Give me a minute.... It'll go away again, if I'm +lucky. Then I'll go too." + +He sat in silence, trying to control himself, looking around the room +with smarting eyes. Gabby took off her coat, left the bedroom and +returned a moment later with a glass and a sealed bottle of whiskey. +She tried to remove the cap and failed. She handed the bottle to Lennox +who took it, opened it mechanically and then put it down. + +"I didn't know you lived like this," he said at last. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Like this. Not girly-girly. I thought ... Park Avenue and decorators. +This could be a man's place. Do you play Boys' Rules?" + +"You didn't." + +"I know it. I've been trying to start all over again for the last two +hours." He stood up, went to the bed and touched the pillow gently. +"Hello, Gabby," he said. He went to the dressing table and touched it. +He touched the window drapes, the lamps, the books, the pictures ... +everything that was hers as though he were touching her heart. + +Without looking at her he said: "You're right. I'm poisonous ... but I +love you. I'm the wrong man, but I love you. It's too quick ... only a +few hours, but I love you. I hate too much, I hurt too much because I'm +poisonous.... And I love you. I'd better go now. Goodnight." + +He searched blindly for his coat, ashamed to meet her eyes, and the +real Lennox appeared, the Lennox she had seen by candle-light two hours +ago. + +"Oh!" Gabby exclaimed in tears, "Oh darling ... darling! Why did you +hide from me? Why?" + +He caught his breath. She came to him and he took her in his arms. +After a moment he managed to speak. + +"Is this how it happens? Has it happened again?" + +She clung to him. + +"Now I'm frightened, Gabby." + +"Why did you hide from me? Why did you change like that? You were so +cold and hateful...." + +"I didn't know I was hiding. I didn't know what I was doing. I've been +half crazy all day." He raised her hand and pressed it against his +eyes. "I dreamed about meeting you, but not like this. I was going to +be at my best. You know? Brilliant and successful. Scattering money and +charm in all directions. Winning you ... not whining my way into your +heart." + +"No. No. You don't understand. No one wants to be won. We want to be +wanted.... Needed." + +"God knows, I need you. God knows, I--" + +"Shhh." She seated him again, ran out of the room and returned with a +warm moist cloth. She cleaned his hand and his cheek. Lennox seized her +suddenly as she stood over him and buried his face in her body. + +"It's all right, darling," she whispered. "Don't be afraid. You're just +used to taking, that's all. Nobody ever gave you anything." + +He looked up at her. "What happened to us after the dance? What did +I do then? What's wrong with me? Was I mean dirty drunk? Did I--" He +stopped. He stood up slowly. In a strange voice he said: "Mean dirty +drunk. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia. The Quaker and the blonde. Yes. +That's where the gimmick book is...." + +Gabby was alarmed again. She put her hands on his shoulders. + +"But why can't I remember the rest?" Lennox asked in terror. "The knot. +What's so horrible about a knot? What is it? Why can't I remember what +it is?" + +She tried to press him back on the chaise longue. He was too big to be +forced but he responded instantly to her pressure. + +"You're in trouble," she said. "Let me help." + +He tried to smile. "Yes. It's bad. I want to hide things from you, but +you empty me out. Let me keep a few secrets for a little while. I can't +do it unless you let me." + +She nodded. + +He took a breath. "I'm afraid to break this moment. I'm remembering +what happened two hours ago." + +She shook her head emphatically. + +"But I.... But something's got to be written down before I forget it +again. Someone has to go somewhere and get something for me." + +"I'll go," Gabby offered. + +"No," Lennox said sharply. + +She picked up a sketch-pad and pencil from the bed table and looked at +him. Lennox spoke as though each syllable were acid on his lips. "Aimee +Driscoll. 900 East 33rd Street." Suddenly he burst out: "There's worse. +There's going to be worse to remember!" + +She came to him and took his face in her hands. "This isn't a moment, +is it?" + +"No," he said. "Please God, darling.... No." He pulled her down +alongside him and kissed her until he plunged into a darkness which he +did not fear. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + +Four o'clock in the morning after Christmas I was trying to see how +many different ways I could type NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD MEN TO +COME TO THE AID OF THEIR PARTY when my phone rang. I was indignant but +I had to find out who'd be calling at that hour. I picked up the phone. +Lennox was on the other end. + +"Kitten? Jake Lennox." + +"What are you calling for?" + +"Are you working?" + +"No. I'm hung up on a script." + +"Then I'm not interrupting. I want a favor." Jake was always direct on +the horn. "I'll tell you first, then you can say yes or no." + +"Shoot." + +"I think I left my gimmick book in the apartment of a woman named Aimee +Driscoll, 900 East 33rd. I can't get it myself." + +"Why?" + +"Just listen, Kit. I need somebody I can trust to go there and pick it +up for me first thing in the morning." + +"Don't you trust Cooper?" + +"I can't locate him." + +"Isn't he home?" + +"No. You ask too many questions, Kitten." + +I admit I'm curious. That's how I got my nickname; but I'm always +annoyed when anyone throws it up to me. + +"Ask Cooper when he comes home," I said. "And that's not a question." + +"I can't." Lennox sounded a little strained. "That's why I'm asking +you. Yes or no." + +"Do I owe you a favor?" + +"No." + +"Then I'll do it." + +"As soon as possible, Kit." + +"Nine o'clock in the morning." + +"Thanks. Meet me in Grabinett's office at ten." + +"Can't you wait a few hours, Jake? Ten's too early." + +"Why?" + +"It's like this. If I stay hung up I'll have to research in the library +for an idea. I can pick up the book first thing, but then I'd like to +get a few hours work done in the Reading Room." + +"Right. Reasonable. Twelve o'clock?" + +"Yes." + +"Meet me at Sabatini's. I'll spring for a drink." + +"Sabatini's at noon. What's that noise?" In the background I could hear +sound. I listened hard. It was music. Delius. + +"Oh. I almost forgot," Lennox said. "I left a coat too. My burberry. +Will you latch on to it, Kit? Thanks. Goodnight." + +He hung up hastily. I went down the hall and looked into the bedroom. +My wife was still up, reading. Robin has straight straw-colored hair +and is stacked like a Swede acrobat, a fact which always made me +nervous where Lennox was concerned. + +"Put on a nightgown or pull up the sheet," I told her. "You're +demoralizing the neighbors." Robin grinned shamelessly. I closed the +blinds and turned on the bedside radio. "Find me Delius," I said. "I've +got to write down a name and address." I wrote it down, only I spelled +it Amy. Robin dialed through the stations one by one. No Delius. She +looked at me. + +"Dig this," I said. "I happen to know Cooper hates Delius. Won't have +a record in the house. But Jake just phoned and there was Appalachia +blasting in the background. Big romantic stuff, and not from a radio +either." I told her about Jake's call. "All right, Robin, you guess +first." + +"Do you think he's good in bed?" + +"For God's sake! Women! Haven't you got any romance in you?" + +"That was romance." + +"It was not. You give us complexes. Is bed everything?" + +"Yes." + +"What about all the rest?" + +"Bed first." + +"I guess you're right," I said and I was an hour late getting to Aimee +Driscoll's apartment next morning. + +I was lucky at that. She'd just gotten up and was in a vicious mood. +She handed me the freeze reserved for Squares and I handed it right +back. That gave us an understanding and put us on a basis of armed +neutrality as fellow members of the entertainment profession. The +blonde and I passed a few remarks about the Quaker. She called my +attention to the new television set and laughed it up because she'd +gotten it out of the Quaker for nothing; but I noticed that she laughed +angrily. I didn't know why. + +The photograph should have tipped it. It stood on the set in a silver +frame, faded and vignetted, a costume piece, circa 1913. It was a +portrait of a man with heavy brows and a stern face and could have +been a photograph of Lennox in costume and makeup. The fact that +she'd placed it on the set Lennox gave her was significant, but I only +realized that after the death in the Venice theater. + +"Who's the grim reaper?" I asked. + +"My old man," Aimee answered. She darted a look of loathing at the +photograph. It was so poisonous that I wanted to ask more questions, +but before I could get started, she gave me the brush-final. I left +with Jake's gimmick book and burberry and didn't get to the library +until eleven.... + +Lennox marched into the Grabinett office at ten sharp. It was in a +small building off Madison Avenue in the fifties. Grabinett had started +there as a two-bit agent in a rat-hole, and when he hit the big money +it turned out that rentals were too tight for him to move into larger +quarters. He spread into stockrooms, broke through closets and halls, +had it all decorated and air-conditioned, and it still looked like a +blond wood rat-hole. They held daily rat-races there. + +Grabinett was in his corner office eating Danish and coffee and reading +Red Channels. There was a stack of mail, Nielsen Reports, _Variety_, +_Billboard_, Radio and TV Newssheets on the desk before him. Lennox +tore off his coat, revealing that he was still wearing black tie. He +flung the coat on a chair piled with bundles of stenciled scripts. + +Grabinett eyed Lennox with lively hatred and verged on continuing the +battle from the night before until his attention was distracted by the +dinner jacket. + +"What's this?" he blinked. + +"Costume." + +"You're a panel expert?" Grabinett leaped up in dismay. "Jesus +Almighty! Don't tell me A&B sold another panel show to the network. +What have they got on Roy Audibon? Do they know where the body's +buried?" + +Lennox didn't bother to answer. He pulled a sheaf of notes from his +inside pocket and glanced at them. "What's your schedule this morning, +Mel?" + +"Loaded. I ain't got a minute." + +"What about Kansas?" + +"That's up to the network. I got a conference scheduled with Roy +Audibon for thissafter." + +"Haven't you tried anything else?" + +"What the hell else is there to try?" + +"I've got an idea." Lennox reached across the desk and picked up +Grabinett's phone. He punched buttons until Patsy Lewis, the office +operator, answered him in a jaw-clenched Bennington drawl. + +"Patsy? Jake Lennox. Good morning. You were monitoring that call to +Kansas last night?" + +"Good morning, Mr. Lennox. Yes, I was." + +"Remember the number?" + +"Who could forget?" + +"Get 'em for me, please. Right away." Lennox hung up. + +"What the Almighty are you up to?" Grabinett cried. He reached for the +phone. Lennox reached for his wrist. + +"Leave go. You know what a call to Kansas costs?" + +"Less than a lawsuit. Let me try this, Mel. You can bill me for the +call if I louse it. Where's that love letter that came yesterday? Get +me the file." + +"Who the hell do you think you are this morning? Jesus H. Napoleon?" + +"What? Does it show?" Lennox smiled suddenly. "That's the trouble with +turning over a new leaf. You do it in the old style and people don't +understand." + +"Are you drunk or something?" + +Lennox looked at Grabinett keenly. "You're a lot more perceptive than +I thought, Mel. Yes, I'm something. Something as high as a kite. And +full of New Year's Resolutions." He tapped the sheaf of paper. "My list +of good deeds, waiting to be crossed off. Oh!" He looked closer at +the list and flushed. "Says here: Section One. People. Relations to. +Paragraph One. Grabinett. Attitude toward. Make it up to Blinky for +being a louse last night." + +"What!" + +"At the theater last night," Lennox said steadily. "I was a louse. +Please excuse me. I apologize." + +"Who the hell are you calling Blinky?" + +"Oh God!" Lennox groaned. "She's right. It takes practice." + +The phone rang. He picked it up. It was the Kansas contestant with +her husband counseling her on an extension. It was eight o'clock in +the morning in Kansas, and bitter cold, but no colder than those two +litigants. + +"Good morning. This is Jordan Lennox, the writer on the 'Who He?' +show," he began smoothly. Kansas sputtered. Lennox paused and then went +on: "Yes, I know. It was an unfortunate mistake last night, but of +course you'll get the prize. Mr. Grabinett has mailed your check out. +Anyway, it isn't important because I think you'll agree it was your +good luck when you hear the proposition I have for you. What?" + +Lennox waited patiently while Kansas fumed. Finally he interrupted; +"I'm very sorry you feel that way. You see, the accident last night was +the springboard for a new TV show that we'd like to build around you. A +half-hour situation comedy about a real life couple that competes for +prizes." + +Grabinett's jaw dropped and he blinked at Lennox. Jake winked and +continued: "The idea is to combine realism and comedy. You'll appear on +all the give-away shows and compete. We'll follow your adventures, show +what you do with the prizes, how your friends react, and so on. We were +planning on starting promotion with a publicity spread in one of the +picture magazines, but if you insist on suing I'm afraid we'd better +forget--What? Certainly I'm serious. I'm a writer. I know a solid idea +when it hits me in the face." + +Lennox clamped a hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Grabinett: +"Get that check in the mail. Airmail special." He unclamped the phone. +"Of course. Of course. I understand. Naturally you were upset; but we +can forget about that now. I'll arrange for a few words from Mr. Mason. +You'll get your check tomorrow and we'll start preparing your new show +immediately. Mr. Grabinett will send out contracts for you to sign. In +the meantime.... Happy New Year." + +He hung up, reached for the list and crossed off an item. + +"Cooled?" Grabinett blinked incredulously. + +Lennox nodded. "As soon as they deposit that check we're safe. Have +a couple of exclusive service contracts made out to them for a show +called.... Oh, let's see.... 'The Man and Woman from--' No. 'The Couple +From Missouri.' That'll keep 'em happy." + +"Genius Almighty! What was that about Mason?" + +"They'll settle for an apology on the show next Sunday." + +"An apology from Mason? He'll never do it." + +"We'll worry about that at the show conference." Lennox consulted his +list. "Can I see the letter now, Mel? That's our real problem." + +"Napoleon," Grabinett muttered and went to the wall safe. He twirled a +dial perfunctorily and swung the door open. He withdrew a manila folder +and brought it to the desk, handling it as though it were crawling with +roaches. + +"The top letter," he said. + +"Thanks. See about the check and the contracts, will you, Mel? Let's +get the minor rap all squared off. I'll get out of your way now. Where +can I go read the letter?" + +"Stay here!" Grabinett exclaimed. "Don't let it out of here." He left +the office and slammed the door. + +Lennox opened the folder. It contained six pale blue envelopes and six +sheets of blue letter paper. The quality of the paper was good. The +quality of the writing was bad; clumsy scrawlings, jagged, hysterical, +sick. The pirates on The Rock are notorious for the freedom of their +language, but there is a vast gulf separating profanity from malignity. +The first five letters had been filthy gutter abuse. This last was +comparatively clean, but even more sickening for the naked venom of its +hatred. + + Dear Who He: + Do you remember me yet? + Are you feeling the pain? + I'm going to kill you. + I'll tear your guts out + and rip your eyes and + listen to you scream. Your + bones will smash and your + blood will run and the + fancy filth in you will + pour out like sewers like + rot like ruin. I promise + there will never be any + Happy New Year for you! + This is the last warning. + Be killing you New Years. + + Guess Who + +Lennox closed the folder. There was no need to re-read the earlier +letters. He remembered them and they were more revolting, if less +specifically threatening. He took a deep breath, then went to the +corner sink behind a screen and washed his hands. He had been carried +down into the sewers of a sick mind. It was not a new experience, but +Lennox could never accustom himself to it. Grabinett came back into the +office. + +"Well, Napoleon? How about that one?" + +"It's the pay-off." Lennox shook himself. "We can't stall, Mel. We've +got to go to the police." + +"No." + +"I'll go. Get a girl in here. The letters ought to be photostated +before I take them." + +"Not the cops, Jake. For crank letters?" + +"They aren't crank letters any more. They're threats." + +"Against who?" + +"Somebody on the show." + +"Which?" + +"One of the permanents who's on every week. Mig. Stacy. Kay Hill...." + +"Kay? A dame?" + +"Why not? You read the letters. They could be written to a man or a +woman." + +"Yeah. I guess you're right." + +"Then there's Johnny Plummer. Raeburn Sachs...." + +"Nobody sees Ray. He ain't ever on camera." + +"It has to be someone who's seen every week or whose name appears every +week. Ray's name is on the credit drum after every show. So is yours." + +"Me!" Grabinett cried in astonishment. + +Lennox nodded. "Every week. 'A Melvin Grabinett Production.'" + +"That's a goddam lie. Those letters ain't to me." + +"You say. How do I know? Maybe that's why you don't want to go to the +police. Maybe you're covering." + +"Would I show 'em to you if I was? Would I--You get a credit too. +'Written by Jordan Lennox.'" + +"That's right. Let's include me too. That makes seven. Who else +appears every week ... name or face? Oh. Charlie Hansel, the dance +director. That's all. A total of eight. One out of the eight is getting +threatening letters and we've got to do something about it before +everything blows up in our face next Sunday." + +"Throw 'em off the show, goddam 'em!" + +"All eight of us?" + +"No. The one that's getting wrote to." + +"Which?" + +"Find out which." + +"How?" + +"I don't know how. You're The Thinker. You think it up how." + +"I can't. Not off-hand. It wouldn't do any good to ask. Who'd tell the +truth with something dirty as this in their past?" + +"God damn!" Grabinett blinked furiously. "Why hasn't anything happened +before? Why wait 'till now?" + +"I don't know, Mel. They're crazy letters. Go figure a lunatic mind. +Maybe the police can. We're sitting on dynamite. The fuse is lit. We +know the blow-up's coming next Sunday. We've got to do something to +stop it." + +"How do you know for sure next Sunday?" + +"You read the last letter. It's plain. Be killing you New Years'. What +more do you want? We have to go to the police." + +"I don't believe it." + +"You can't run away from it, Mel. I'll draw you a picture. Look ... +it's next Sunday night. Mig's doing the drama spot, the 'Man Without +A Country' question. They're working on No. 2 Camera dollied back for +the full courtroom shot. Ray's in the controls calling shots to Sol +Eggleston. Sol's on the Party-Line talking to the camera crews. Johnny +Plummer's got the music soft. You're with the agency men in the back of +the control booth.... Yes?" + +Grabinett nodded, fascinated. + +"And then there's a wild yell in the house and a lunatic comes charging +down the center aisle. He's got a gun. He jumps up on the stage, and +he's right on camera. He's cursing and swearing. The audience realizes +it isn't a gag and starts screaming. Before Master Control can pull +us off the air, he starts shooting.... Who? What difference does it +make? Thirty million people see it. And when the police start asking +questions you'll have to say: 'I was warned. I got letters, but I +didn't do anything about it.' How long would you stay in the business +after that?" + +Grabinett blinked for half a minute, then pressed a button on his desk. +The office door opened and his secretary came in three steps and waited. + +"Got something for photostat," Grabinett said faintly. + +Lennox placed the folder inside a large script envelope and handed it +to the girl. "This is a rush job, please. Three copies. Tell them to +handle the material as little as possible, in case of fingerprints." +The secretary's face brightened with interest as she took the envelope. +Lennox added sharply: "Don't read any of it. You'll be sorry if you do. +This isn't for little girls." + +He put on his coat and buttoned it up to the neck. As he left the +office, he muttered: "It isn't for little boys, either." + +He went home. Cooper wasn't in the apartment, but his bed had been +slept in and the animals had been fed. Monday was the one day of +vacation for the entire "Who He?" staff, and there was no telling where +anyone might be on this blessed day of release from the rat-race. +Lennox changed, then went to the phone and dialed Houseways, Inc. + +"Miss Valentine, please." + +"Who's calling?" + +"Frank Lloyd Wright." + +There was a pause, then Gabby's voice, soft and reproachful. "You +shouldn't have said that." + +"I know. There's something about a phone that always makes me lie. +Being invisible, I suppose. Do draftsmen come under the Women's +Employment Regulations?" + +"Why ... there's no such law." + +"Of course there is. You know the one I mean, sweetheart. You lectured +all about it just before I spilled the coffee. Where they have to let +women out for five minutes every hour to use the bathroom." + +"Oh. You mean--" + +"Where's your bathroom?" + +"Jordan! For Heaven's sake!" + +"I can't wait till tonight to see you. I borrowed full drag from +Costume. Cloth coat with fur collar. Spike heels. Eugenie hat. I'll +meet you in the john. I'll smuggle in brownies and coke. We'll have a +spread." + +Gabby began to laugh. + +"What do you say?" + +"Go away. I have to work." + +"Chicken! How about lunch?" + +"Darling, I'm sorry. You know I can't. I told you last night." + +"How about Elevenses?" + +"Go away." + +"Tea?" + +"No." + +"What do you look like when you work? Smock and beret and a calabash +pipe?" + +"Not nearly so glamorous. More like 'Out Of The Inkwell.'" + +"Who He?" + +"The old movie cartoon." + +"Oh. We'll have to do something about that. I can't hang up." + +"Neither can I." + +"Let's be strong." + +"I don't know how." + +"I'll count to three. Then we'll both hang up." + +"Count to ten." + +"No. Three. That's the way to be strong. Ready?" + +"Yes." + +"One.... Two.... What comes after two?" + +"Ten," Gabby said and hung up. + +Lennox nodded to himself approvingly. She knew how to tag a scene. He +called Robin. + +"Robin? Jake Lennox. Did Kit pick up my stuff?" + +"What time is it?" Robin mumbled. + +"Eleven." + +"For God's sake, Jake! I'm not up yet." + +"Did Kit go downtown this morning?" + +"I think so. Yes. He did. Now get lost. You're stunting my growth." + +"Can you write?" + +"I forget." + +"Well memorize this. A call for 'Who He?' next Sunday. Show-time nine +to nine-thirty at the Venice Theater. Pick up your script at the office +tomorrow and they'll give you the rehearsal schedule. The job pays two +bills. Can you fit it into your schedule?" + +"Can I!" Robin exclaimed. + +"Pleasant dreams," Lennox chuckled and hung up. He knew how to pay for +a favor. + +He took a cab uptown, bought a beret and smock in Saks and a calabash +pipe in Dunhill's, and had them delivered to Gabby Valentine at +Houseways, Inc. Then he went up to the network studios and walked in on +the morning rehearsal of "The People Against--" the radio show produced +and directed by Ned Bacon, his partner on "Who He?" + +Bacon was a short, stocky Irishman in his mid forties. He had an +impudent boyish face on which he had superimposed an expression of +pugnacious cynicism. He seemed to regret that he had not been a bad boy +and spent his life making up for it. There is an ancient and honorable +association of Fire-Buffs, amateurs who are fascinated by firemen and +run after fires. Bacon was a Thief-Buff. He spent his nights on 3rd +Avenue running after crooks, cops and crime. + +His crime show had been an outstanding leader in radio for fifteen +years, and only the advent of television which was strangling all +night-time radio was now bringing it to an end. In the old days "The +People Against--" had owned the network on Mondays. It was their +prized show. Its studio was sacred and officiously guarded. Inside, the +orchestra minded its manners, a rare thing for musicians, and the cast +worked in terror of Bacon who swaggered through rehearsals with his hat +cocked over one eye. + +Now, all was changed. The studio doors were unprotected. No actors +stood before them waiting for a chance to smile at Bacon. Inside, the +full orchestra was reduced to an organ and two instruments. The studio +itself was crammed with stored television sets, leaving just enough +working space around a couple of microphones before the control booth. +Half of Bacon's cast was in makeup and costume. They had obviously +sandwiched "The People Against" in and were earnestly memorizing lines +for TV shows. But Bacon still swaggered with his hat cocked over one +eye. + +Lennox sat down quietly in a corner and waited. Bacon was directing an +actor in the style that had made him famous. + +"You don't understand it," Bacon spoke confidentially. "You don't feel +it like a gimpster. Let's have the line again." + +"I want my vigorish, doll!" the actor snarled. + +Bacon shook his head and sidled up to the actor like a pick-pocket. +"Vigorish," he explained, "is thief talk for percentage. See? You're +filing a beef about your cut in the caper. But it has to mean something +more. Make like you're pimping for the broad when you say that. You've +got your hands up her skirt. You're naked but you're not catching any +colds. Think about her naked and warm up. Then we'll try it again." + +He swaggered over to Lennox. "So Mason blew it last night," he said. + +Lennox nodded. Bacon eyed him pugnaciously. "It's time we separated the +men from the boys." + +"Oh?" + +"Sachs has got to go." + +"Are you going to start that again?" + +"Jake, that varsity cheer-leader is turning everything into a +clam-bake. He's so busy playing the genius routine he's tuned in on +dead air. Next Sunday's his last show. I'm taking over after the first +of the year." + +"Directing?" + +Bacon nodded. "I'm from radio," he said bitterly. "I'm not supposed to +know anything about the theater. TV's one of the Mysteries, and I don't +know the pass-words. That's the line these Johnny-Come-Lately fags in +TV are handing out. If you haven't got talent, turn the business into a +secret fraternity so real talent can't get in. Well, the old man from +radio is coming out of his cave." + +"Does Blinky know?" + +"He'll be notified. I got the agency on the horn this morning. Avery +Borden's with me. How about you?" + +"What have I got to do with it?" + +"Between us we own half the show. If it comes to a Mexican stand-off +with Blinky, we can swing the vote with Avery in our corner." + +"I'm not ready to hassle about that yet, Ned. I've got something more +important to worry about." + +"This is important." + +"Mine's worse." + +"I thought we were partners," Bacon said angrily. "Are you welshing on +me?" + +"No. I'm trying to keep our show from falling apart." + +"So am I. Either you're with me or agin' me. Make up your mind." + +"Damn it, Ned. This is no time for Civil War. We're sitting on a blast +right now." + +"You gutless Summer Soldier!" + +"Will you listen! The show's in a jam. We're all in a jam. We're being +threatened. It's going to hit the fan next Sunday. I came here to +get the name of that detective friend of yours over at the Precinct +Station." + +Bacon's face lost its rage and kindled. "Oh? Threats? What kind? +Extortion? Blackmail? Is it one of the Heavies or a Con? I know all the +rackets, Jake. That's my business. Why the hell didn't you tell me?" + +"I'm telling you now." + +"What rumbled? Who blew the gaff?" + +"We can't discuss it here. I'll see you later and let you have +everything. What's the name of the detective?" + +"Fink. Sergeant Robert Fink. Tell him Ned Bacon sent you. Ned Bacon +from...." He paused for a soundless fanfare. "'The People Against--.'" + +"Right." + +Bacon escorted him to the studio door. "Tell Bob to take you out on the +case. Meet the people, Jake, People are your business. Get a load of +life. Break out of that Ivory Tower. Rub elbows with the marketplace." + +Lennox looked at him contemptuously. "You love this, don't you, Ned? +Threats.... Rackets.... Crooks.... The spittoon life." + +"It's people, Jake. It's life. It's my business." + +"I like my life just the way it is," Lennox said. "That's why I'm going +to see your detective ... for salvation, not masturbation." + +Bacon flushed angrily. "You're never the genial type, Jake, but there's +times when you fill me with death wishes." + +"Be seeing you, Scarface." Lennox exchanged a level glance of loathing +with his partner and left the studio. + +"Salvation!" he repeated emphatically. "Yes, by God! Now we know where +we're going." + + + + + CHAPTER V + + +"I've got to look into a butcher store," Fink said. "Drive over with +me. You can tell me about those letters." + +They got into a dusty car parked in front of the Precinct Station. Fink +was a small, slender man with thin blonde hair and the harmless manner +of a bank clerk. He had a soft sweet voice. He seemed shy. His smile +was hesitant and haphazard, as though he acknowledged humor but had +given up hope of ever recognizing it. + +"Shopping for dinner?" Lennox asked. + +"No. The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad +meat. They couldn't find anything so they handed it to us. You can tell +me about those letters." + +Lennox told him. Fink drove carefully and listened without comment. +Finally he shook his head. + +"Tough," he said. + +"You mean dangerous?" + +"Tough to locate the writer." + +"Are the letters dangerous?" + +"Everything's dangerous." + +"That isn't much help. I'm scared." + +"It's smart to be scared. You don't know who they're written to?" + +"No. Like I told you, it could be a choice of eight." + +"Maybe." Fink smiled. "We'll see if we can find out who's writing them. +You've got all the letters in this folder?" + +"Yes." + +"If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public out +of your theater?" + +"We can't do it, Sergeant.... Mr.... Which is it?" + +"Bob." + +"I didn't know you people were so informal." + +"We're not. It's code." + +"Code! You're kidding. I don't believe it." + +Fink nodded. "Say you're in my office being questioned. One of my +associates walks in and he doesn't know who you are. I have to warn him +to be careful what he says. Instead of calling him by his first name I +call him Mister. That's the tip-off." + +"I'm flattered. You make me feel like a deputy." + +"If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public out +of your theater?" + +"How do you know I'm not a crook, Bob? Why'd you teach me your code?" + +"Any friend of Ned's." + +"No. Honestly." + +"You know everybody in your business, don't you?" + +"Practically." + +"I know everybody in my business." + +"But suppose I tell other people and it gets out?" + +"What difference? We're protecting ourselves. We don't care who knows +it. If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public +out of your theater?" + +The third repetition of the question, identically phrased, made Lennox +aware of a tenacious quality in this quiet little man. He could not be +diverted. + +"It's a comedy show," Lennox explained. "We have to have an audience. +Our star wouldn't work without one." + +"He could try." + +"He wouldn't want to try." + +"You can ask him." + +"I'll ask him, but I know the answer. I thought ... well, that you +might put some of your men in the house Sunday night." + +"For eight hundred people? It wouldn't do much good." Fink smiled +haphazardly. "How do you hand out the tickets?" + +"Mostly through the network. They're requested by mail." + +"They never keep any record. Doesn't your sponsor get tickets too?" + +"I'll let you in on our code," Lennox grinned. "We never call them the +sponsor. Always the client. In case you want to pass as a TV artist." + +"Thanks. Doesn't your sponsor get tickets too?" + +"He gets a batch. So does the agency. Also the producer, Mel Grabinett." + +"How far ahead do you hand out tickets?" + +"About two weeks." + +"Then they're all out for next Sunday?" + +"Yes." + +Fink smiled. "Well.... We'll see if we can find out who's writing them. +You've got all the letters in this folder?" + +"All. Oh. I had them photostated. Is that all right?" + +Fink nodded and parked the car before a small butcher store in a +run-down tenement. He opened the glove compartment, placed the manila +folder inside, then carefully locked the compartment. They got out of +the car and he locked the doors carefully. + +"Need any more from me, Bob?" + +"The letters are enough." + +"Then I'll be going." + +"What's your hurry? Come on in." + +Fink led the way to the tenement doorway alongside the butcher store. +Lennox had expected him to enter the store. Instead, Fink entered the +house in which the store occupied the street floor front. The letter +boxes were battered and unnamed. A card stuck in the glass door read +DUGAN--SUPER. + +"It's a condemned house," Fink said. He pushed open the door and walked +past a lopsided flight of stairs. He knocked on the door of the rear +apartment. Lennox held his breath. There was an incredibly foul odor in +the building. + +The door opened and a shriveled woman appeared. + +"Mrs. Dugan?" Fink said quietly. "The Health Department had a complaint +this butcher is selling bad meat. I'm Fink from the Precinct." He +slipped his wallet out, flipped it open to display the blue and gold +badge pinned inside, then returned it to his back pocket. + +"I don't know nothing about it, I'm sure," Mrs. Dugan quavered. + +"This is just routine." + +Fink pushed into the apartment, followed by Lennox. They went down a +hall to a tiny parlor facing a narrow court. It was dark and cluttered +with dismal furniture. Fink remained standing. He caught Jake's +eye, looked down at a chair, then back at Lennox and shook his head +slightly. Lennox remained standing. His skin began to crawl. Mrs. Dugan +slumped down in a rocker. + +"The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad +meat," Fink repeated. "Anybody in the building buy from him?" + +"There's nobody but us," Mrs. Dugan said. + +"No tenants?" + +She shook her head. + +"Just you and your husband?" + +She nodded. + +"Dugan's the super?" + +"Yes." + +"You buy meat from this butcher?" + +Her hands twitched on her knees. Fink waited patiently for her to +answer. + +"You buy meat from this butcher?" + +"Yes," Mrs. Dugan whispered. + +"Any of it bad?" + +"No." + +Fink took out his notebook and scribbled. Lennox flexed his right arm +against his chest, then looked around uneasily. + +"Where's Dugan?" Fink inquired. + +"He went up to the roof to look for leaks." The woman tapped her knee +with a stained forefinger. "On account of the snow." + +"Uh-huh. Snow was pretty bad last night?" + +She nodded and tapped her knee again. "Awful. He been up there all +morning. The roofs is shot." + +Fink put away the notebook. As he turned to leave he jerked his head at +a framed photograph of a man in World War I uniform. + +"That Dugan?" + +"Yes," she said. "He lost his eye at Shatto Theory." + +"Tough," Fink murmured and departed. + +Outside in the hall the odor was sickening. + +"Smell that?" Fink said. "It's why the Health Department got those +complaints." + +"Aren't you going to check the butcher?" + +"Is the old lady still in the apartment?" + +"Yes." + +"Uh-huh. Where's the way to the basement? Oh. Here. Come on." Fink +opened a wooden door behind the flight of stairs and produced a +flashlight. He started down. Lennox followed. + +"Why the basement?" he asked. + +"Didn't you see her give it away?" + +"Give what away?" + +"When she said Dugan was up on the roof. She kept pointing down with +her finger." + +The basement was a reeking mass of rotting crates and cartons. There +was a furnace in the middle with hot-air ducts spreading up to the low +ceiling like square octopus arms. Fink located a hanging light bulb and +switched it on. He walked to the street end of the basement, crouching +under the ducts. + +"We'll try the coal bins first," he said. "That's the usual." + +"Bob! What is this?" + +"She was lying," Fink explained. "You have to be good to make all of +you lie at the same time. Part of you always gives the truth away. That +finger gave her away. Dugan's down here." He picked up a long-handled +shovel and began turning over coke in the wooden bunkers. + +"Dugan's down here?" + +"Uh-huh. Didn't you see his war picture? The wives hate to give up +the pension when the husbands die, so sometimes they don't report the +death. But they have to hide the body...." Fink shoveled vigorously, +then grunted: "Look." + +A hand and arm were thrust out of the coke. It was a left hand, +rotting, swarming with maggots. Lennox let out a hoarse cry and backed +away. He turned and ran crouching under the ducts to the basement +stairs. + +"Hey! Lennox!" Fink called in surprise. + +Lennox gasped out an apology and raced up the steps. He held his +breath. In the hall he came face to face with Mrs. Dugan just coming +out of her apartment. He averted his head and ran out into the street. +He found a saloon, went in and had two quick shots of brandy, trying to +forget that hideous left hand. The brandy took hold in his stomach and +he was able to relax. Presently he nodded emphatically. "By God!" he +muttered. "He'll find out who's writing those letters. He'll save us. +I wouldn't have believed it. A bank clerk." + +He was still nodding and muttering to himself when he met me in +Sabatini's. I took him to the coat room, showed him the burberry and +handed him the check. I took out his gimmick book and gave it to him. +He patted it fondly, the way you pat a faithful dog, and slipped it +into his pocket. Then he flexed his right arm against his chest and +grinned at me. + +"Like getting my heart back, Kit," he said. "Thanks. I had one hell of +a fantastic experience this morning. What are you drinking?" + +We went to the bar and gave Romo our orders and Lennox told me about +his guided tour through a nightmare and the corpse in the coke. "If you +didn't come up with anything in the library," he said, "I'll make you a +gift of the story." + +"I can't use the story, Jake. Continuity would never pass it. But I +could use the gimmick." + +"It's yours." + +"You mean that? Thanks." I really was grateful. Lennox knew how to pay +for a favor. "It's solid, Man. That finger pointing down when she's +swearing the husband's up on the roof. Great sight gimmick. It's the +most." I began to drift off into a plot. + +"Write it down, Kitten." + +"What? Oh, I don't have to. Gimmicks like this you never forget." + +"Locate anything this morning?" + +"Something real odd. Poison-eaters." + +"Poison-eaters? You're putting me on." + +"No, Jake. I'm not kidding. I'm going to use it for a switch on the +tired routine about an unknown killer menacing unknown victims. You +know. Who's doing what to who and why." + +Lennox spilled his drink. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Nothing. Go on." + +"Here's the gimmick. You know about the dope habit. People start +hitting heroin or cocaine and can't get off the hook. Well, the same +thing happens with poison." + +"I don't believe it." + +"Some people acquire the poison habit. They eat arsenic for their +health and--" + +"Their health!" + +"That's right. They take it in small doses so it isn't lethal and they +build up a tolerance for it." + +"Why?" + +"They've got an idea it's good for them. For malaria. A tonic. An +aphrodisiac. But dig this. Once they start they can't stop. It's +habit-forming like dope. They've got to keep on eating poison the rest +of their lives." + +"I'll be damned." + +"And they thrive on it, Jake. That's the truth." I waited a couple of +minutes and then asked: "Why'd you throw a fit before?" + +He grimaced. "That line about an unknown killer and unknown victims. It +was a little too close to home." + +"How?" + +"I'm in the same fix, Kitten." + +"You're an unknown killer?" + +"No. One of the victims." + +"This I got to hear." + +He shrugged. "Let's have another drink. I'll tell you about it if you +swear to keep it quiet." + +I reached out with both arms and touched the crowd surrounding the bar. +"On a stack of agency men." + +Jake snorted. We had another drink and he unloaded the letter story +in a low voice, his eyes flashing angrily, his fists clenching and +unclenching. He had a set of photostats in his pocket, but he wouldn't +show them to me then ... not in Sabatini's with half the business +leaning over our shoulders warning Romo to leave the garbage out of the +old-fashioneds. When he was finished, Lennox looked at me expectantly. + +"You're a mystery writer, Kitten. How would you crack this one?" + +"When I plot 'em," I said, "I've got sense enough to give myself a +gimmick to get out on. A left-handed man pulls matches from the left +side of the book. The U. S. didn't mint any silver dollars from 1909 to +1921. All ticket punches have different designs ... and so on. Where's +your gimmick?" + +"There isn't any I know of." + +"Then leave it to Fink. Smart cop, Fink. He'll find the gimmick." + +Lennox nodded. "But damn it, I can't sit on my credits and wait for the +explosion Sunday. I've got to do something." + +"You're an amateur, Jake. Stay out of the act." + +"I've got a crazy feeling that everything's hanging on this one week. +If I fight through the week, I'm safe. I've got to fight, Kitten." + +"You fight too much. Sit tight for a change and wait." + +"No. Damn it. No." He brooded, then burst out: "I've got an idea what +to do." + +"What?" + +"While Fink's looking for the guy who's writing these letters...." + +"Could be a dame." + +"What?" + +"A dame. A doll. A tootsie. A--" + +"I heard you. I never thought of that, but you're right. It could be a +woman. So. While Fink's looking for the writer, I could be looking for +the writee." + +"Where's your gimmick?" + +He waved around at the bar. "Right here in this Violent Ward." + +"You better explain. Take it from the top." + +"If I called in everybody on the show and just told them about the +letters, they'd deny they were written to them. There wouldn't be any +impact. They'd be able to cover up the secret." + +"Why should they cover?" + +"You don't get threatening letters unless you've got something dirty in +your past." + +"Why should it be secret?" + +"Because the letters are anonymous. No addressee. No signature. It's +got to be a secret between two people. Yes?" + +"I'll buy it." + +"Whoever's sending those letters knows the right man will recognize +them as soon as he sees them. All right. I know how to tag the one out +of the eight who's getting the threats." + +"How?" + +"They're all in the business. Mixed up, neurotic, sick in the head like +this sunny straight-jacket crowd in here right now. You have to be sick +to like this rat-race. The higher up you rise in the spiral, the more +precarious your balance becomes ... like a kid on ten-foot stilts." + +"I think of them balancing like tightrope walkers." + +"But balance is the gimmick, Kitten." Lennox pounded his point like a +piledriver. "Balance. Balance. Balance. Suppose I pulled these letters +on them in private, one after the other. Mason. Sachs. Stacy. Kay Hill. +Plummer. Charlie Hansel. Took the letters out and said: 'This was sent +to you. Read it.' Watched them read it. You know how precariously +they're balanced. On twenty-foot stilts. Living on nerves. Wouldn't the +impact knock them off? Wouldn't the right one give himself away?" + +I thought that over. "The trouble with your idea," I objected, "is that +if they're all precarious like you--" + +"They are. You know that. The whole damned business is. That's what I +hate about it. I feel like a visitor in a booby-hatch." + +"Then they'd all be knocked off balance, guilty or not guilty. They'd +all fall off their tightrope." + +"No, you're wrong." + +"What about Blinky? You said he threw a fit." + +"But not a guilty fit. That was obvious. No, by God! It'll work. I know +it'll work. I'm going to try it. You want to place any bets? I'll make +book." + +"My money's on Sachs. He stole that song he wrote back in Chicago." + +"What about Kay Hill? From Brooklyn. Trying to pass as English. She's +from Canarsie where they really breed crooks. What about Charlie +Hansel, the undercover queen? Trying to pass with that hoofer he +married." + +"She's married? That fag?" + +"Yes. To a dame named Gretel. They used to be 'Hansel and Gretel, +Dansomimes.'" + +"Oh no! Dansomimes?" + +"The queens could be catching up with Charlie. What about Oliver Stacy? +He's run through every woman in town. He went through the Rehearsal +Club like a plague. Forty-three ingenues in thirty-six days. And how +about Johnny Plummer? He's a Commie." + +"You sure?" + +"Almost positive." + +"God knows, you may be right about them, Jake. When the right man reads +those letters there could be a blast that no one could miss. Maybe a +complete confession. If--" + +I broke off because Lennox wasn't listening. He was staring at Roy +Audibon, the network veep, who was passing through the crowded bar on +the way into the restaurant. Vice-presidents are job lot in Sabatini's +and Lennox couldn't be gaping at Audibon even though he is the original +charm-boat. Tall, slender, grizzled hair, hornrim glasses, a smile +that could register on a Geiger Counter.... Audibon is the veep's veep. +He's Mr. Network. I noticed that he was with a dark girl in a grey +flannel suit. She had cropped curly hair, oriental eyes, and a lazy +carriage. She was a looker, but you get to expect that in Sabatini's. +Only the lookers get taken there. It was Gabby Valentine, of course, +but I didn't find that out until later. + +"Roy Audibon!" Lennox exclaimed angrily. + +"What's the matter?" + +"I'm in pain." + +"Where does it hurt?" + +"I don't know. Let's find out." He waved to Heitor, the head waiter. +Heitor came bustling up to the bar prepared to give us a hard time. I +saw Lennox slip him two tens and lay down the law in a whisper. + +"Yes, Mr. Lennox? At once, Mr. Lennox?" Heitor always made every +statement a question. "If you will bring your drinks to the table, +please? The table is ready now, gentlemen?" + +"I'll spring for lunch," Lennox said and we went into the dining room. +Heitor bustled to the side tables against the wall and pulled an empty +away from the banquette. It was alongside Audibon's. Lennox, who is +invariably punctilious, broke his rule and held me back with a firm +nudge. He slipped in first and sat down alongside Gabby who was gazing +at him with big eyes. Then I sat down and the table locked us in. + +That was one of the best luncheons I never had. I got stuck with the +check, too, but that didn't bother me. I knew Lennox would settle +up, once he recovered his sanity ... if he ever did. He started off +ignoring Gabby. He just pressed against her as he leaned over to speak +to Audibon. + +"I beg your pardon, friend. I'm a stranger in town. Would you point out +some celebrities, if any?" + +"Hello Jake," Audibon smiled. All the Geiger Counters went +clickety-click. + +"Are you a celebrity?" Lennox inquired genially. "They say that +real life vice-presidents can be seen in the flesh, or was it the +Altogether?" + +"Why sure, son. Got your autograph album? There's Mr. Avery Borden +right across from you." Audibon smiled across the restaurant to +Avery Borden who also is the original charm-boat. Tall, slender, +grizzled hair and hornrim glasses. Mr. Agency. Borden smiled back. +Clickety-click. Clickety-click. + +"But are you a vice-president?" Lennox wanted to know. + +"I'll show you my tax statement," Audibon answered and turned to Gabby. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss." Lennox drew back. "Was I leaning on your +derriere?" + +"I'd have to answer that in French." + +"Are you a vice-president?" Lennox asked her. "Answer in English." + +"Not altogether," Gabby said. "Haven't you accosted me before?" + +"I hardly think it possible. I just got out of stir." + +Gabby clapped her hands. "Of course I know you. You're famous. They +wrote you up in the _Calabash Chronicle_." + +"The Calabash King." Lennox nodded modestly. He leaned across her +again, his hand groping for hers. "Are you in this here theaterical +game, Mister? I hear you're all pretty fly. Bohemian. Stay up all night +and drink like sixty. Is it true? Speak." + +"Oysters," Audibon told the waiter. Clickety-click went the smile. "We +smoke too, sonny. And ride bikes no-hands." + +"I'll bet my father can lick your father." + +"The hell he can. My father's a cop." + +"What have you got, Meccano or Erector Set?" + +"Meccano." + +"Yahh!" Lennox sneered. + +"What have you got, Lionel or American Flyer?" + +"Lionel. O-Gauge." + +"Pfff! Which do you get, _Boy's Life_ or _American Boy_?" A "Both," +Lennox said with a superior air. + +"Oh yes?" Audibon retorted with heat. "Well let me ask you one +question. Just one question. Do you get _Ropeco Magazine_?" + +Lennox cringed and hung his head, then he and Audibon burst out +laughing. Clickety damn click all over the place. I started looking for +somewhere to hide. There was a war breaking out. They were hating each +other and skirmishing in the tunnels beneath the glitter. They were +hating for reasons I didn't know and probably they didn't know either; +but that wouldn't make any difference, not on The Rock where you killed +first and went to the head-shrinker later. + +"What are you going to do about that Kansas hassle?" Audibon asked with +sincere concern. + +"It's been taken care of," Lennox smiled. "There won't be any suit." + +"Good boy. Glad to hear it." Clickety-click. "I know you wouldn't +cross-ruff the network into a Donnybrook." + +"We aim to please, boss." + +"It's knowing how that scores. Damn it, Jake, I wish we had more like +you. We could use you on our other sick shows." + +"How do you mean ... other?" + +"Now, Jake, we're a couple of Pros. We know how to count without +fingers. You've got a pretty sick show, boy." + +"It's got a damned good rating for an invalid." + +"The best!" Clickety-click. "Of course your Sunday slot is rated at ten +points better than you're doing, but that's not your fault. You can't +maximize variety on Sunday." + +"The client doesn't think so." Lennox smiled till it hurt. "We've got +'em convinced they're going to rename it Shoeday." + +"Bless their dear little souls," Audibon enthused. "Of course they're +not getting dollar and cents value percentagewise. Your package +doesn't integrate with their product. There's a synthetic overlap but +not a genuine structural mesh." + +A chill ran down my spine. When network veeps start talking like that +the words don't mean anything because they're just the sound of a knife +being sharpened. Lennox stiffened and returned Audibon's smile doggedly. + +"We welcome suggestions," he said. "Name a mesh." + +"Now don't ask me to sign this, but I think they need a Frontal Lobe +show with a broad base of family appeal on a week night. They need a +spacious universe type show. Something more galactic, with meaning." + +"With meaning," Lennox repeated in an ominous voice. He looked at +Gabby. "It's awesome. How does it feel to have lunch with a frontal +lobe?" + +Audibon laughed. Lennox laughed. + +"Steak," Audibon told the waiter. He transferred the charm back to +Lennox. "Jake, why are writers so hyper-conservative? You people are +the bottle-neck of the business. Every time we try to revaluate and +mock-up a new concept, you come out of the garret and say no." + +"And what were you thinking of slipping into our Sunday night slot?" +Lennox smiled. "A galactic 'How To' show?" + +Audibon had worked his way up by parlaying a series of 'How To' panels +through the agencies. How To Sing. How To Dance. How To Make A Dame. +Every time you turned around there he was in another agency with +another How To. + +He gave Lennox the clickety-click again. "How To Educate Writers," he +said. "Present writers excluded." + +"You're optimistic. We gave up all hope for vice-presidents years ago. +Present restaurant excluded. Tell me, Miss Calabash. Would you rather +be marooned on a desert island with a mink-dyed skunk or a mink-dyed +vice-president?" + +"Gabby," Audibon laughed. "This is Jake Lennox. I pay him to entertain +at lunch." + +"Society's Favorite Funster," Lennox grinned. "And the lady is...?" + +"My wife." + +"That's a genuine funny. Goody for you, Roy. What's your name when he +isn't dreaming galactically, Miss Calabash? Are you--" Lennox stopped. +He stared at Gabby, at Audibon, then back at Gabby. + +"Yes?" he asked quietly. + +She nodded. Jake's face turned black. He shoved our table out, knocking +glasses and rolls all over the place. He stood up, grabbed a corner of +Audibon's table and slewed it into the aisle. He seized Gabby's arm. + +"Out!" he said. + +"Jordan!" + +"Out." + +"Behave yourself." + +"Come on. Out!" + +"Lennox! What the hell is this?" Audibon demanded. + +"One more word out of you and I'll kill you," Lennox growled. He pulled +Gabby to her feet and went out of the restaurant with her. Heitor saw +the fuss and bustled up, ready to give Lennox a hard time. He took one +look at his face and backed away. + +On the street, Lennox pushed through the lunch hour crowds, never +relaxing his grip on Gabby's arm. Both of them were too angry to speak. +Finally Lennox spat: "Married? To him?" + +"We're separated." + +"How long?" + +"A year." + +"How long were you married?" + +"Eight months." + +"To him! Married to that--" + +"Thank God it wasn't to you." + +"Thank Roy, dear. He's our local god." + +Gabby suddenly clutched his arm and dragged him to a stop before a +sidewalk pitchman demonstrating a silver-plating fluid. The pitchman +lost his audience. + +"You listen to me," Gabby said, + +"You answer me first. Why didn't you tell me?" + +"When?" + +"Last night." + +"When you were so charming? The way you're acting now?" + +"I mean later." + +"We were talking about you." + +"Exclusively?" Lennox showed his teeth. "You couldn't find a moment to +let me know? It wasn't important enough even for a throw-away?" + +"Is it important to you?" + +"It's damned important." + +"Why?" + +"I don't know." + +"You're behaving like a fool." + +"That I do know." + +He started off again, plowing through the crowds, hustling Gabby along +full speed. Her skirt was narrow, she was wearing high-heeled opera +pumps, it was painful for her. Lennox knew it and enjoyed it. He didn't +know why he was trying to punish her; but Gabby had an inkling of what +chasm might be producing the rage, and she was so transparently honest +that she blurted it out. + +"Dog in the manger," she said. + +"Is that supposed to have meaning?" + +"You're not jealous." + +"I never said I was." + +"You want revenge." + +"Revenge for what?" + +"Because you weren't the first." + +"What!" He stopped and backed her into the recessed show-window of a +lunchroom. "What was that?" + +"You want revenge," Gabby repeated angrily. "You want to punish me +because you weren't the first." + +"Damn you, Gabby...." + +"Isn't it true?" + +"No." + +"You didn't need me. You needed a conquest." + +"Shut up." + +"You thought you owned me. From the beginning. All of me. You're +selfish, egotistical, self--" + +"Why didn't you say your date was with Audibon?" + +"It was none of your business." + +"Everything about you is my business. What did Audibon want?" + +"You moved in on me last night," Gabby said. "And now you'd like to +move in on the rest of my life. You want to own everything." + +"Yes. Everything, damn it! You own all of me." + +"I don't want it. I don't want ever to own anybody, and I won't be +owned. Don't interrupt, Jordan. Listen to me." Gabby was raging. +"You think you've staked out a claim, but it isn't like that at all. +There'll be days when we discover we need each other and then we'll +be together. There'll be other days when nothing will happen. But no +claims, no ownership, no possession, no habit. Do you understand?" + +"Do you think you're lecturing a child?" + +"You are a child. Selfish. Spoiled. Rude." + +"You're talking about manners. What the hell does that have to do with +love?" + +"Everything. Do you want to love me or use me?" + +"Use you? For what?" + +"Your whipping boy. You were rude to Roy in the restaurant. I don't +know why you were fighting but--" + +"He's knifing my show!" + +"I don't care. You were rude. You behaved dreadfully. Then you were +ashamed and you tried to take it out on me. Is that your kind of love? +Hurtful? Hateful?" She began to tremble. + +"Yes, it is. I'm not going to apologize. I told you last night ... you +open me up. I look at you and my guts come out. If part is poison, I +can't hide it. And I don't give a damn. I earn my living in a lying +rat-race. There has to be honesty between us or what's the use?" + +"Not this kind. This isn't honesty. It's--" + +"I'm being honest," Lennox insisted savagely. "I can fake a romance +with a woman any time, but I don't want faking between us. There wasn't +any last night, Gabby. Not from me. Don't hand me that revenge routine. +I didn't have any illusions. You were too good for me to imagine that I +was the first--" + +She slapped his mouth with all her strength, and raised her hand to +slap him again. Lennox caught her wrist and twisted it down. + +"Bitch!" he shouted. + +She burst into tears. "What are you doing to me?" she cried in +desperation. "What are you making me do? Look at us ... fighting like +this. It's horrible. But you like it, don't you? You want us to hurt +each other. Don't you?" + +His heart constricted. "No. For God's sake. No. I--" He looked around. +People were staring. Behind them, a chef at a window grill was gaping +through the plate glass. There was no taxi in sight; no hiding place. +There was an empty delivery truck parked at the curb. Lennox took Gabby +across the sidewalk, opened the truck door and forced her into the +driving cab. He got in himself and slammed the door. Gabby was crying +without control. He was shamed and elated. + +"Gabby...." + +"Go away." + +"Listen...." + +"Be quiet. Go away." + +"Not now. Not when you're like this." + +"I never hit anybody in my life. I never wanted to hit anybody ... +ever. I'm cheap and...." + +"No." + +"I'm so ashamed. My God! How you can fill me with shame." + +"I know. I warned you, didn't I!" + +She didn't answer. Lennox waited, then he said: "Look at it my way. +I'm having a rough time this week. I don't know how I'm going to get +through Sunday. That's why I'm acting like this. I said last night I +wanted you to see me at my best. This is my worst." + +"It can't be just this week. It--" + +"Yes it is. And I thought: Thank God for Gabrielle. I'm in the worst +hassle of my life, but I've found her when I needed her most. I can +depend on her forever. I've got someone sane and beautiful to hold on +to in this rotten war." + +"Well? Well?" + +"And then Audibon was sprung on me. 'My wife.' Bang." + +"Which meant you couldn't depend on me. Is that it?" + +"I don't know. I was scared. Maybe I'm jealous. I was afraid I was +losing you." + +"Jordan--" + +"No. Let me finish." He took a deep breath. "I did everything wrong. +But I couldn't help myself. I think I knew I was doing everything +wrong. But I couldn't stop myself. You know how dangerous a drowning +man is? He'll clutch at you and drown you too if you don't hit +him. That's what happened. I was drowning.... You hit me.... I'm +grateful...." + +Gabby turned to him, her dark eyes searching his face. He met her gaze +steadily. Her expression slowly changed from anguish to compassion, +and she reached out and touched his mouth gently. Lennox smiled a +peace-offering, and it was answered. He pulled her to him and kissed +her until the kiss was returned. Then they sat quietly, allowing the +silence to speak for them and heal the quarrel. + +Suddenly the truck door was wrenched open and a burly man bawled: "What +the hell are you doing in there?" + +"Listen," Lennox snapped. "We're from the phone company. Why the hell +don't you pay your bill?" + +Gabby burst out laughing. Lennox helped her out of the truck and glared +at the astounded driver. "This is your last warning, cheapskate. Next +time we take the truck away." + +They scampered off down the street and flagged a cab. As they got in, +Lennox exclaimed: "Jesus! Me mackinaws." + +"Jesus, me job!" Gabby said. + +"What about lunch? I loused your steak." + +"I'll have something sent up." + +They sat close together in comforting silence all the way to Houseways, +Inc. At the office door Lennox took her shoulders in his hands for a +moment, then asked: "Forgiven?" + +Gabby nodded. + +"See you tonight, please?" + +"Tonight." + +"Don't spring another husband." + +She shook her head. + +"You'd better divorce him. I've got serious-type intentions." + +"I can't." + +"Why not?" + +"He won't let me. He wants to own me too." + +"How can he stop you?" + +"Not now, Jordan. Some other time. But ... I've got problems too." + +She ran into the office. Lennox stood watching her and grinding his +teeth on Audibon's name. Then he looked up and down the street, +located a restaurant, went in and bought a lunch and had it sent up to +Gabby. + +"This is Monday," he muttered. "Six more days. Christ, stand by me. +Gabrielle, stand by me." + +He returned to Sabatini's, claimed his overcoats, and went home. Cooper +was in the kitchen piling canned goods on the shelves while the Siamese +climbed on him and begged shamelessly for food. There was a rigid law +in the house that neither man ever questioned the other about his +private life, but Cooper's face wore such an expression of blank dismay +that Lennox was startled into breaking the rule. + +"Sam! What's the matter?" + +Cooper opened his mouth, then closed it. + +"Where were you last night? Has anything happened? Speak." + +"I'm famous." + +"What?" + +Cooper nodded, "You remember last month Mason wanted a song spot with +the dummy? Comedy duet." + +"Sure. I couldn't come up with a suggestion and you cooked up a tune. +'We're The Most.' So?" + +"They released it last week. It.... So help me, it's turning into a +hit. Suidi took me down for a disc-jockey interview last night." + +"Suidi? Who he?" + +"The ambassador's son." + +"_Le Jazz Hot?_ Goggle-eyed guy?" + +"That's him. He owns a record company. They make race records mostly, +but he took a chance on 'We're The Most' and it.... You should have +heard them rave last night." + +"This is sensational, Sam. Man, this _is_ the Most!" + +"It's an outrage," Cooper said. He was angry and perplexed. + +"What's burning you?" + +"I spend years writing tunes. I drudge like a sincere-type writer. +A veritable Irving Beethoven. And what happens? Nothing. But a lousy +little novelty I work up in half an hour during rehearsal.... It's a +trappisty." + +"Lay there and bleed, long-hair. This is great. Can I shake the hand +that shook the hand of Irving B. Cooper, author of 'We're The Most' and +countless other hit tunes which their names are legion?" Lennox pumped +Cooper's limp hand and dragged him into the living room. "This needs a +drink. We'll all have a drink, by God. Bring out the skunk." + +He filled glasses and thrust one into Cooper's fist. "We'll plug it +on the show. Maybe we can get Mason to use it for his theme. Tell +me about last night. Why the hell didn't you say _Le Jazz Hot_ was +your publish--" Lennox did a take. "Hold the phone. You mean you were +supposed to meet him at Alice McVeagh's party? It was a business date?" + +"Well...." Cooper began. + +"And you were supposed to go down for the interview afterwards. Yes or +no?" + +"Not exactly, Jake...." + +"But you didn't tell me. No. You let me bellyache and offered to go +looking for the gimmick book, and you would have too, you liar. You'd +have given up the interview, you perjurer. Wouldn't you?" + +Cooper was flustered. "How about the book? Did you locate it?" + +"All taken care of. I figured out the Quaker and the blonde. I'll tell +you later." + +"What about the knot?" + +Lennox flinched. "That's still hanging over me. I haven't remembered +everything yet." He swallowed and tried to regain his enthusiasm. "To +hell with it. Kit went down and rescued the book. Here it is. Now let's +have your story." + +He pulled out his notebook to display it. The photostats came out with +it and scattered on the floor. Cooper looked down at the white writing +on the black background. + +"What's this?" + +"The letters we've been getting. To hell with them too. I want to hear +about you." As Lennox picked up the photostats, Cooper took one and +examined it curiously. "Forget the letters, Sam. I've worried enough +today. Let me have a few jollies. How much money are you going to make? +Will you hit the jukeboxes?" + +"I've seen this writing before," Cooper said. + +Lennox froze. "What?" + +"I've seen this handwriting before." + +"Sure?" + +"Positive." + +"Don't put me on, Sam. This is serious." + +"I am serious." + +"Where did you see the writing?" + +"I can't remember." + +"Whose is it?" + +"I don't know." + +"Sam. For God's sake! Everything hangs on this. You--" + +"Shut up a minute." + +Lennox sat down slowly and chafed while Cooper studied the photostats. +Finally Cooper looked up and shook his head. + +"I'm sorry, Jake. I know I've seen it before, but that's all I can +remember. It's like you and the knot. We're both stuck." + +"Holy Mother on Mike!" Lennox surged up from his chair and paced the +room furiously. He noticed the drink in his hand and hurled it into the +fireplace. As it smashed, he turned to Cooper. + +"But you'll remember, won't you?" he said. "We've got six days to +Sunday. You'll remember." + +"I'll try." + +"And you'll do it. We'll lick it, won't we, Sam? We'll both fight it, +and we'll come out on top Sunday." + +"I don't know, Jake. Fight what? Where's top? Fill me in, boy. So far +I'm just a bystander." + +Lennox poured it out; the whole story up to that moment. He was +discreet about Gabby. He merely indicated and let Cooper figure out +the details for himself. Cooper listened in silence. When it was all +finished, he looked at Lennox strangely. Then he exploded. + +"You God damned stupid idiot! Ass! Imbecile! Lennox, the Thinker. Why +the hell can't you stop thinking? You haven't got what to think +with ... Agency Man!" + +Lennox quailed before the storm. + +"What the hell is the matter with you? You've been tearing around +looking for the villain in the piece like a soap opera hack. You +want to find the villain who's writing the letters. You want to find +the villain who's getting them. You want to find the villain who's +threatening your career. Damn you, you're the villain. Can't you see +that, dunderhead?" + +"Me!" Lennox was amazed. + +"Natch, you. You're the one who's making all the trouble for yourself. +You insulted Ned Bacon. You insulted Tooky Ween and Blinky and Mason. +You picked a fight with Roy Audibon. With Audibon! The one man who can +ruin you in this business." + +"But...." + +"You've been fighting with this Gabby girl who sounds like one of the +angel-type innocents. That's despicable. It's shooting a sitting duck. +You even tried to pick a fight with me. You're so busy fighting the +invisible villain you don't realize you're him ... he ... it.... To +hell with the grammar. You're the only villain in the piece, Lennox. +Face it." + +"Jesus." Lennox sat down aghast. "Me?" + +"Wake up, writer! Villains are for books. Only a Square thinks you find +them in real life." + +"But the letters...." + +"Somebody sick in the head is writing them. You're in a nasty hassle +right now. Admitted. But you're the villain who's making it worse. +You're the one who's building it into a crisis." + +"I can't help myself, Sam. You said it's nasty. And I'm scared." + +"Like friend Fink said, it's smart to be scared. But don't turn Square. +Squares think there are Good Guys and Bad Guys. But we know we're +all Good Guys and Bad Guys inside ourselves. Half the time we build +ourselves up, and the other half we're knocking ourselves down. When a +Square knocks himself down he starts looking for a Bad Guy to blame. +That's what you've been doing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." + +After a long pause, Lennox said: "You're right. You're always right, +damn you. I'm a noodnick." + +"Hear, hear!" + +"But I'm going to reform." + +"Don't start any reform routine. Every time you make up your mind to do +something, we have to take to the hills. Just sit tight and behave." + +"I can't sit tight, Sam. I've got problems to buck and I know how to do +it. I'm going to do it." + +"Oh God! Is there no mercy?" + +"Now don't worry. I'm going to keep on fighting, but like a goddamned +Galahad." + +"Are we friends?" Cooper shouted. + +"Yes." Lennox was startled. + +"Will you listen to a friend?" + +"I'm listening." + +"Leave it alone. Will you do that for me?" + +"I can't." + +"Here's my last warning. If you go through with this ... if you attack +it and fight it, no matter how ... you'll regret it for the rest of +your life. Now, for the last time: Will you quit?" + +"No." + +"Then you're dead, Lennox. You're dead." + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + +When I was a kid on the Rock, one of my friends turned racketeer and +went into the bicycle-stealing business. He put the heist on six bikes +which he hid in the Indian Caves in Isham Park where the Hessian +deserters holed up during the Revolutionary War. We used to dig for +musket balls and flint arrow heads up there, just a few blocks from the +spot where they found a dead-type dinosaur. + +Anyway, my thief friend was too dumb or too honest to sell the bikes, +and the first time he tried to ride one around our neighborhood he +got caught with the stolen goods. He made his getaway and hid in the +caves until dark. Then he sneaked out to make amends and return the +rest of the loot to the rightful owners. This was up at the north end +of The Rock where there were still private homes. Nobody could sleep +that night for the crash of stolen bikes being thrown over fences into +backyards. + +Likewise, for the next few days nobody in the business could sleep for +the crash of Lennox switching from the Bad Guys to the Good Guys. He +had a formidable list of antagonists to pacify. He had his Poison Pen +Test to spring without creating any additional hostility. Lennox made +an exuberant try. If he was villainous at times, as Cooper suggested, +he could be heroic when he tried to combat his own villainy. Here are +the highlights of his fight. + + * * * * * + +He phoned Rox Records, the offices of Suidi, _Le Jazz Hot_, prepared to +do battle with the aid of a French dictionary. He was saved by a Bronx +speaking secretary. + +"I think we ought to promote Sam Cooper's hit," Lennox explained. "My +idea is a professional party for Sam. A big name party on Wednesday +or Thursday. You invite your big wheels. I'll invite ours. I've got +a gimmick in mind that might be a natural for publicity. Say you're +celebrating the history of song hits ... starting with someone as far +back as Handy and bringing it down to Cooper. If you could get enough +names there it ought to be worth a double-truck in any magazine." + +Rox Records admitted that it certainly ought. + +"I want to finance this myself, but don't let Sam know." + +They kicked it around enthusiastically and agreed that Lennox would be +permitted to finance a cocktail party for Cooper at the studios of Rox +Records on West 50th Street Thursday next. + + * * * * * + +Lennox hired a network photographer and took him up to Mason's +apartment on the west side, which is the unfashionable side of The Rock. + +The apartment was in a building that had never had a celebrated +tenant from the entertainment business. As a result, the staff was +stage-struck and dying to get into the act. The doorman cultivated a +Low Dutch dialect. His eager expression informed Lennox that he was +ready for Discovery. The elevator man had worked up a comedy monologue +in Irish, Cockney and Chinese. He also was ready. At the top floor, +Lennox rang Mason's doorbell, opened the door and entered with the +photographer. The apartment was never locked. + +They came into a bare foyer, the size of a boxing ring. It was ankle +deep in wall-to-wall blue carpeting. Lennox called: "Mig? It's Jake +Lennox." No answer. They went through an archway into a bare living +room the size of a tennis court. It was naked except for wall-to-wall +grey carpeting. "Mig!" Lennox called again. No answer. They peeked into +the dining room and two of the bedrooms, all empty and bare except for +wall-to-wall carpeting. + +"Must be out buying furniture," the photographer said. + +Lennox shouted again, then listened. He heard the faint sound of music. +They followed it and found Mason in the study. It was the size of a +study with wall-to-wall green carpeting. It was empty except for a +giant TV set with a thirty inch screen in the corner. A silver plate on +it proclaimed that it was the gift of the network to their well-beloved +Mig Mason & Diggy Dixon. Before the set was a bridge table at which +Mason and his wife were seated, silently eating canned hamburgers and +watching the screen. + +Mason glanced up. "The Thinker," he said morosely and turned back to +the screen. + +"The Thinker," Irma said. + +"_Bon appetit._ French for it smells good," Lennox answered cheerfully. +"Mig, I haven't had a chance to congratulate you. You were great +Christmas night. Sensational. It was a great show. Sensational. Your +timing was great. Your gags were sensational. It's great working with +you, Mig. You make any writer look sensational." + +"Thanks, Jake." Mason looked modest. + +"Thanks," Irma said, + +"Was it St. Nicholas?" Mason asked abruptly. + +"Of course it was St. Nicholas." + +"Then I was right. It was that phone girl that loused me." + +"Of course you were right." + +"Why didn't you say so?" Mason demanded. "You're all trying to louse +me." + +"Did I say you were wrong?" + +"You didn't say I was right." + +"Because I work for Grabinett. Have a heart, Mig. You're a great star. +You can tell anybody off. But I haven't got your sensational talent. I +have to work for a living. Be kind to the hired help." + +The scowl disappeared from Mason's face. It also disappeared from +Irma's face. + +"I've brought a photographer for some pictures," Lennox continued +briskly. "We're nominating you for Comedian of The Year, and by God +you're going to be elected." + +Mason brightened. + +"Not in those clothes," Irma said. "He's got to get dressed up." + +"Never mind the clothes," Mason complained. "What about the background? +There's no furniture in the house." + +"There's no furniture in the house," Irma told Lennox. A moment later +she added: "It's all being custom built." + +"To hell with the furniture," Lennox said. "We don't want formal +pictures. We want behind the scenes shots. What makes a talent great. +Mig in his workshop with the dummy. How he builds Diggy.... How he +paints him.... The tricks he invented.... All that sensational stuff +you showed me, Mig." + +"Great! Sensational!" Mason leaped up, delighted. He was prouder +of his mechanical ability than anything else. He led the way into +another enormous room, carpeted from wall to wall, containing a long +carpenter's bench cluttered with tools. Various portions of Diggy +Dixon were scattered on the bench; heads, legs, arms, bodies, eyes. +An open closet was hung with the dummy's wardrobe. Mason's three gag +writers were seated on camp chairs in a tight circle bitching their +competitors. + +Lennox greeted them perfunctorily. He had long ago given up all +attempts to communicate with them. Gag writers are alien creatures and +even a casual "Hello" can lead to complications. Their entire lives +boil down to a single-minded search for jokes and it's impossible +to conduct a coherent conversation with them. In thirty-nine weeks +Lennox had never been introduced to the gagmen by Mason, and although +he finally discovered their names, he still identified them as the +Sourball, the Post-Nasal Drip and the Monk. Incidentally, it was the +Sourball who later turned spy. + +"Got a sweetheart of a gag, Mig baby," the Monk beamed. + +"It stinks," Sourball snapped. + +"Try it on him, just for size." The Drip began snuffling in +anticipation: "Hnkhhh...." + +"It's a sweetheart, baby. Diggy says to you: 'How's your wife, Mig?'" + +"I'll have you know my wife's an angel," Sourball snapped. + +"You're lucky! Hnkhhh.... My wife's still living." + +Mason looked at them nervously. The truth was, he didn't know a good +gag from a bad one, and was always apprehensive. + +"I'm afraid of it, fellas," he said. "Diggy's a wholesome American boy. +He wouldn't make fun of marriage." + +He dragged the photographer to the bench. There he demonstrated the +inner workings of his genius ... the dummy's weighted eyes, the +carefully fitted mouth and jaw, the regular body with right-hand +controls for the head, and an extra body with left-hand controls; for +dummies, like baseball gloves, must be fitted to the hand. Mason would +have been in great difficulties last September, he explained, when he +had rheumatism in his working hand, if he hadn't had a left-hand dummy +to switch to. + +"Not rheumatism. Neuritis." Sourball said. + +"Wait a minute. Room. Attic. Hnkhhh.... Diggy's a poet working in an +attic. Mig's the landlord. He asks Diggy where he could work better, +in a room or attic, and Diggy says: 'That's why I'm bent over my desk. +Rheumatics.'" + +"Switch it to neuritis," Sourball snapped. "Diggy's an editor. Mig's +the poet. Mig's sore because Diggy says his poem is old fashioned." + +"Right. Right. Hnkhhh.... Mig says: 'Which is better, the old writers +or the new writers?'" + +"That's it, sweetheart." The Monk took up the running. "So Diggy +answers: My brother's got that." + +"Got what?" + +"Hnkhhh.... Neuritis!" + +They beamed at their employer. + +"I don't know, fellas," Mason said dubiously. "Diggy's a wholesome +American boy. He wouldn't make fun of disease." + +Lennox ignored all this and concentrated on the photography business. +There is nothing so sunny as the twinkle of flash bulbs, and by the +time the photographer departed, Mason was suffering from 3rd degree +burns and smiling happily. Lennox felt the time was right for the +attack. He asked for a private conference and Mason sent his writers +into the study. Then he began tinkering with a new head on the bench +and told Lennox to go ahead. Lennox took the photostats out of his +pocket. "Hit him hard," he thought. "Knock him off balance." + +"Read these letters," he said in an ominous voice. + +Mason took the photostats and read them one by one. Lennox watched him +intently, searching for a give-away expression, a gesture, a sign. +Mason handed the photostats back indifferently and picked up the dummy +head. + +"Crazy," he said. "They write like that in subway johns. What do you +think, Jake? Does Diggy's new face look wholesome?" + +"Mig! Don't you understand? These are threatening letters. I think +they're written to you. You're in danger." + +"Me?" Mason was fascinated. "Me? I never...." He put the dummy down and +stared at Lennox. + +"Yes, you. Did you read that last one? There's going to be dynamite +Sunday. I'm here to help you. I want to do all I can. Who's writing +them to you, Mig? Do you know?" + +"Sure they're to me. Sure. I should of realized." Mason nodded +with growing conviction. "Stars always get anonymous letters. Like +presidents." He began to get excited. "It hits the fan on the Sunday +show, huh? This is sensational, Jake. Can we have a couple of reporters +there?" + +"Reporters!" + +"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Mason grabbed the photostats and ran +through them again. "I just thought of something. Yeah. Here. You +better not let the reporters see this one, Jake. Number three." + +"Don't let the reporters see...." Lennox echoed faintly. + +"Uh-huh. Keep it back. They'll know I'm not getting the letters if they +see this one, but I ought to be getting them. That Spanish faker was +getting blackmailed every night when he worked The Chert Room and I got +twice his billing." + +"You're not getting the letters?" + +"Sure I'm getting the letters. Except Number three. Here's the line. +'You east-side so-and-so.' See? This one can't be to me. I live on the +west side. But the reporters don't have to know. Hold that one out on +them." Mason clapped Lennox on the shoulder appreciatively. "If I ever +made a crack about you thinking, Jake, it was only for laughs. You got +a head on you I admire. We'll get a spread out of this if we get any +action Sunday. I tell you what. Let's be smart. Hire a guy. I bet you +thought of that already, huh, Thinker?" + +"Hire a guy? For what?" + +"In case this one don't show up. Write a little script for him and +we'll have him stand by in the house. If we don't get any action by the +final comedy spot you can cue him in and he'll give us a production." +Mason began to laugh. "I just thought of a great ad lib for Diggy when +this guy starts the fuss. Diggy says--" + +"Mig! For God's sake! This is serious. The letters are legitimate. The +threat's legitimate too. Don't you understand?" + +"Great, Sensational. Then we won't have to use the stand-in. But have +him there anyway. Jake, I love ya!" + +Lennox made his escape. He was thunderstruck by Mason's reaction, then +indignant, finally amused. + +"One down. Five to go," he muttered and continued the campaign. + + * * * * * + +He phoned Tooky Ween and made peace. + +"Tooky? Jake Lennox. I've got a promotion in mind for your property +that I'd like to discuss." + +"Which property?" Ween rumbled in a hostile voice. + +"Far as I'm concerned you've only got one hot property. The great man. +Mig." + +"What's the promotion, Lennox?" Ween asked, a little more affably. + +"Sam Cooper's got a hit tune just breaking. That duet he wrote for Mig +and the dummy." + +"What duet?" + +"'We're The Most.'" + +"That's a hit?" + +"On the way. Here's my idea. Mason & Dixon brought the tune out. +How about using their picture on the sheet music? Might be a nice +promotion." + +"That ain't bad, Jake. Ain't a sour note in the whole notion." Ween was +back to first names again and definitely friendly. + +"It's only a suggestion. I've got nothing to do with it, but I can ask +Sam for you." + +"Thanks, Jake. It could do Cooper a lot of good. My boy could double +his sales. So 'We're The Most' is socko, huh? Who's handling Cooper?" + +"Nobody." + +"A boy like that needs handling, Jake." + +Lennox laughed. "That's between you and Cooper. They're giving him a +promotion party at Rox Studios Thursday. Come on over. There'll be +names and photographers, so bring your properties too. You can talk it +up with Sam between flashes." + + * * * * * + +Kay Hill received him in her east side Early American apartment, +conducted him through a Colonial hall to a Federal parlor where she +seated him on a Duncan Phyfe couch. Her dark green dressing gown +clashed with the background, but set off her acid eyes and acid red +hair. + +"Men," she spat in her strange clipped accent. "Bloody lice! They only +come when they're hungry. What are you after, Lennox?" + +"Trouble," Lennox said. + +"We'll pickle it first. What's your brew?" Before he could answer she +made a couple of drinks, handed him one and finished hers. + +"When was the last time you were here, Lennox?" + +"This is the first." + +"They keep passing through. I lose count." She opened a window, then +closed the drapes with a savage flick. She blew dust off pewter +tankards and opened and slammed drawers. "I've been asked for plenty +in my life but they never called it trouble." She shuffled a deck of +cards once. "They've had it but never asked for it." + +"I'm not asking, Kay." + +"No? You're here, aren't you?" She cupped his chin in her hand, smiled +contemptuously, then slapped him. "We'll pickle it." + +She went to the bar. "Christ, it's bloody hot. D'you want ice?" + +"No thanks." + +"There isn't any anyway." She pulled irritably at the dressing gown +until it opened, displaying a black bra and black panties. She fretted +around the room, the green gown trailing behind her. + +"Are you English?" Lennox asked. + +"Are you starting something?" + +"I want to know." + +"I'm English. Now you know." + +"The dialect bothers me." + +"Not dialect, Lennox." Her speech became more clipped and more English. +"It's called an accent, darling. I have most unfortunately acquired a +dreadful American accent. Mummy and Daddy will be terribly amused when +I come home from the States." She dropped the English. "We'll pickle +it." + +She made another pair of drinks. + +"Jesus, Kay!" Lennox protested. She finished both, came to him and +sat on his lap. Lennox was startled when he noticed her eyes were +terrified. She was desperate. + +"Make a pass, Lennox," she said. + +"Are you putting me on?" + +"No. You're putting me off." + +She got up. Lennox caught her wrist and pulled her down alongside him. + +"Do you know why I'm here?" he asked. + +"I don't give a bloody bug why you're here." + +"What's eating you out?" + +"You don't give a bloody bug what's eating me out. We'll pickle it." + +"Not now, we won't. There's something else first." + +"I've changed my mind." + +"I haven't." Lennox drew out the photostats and handed them to her. +"Read these." + +"What?" + +"Read them." + +She began to shriek with laughter. "Read these, he says." She rocked +around the room, neighing hysterically. Lennox went after her, took her +by the shoulders and slammed her into a chair. + +"You're petrified," he growled, "and I think I know why. Read those +letters, damn you, and we'll find out." + +She wiped her eyes with the hem of the dressing gown and read the +photostats. Lennox watched her closely. Her face reflected every word +she was reading. Her body reflected her face. She was savage, sick, +vicious, threatening. For the length of all six letters she was the +writer of those letters. She was completely identified. When she came +to the end she looked at Lennox. + +"Who's writing them, Kay?" + +"How should I know?" + +"They're to you, aren't they?" + +"No." + +"Don't lie, damn you. You're halfway into a strait jacket and this is +what's doing it to you." + +She smiled wearily. "Clever Jordan Lennox. Mummy's favorite bright +boy." She got up and kissed his brow chastely. "We'll pickle it." + +Lennox followed her to the bar. "They're written to you, Kay. I came up +here to help you out, but you've got to level with me. Who's writing +them? Who's threatening you?" + +"I told you. I don't know." + +"This isn't anything to fool with, Kay. It's loaded with dynamite and +it's set to go off Sunday." + +"What the hell do I care what happens Sunday," she blazed. "The whole +damned show can bloody off Sunday. Give me the damned letters." She +snatched the photostats from him. "They're not to me. Look at this line +in Number four. 'You black-headed lying etcetera.' Is that me?" She +jabbed at her red hair angrily. "That's red. It's always been red. If +you don't believe me I can show you the convincer. Go look for somebody +else, Lennox." + +Lennox examined the line silently, then put the photostats away. When +he looked at Kay again, she was smiling crookedly, her eyes still +terrified. + +"What d'you say, Lennox?" + +"On my way." + +"I've changed my mind again." + +"No you haven't." + +"One for the road?" + +"No thanks." + +"Christ, you're a bloody Square, Lennox." + +"I guess everybody is, one way or another." + +"Mummy's favorite model boy. That's the way out." She waved her arm +indifferently. "My love to your model roommate, Sam Stacy." + +"Stacy! Is that it, Kay? Oliver Stacy?" Lennox stepped to her and took +her shoulders. "Is he what's eating you out?" + +"It was a slip. I meant Cooper. Sam Cooper, of course. I always get his +name mixed up with Oliver's. Let go of me, Lennox. Damn you, let go of +me." + +"Is it Stacy?" + +"To hell with Stacy. It was a slip, I tell you. Slip of the tongue...." +She began to shake and clung to him. "My God, Lennox. My God! I haven't +seen him in two weeks, outside rehearsal. 'Good morning. Good night. +Take it from the top. Cue, please. Take your cross after I say the +line. Oh Jesus, Lennox, what's he doing to me?" + +"Running up a score, Kay. Face it." + +"You son of a bitch!" Kay wrenched herself out of his arms. "You're +gloating too, aren't you? All of you. Counting up your scores. Get +lost, Lennox. Get lost fast!" + +Lennox got lost fast. Down on the street he murmured: "But she's the +one who's lost. Lost in the tunnels. At least I gave her a half hour's +entertainment. Balance! Two down and four to go." + + * * * * * + +It so happened that my wife was in Raeburn Sachs' office when Lennox +dropped in. She had been called down unexpectedly. Sachs' wife, a +discouraged creature with a sagging figure, led Robin down a twisting +corridor in Grabinett's offices to the brain room where Sachs operated. +He directed all Grabinett's shows. + +Sachs was thin, dry-blond, with bulging blue eyes and a mid-western +twang. He liked to be overworked and fatigued, and the first impression +he gave was of a bone-weary man calling on genius to surmount +exhaustion. Later, you imagined you had received the wrong impression, +but you really hadn't. It was Sachs who changed. His thyroid began +popping and everything else in addition to his eyes bulged. + +He was slumped in a chair wearing a crushed pin-stripe suit and +drinking chicken soup out of a carton when Robin entered. He lifted his +head wearily, smiled, then called to his wife. + +"The song is out. I've just remembered it isn't in the P.D." + +"The legal department said it is," Mrs. Sachs answered in a discouraged +voice. + +"They're wrong. Oh yes. Make a note. We'll need three extra costumes +and a magician. No Mind Acts. They're not televisionwise. I want a +different Sawing A Woman In Half. Something fresh." + +Mrs. Sachs made notes. + +"Also a dog act. Call the music department and see if we can get a +small band arrangement of Piston's 'Incredible Flautist.'" + +"Why?" Mrs. Sachs asked. + +"Because it's scored for dog barks," Sachs answered as though that +explained everything. Apparently it did. His wife moused out and closed +the door. Sachs smiled at Robin. + +"Always rushed," he said wearily. "This is last night's dinner." +He finished the soup, got up and slouched around Robin, examining +her sleepily. "Yes. Yes, I see. The Hedda Gabler type." Suddenly +he crouched at the desk, yanked out a bottom drawer and threw his +handkerchief in. "'_Now I'm burning your child, Thea! Burning it, +curly-locks!_' Manuscript into the stove business." He threw in +his small change and a pack of cigarettes. "'_Your child and Eilet +Lövborg's. I am burning--I am burning your child!_' Slow curtain." + +Robin gaped at him. + +Sachs smiled and stood up. "Or Marguerite," he said, stroking her +blonde hair. "'_Ich gäb was drum, wenn ich nur wüsst'. Wer heut' der +Herr gewesen ist!_' Comb business at the mirror. Which show are you +here for?" + +"You called me down," Robin said. "Don't you know?" + +"I'm directing four shows." Sachs smiled patiently. "Which are you?" + +"Who He?" + +"Oh yes. Yes. I see. You're ... Robin. Lennox gave you the call. It's +about the costumes." Sachs hitched a hip onto the corner of the desk, +smiled cheerfully, and began flicking the hem of Robin's skirt with his +toe. "They were smaller in the early nineteenth century. Much smaller. +Have you seen the models in the Dress Museum? We're having trouble with +those Philip Nolan costumes. I think we're going to have trouble with +you." + +"With me? How?" + +Sachs reached back and picked up a printed card. It was the +conventional file card actresses send to all offices with pictures, +measurements and credits printed on it. This one happened to be Robin's. + +"I checked your card," Sachs said. "It's the bust that worries me. +Thirty-six. I see you weren't exaggerating. Are you married?" + +"Yes." + +"Any children?" + +"No." + +"Too bad." + +"Why too bad? What's it have to do with--" + +"Children make the bust sag. You're probably too firm to get into our +costumes. Take 'em out." + +"What!" + +"Take 'em out. Let me see them. If they're not too high we won't have +any problems." + +"Are you kidding?" + +"Come on, come on, Robin. Take 'em out." + +"You're crazy." + +"This is a pictorial medium," Sachs explained patiently. "You've got +to audition three-dimensionally. Now don't waste my time, Robin. We've +pulled the Nolan costumes already and I've got to find the women to fit +them." + +The phone rang. Sachs picked it up, meanwhile snapping his fingers +impatiently at Robin's bust. "Yes? Not now. I'm busy." He flipped the +phone and caught it neatly on the cradle. "Took three lessons from W. +C. Fields," he smiled, then brayed: "'_Master Copperfield, under the +impression that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not as yet +been extensive, and that you might have some difficulty in penetrating +the arcana of the Modern Babylon...._' Come on, Robin. Come on. Get 'em +out." + +There was a knock on the door. + +"Go away," Sachs called. + +The knocking was repeated. + +"'_Here's a knocking indeed!_'" Sachs intoned in Shakespearean +diapason. He snatched up the desk lamp and began to hobble. "Lantern +business. '_If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old +turning the key. Knock, knock, knock! Who's there i'th' name of +Belzebub?_'" + +"Jake Lennox. I've got to see you. Won't take a minute." + +"Wait," Sachs told Robin. He put down the lamp and called: "Come in. +I'm starting the clock." + +Lennox entered the brain room and was surprised to see Robin. He +greeted her and Sachs, then said: "This won't take long, but I'm afraid +it'll have to be in private. Do you mind, Robin?" + +"No. It's a pleasure," Robin said through her teeth. She stalked out of +the office and slammed the door. + +"Something?" Lennox asked Sachs. + +"Temperament," Sachs answered wearily. He picked up the phone. "Tell +the actress to wait in the reception room." He hung up. + +Lennox took out the photostats and thrust them at Sachs. "Read these," +he said sharply. + +Sachs glanced at the photostats casually, five seconds to each letter, +then slouched to his desk chair and slumped into it, regarding Lennox +with tired eyes. + +"I said read them," Lennox snapped. + +"I've read them," Sachs answered. "I have a photographic memory." +He quoted random lines from the letters, then smiled patiently. +"Satisfied?" + +It occurred to Lennox that Sachs must have examined the letters in +Blinky's safe at another time. That killed the shock value and there +was no point in calling his bluff. + +"They're written to you, aren't they?" + +"I don't like your Sunday drama spot, Jake. The Philip Nolan. It's +weak." + +"Stay with the threats, will you? They're no drama spots." + +"'_Damn the United States. I wish that I would never hear the name +again._' Dolly in to close-up. Yes. Your scene's out of focus. There's +a value missing." + +"Focus on the letters. Who's threatening you?" + +"What?" Recalled from his visions, Sachs gazed at Lennox with faraway +eyes. + +"You're faking," Lennox said savagely. "And you're not kidding me +with the act. These letters were written to you. You're the one who's +putting the show on a spot." + +"They're not written to me." + +"I don't believe you." + +"Isn't it obvious?" Sachs said wearily. "What's that line from Number +Two? Yes. 'You fancy college cess-pool....' And so on. I'm no college +man. That's why I've still got my talent. '_A set o' dull conceited +hashes confuse their brains in college classes!_' What are we going to +do about Sunday?" + +"I don't know," Lennox said in disgust, returning the photostats to his +pocket. "I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. Amateur. I should +have stayed out of the act. Maybe the police can do better." + +"If I could whip you into coming up with something fresh, I'd throw out +the Nolan. A different 'Monkey's Paw' or--That's an idea! Instead of +three wishes, make it three New Year's resolutions." + +"Lay off, will you. There's nothing wrong with the Philip Nolan." + +"It isn't televisionwise, Jake." + +"It's as televisionwise as any book can be when you compress it into +five minutes." + +"Don't argue with me, Jake." Sachs spoke in deadly earnest. "I have one +talent in this business, and that's all. It terrifies me because it's +subconscious and I can't control it. It's a quality that nobody else +has.... I'm never wrong." + +Lennox was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it and fled from the +brain room. Robin was waiting for him in the outer reception office +where she told him her experience with Sachs in an indignant whisper. +Lennox took Robin out of the office. + +"Don't go back," he told her. "And don't worry. You've got the job. +If Sachs gives you a hard time just call me. I'll take care of it." +Suddenly he grinned and pinched her bottom. "This is a new role for me, +Robin. I've been thinking of chasing you into bed for a year and here I +am protecting you. Turns me into a pimp for virtue, doesn't it?" + +"Why don't you chase me a little," Robin said wickedly. "I'm curious +about you." + +"I'll take a rain check." + +"I've got a rival?" + +Lennox nodded. + +"Who she?" + +He shook his head. + +"How're your chances?" + +"It's all reversed," Lennox said in a confused voice. "We started where +most chases end and now we're working our way to the beginning." + +"Like running a movie backwards?" + +"Exactly. I used to wonder what happened to those people who had to +marry each other before they met. Now I know. It's exciting, Robin. +It's wonderful, but it scares hell out of you. Christ, love is mixed up +on The Rock." + +"You got that from Kit. His favorite theme: Life and Death on The Rock." + +"Death," Lennox repeated. He took a breath. "No. Three down. Three to +go." + +He departed. + + * * * * * + +He talked treason with Ned Bacon and made peace. + +"I'll back you for director, of course," Lennox said. "And I think +I've got the lever you can use to pry Sachs loose." He told him about +Robin's adventure. "All she has to do is report that to her union and +Sachs is through. It's your ace in the hole. My contribution to the +conspiracy, but don't expect anything more. I've got these letters and +threats hanging over me." + +"You're not alone," Bacon said. "Why didn't you holler down the +rainbarrel? I know the gimpster score. Let's hear all about it." + +He heard about it, then drawled with a cynical expression: "Yep. Yep. +We did it last year on 'The People Against--' I know every angle. This +is how we broke the case." He instructed Lennox and Jake listened +patiently to little known facts about blood sugar that could turn a +normal man into a sex maniac, or perhaps it was the other way around. + +"I got that from a police toxicologist," Bacon confided. "We went to +the theater together and he sat there and diagnosed everybody on the +stage. Just called the shots. Diabetic. Cancer prone. Tubercular. +Multiple Sclerotic...." + +"Just by looking at them from his seat? I don't believe it." + +"Jake," Bacon said kindly. "Come back from the Reichenbach Falls. +There's a new thing they invented called medicine. Dr. Watson'll tell +you all about it." + +Again Lennox submitted patiently. He permitted Bacon to instruct him on +the iniquities of The Marketplace and to educate him from the bonded +warehouse of Bacon's profound experience. At the end of an hour, little +Bacon felt two inches taller than Lennox and their cordial relationship +was once more restored. + + * * * * * + +Between twelve and twenty, most boys have a fantasy of the kind of life +they would like to lead when they become independent. It's composed +of equal parts of Alexander Dumas, Richard Harding Davis and Mickey +Spillane. Some of us outgrow this romantic vision. The ones that don't +come roving to The Rock to turn the fantasy into reality. That's why +life here is half crystallized adolescence. + +Oliver Stacy had a penthouse in a converted brownstone in the east +sixties. He was waiting for Lennox at the top of the stairs, dark, +hollow-cheeked, romantic in black slacks, black silk shirt and black +cummerbund. He looked like an illustration from a historical novel. +He gave Lennox the strong, silent hand-clasp and took him into his +apartment. + +Lennox looked around wistfully. He was transported back to the +daydreams of his own boyhood. The floor was polished oak, the walls +creamy, the ceiling beamed and lost in shadows. There was a half +finished canvas on an easel before the bay window, a self-portrait of +Stacy as an officer in the French Foreign Legion. Alongside it was a +lay figure on which was draped a uniform cape and a kepi. Stacy thrust +a finger through a hole in the shoulder of the cape. + +"Nine millimeter Mauser," he murmured. "The toughest thing we had to +buck in the desert." + +Two Italian epees were crossed over a blood-stained plastron with +masks and gloves under them. A Luger and a Colt revolver lay on the +mantlepiece. There was a cannel coal fire burning in the grate. A +coffee table before the fire bore a bucket of ice in which reclined a +bottle of champagne. On a couch behind the table reclined an exquisite +little ingénue wearing a blue velvet dinner gown trimmed with miniver. +The fire and candles were the only illumination. A phonograph was +playing the "Rosenkavalier" waltzes. + +"Drink?" Stacy inquired lazily. He uncorked the champagne bottle deftly +and filled glasses. + +"No thanks." + +Stacy and the girl drank, gazing into each other's eyes over the +glasses. + +Lennox said: "If you'll just give me a minute, Oliver. Alone?" + +Stacy brushed the girl's palm with his lips, then took Lennox into a +fitted dressing room hung with a dozen framed water-colors. They were +nudes; all signed O.S. One of them bore a faint resemblance to Kay +Hill. It was convincingly red-headed. + +"It's about blackmail, Oliver." + +"Pay with a gun." + +"What?" + +"The barrel of a gun across the bridge of a nose," Stacy spread his +shoulders lazily. "I learned that lesson in Morocco." + +"You've had experience before?" + +"I've had every experience." + +"Then read these." Lennox whipped out the photostats and handed them +to Stacy who read them carefully, a lazy smile curling his mouth. His +expression never changed. + +"Threats," he said at last. "The ones that mean business never write." + +"They don't scare you?" + +"Nothing scares me." + +"Who's writing them, Oliver?" + +"Don't you know?" + +"No." + +"I thought you came to borrow a gun." + +"Were they written to you?" + +"To me?" Stacy shook his head slightly. "I've got enemies. A man's +enemies. We know each other. We don't have to be anonymous." Stacy +spread his shoulders. "I'll pack a gun to the theater Sunday. I'll back +your play, Jake. I can break a nose." + +"I think they're to you, Oliver." + +"What difference does it make? I'm making it my fight." + +"I don't want a fight. We've got enough trouble as it is. I want to +avoid a fight." + +"You never can, Jake. As soon as you realize that you'll grow up." +Stacy smiled lazily. "You go around the world and you learn one thing. +It's all a fight, and the only way to keep from losing is to win." + +"Oliver, if you're so hot for breaking noses, will you for God's sake +find him and break it before Sunday." + +"No trouble at all, Jake. Tell me where he is." + +"I don't know. You do." + +"Not me." + +"These letters are to you. You fit the description.... Dark man. +Elegant. Live on the east side. Went to college...." + +"But not a vestal virgin." + +"What?" + +"I thought it was obvious. Didn't you notice it in the letter? Right +here. He's written: 'You vomit virgin with your Judas morals....' Is +that me, Jake?" Stacy pointed to the nudes on the wall. "Would anybody +who knows me call me virginal ... moralistic?" + +"Jesus Christ!" Lennox exclaimed furiously. "If it's not you, then who? +Who the hell is getting these letters?" + +"Look for a coward." + +"Why a coward?" + +"Because a coward's writing them. You go around the world, Jake, and +you learn another thing. There's class distinction in everything. You +love your own kind and you hate your own kind. The jackals hate the +jackals. They don't dare hate a lion." + +Lennox waved the photostats impatiently. + +"Why worry?" Stacy smiled. "Let him come to the show Sunday. We'll be +waiting. It might be interesting." + +"Interesting!" Lennox snorted. "God knows what's going to happen to +who. It could be anything from a gun to a bomb. Is that your idea of +interesting?" + +"It's the only idea, unless you play poker for matchsticks." + +"I don't play poker," Lennox said, and left. + +Going down the brownstone stairs, he growled: "Four down. Two to go. +It's either Plummer or Hansel. The advantage of statistics. Poker for +matchsticks! Are they all crazy?" + + * * * * * + +I met Lennox in a network studio where he took advantage of an +unexpected opportunity to make peace with Roy Audibon. The veep had +gathered the leading script writers for one of his annual exhortations +on the aims, needs and ideals of the network and the position of +television in the Expanding Universe. Audibon's theme that afternoon +was the fact that we writers were the bottle-neck in the flow of +progress because we refused to think galactically. + +I won't try to reproduce Audibon's lecture. He has to be seen and heard +to be appreciated. He's charming and attractive and successful. He is +also a unique product of American culture ... the erudite ignoramus. +He discourses entertainingly in a jargon of advertising slang, science +fiction clichés and pocket book philosophy. He can mix phrases like +"cross-ruff client expediency" "fourth dimensional cybernetics" and +"the Hegelian dialectics of The Thirty Years War" in one sentence and +hypnotize you into believing that he's making sense. It isn't until you +listen that you realize he's just talking out loud. + +We all sat and kept our faces straight while Audibon drew a picture +of the soaring, searching minds of the top network brass seeking +the uppermost cultural levels for television only to be blocked and +thwarted by the conservatism and lack of imagination of the writers. + +"There are new techniques, new philosophies, new infinities to +explore," Audibon told us. "Reach out to the stars. Don't be afraid to +experiment in your garret. We may loathe what you do. We'll probably +reject nine out of every ten scripts you send us, but that doesn't mean +we're opposed to new ideas. We want new ideas. We need them. It's up +to you to produce them in acceptable form for the network and clients." + +When he finished we gave him a friendly hand and prepared to go about +our business. Unfortunately a non-professional element had slipped into +the meeting and they were either too ignorant or too indignant to go +along with the joke. They got up and began filing beefs. They attacked +Audibon politically, philosophically, and most of all financially. What +it all boiled down to was: How dast he make a speech like that when the +network kept rejecting all the wonderful scripts they sent in, and took +six months to reject each script? + +We squirmed in embarrassment. Audibon got red in the face and his +replies to the hecklers became shorter and more cutting. Then an +astonishing thing happened. Jake Lennox got to his feet, turned on the +hecklers and blasted them. He was sardonic and icy; he took them apart, +politically, philosophically and financially. They were so stunned it +broke up the meeting. I saw Audibon step down from the studio stage, +go over to Lennox, smile and shake his hand emphatically, Lennox +grinned back. They spoke for a moment, laughed, shook hands again and +were separated by the low network brass who surrounded Audibon. Lennox +caught my eye, made a drink motion, and I nodded. + +In Sabatini's we belted down a couple of Gibsons before I had the +courage to bring up Jake's defense of Audibon. + +"We won't discuss it," he said. "I turned whore to square that lunch +hassle the other day. Which reminds me. I owe you money." He forced me +to take two tens. + +He brooded. His expression was contemptuous. + +"Don't let it eat you out, Jake," I said. "We all whore. What were we +doing listening to Audibon but whoring?" + +"It isn't that," Lennox answered. "It's the Poison Pen test. That was a +bomb. You were right, Kitten. I'm an amateur. I should have stayed out +of the act." + +"What happened?" + +"I showed the photostats to all of them, looking for a sign ... a +give-away. You remember what I told you about Fink?" + +"Yes. So?" + +"You think those letters knocked them off balance? Hell, they loved +them. They ate 'em up. It's like those arsenic eaters of yours." + +"Poison eaters?" + +He nodded. "Poison eaters. They're mixed up. Sick in the head. But +trouble doesn't bother them. They live on trouble. They feed on it. +Can't do without it. They've got to have a diet that would kill a +normal man." + +"All of them?" + +"All of them." + +"Not one knocked off balance?" + +"Not one out of six. And just to show you what an amateur I am, each +one found something in the letters I hadn't noticed.... Something that +proved they couldn't be getting them." + +"What?" + +"Oh.... Like ... Charlie Hansel found a line that showed the letters +are being written to someone who's big. Charlie's a midget, you know +that. Plummer noticed something about a loudmouth. And you know how +quiet Johnny stammers. He's always whispering the latest from the +Kremlin." + +"Kay Hill's loud." + +"But she isn't dark." + +"Stacy's dark." + +"But he isn't moralistic. They've all got outs. I don't know who +the hell's getting the threats. I'm no better off than I was when I +started." He shrugged. "It shows you, Kitten. Everybody imagines they +can do anybody else's job much better. It isn't until you try that you +find out. Damn it! I'm licked. All I can do is hope Fink'll pull us out +of this jam before Sunday." + +"Tell me what everybody said when you pulled the letters on them." + +"To hell with it." + +"Let's write down how each one eliminated himself. Maybe we can add +them up and find something." + +After some persuasion and another drink he gave me the facts. I wrote +them down in a column: + + Big + Dark + Loud + Moralistic + Went to college + Fancy and elegant + Lives on the East side + +"Look at this," I said. + +Lennox looked. + +"Who does it add up to?" + +"I don't know." + +"I've got news for you," I said. "You may be an amateur, and it may not +be as easy as we think to do another man's job, but you've done the +job. You've found out who's getting the letters. The only trouble is, +you're worse off than when you started." + +"What the hell are you talking about?" + +"You." + +"What about me?" + +"You're the guy who's getting the letters." + +He stared at me, looked at the list, then looked up again. + +"This adds up to me?" he whispered. + +I nodded. + +"Loud?" + +"They can hear you from the Bronx to the Battery." + +"Fancy? Elegant?" + +"As Mike Romanoff." + +"Moralistic?" + +"As a Puritan." + +"This is me? This is the way you see me?" + +"Yes." + +He got up without another word and walked out. I don't know what +staggered him most ... the realization that he was the man being +threatened, or the picture of himself as other people saw him. But I +was right about one thing. He was a lot worse off than when he started. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + +It took Lennox eleven hours to struggle through the script for the +January 15th "Who He?" show. He consumed one ream of paper, half a +pound of coffee, two quarts of ice cream, and answered the phone a +dozen times. All of the calls were for Cooper. They were from unknowns +who appeared to be phoning from the vicinity of juke boxes and spoke in +hoarse underground voices. They used a jargon that was incomprehensible +to Lennox and they seemed to be torturing Cooper. + +"They want material," he groaned. + +"You've got a trunkful stashed away. Submit it." + +"I can't. My old stuff stinks." + +"Then write new material." + +"I can't." + +"The hell you can't. You've arrived, son. Cash in." + +"Arrived? Sure, at the wrong station. I'm a fluke." Cooper was +miserable. "You heard about the party Suidi's throwing for me?" + +"I'm coming. You'll hear me cheering in your corner." + +"Cheering. My God! They'll all be there.... Looking me over. Sizing me +up. Me. A nothing. Making a fool of myself." + +"Stop that, Sam. You're loaded with talent." + +"Not me." + +"They'll size you up and their eyes'll pop. What the hell is the matter +with you? You deserve success. You've earned it. Don't you want it?" + +"No, I don't want it. I just want to be left alone," Cooper shouted. +"Leave me alone, for God's sake. I wish to Christ this'd never +happened." He flung out of the house. + +Hot and uncomfortable, Lennox stacked his manuscript neatly, placed it +in a manila envelope and went out for a walk to worry about Cooper's +misery and his own. + +The Rock has an emotional as well as physical geography, and Lennox +was unconsciously drawn to the neighborhoods that reflected his moods. +On this morning he went through his customary cycle from despair to +exhilaration never once remembering that he had been through the +identical cycle and the identical walk countless times before. + +He started at low ebb. He was confused and frightened and automatically +began to wander back and forth through the cross-town side streets +that always reflect the slack tide in men's souls. What was happening +to Sam? Why wasn't Sam happy? What was happening to himself? Could +he really be receiving the threats? Was he scheduled for violence on +Sunday? The side streets were a dismal prelude to disaster. + +Lennox searched his memory for guilt and enemies. He went all the way +back to his small town boyhood and was drawn to Lexington Avenue, the +great prototype of every Main Street in America. He could remember +nothing and was overcome with sorrow for himself. He was alone ... +crucified ... and he was driven south and east to the Bowery, the +boulevard of self-pity. There he trudged despondently, identifying +himself with the tattered vagrants, with poverty and failure. + +From sorrow, his mood changed to anger. He was outraged with himself +for whining. He was furious with the world for attacking him unfairly. +Hostile and contemptuous, he found himself walking up Broadway, glaring +at the crowds, declaring war on a world that revealed itself so +squalidly from Times Square to Columbus Circle. In his anger he flatly +rejected any possibility that he could be the person described in the +letters. The ferment within him increased until he was recharged with +hope, and the cycle ended in elation. + +He had nothing to fear. Nothing was falling apart. He would hold +everything together ... his delicious, wonderful world. He turned +east to Madison Avenue to savor his world. He admired the women, the +handsomest of all time; the men, the most successful; the shops, the +richest. Fifth Avenue is as rich and beautiful as Madison, but Fifth +Avenue is for dreaming. Madison is the bustling culmination of Now. It +has no past or future, only the immediate Present. + +"Existentialist," Lennox said to himself. + +To climax this explosive surge from despair to assurance which was his +main strength and weakness, he turned north and walked to a particular +spot that he loved in lower Central Park. It was on a slight hill +overlooking the pond and the Plaza. It was his own Exhilaration Point. +There were thousands like it ... private mastheads where the pirates +stood alone and exulted over the plunder before them. As Lennox walked +up the path, he was annoyed to see that his very own lookout was +already occupied. He resented the intruder until he looked closer and +saw that it was Gabby Valentine. + +When he finally let her go, he bent down to pick up her hat and purse +and his script. "Have you got a jack-knife?" he asked. "I want to carve +something appropriate on a tree." + +"I can just see you cutting lovers' knots," Gabby laughed. + +Lennox winced. + +"What's the matter?" she asked quickly. + +"It was the idea of lovers' knots. Mawkish. I was thinking of something +really impressive, like: D. Boon cilled a Bar on this tree year 1760." + +"You're the bear," Gabby said, feeling herself tenderly. "Don't come +near me again. I've got a gun." + +"But what were you doing here, darling?" + +"You told me about your favorite spot. I had to see it." + +"Go ahead and shoot," Lennox said, but this time he was gentler. + +He was right when he told Robin that this love affair was backwards. +Most people meet, get friendly, turn serious and become intimate. +Lennox and Gabby had started intimately and were working their way +back. They'd already been serious enough for a violent quarrel. Now +they were getting friendly. They spent an hour together in that +blissful past tense of all couples who are exploring each other.... +"Did you?" and "Were you?" and "Had you?" They agreed, they compared, +they disagreed. They matched experiences, tastes, habits, friends. + +Gabby asked about Cooper and Lennox tried to describe what the +friendship meant to him. "Sam's a whole man," he said. "Most men are +only part men ... like sections of a tangerine. All split up. You have +to put a lot together to get a whole." + +"Do you mean F. Scott Fitzgerald's ideal? The entire man in the +Goethe-Byron-Shaw tradition?" + +"I don't think so. Fitzgerald was obsessed with the idea that a man +had to explore all his potential for good and for evil. I think he was +trying to justify his own evil. I won't buy that. There's never any +excuse for being bad." + +"There's being human." + +"That's an explanation, not an excuse." + +"Tell me more about Sam." + +"Well ... most men are overspecialized, only interested in one thing. +The friend you like to fish with is a nuisance on a date. The friend +you double-date with is a noodnick about ball games. The friend you go +to ball games with can't understand books. And so on and so on. You +have to make a dozen one-twelfth friends." + +"Maybe you demand too much." + +"No. I've got a legitimate beef. Art and music, for instance. +Butch-type guys stay away from them like the plague. What happens? The +fags have inherited, and that puts me in a hell of a spot. If I want to +go to the ballet or the opera or an exhibit, it has to be with a fag or +alone. And I hate fags worse than Squares." + +"Why can't you go with girls?" + +"Sweetheart, I love ladies, but I like men too. Men and women think +differently, and sometimes I like to be with a man's point of view." + +"I'll punish you for that," Gabby said. + +"What I do?" + +"Not now. Sam isn't a one-twelfth friend, is he?" + +"No. He's twelve-twelfths. Whole." + +"How did you meet him?" + +"At Princeton. We went down for a fencing meet and Sam was host for the +visiting team. You should have seen him ... the fencer's dream. All in +white except for black stockings." + +"Did you really work your way through college?" + +"Yes Ma'am. I was a telegrapher. I was a telegrapher my last year in +high school too." + +"Were you friendly with Sam right from the beginning?" + +"No. Not until much later." Lennox frowned. "I was jealous at first. +Princeton was elegant. Society. And I was trying to climb up from a +clam-shack. I hated Sam." + +"That's not nice," Gabby said. + +"I was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. That's an explanation, +not an excuse. Then I met him again in the business, and we got close." + +"Had he changed?" + +"No. I changed. There's nothing like making money to discharge the +venom in you. Sam was always the same. A whole man." Lennox smiled +gently. + +"I like the way you look when you talk about him," Gabby said. "It +shows how much you love him." + +"Love him?" Lennox was startled. "My God! Don't say that. Men aren't +allowed to talk like that nowadays." + +"But you do, don't you?" + +Lennox nodded. "You know how I feel about you. If you were turned into +a man.... That's how I feel about Sam." He stopped suddenly and faced +Gabby. "I've got you both, Gabby. Help me hold on to both." + +"I'm not jealous," she said honestly. + +"I know that, but don't do one thing. If he's got faults that I can't +see, don't point them out to me. You and Sam can sit in a corner and +make fun of me all you like. God knows, I'm a prize noodnick. You can +take my noodnickery apart and I won't care. Just let me love both of +you." + +"Why did you flinch when I said lovers' knots?" Gabby asked. + +He looked at her in awe. "Gabrielle, you're a great woman. I thought I +covered perfectly." + +She shook her head and smiled. + +"Talking to you's like turning a corner in March. You never know what's +going to blow into your face." + +"What were you remembering?" + +"A Quaker, a blonde, and a knot." + +"I don't understand." + +"I did a bad thing Christmas Eve. I got dirty drunk. I imagined I was +somebody else.... A Quaker from Philadelphia named Fox." + +"Why Fox?" + +"I don't know. I picked up a blonde named Aimee Driscoll. A-I-M-E-E." + +"I don't want to hear about her." + +"I don't want to talk about her." + +"And the knot?" + +"That's the part I still can't remember. I lost the night from +Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. The knot must be part of it. I don't +know what or how. All I know is that it terrifies me every time I think +of it." + +"Is Lennox an English name?" + +"I think so. From way back. What's that have to do with it?" + +"Puritans," Gabby explained. "You're so moralistic. Always feeling +guilty ... like something out of 'The Scarlet Letter.'" + +"Moralistic," Lennox repeated slowly. "Am I loud?" + +"Deafening." + +"And fancy ... elegant?" + +"Not the phony way you say it; but you have style, Jordan. Yes, you're +definitely Edwardian." + +"Jesus," he muttered and was silent. + +"Stop feeling guilty. I like big loud men. And elegance is charming. +I'm going to make you brocade waistcoats with silver buttons." + +After a long pause, he said: "Audibon isn't loud." + +"Oh Jordan...." + +"I shouldn't bring it up, but I've got to know. What's between you?" + +"Nothing." + +"What was?" + +"Nothing. There never was anything." + +"Then why did you--?" + +"Is that kind?" + +"No. It's jealous. Forgive me. And I do understand. He's strictly the +network dazzler." + +"I wasn't dazzled. I was sorry for him. That's why I thought I loved +him." + +"Sorry for him? Audibon? He's got everything." + +"He has nothing ... nothing inside. He's lost." + +"Is that why he won't let you go?" + +"One of the reasons. Another is that he hates to lose." + +"How is he stopping you?" + +"I'm active ... politically. If I try to get a divorce he says he'll +ruin me." + +"That Communist routine?" + +"Yes." + +"Christ, what a club that's become for dirty fighters. Are you a Party +Member?" + +"No, Jordan." + +"Tell the truth, sweetheart. If you're lying you'll give yourself away +anyhow." + +"Suppose I said yes. Would it make a difference?" + +"It would." + +"Why?" + +"Because most of them are the dedicated type. Lunatic fringe. They're +one-sided, and I told you I like whole people. Are you a Party Member?" + +"No, I'm not." + +Lennox searched her face, then nodded. He was beginning to learn how +transparently honest she was. "All the same, I wish you'd quit the +politics, Gabby. There must be other things for you to do." + +Her eyes flashed angrily. "What other things?" + +"I don't know. Lady things. Take the long view. We've got a whole life +to plan together. Go vote at the polls like an honest citizen and let +it go at that. You and I are more important than--" + +"Have you any idea how offensive you're being?" Gabby interrupted. + +"Offensive?" + +"I suppose you want me to quit working too, don't you?" + +"You won't have to work." + +"I see. You've got it all planned, haven't you? Doesn't it occur to you +that I like my work? Doesn't it occur to you that I've got political +beliefs? There must be other things for me to do. Lady things. Men and +women think differently. You male chauvinist!" + +"Listen. I want my wife home with me because writing's the loneliest +work in the world. What the hell's chauvinistic about that?" + +"You not only look Edwardian, you think it. A woman's place is in the +home. Cross-stitched on a sampler by loving hands at home." + +"All right, Susan B. Anthony, where else is it?" + +"Where she wants it to be, not where it's convenient for you!" An angry +outburst trembled on Gabby's lips. She controlled herself. "We're +fighting again. I don't know what it is you do to me, but we're always +tearing at each other." + +"What I do to you!" + +"Be quiet, Jordan." + +"Listen, Gabby--" + +"Be quiet." + +They walked in uneasy silence for a few minutes. Then Gabby stopped and +faced him. Her dark eyes were severe, and her body, usually so relaxed +and easy, was very straight. "You're destructive," she said. "You like +to destroy people." + +"The hell I do." + +"Yes. It didn't just happen that time at Princeton. You haven't +changed. You're still that boy from the wrong side of the tracks, +jealous and envious of everybody. You can't feel equal to anyone unless +you've torn him down first." + +"You're wrong. I'm fighting to hold everything together." + +"It's what you think, but it isn't true. You tear everything apart. You +attack. You destroy. You may not realize it, but you do. You must have +many enemies." + +A chill numbed Lennox. He fought it off. "I can't bring any to mind +off-hand." + +"Of course not. You don't realize what you're doing. But you're +not going to do it to me, Jordan. I won't let you." The look of +consternation on his face made her relent. She took his arm again and +hugged it affectionately. "Don't be frightened. It's just a part of you +that we've got to heal. Don't you see, darling? The danger isn't for +other people; it's for yourself." + +"Myself?" + +"Because if you attack and destroy others, you end up destroying +yourself." + +He was silent until they left the park. As they parted, Gabby to return +to her office, Lennox to go down to the rehearsal of "Who He?" on +Broadway, he said: "I have something serious I want to ask you. There's +an outside chance one of those invisible enemies is catching up with +me. I want your opinion." + +"What do you mean? What's happened?" Gabby was concerned. + +"Later. I'll pick you up at five for Sam's party. If we can find +a corner in the Rox Studios we'll talk it over. I'm hoping you'll +exonerate me. I know you will, but I'd like to make sure." + +"Exonerate you from what?" + +"From a lunatic on Sunday. More later. Can I have a kiss now?" + +"Of course you can. Why do you ask?" + +"I thought I might be in disgrace." + +"Disgrace or no disgrace," Gabby said firmly. "Always kiss a man when +he asks. That's one of my basic political beliefs." + +Lennox went down Broadway to the Joydream Ballroom where "Who He?" +rehearsed. No longer a taxi-dance joint, the ballroom had been +struggling along since the war as headquarters of a lonely hearts club +giving dances three nights a week for its discriminating clientele (all +religious faiths). Now, television's frantic search for rehearsal space +had restored Joydream to solvency. + +In the Women's Lounge, the dancers in black rehearsal leotards were +lined up before a wall of mirrors, headed by Charlie Hansel who was +short, ebullient and graceful. They were watching their reflections +intently as they memorized Charlie's new routines, and complaining +chronically as only dancers can complain. Cooper was at the piano with +Johnny Plummer's score, working out the beats for Hansel. + +"You're taking it in four bar sections," Cooper was saying. "And that's +throwing your rhythm off." + +"Lambkin, it's written in fours. That Johnny Plummer! He's a +four-cornered one, he is." Hansel spoke without taking his eyes off his +reflection. None of the other dancers did either. This is not vanity. +Like the complaining, it's an occupational disease. + +"You don't understand," Cooper explained. "The music's in phrases, +not bars. Johnny's written two longs, a short and a medium. Count ten +twice, then four and then eight. You'll come out right." + +"Samkin, there's no arguing with the composer of 'We're The Most.' He's +a genius one, he is. Ready, kidkins? And!--" + +They went into the routine, counting and complaining. Cooper scowled at +the compliment and began playing. Lennox backed out of the lounge. + +On the main ballroom floor, the sets for the show had been chalked and +Raeburn Sachs was directing Mig Mason and the rest of the cast in the +"Man Without A Country." Sol Eggleston, the network camera director, +was prowling around the scene, framing it in his hands and making +notes on his camera plot. This is a minute by minute schedule of the +placement and occupation of all three cameras for the duration of the +show, including lens settings and time allowance for changes of setting +and position. + +When Eggleston saw Lennox, he motioned sharply and brought him over to +a table covered with blueprints and light plots. Eggleston was fat, +efficient and asthmatic. Lennox liked him. He liked all the technical +men. They knew their business and never wasted time promoting delusions +of genius. + +"We're in trouble," Eggleston wheezed. "Camera trouble." + +"Oh God! Don't tell me I've asked for crossed cameras again." + +"No. It's Sachs. He's got an idea for a trick shot on the Nolan." + +"Something fresh and different, no doubt. What?" + +"He wants to fly the 3. Hang it from the grid over the stage and shoot +straight down on the courtroom scene." + +"Damn him! It isn't a bad idea." + +"Sure, but can we shoot the rest of the show with two cameras?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"It'll take an hour to fly the 3. It'll take another hour to get it +down." + +"Why so long?" + +"The grid is practically inaccessible at the Venice. You have to go up +a ladder from the fly-gallery, and there's no catwalk on the grid bars." + +"I see." + +"So do you want to immobilize the 3 for one shot? You want to shoot the +rest of the show with two?" + +"We can't do it." + +"Tell Sachs." + +"Can we get an extra camera for the shot?" + +Eggleston shook his head. "The network hasn't enough to go round as it +is. Talk Sachs out of it." + +"We've got the meeting for the January 22nd show this afternoon. I'll +do my best, but there's no arguing with Sachs. He's got a talent nobody +else has. He's never wrong." + +Eggleston wheezed cryptically. + +"Wait a minute, Sol. Here's a gimmick. If the network did give us an +extra camera, how much would it cost the budget?" + +"About a yard and a half." + +"Then don't worry. Blinky'll talk Sachs out of it. Still, I have to +hand it to him. It's a nice idea." + +Avery Borden of Borden, Olson and Mardine (nicknamed Borden's +Oleomargarine by the business) arrived with disastrous news. The client +had decided to go institutional for the New Year's day broadcast and +eliminate the product commercials. Mode Shoes would content itself with +wishing a Happy New Year to the American Way of Life in a single middle +break, which now threw the entire show out of kilter. It added an extra +three minutes to entertainment time, necessitating the insertion of a +new number, and worse, it threw out the first and last commercials. +Shows are carefully framed around the commercials in terms of tempo and +climax, and the break is as essential as punctuation in a sentence. + +It was for emergencies of this sort that the weekly show conference +was held on Thursdays. The staff was able to cope with immediate +problems as well as post-mortem the previous week's show and plan the +one coming up in four weeks' time. They all met in the brain room of +Grabinett's office. Presiding was Raeburn Sachs, taking notes was Mrs. +Sachs. Present were: The Star, his agent, the producer, his budget, the +writer, his partner, the dance director and the music director. + +They post-mortemed the Christmas show. The client, Grabinett reported, +was pleased but with two reservations. First: When Oliver Stacy handed +each contestant his or her lovely pair of Mode Shoes as a gift for +appearing on the show, it was requested that he use a French accent +in naming the shoe style. The client felt that Stacy's accent was not +sufficiently Parisian. + +Second, Grabinett continued, the matter of prizes. The difficulty over +the Grand Prize on the Christmas show made the client wonder if the +questions weren't too difficult. + +"Too difficult!" Lennox protested. "For God's sake! We're setting those +questions at the kindergarten level now. How dumb do you have to be to +win a prize?" + +"It's not as if we're giving away big prizes," Grabinett blinked +apologetically. "Aeroplanes and trips to Europe and islands in Canada. +For big prizes you got the right to ask tough questions." + +"How small is five hundred dollars?" Lennox demanded. "That's what our +prizes average. And it's a lot of money. We don't have to give it by +forced feeding, do we?" + +"A man in public is fifty percent dumber than the same man in private," +Ned Bacon drawled cynically. "We did a story about that on 'The People +Against--'. We--" + +"What about the prize hassle from last Sunday?" Tooky Ween rumbled. + +"We took the heat off," Lennox told him. "It's all over except for one +little thing. Mig'll have to say something about it next Sunday." + +"Say what?" + +"Oh, a little apology for the mistake." + +"Not me! I'm not going to apologize for anything," Mason cried. "I +didn't make any mistake. Don't turn me into the fall-guy." + +"You want to ruin my property's fan relations?" Ween asked. + +"It was the operator who loused it," Mason said. "That girl on the +phone. She got me all mixed up." + +"All right," Lennox said in exasperation. "So blame it on Patsy. Next +Sunday announce that the contestant gave the right answer, but the girl +made a mistake. Will you buy that?" + +"She's been lousing the phone call every week," Mason yelled. "Every +week she's got me worried when I should be thinking about myself. The +girl has got to go." + +"Leave her alone, Mig. Will you make the announcement?" + +"If the girl goes." + +"She goes," Grabinett broke in. "She's fired." + +"The hell she is!" Lennox exploded. "That's a damned dirty trick." + +"She goes." Grabinett glared at Lennox. "You want a law suit?" + +"Contestants can make a lot of trouble," Bacon drawled. "We had a Case +on 'The People Against--' when--" + +"Listen," Ween interrupted. "My boy makes the announcement if he can +say that the girl loused the prize and she's been fired. That's the +conditions. We got to keep faith with the public trust." + +"Then let's do it another way," Lennox pleaded. "Leave the girl out of +it. I'll take the rap. The writer pulled the boner. Damn it, I'll get +on camera and apologize myself." + +"What are you doing, representing her?" Ween rumbled. "No. It's got to +be the girl." + +"Be reasonable, Tooky. Patsy's a--" + +"Will you shut up!" Grabinett blinked angrily. "Jesus Almighty Galahad! +What do you care about a lousy telephone girl?" + +"I want a fair shake for everybody. That's all." + +"Then go join the boy scouts. The girl's fired. Make the announcement, +Mig. We're out of the law suit. Next?" + +They discussed the extra three minutes' entertainment time. Mason +wanted to add it to his comedy spot. He was supported by Ween. The +staff pointed out that it would overbalance the show. Furthermore, the +client had expressed a desire to have Mason's spot kept to six minutes +maximum. The problem was how to fake a quick novelty without disrupting +the existing show. The entire cast was tightly fitted into the program +with barely enough time for costume changes. It would be impossible to +hire a good outside specialty act on such short notice. + +"I could let you have our two leads from 'The People Against--'," Bacon +suggested. No one was interested. + +"We need something fresh," Sachs murmured wearily. "A different Weber & +Fields." + +"Here's a gimmick," Lennox said. "Sam Cooper's tune is turning into a +hit. Mig brought it out on the show two months ago." + +"Great! Sensational!" Mason said. "Diggy and I'll do a reprise." + +"You're already doing a duet," Lennox answered. "You can't do two. +Besides, you need that three minutes to change. Here's my gimmick. Let +Sam do the duet with one of the dancers. We'll introduce Sam as the +rehearsal pianist on the show who wrote the tune that Mig made famous. +Then let 'em guess Sam's name for a hundred bucks." + +"That stinks!" Mason snarled. + +"Why? It's cute. It's in the family, and it's great promotion for +everybody. What do you think, Tooky?" + +"We'll take it under advisement," Ween answered. + +Which was tantamount to an okay. Lennox nodded to Ween, then turned to +Grabinett. "Mel, can you budget us for fifteen hundred extra Sunday?" + +"A yard and a half extra!" Grabinett blinked in horror. + +"Ray's got a sensational idea for the Nolan. Tell him about flying the +3." + +Sachs told Grabinett, first demonstrating the shot from the overhead +grid and then from the stage underneath. His genius was defeated by the +budget and the overhead camera disposed of. + +"If that finishes next Sunday, let's get on to the twenty-second," +Grabinett said. + +"One more thing about Sunday," Lennox said. "The most important.... The +letters." + +"Jesus Almighty!" + +"I want to make a last appeal. You all know about the threats for the +New Year's show. I've been around to see each of you and shown you the +threats." + +"Y-Your police f-friend's been around t-too," Johnny Plummer stammered +softly. + +"Fink? The detective? What'd he ask?" + +"Lambkin, it was about the stage hands and camera crews mostly," +Charlie Hansel said, "Fink's a deep one, he is." + +"He's the smartest shamus in plainclothes," Bacon told them. "We did +his biography on 'The People Against--'." + +"Well that proves this isn't for laughs," Lennox said. "I think we're +in for trouble. Bad trouble. I want to appeal to all of you for the +last time. If you know anything about this ... anything at all that can +help us out ... please don't cover up. We'll be discreet. We'll keep +it quiet. But at least give us a fair shake. Help us protect you and +protect the show." + +"Discreet will we!" Grabinett shouted. "I'll fire the lousy crook. I'll +kick the Judas out so fast he won't feel it on his Almighty pants. And +I can do it. I got moral conduct clauses in every contract." + +"Mel! Please!" + +"I ain't gonna have the name of Melvin Grabinett associated with +the louse who's let us in for this trouble. And I'll sue. I got +indemnifying clauses in every contract." + +"That's lovely. Lovely. That's the sure way to make a man admit he's in +trouble and needs help." + +"I don't want to help him. I'm warning him. This goes for anybody. If +you're gonna make trouble for the show, out you go." Grabinett blinked +passionately and then continued in the same hysterical voice. "Now +let's get going on the 22nd. Just remember what I tell you every week. +The client wants a family show. A sweet show that makes a family feel +better after they've seen it." + +Out came the portfolios, the briefcases, the pads and notes. Lennox +took out his gimmick book and began turning the pages looking for the +ideas underlined in red pencil, which were those earmarked for "Who +He?." He had production numbers, drama spots, song spots, novelty +questions and various related gimmicks neatly listed in his meticulous +handwriting. At a distance one of his pages looked like a leaf from a +Gothic bible. + +"I've got a tentative program worked out for the 22nd," Lennox said. +"It's in the envelope with the finished script for the 15th, Ray. On +your desk." + +Sachs handed the envelope to his wife who opened it and handed him +Jake's program. Sachs read it, frowned, and shook his head. + +"No," he said. "No. It's all off-trail, Jake." + +"I was expecting that," Lennox growled. "And I'm just nervous enough +about next Sunday to throw it in your teeth." + +The others looked up, startled at Jake's anger. + +"I've kept a record of our show discussions for the past thirteen +weeks," he went on, flipping the pages of his gimmick book. "Ten out of +those thirteen you started out rejecting every one of my suggestions +and ended up suggesting them as your own idea. Why don't you relax, +mastermind? Who are you auditioning for? Or do you want to think you're +the only man on the show who can--" + +Suddenly Lennox stopped and stared at his gimmick book. His face turned +white and the deep lines on it showed up grey. He swallowed once or +twice, then closed the book and returned it to his pocket. + +"Excuse it, please. I've got to take five," he muttered. "I'll be in +the john." + +He left the brain room and locked himself in the office john. He took +out the gimmick book and with trembling fingers opened it and turned +the pages until he found what he had seen at the meeting. In a large +space between two neat paragraphs, a stranger had written a message to +him in a familiar hysterical hand. The line was: + +"Be killing you New Year's. Knott." + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + +A head-shrinker once explained to me that people confronted with a +crisis act exactly like a J-walker about to be run down by a car. They +do one of three things. Either they dodge back to the curb, or stand +helpless, or turn on full steam and sprint ahead. Lennox was the third +type. When the evidence in his gimmick book finally convinced him that +he was next Sunday's victim, he refused to retreat or submit. He turned +on full steam and sprinted toward disaster. + +He returned to the show conference and forced himself to participate +until it was over. He issued blanket invitations for the party at Rox +Studios, left Grabinett's office and called Sergeant Fink from a phone +booth. Fink was not at the precinct. Lennox said he would call again, +went out and consulted the phone directory. There were a dozen Knotts +in the Manhattan book. There were many more in Brooklyn, Queens and the +Bronx. None of the names looked even faintly familiar. Lennox got back +into the booth and called one at random. A man answered the phone. + +"Is Mr. Knott there, please?" + +"This is Knott. Who's calling?" + +"Jordan Lennox." + +"Who?" + +"Jordan Lennox." + +"What number are you calling?" + +Lennox gave the number. + +"You got the right number, Mister, but I think you got the wrong party." + +"You don't know me?" + +"No. Should I?" + +"If you've been writing me letters, you should. You--" Lennox stopped. +The man had hung up. Lennox started to dial another Knott and then +quit. "Am I crazy?" he asked himself. "I can't get anywhere this way." + +He left the phone booth, went out into the street and realized +that he felt steady and solid as rocks. The uncertainty was ended. +Lennox walked a few blocks while he examined himself in his new role +of victim, then went over to Houseways, Inc. and picked up Gabby +Valentine. He chattered exuberantly during the cab ride to Rox, +concealing the discovery he had just made and the driving resolution +it had brought about in him. He was not ready to reveal the crisis to +Gabby until he had lived with it a little longer. + +Rox Studios on West 50th Street occupied the top floor of an ancient +loft building. It was decorated in Industrial Modern with aerial +photomurals, phallic light fixtures, and blond functional furniture. +There were offices, recording studios, stock rooms, and an impressive +reception room which had been taken over by a catering company. Over +the bar and hors-d'oeuvre tables were hung giant blow-ups of the great +hit records of the past. "We're The Most" was also prominent. Cameramen +were arranging celebrities in groups. Flash bulbs were flaring. + +On the surface, all cocktail parties are alike. You find the +conventional percentages of pretty girls, pretty boys, big wheels, +nobodys, name-droppers, and the ubiquitous scrawny woman who drinks too +much, insults too much, throws up too much and has to be taken home. +It's the lower levels that distinguish one party from another, but on +The Rock the lower levels are exposed, and consequently the percentages +turn into the deludeds, the hostiles, the compulsives, the persecuteds, +the insecures and the harassed. + +If your eye is trained you can see their frantic gyrations as they +jostle and balance on their tightropes over their chasms. If your ear +is sharp you can hear their bedevilments through the brittle glitter of +the talk ... whispering with ghost voices like a badly tuned radio. + +In the midst of all this, Cooper, who was usually so casual and +carefree, stood rigid with terror. He was learning the bitter lesson +that is taught on The Rock ... that ambition besets us with many +dangers to be fought and survived, and one of the greatest dangers +is success. It's dangerous because it focuses attention, and the +successful man becomes a new target for the attacking pirates. + +As a nobody on The Rock, Cooper had been living in happy obscurity, +ignored by the poison eaters. Now he was spotlighted and they declared +open season on him. The Ned Bacons cut him down to their size. The Mig +Masons resented his claim on their exclusively owned limelight. The +pretty girls took hold to climb over him to fresh heights. The pretty +boys saw in him another celebrated name to drop and to bitch. The +property owners marked him for future possession. And all this took +place under the surface of the congratulations and compliments, like a +poison ring inside a Borgia hand-clasp. + +The first opportunity he had after the formal congratulations, Lennox +whispered: "Sam, I'd never bring it up at this time, but I've got to +work fast. I've found out the letters were written to me." + +"Letters?" Cooper was bewildered. + +"The threats. You recognized the writing. Have you remembered who it is +yet?" + +Cooper passed his hands over his face. "No, Jake. No. I.... No." + +"Listen. I know who's writing them. Knott. The Quaker, the blonde and +the knot. Remember? Knott's the name of the writer. Does that ring a +bell?" + +Cooper shook his head. He didn't appear to be understanding Lennox. + +"Between the name and the writing we ought to be able to find him, Sam. +Not now, of course, but maybe...." + +"Jake. Leave me alone, will you. I can't help you. I'm in a bad way." + +"Sure. I'm sorry. Enjoy yourself, boy. I'm cheering in your corner." + +Cooper laughed pointlessly and a trifle hysterically. He was so +completely unstrung that his first conversation with Gabby hardly made +any sense at all. She had waited for a break in the ring around him and +then came up to him with outstretched hand. Cooper at once took her to +a corner and stared at her distractedly. + +"Do you trust me?" he asked suddenly. + +"Of course," Gabby answered. "I like to trust people." + +He looked into her dark eyes. "Yes. You're one of the honest ones, +aren't you. Inside-outside girls." + +"I think you've been drinking too much, Sam." + +"I like the way you say Sam. No, I'm not drunk. I'm possessed. I meant +your inside and outside match. Both beautiful." + +"Oh. Yes, my plumbing is the envy of all the doctors." + +"Are you in love with Jake?" + +"I don't know. It's too violent yet." + +"He's violent." Cooper nodded emphatically. "Dangerous. Do you think +it'll be love after the frenzy?" + +"I want it to be. Very much." + +"Can I call you Gabby?" + +"Please." + +"Listen to me, Gabby. Go away. Get out of Jake's life. Run like hell." + +She looked at him steadily without answering. + +"Maybe you can come back another time, but now, keep away from him." + +"I think you'd better say more, Sam." + +"I can't." + +"Then you should have said less." + +"Are you offended?" + +"A little. You don't approve of me." + +"It isn't that." + +"Then you'd better explain what you mean." + +"How can I? This is something that has to be between Jake and me." + +"You don't like me," Gabby said with conviction. "Are you jealous? +Aren't you willing to share him with me?" + +"Will you share him with himself?" + +"I really think you've been drinking too much, Sam. You aren't making +sense." + +"How can I make sense? Look at me. Somebody threw me into the water. +I'm trying to learn how to swim before I drown. I've got just enough +breath left to shout a warning to you. I'm shouting, Gabby." + +Suidi, _Le Jazz Hot_, came up to get Cooper. As he led him away to be +photographed again, Cooper called over his shoulder: "I'm shouting, +Gabby. Listen to me." + +"What's he shouting?" Lennox asked, appearing out of the crush with +canapes. + +"A long locomotive for Lennox. He admires you, Jordan." + +"You talked him into it. He's just the tool of a beautiful dame." + +"Yes, I am rather fatal. It's a dreadful responsibility. Who's the +little man who told me he married eighteen feet of wives?" + +"Ned Bacon, my partner." + +"Did he really?" + +"Yep. Three six foot show girls, one after the other." + +"What an extensive married life. Who's the dark quiet man who stammers?" + +"Johnny Plummer." + +"And the bald man who sounds like a subway train? The one who's been +pestering Sam." + +"Tooky Ween, Mason's agent. He wants Sam to sign with him." + +"They're all very nice," Gabby said. "But they all seem self-conscious. +Like Roy. They live in the third person." + +"Live in the third person?" + +"Haven't you noticed? It was never 'I'm doing this' or 'I'd like that' +with Roy. It was always 'Roy Audibon is getting an idea' or 'Roy +Audibon would like a drink.' He was his own audience. What was the +matter with you in the taxi, Jordan?" + +She took the wind out of him. He could never accustom himself to the +sudden corners in her conversation. Each time he imagined he had +concealed something from her, she waited patiently and then came around +a corner unexpectedly into the heart of the concealment. + +"Was it anything to do with the enemies you were talking about?" she +asked. + +"Yes," he said. "That's it exactly." + +"Do you want to talk about it now?" + +"Let's find a place." + +They pushed through the crowd. The party was getting high and many +men laid loving hands on Gabby. When she gently disengaged herself, +they persisted in following her, offering drinks, cigarettes, canapes, +conversation, or any other service she required. Lennox was annoyed and +reminded of the three men at the McVeagh party who had offered to take +the drunken professor home for her. Gabby couldn't help acquiring a +coterie of men anxious to make themselves useful. + +Suidi's private office was jammed. _Le Jazz Hot_ goggled at Lennox and +waved to him, excitedly trying to thank him. Lennox shook his head in +warning and left. He and Gabby tried the stock rooms. They were all +occupied. In a wrapping room stacked with acetate blanks were Cooper +and Tooky Ween. Cooper was flustered and almost incoherent. Ween was +aggressive. + +As Lennox was about to withdraw, he heard Ween say: "Then we got to +work up some other kind of financial arrangement on our tune." Jake +stopped and squeezed Gabby's elbow in warning. + +"What was that line.... 'Our tune'?" he asked. + +"I just been talking sense to your friend," Ween rumbled. "Only he +can't count the fingers in front of his eyes." + +"I'm in no condition to sign with anybody," Cooper pleaded. "Don't be +mad, Tooky. Let it go at that." + +"I ain't mad, boy, but you need handling. It's handling that makes the +difference between a property and a non-property." + +"I don't want to be property. I don't want any part of this crazy +hassle. Now leave me alone, will you Tooky? I'm wrung out." + +"I'm trying to do this so nobody hollers for a lawyer letter," Ween +said. "If your friend--" + +"His name is Cooper. Sam Cooper." + +"If your friend'll let me do some good for him, then it's all in the +family and no hard feelings." + +"What's in the family?" + +"Our tune." + +"What means 'Our tune'?" + +"He says Mason collaborated with me," Cooper burst out. + +"Oh. I see. You want a piece of the hit, is that it, Tooky?" + +"It ain't what I want. It's what's right. My boy helped your friend +write the tune. We're entitled to a piece. Now if your friend wants to +come into the family, then everything's cozy." + +"Sure. You cut in for your fifteen percent. What makes you think Mason +collaborated on the tune?" + +"I asked him about it." + +"When you smelled money." + +"He told me it was his idea from the start and he made at least a dozen +contributions when they was working it up in the rehearsal. Out of a +total hundred percent, at least thirty nine and a half percent was my +boy's ideas." + +"Your boy suffers from starmania. He thinks everything is his idea. Ask +him sometime. You'll find out he thinks he invented you." + +"Oh, for God's sake! Let him have his piece of the tune," Cooper +exclaimed in disgust. "We did do it in rehearsal. I admit Mig made +suggestions. Maybe he did contribute as much as Tooky says. I want to +be honest about this and I'm sick of--" + +"Shut your mouth!" Lennox interrupted violently. "Do you want to give +it away to the chiselers?" + +"Keep out of this, Jake. Let me handle it." + +"You're not fit to handle anything. You'll sell yourself out." + +"Maybe that's the best thing for me. Leave me alone." + +"What are you trying to do, escape? I will like hell leave you alone." +Lennox turned on Ween. "Listen to me, you shyster. 'We're The Most' +is Sam's tune. One hundred out of one hundred percent. How do I know? +Because I heard him compose it in our house one month before your boy +rehearsed it for the show." + +"That's a lie!" Ween roared. "You heard what Cooper just now admitted. +That's a dirty, unethical lie, Lennox!" + +"And you're stuck with it. Take us into court and see what happens." + +"I don't want to go into court!" Cooper looked around frantically. +"You're right, Jake. All I want is out. Give him his piece of the hit. +Give him the whole damned tune. I'm not cut out for this rat race. For +God's sake, let me out before I turn into a twitch like Blinky." + +Lennox shut Cooper up with a wave of his hand. He scowled murderously +at Ween. "Look what you're doing to him, you lousy leech. You sit on +the sidelines waiting for someone to hit, and then you're right in +there bloodsucking. Agents! The pimps of the business! This is my boy, +understand? He worked for this. He sweated for it. He waited for it, +and you're taking nothing from him. Now get the hell out of here and go +shove yourself up your property." + +Ween left the wrapping room like a thundercloud. Lennox ignored +him and stepped to Cooper's side. "You stood by me," he growled. +"Now I'm standing by you. If you sign anything away.... If you give +anything away.... If you so much as open your mouth, I'll kill you. +Stop whining. D'you think this is another varsity show? You're doing +business with professional cut-throats. Get the hell out there and face +them." + +He pounded Cooper's slack shoulders with his fists, propelled him to +the door and thrust him out. He motioned to Gabby to follow and walked +behind Cooper, forcing him back into the crush. Lennox kept muttering: +"Smile. Grin. Shove it down their throats. They hate your guts. They +hate anybody who gets a break. Well, hate 'em back. Show 'em!" + +Lennox patrolled Cooper for a few minutes, showing his teeth in the +icy, cutting smile called The Agency Knife. Then he took Gabby to the +bar for a drink. He was sardonic, hostile, unyielding. Gabby had never +seen him look more dangerous. Once again she was repelled by that +frozen exterior that the business knew so well, but now she knew that +this was only a part of Lennox. She took his arm with both hands and +tugged gently. + +"You're frightening me," she whispered. "Stop looking like that, +Jordan. You're like you were in the taxi Christmas night." + +"Thieves," Lennox growled. "Killers. Poison eaters! All of them. Trying +to cut Sam's throat. Mine too. I won't let 'em. We'll hold on to our +sanity. All of us. Won't we?" He glared at Gabby. + +"Yes, sir, Captain Hook, sir," she quavered. + +"And we'll give 'em nothing. Nothing! You hear me, Gabby Valentine?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"That's my girl. Now let's go find a place and talk." + +There were only three people in the smaller sound studio, clustered +around a piano flanked by microphones on stands. A bass fiddle and two +copper-bottomed kettle drums stood in a corner. Still raging, Lennox +stalked in with Gabby and flashed The Agency Knife on the strangers. + +"I'd like a word in private with my mother," he said. "Would you mind? +Thanks very much." + +The strangers scuttled out and left them alone. Lennox looked through +the glass panel into the control booth where a group of people +soundlessly shouted and gesticulated. He rapped the microphones with +his knuckles. + +"Are these live?" he asked. "Control, can you hear me?" + +There was no response. He took Gabby by the waist and lifted her onto +the piano, then leaned against her knees and, halfway between fury and +confusion, blurted out the story of the letters. He opened his gimmick +book and showed her the message scrawled in by a person named Knott. + +"The Quaker, the blonde and the knot," Lennox said. "It's filled in +now. The knot is a person. Mr. Knott ... a murderous lunatic who knows +me. Maybe it's like you said this morning in the park ... an enemy for +something I don't even remember doing. But he's an enemy all the same. +And I was with him the night before Christmas." + +"You don't remember being with him?" + +"No. But we must have been together. He left a line for me in the +gimmick book ... a little love note to let me know who to expect +Sunday." + +Gabby nodded. + +"It's a charming situation, isn't it?" Lennox said. "There's a man +named Knott. I don't know him, but he knows me. First he writes me. +Then he sidles up to me Saturday night and leaves a personal message +where he knows I'll find it sooner or later. He hates me. He wants my +guts cut out. I don't know why, but I don't have to know. He's got his +own crazy reasons. All right, I'm going to find him before Sunday." + +"Find him? How?" + +"I'm going to backtrack on my trail. I'm going to start at the bar +where I got plastered with Avery Borden Saturday night. I'm going to +start remembering and keep going until I find friend Knott. After I've +had a few words with him, you can come and bail me out." + +"I don't think you should. It's Sergeant Fink's job." + +"I'll do it myself," Lennox said stubbornly. "If I louse it, I can +always go crying to Fink, but I'm not crying yet. I've got Fink to fall +back on, and Sam, if he can only remember where he saw that writing. +But that comes later. Right now will you let me out of our date +tonight? I want to call Borden and start backtracking now." + +"No, I won't," Gabby said. "I'll go with you." + +Lennox shook his head. + +"I'll go with you," Gabby insisted. "I can help." + +"Not in this." + +"You'd be surprised the way ladies can help. Anyway I don't want to +bail you out of jail. You need a keeper." + +"Listen," Lennox said. "I was dirty drunk that night. God knows what I +did. God knows where I went. I don't want you finding out things about +me. This Knott could turn out to be something so filthy that I--" + +The control booth door burst open and banged against the wall. +Grabinett stood in the doorway, blinking hideously. Lennox stared at +him and then into the booth. The group inside was watching the scene +with intense interest. One man was bent over the control panel fiddling +with the Gain knobs. + +"So it was you," Grabinett sputtered. "It was you all the time, you +Jesus Almighty hypocrite!" + +"Turn off those mikes," Lennox roared at the controls. + +"Leave 'em on," Grabinett shouted. "I want witnesses. I got a moral +conduct clause in your contract, Lennox. Remember? I warned you. I +warned you at the office less'n two hours ago. All right. Here it is. +You're fired. You're off the show." + +"Did you hear everything I told her?" + +"I heard every Almighty thing you told her and you're off the show." + +"You heard me say I don't know who's doing this to me and I don't know +why. All I want is a fair shake. Will you stand by me, Mel?" + +"I don't care who's doing what to who or for why. I got a client to +consider. I got myself to consider. And I got news for you. If anything +happens Sunday ... anything at all, I'll take it out of you. If the +network or the client cancels, if I suffer any damages of any kind, +I'll take it out of your hide." + +"The hell you will." + +"The hell I won't. Go home and read your contract, Lennox. Clause +eight. Then you'll make goddam sure nothing happens Sunday." Grabinett +blinked triumphantly. "After you read it you can tear it up, because +right now in front of witnesses I'm telling you ... you're off the show +and that's final!" + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + +Like most agencies, Borden's Oleomargarine was born of treason. In +1940, Borden, Olson and Mardine, the three top account men of Riley & +Reeves, mutinied and set up their own agency, taking R&R's best clients +with them. The fact that Riley & Reeves had done the same thing to +Ansel, Bates & Crown in 1922 in no way mitigated their outraged charges +of piracy, sabotage and unfair practice. + +By the fifties, Borden's Oleomargarine owned five floors on the top +of a Madison Avenue tower in which all the elevator operators were +red-headed women. It handled thirty million dollars worth of billing +a year at fifteen percent off the top, and as representative of six +of the most powerful American industries (among other clients) was +a monolith of agencies. It had offices in Chicago, St. Louis, New +Orleans, Hollywood and San Francisco. It employed over five hundred +people, among whom were the bright young bandits who would eventually +mutiny in their own turn. + +Success did not prevent Avery Borden from having a drink with Jake +Lennox and Gabby Valentine in the saloon across the street from the +Venice Theater, or from worrying about his train back to Westport where +he owned one hundred acres and a twenty-room house. Our business may +be cut-throat, but it's democratic. We have the highest percentage of +inter-denominational ulcers anywhere. + +"I've got a train to catch," Avery Borden said, "But leave us bleed the +lizard again." He caught the bartender's eye. "The same all around and +extra special for the lady, please. Extra special." + +"Yes sir, Mr. Borden," the bartender said. "I know just how Miss V. +likes it." + +Lennox glanced at Gabby. "They know you here?" + +"I get around," Gabby smiled. "Now, Mr. Borden...." + +"Call me Avery," Borden cooed. "Call me Avery and I'll miss my train." +Mr. Agency was turning all his powerful charm on Gabby. He was a +remarkably young fifty, tall and slender, and looked so much like Roy +Audibon that Lennox glared at him. + +"Please don't," Gabby said in alarm. "I get train fever. My heart's +beginning to thump now." + +"Show me." + +"You can feel my pulse." + +"With your permission, Jake?" + +"I could shoot you both and no jury would convict." + +"I'm pleading the unwritten law too." Borden took Gabby's wrist and +held it delicately. + +"What law is that?" she asked. + +"Open season on chicks like you." + +"You see?" Gabby said to Lennox. "I'm fatal. Have I got him hypnotized?" + +"He's under your thrall all right. Thrall?" + +"Thpell," Borden said. + +"We want a favor from you," Gabby said, "Will you help us?" + +"Anything short of missing my train." + +"What did Jordan do when he was here with you Saturday evening?" + +"He drank." + +Lennox nodded gloomily. "She knows that, Avery. We're looking for +something else." + +"Checking up on him?" Borden asked Gabby. + +"For the parole board." + +"He raped the cashier, murdered the boss, kidnapped their child and +sold it to Procter & Gamble," Borden said promptly. "Obviously not the +man for you. But I'm noble." + +"I can see the blood royal in your eyes. Did Jordan talk to anybody +except you?" + +"Are you kids serious?" + +Gabby nodded and melted Borden with her dark, candid gaze. + +"We're looking for a man named Knott," Lennox explained. "I met him +somewhere Saturday night and he's been giving me a hard time with +threatening letters. I've got to find him and square it off." + +"Did Jordan talk to anybody except you?" Gabby repeated. + +"No, Miss V. He didn't," the bartender put in. "It wasn't crowded that +night. I remember." + +"Thank you. You're very kind. Does anybody named Knott ever come in +here?" + +"Not that I know of, Miss V." + +"Do you know any characters named Knott?" Lennox asked Borden. + +Borden was confused. "I thought you knew him." + +"I don't. I'm trying to trace him." + +"Try the phone book." + +"I already. There's twelve Knotts on The Rock alone. None of the names +look familiar. God knows how many more there are outside." + +"Maybe this Knott don't have a phone, Miss V.," the bartender +suggested. "Lots of people don't." + +"Thank you," Gabby smiled. "Can I buy you a drink?" + +"Oh no, Miss V." The bartender looked at her fondly. + +Lennox glared at him and then asked Borden: "Did I mention the name +after I got plastered?" + +"Man, you started plastered. No, you didn't mention the name." + +"What happened Saturday? Take it from the top." + +"Well.... We left rehearsal around five. Came over here. Cut up the +show. Had a few drinks to celebrate. Cut up the business. Had a few +more. Cut up Christmas...." + +"I deny that." + +"Who's remembering this?" + +"I'm a wholesome American boy. I never said a word against Santa Claus." + +"Cut up Christmas," Borden continued firmly. "Had a few more to +celebrate.... And then I caught my train." + +"Didn't I ask you to have dinner with me? I've got a fuzzy recollection +of that foolish, headstrong invitation. Did I mention where?" + +"Have a heart, Jake. I was celebrating myself." + +"Please help us, Avery," Gabby pleaded. + +Borden looked at her affectionately. "What do you do, love? Come and +work for me." + +"First show me you're worth an office pinch." + +"I will now display my giant intellect." Borden considered earnestly. +"Let's see.... We were in the cab." + +"What cab?" + +"To the station. I gave you a lift." + +"Wait a minute. Hold the phone. To the library?" + +"That was your story." + +"I think I remember. I wanted to check Americana scores for a +production number. John Brown's ever-lovin' Body or something. Did I +say where I was going to eat?" + +"Some ungodly place like Chinatown." + +"At The Yellow Sea?" + +"It rings a bell." + +"So...." Lennox nodded slowly. "First the library and then The Yellow +Sea. Elementary, my dear Watson. No you don't, Avery. I'll take the +check, please." + +"I'll take my reward," Borden said, reaching for Gabby. + +"And I'll pay it," Gabby said. "This time I'll give you the lift to the +station." + +After they dropped Borden at Grand Central, Gabby turned to Lennox. + +"Am I helping?" she asked. + +"I couldn't be doing it without you." + +"Are you still afraid of what you're going to find out?" + +"Yes, but it doesn't make any difference any more. I'm so damned mad at +Grabinett and myself that--Were you ever at a _corrida_?" + +"What's that?" + +"A bullfight." + +"Good Heavens! No!" + +"I used to wonder how the bull felt. Now I know." + +They entered the library from the 42nd Street side, and as they passed +through the turnstile the guard nodded fondly to Gabby who smiled back. + +"What the hell.... Do they know you here too?" Lennox asked in surprise. + +"I told you. I get around. He's a nice man but a terrible reactionary." + +"Looks like the hedonistic type to me." + +"No, he's too eclectic." + +"Sweetheart, sometimes you talk just like a pamphlet." + +"I know. Isn't it awful? My father used to make me study the +dictionary. But I practice slang whenever I remember." + +They turned right through a short corridor lined with illuminated +display cases and went into the music room. It was nearly closing time +for this department. The bookboys were slamming volumes back into the +shelves. There were half a dozen readers at the tables. One librarian +minded the desk. + +"Put him under your thpell," Lennox whispered. + +Gabby at once walked up to the librarian and gazed candidly into his +eyes. "Please.... Do you have any music about John Brown's ever-lovin' +Body?" + +"I beg your--" The librarian was startled, then he recovered. "I'll +look, Miss. Please sign the register." + +Gabby signed the desk register, then followed the librarian to the file +cabinets, moving with her lazy, square-shouldered carriage. Lennox +turned the pages of the desk register back to December 24th. He went +through the signatures and addresses one by one. He found his own, +third from the end, written in his heavy Gothic hand. There was no +Knott. There was no name vaguely resembling Knott. To the best of his +knowledge there was no handwriting resembling the hysterical scrawl in +the letters. + +He motioned to Gabby who returned to the desk. + +"Nothing here," Lennox murmured. "Leave us take a powder." + +"Oh, that wouldn't be kind. Let's wait a moment." + +The librarian came scurrying up with a list of references which he +presented to Gabby gallantly. She thanked him, folded the list and +handed it to Lennox. + +"What for?" he asked as they left. + +"You wanted a production number, didn't you? Here it is." + +"That was last week. I'm off the show now. Remember?" + +"You'll be on it again," Gabby said confidently. + +"Who taught you to say the right thing at the right time?" + +"Nobody. I just tell the truth and shame the devil--Don't you dare +touch me. Ouch! Oh quick! There's a taxi." + +The Yellow Sea was packed with the early dinner crowd. The waiters +ran and shouted. The managers darted from table to table, scribbling +orders. The swinging doors of the kitchen banged open and shut giving +flashing glimpses of a giant smoky room from which came the crackle of +hot oil and excited chefs. + +"This is impossible," Lennox grunted. "I'll never get a chance to ask +anything in this mad-house." + +"Will it always be crowded?" + +"No. They'll clear out in an hour or so." + +"Then let's have dinner first. I want to show off. I know how to use +chop-sticks." + +Lennox looked at her. "Taught to you by an eclectic Chinaman?" + +"No, by a Hawaiian. He was very nice, but terribly hasty." + +"Gabrielle, I swear you're a great woman. We'll have to wait for a +table. Let's go to the bar." + +The Yellow Sea had expanded twice in its rise to prosperity. In the +forties it had added a tourist-type dining room to the original +teakwood and silk-screen restaurant which now catered exclusively to +the Chinese locals. In the fifties it added a chrome and neon bar. +Lennox and Gabby went up a flight of stairs, down another, and entered +the bar where they were unexpectedly greeted by a stranger. + +"Ah!" he cried. He spoke with the explosive Chinatown diction. "Missa +Hu-li Lennox. Dissa g'eat pleasuh an' honauh." He came forward, shook +Jake's hand, and said: "Lon' time no see. Yes? Ha-ha." + +He was short, very stout, and either an old young man or a young old +man, as is so often the confusing appearance of the Chinese. His round, +boyish face was perpetually wreathed in a sunny smile to which a +wall-eye lent a distracting quality. You never could be sure whether he +was beaming at you or at some faraway recollection. + +"You 'membuh me, Missa Lennox? Stanley Fu, the Sh'off?" + +"The Shoff?" + +"No. Ha-ha. Sh'off. S.H.O.Ah.F.F. Sh'off." + +"Shroff?" + +"Yes. Yes. Whiskey?" The Shroff led them to the bar, snapped his +fingers at the bartender, then rapidly undid his immaculate tie +and collar and opened his shirt. He displayed a livid bruise on his +shoulder. "Las' Satuhday night," he beamed. "Me'y Kissmus p'esent f'om +Hu-li." + +Lennox stared at the stout gentleman in amazement. "Hu-li?" he +repeated. "Who he?" + +"You," the Shroff beamed. + +"Did he do that to you Saturday night?" Gabby asked. + +"Oh yes. Yes. Ha-ha." + +"Shame on you, Jordan," Gabby said reproachfully. + +"I swear I don't remember. I--Gabby, this, apparently, is my good +friend, Mr. Stanley Fu, the Shroff. Mr. Fu, this, positively, is Miss +Gabrielle Valentine." + +"G'eat pleasuh an' honnuh," the Shroff beamed. He shook hands with +Gabby, then redid his shirt. + +"What's a Shroff, please?" Gabby asked. "Is it something I should know?" + +"Oh no. No, Issa Chinese p'ofesshun. Bankuh. Yes? Money changuh." + +"How do you mean?" + +"Oh yes. Silvuh into dolluh. 'Me'ican dolluh into Chinese dolluh. Papuh +dolluh into silvuh." The Shroff transferred his attention to Lennox. +"You put it all down. Inna liddy ole book when I te'l you Satuhday." + +"In this?" Lennox took out his gimmick book. + +"Yes. Yes." + +"I don't remember," Lennox said. "To tell the truth, Mr. Fu, I hardly +remember Saturday night at all. That's why I'm here. It's a wonderful +break meeting you again. Can you help me remember?" + +"Oh-ho?" The Shroff made a drinking gesture. "Yes?" + +"Yes." + +"Please tell us what happened Saturday night," Gabby said. "I'm worried +about your bruise." + +The Shroff beamed at her. "Oh yes. Happen like this. My f'iend, Hu-li, +come. Stan' next to me heah." The Shroff made the drinking gesture +three times. "Mahtini." He made the gesture three times again and +pointed to himself. "Scotch an' soda." + +"Shame on you both," Gabby said. + +The Shroff patted her arm fondly. + +"Wait a minute," Lennox said. "Some of it's coming back. Wasn't there a +calendar up over the bar? Last year's with a fencing girl on it?" + +"Yes. Yes." The Shroff nodded quickly. "We talk about pictuh of liddy +young lady with fff...." He looked helplessly at Lennox. + +"Foil?" + +"Yes. You te'l me you ah 'Me'ican fencuh." The Shroff pointed a finger +and waggled it. "I te'l you I am Chinese fencuh." The Shroff suddenly +crouched and lifted both arms as though poising a baseball bat. "We go +togethuh an' fence." + +"We did?" + +"Yes. Like Chinese." The Shroff executed a lightning swipe with both +hands, then chopped at his shoulder with the side of his palm. "You +give me this. Ha-ha. You 'membuh?" + +Lennox shook his head. "Did I talk to anybody else at the bar before we +left? A man named Knott?" + +"No. No othuh man." + +"Did you see anybody write in this notebook when I wasn't looking? Did +I leave it around on the bar?" + +"Ah? Excuse me?" + +"We're trying to find someone who wrote something bad in that book, Mr. +Fu," Gabby explained. "It happened last Saturday." + +"So?" The Shroff's eyes became shrewd. "Man named Knott, yes? That why +you ask?" + +"Exactly." + +"You ah only one who use book, Missa Lennox. I know." + +"Well, that's that," Lennox muttered. + +"Could it have happened where you fenced?" Gabby asked. + +"Oh no. No. Owuh 'Sociashun foh Chinese people only. I show you if you +like." Suddenly the Shroff beamed again. "Owuh 'Sociashun ve'y happy to +see Hu-li again." + +"Why do you call me Hu-li?" + +"Ah? Because how you fence. Ha-ha. Ve'y quick. Ve'y clevuh. Hu-li in +Chinese issa liddy ole animal.... Issa fox." + +"Fox!" Lennox exclaimed. "So that's where the Quaker's name came from." + +"Excuse me?" + +"Nothing, Mr. Fu. Just the pieces crashing into place with a dull +sickening thud. Show us where we fenced, please." + +The Shroff led them down Mott Street, around a corner, up an alley and +into a crumbling brick building from which an incredible uproar came. +It sounded as though a giant were methodically beating an iron water +tank to pieces. They mounted the stairs to a wooden door on which +Chinese characters were painted and the Shroff ushered them into a +large room. + +"Dissowuh 'Sociashun," he shouted. "Foh Chinese people only. No Knott +heah Satuhday night." + +"What plays?" Lennox roared. "What's going on?" + +"We p'epauh foh Chinese New Yeah next month." + +Three saturnine Chinese in black overcoats and pearl grey hats were +seated in a corner, calmly hammering a drum, a brass gong and a wooden +duck. In the center of the room, an athletic young Chinese in jeans and +leather jacket wielded a bamboo staff in the fantastic attitudes of +the medieval Chinese warrior. Three small boys with broomsticks were +following his instructions. + +At the far end of the room was the giant head of a Chinese dragon to +which a long accordion-pleated tail was attached. A young man in a +sweat suit was doing calisthenics before the head. Then he got inside +and the head came to life, jerking and swaying to the deafening +percussion. The head spoke. Two boys ducked under the tail, and the +entire dragon began moving across the floor. + +Gabby had a small pad and pencil out of her purse and was sketching +quickly, moistening her finger to smear the lines into broad patches of +shadow. The Shroff opened a closet and took out two bamboo staves, two +quilted masks and two quilted cotton aprons. He offered a brass-bound +staff to Lennox. + +"Yes?" he beamed. + +"No thanks, Mr. Fu. I don't feel like a fox tonight. You're sure there +was nobody named Knott here last Saturday?" + +"Oh yes." The Shroff examined Jake's face for a moment. "Ve'y impohtant +to find thissa Knott, eh?" + +"Very. Where did I go from here, Mr. Fu? Do you know?" + +"Oh yes. You ve'y intox'ated. I took you. I take you now." + +The Shroff returned the fencing equipment to the closet, waited +politely for Gabby to finish her sketching, and then conducted them +downstairs. He led them to Chatham Square where three cabs were parked +behind a hack sign. + +"I take you to taxi," he beamed. "You ve'y intox'ated." + +"My God! I can't remember that. Where the hell did I go? Hey fellas!" +Lennox called. "Any of you parked here last Saturday night?" + +The hack drivers poked their heads out. + +"Off and on, Mac," said one. + +"Hi, doll," said another. + +"Oh, hello," Gabby smiled. + +"Is he hedonistic or hasty?" Lennox demanded. + +"Behave yourself, Jordan. I told you I get around. Did any of you +gentlemen pick up my friend last Saturday night? He was drunk and +disorderly." + +"No Ma'am." + +"Could it have been another hack?" Lennox asked. + +"Could of been a dozen others, Mac." + +"Happen to know a hack-driver named Knott who uses this stand?" + +"Nope." + +"Then this looks like the dead-end," Lennox grunted. + +"Missa Lennox," the Shroff said. "I heah you te'l taxi man wheah to go." + +"You did! Can you remember?" + +The Shroff beamed in faraway recollection. + +"Oh please remember, Mr. Fu," Gabby said. "It's terribly important." + +The Shroff patted her arm, still immersed in memory. Finally he said: +"Wassa ve'y funny place. Like a fiah." + +"A fire?" + +"Yes. Like ... Hudson fiah." + +"Hudson fire?" Gabby repeated, gazing at the Shroff perplexedly. + +"Hold it!" Lennox said. "Could it have been the Hudson School of +Firearms?" + +"Yes. Yes." + +"What's that?" Gabby asked. + +"A shooting range over near the river. Oliver Stacy told me about it +last week. I must have gone there Saturday night. Let's go." + +Lennox opened the door of the lead cab. Gabby ripped a page out of her +sketch book and handed it to the Shroff. It was his portrait. + +"Thank you very much, Mr. Fu," she said. "You've been so helpful." + +The Shroff gazed at his portrait with admiration and then at Gabby with +more. "I go with you," he offered suddenly. "Be ve'y happy to help you +and Missa Lennox find Missa Knott. Yes?" + +"I do like you, Mr. Fu," Gabby said. "You're not inscrutable at all. +Please come. We can use all the help we can get." + +The Shroff entered the cab with them and they drove across town to the +waterfront where a sign on a doorway between a chandler's store and a +window filled with broken microscopes read: Hudson School of Firearms, +Dn. 2 Flights. + +As the three of them trotted down the steps into the sub-cellar, they +could hear the bark of guns. They came into a broad low-ceilinged +vault. There was a glass cigar counter and a cash register on the +right. The cigar counter was filled with revolvers and boxes of +ammunition. Behind it was a high display case with heavy glass doors. +Inside were more guns and six silver trophies. + +On the left, from wall to wall, was a line of open booths with +waist-high shelves dimly lit by green shaded lamps. Through the +booths was the vista of a sixty foot stretch of cellar, brilliantly +illuminated. The far wall was the shooting butt, heavily pocked with +bullet holes. Steel trolley wires led from each booth to the butt, and +along several of these, cardboard targets were sailing out to the far +wall. An intermittent barrage of shots came from the booths where men +were silhouetted against the light, standing with guns raised in their +right hands, their left hands resting jauntily on their hips. + +A square-jawed gladiator in blue serge came around from behind the +cigar counter and welcomed them. He was delighted to see Lennox. + +"Hey," he said in a soft, sweet voice. "It's the Philadelphia Fox +again." He shook hands. "I thought you had to go home to the wife for +the holidays. She come here instead, huh?" + +Lennox flushed and stammered. Suddenly he burst out: "You're the +Killer. I remember now. The Killer." + +"Oh, that's not nice," Gabby said. + +"It's just his joke," the Killer grinned shyly. "He kept calling me +that Saturday. My name's Hamburger, Mrs. Fox." + +"Jordan," Gabby began. "You'd better explain that--" + +"Oh no. No," the Shroff interrupted, beaming madly. "Ah nothing to +explain, Missuhs Fox. Ah nothing." + +There was an awkward pause, then Gabby turned to the gladiator. "Why +did my--Why did he call you a killer, Mr. Hamburger?" + +The Killer motioned to the silver trophies and turned red. "I won them +in the Nationals, Mrs. Fox." He hung his head. + +"You're modest," Gabby laughed. "I like you, Mr. Hamburger. I always +thought men who used guns were savage. Do you know, I've never fired a +gun in my life?" + +"I'll show you," the Killer offered, without daring to look at Gabby. +"Fill out a card." + +"Card?" Lennox asked. "What card?" + +"You know," the Killer said, leading them to the counter. "You got to +register. Police regulations." + +"P'lice watch gun place ve'y close," the Shroff whispered to Gabby. +"Doan te'l him Missa Lennox use othuh name. Be af'aid to help him." + +"I'm glad you came with us," Gabby murmured. + +She filled out a police registration card and accompanied the Killer +to an empty booth where he ran out a target and began instructing her +on the uses and abuses of the lady-like .22 revolver he placed in her +hand. Gabby waited patiently until he lost his shyness and was able to +meet her eyes. Then she came around a corner abruptly and asked: "Mr. +Hamburger, will you help us, please?" + +The Killer looked at her uncertainly. "I don't know, Mrs. Fox. We got +to be pretty careful here. What do you want?" + +"We'd like to go through the cards that were filled out last Saturday. +We're looking for a certain name." + +"The police cards! Oh no, Ma'am. I couldn't." + +"It's terribly important, Mr. Hamburger." + +"I couldn't do it, Ma'am. I--" He flinched in alarm as Gabby gestured +with the loaded gun. "Look out, Ma'am!" + +"Let me shoot this thing and get it out of the way," Gabby said. +"Then I'll explain." She raised the gun, pulled back the hammer and +squinted along the sights at the target. "I've got to impress him," +she thought, "or he'll never listen to me." She took a deep breath, +steadied the gun, and let off five shots in slow, stately succession. + +A two hundred watt bulb at the side of the range was shattered. One +of the trolley wires went down with a shuddering whine. A large chunk +of plaster was knocked out of the ceiling. Ten inches of the wooden +partition was ripped into splinters, and from the adjoining booth came +an angry yell: "Get the hell off my target!" + +"Oh dear," Gabby said. + +The Killer choked. "Bring her in, Whitey," he said in a voice that +shook. The target in the adjoining alley was run in and handed over by +the indignant Whitey. The Killer glanced at it and then showed it to +Gabby. + +"Dead center in the black," he said. He lifted his eyes and gazed +around at the destruction she had wrought and then gave her a look in +which awe was mixed with dog-like devotion. "I'll do anything I can to +help you, Ma'am. Just name it." + +After five minutes of earnest conversation, they returned to the +counter. The Killer unlocked a drawer and took out a stack of registry +cards while Gabby explained to Lennox. + +"You came here Saturday night. You registered but you were so drunk Mr. +Hamburger wouldn't let you hire a gun. You hung around telling the best +dirty jokes they ever--" + +"I deny that." + +"They ever heard. Mr. Hamburger invited you to go bear hunting with +him in the Adirondacks. A man called The Chief wanted to take you +skeet-shooting. There was a rifle club here and they asked you to join. +A bank guard wanted to introduce you to his sister but you told him you +were married." + +"Ve'y populah man, Missa Lenn--Missa Fox," the Shroff beamed. + +"I sound like the Life of the Smoker," Lennox groaned. "Was there +anybody here named Knott?" + +"Nope," the Killer called from the counter. "Nobody named Knott. But +here's the guy you left with." + +"I left with somebody? That's a break. I was afraid this would be the +dead-end." + +"Fella named Norman. Eugene K. Norman up on 126th Street. Says here: +Care of The Midnight Sun." + +"The Midnight Sun ... whatever that is. Looks like I put in a busy +Christmas Eve. God rest ye merry gentlemen. Leave us hit the road." + +"You going up there now?" the Killer inquired. + +"We'll have to." + +"The missus?" + +"Of course," Gabby said. "Why not?" + +"Just a minute." The Killer disappeared into a back room and emerged +wearing a hat and coat. "Hey Whitey!" he called. "Lock up for me. All +right, folks. Let's be on our way." + +"You're going with us, Mr. Hamburger?" Gabby asked in surprise. + +"Yes, Ma'am." The Killer placed himself alongside her like a bodyguard. +"It's pretty late and it gets kinda rough in Harlem. I'll drive you up. +I live around there anyway." + +As they left the range, the raucous voice of Whitey followed them: +"Yeah. Just around the corner ... in Brooklyn." + +The Midnight Sun turned out to be a giant barn which nightly conducted +a giant miscegenous barn-dance. It was on the top floor of a theater +building and was apparently used for basketball games during the day. +It was the sort of place to which no white woman in her right mind +would ever go with her date because the competition was too strong. +There is nothing more exotically beautiful than the mixtures of black, +brown, white and yellow races you find on The Rock. The elite of these +mixtures was on the dance floor of The Midnight Sun ... exquisite +creatures with startling faces and exciting bodies. + +"Jesus Christ on filter!" Lennox marvelled. "Don't tell me I forgot +this!" + +It was beautiful, chic, queasy. There was a wild orchestra competing +with its echo. There were tourists at the side tables in evening +clothes and ermine. Lennox noticed a sprinkling of celebrities. There +were dozens of white men prowling the edge of the dance floor like +wolves, stopping dark girls, dancing with them for a moment, entering +their names in address books. It had the horrid atmosphere of a black +auction, and over all hung the tension of race hatred. + +The manager of The Midnight Sun was making difficulties. He had +a nervous, sprightly air, and his smile was almost hysterical. +Admission was two dollars and a half, but The Midnight Sun dances were +semi-private. The party must be guests of someone. + +"Didn't you manage the old Downtown Club?" Gabby asked suddenly. + +"Yes, Miss." + +"Don't you remember me? You used to send out for Italian cassata for +me." + +The manager smote his brow. "The ice cream lady! All your guests, +of course. Please sign the members book." He produced an ancient +double-entry ledger which Gabby signed in pencil. Lennox turned the +pages back to December 24th and looked for the name Knott. It was not +there. Neither was his own name. It was difficult to decipher anything +from the smudged entries hastily scrawled in the dark. + +"Does Mr. Knott come here very often?" Lennox asked. + +The manager smiled hysterically and knew no one named Knott. + +"Is Mr. Norman here tonight? Mr. Eugene K. Norman?" + +"Somewhere on the floor," the manager told Lennox. He led the party to +a small table surrounded by cases of empty beer and coke bottles, and +disappeared before Lennox could ask any more questions. The waiter who +descended on them for their orders was no help. At the table on their +left were two magnificent blonde women with upswept hair and sequined +evening gowns. On their right was an alcove filled with brooms, mops, +and two sullen girls in angry conversation. Lennox got to his feet. + +"Mind the store," he told the Shroff and the Killer. "I'm going to case +the joint for Norman." + +He went around the floor, politely inquiring after Mr. Eugene Norman. +No one could help. The first girl he questioned, a Congo Venus with +a bosom like pears, froze him so regally and yet with such exciting +challenge that he didn't dare speak to another woman. Just alongside +the dance band he came face to face with Roy Audibon. + +Audibon slid his address book into his pocket and shook hands. He was +a little drunk. "What? The Thinker in the fleshpots? No hunting here, +Jake. This is my private jungle." + +"You can have it, Roy." + +"I already got it, son. What's the matter?" + +"I don't like it here." + +"Don't like it? Look around. Enjoy. What can't you like?" + +"Myself. We're intruding. Doesn't it make you feel cheap?" + +"Makes me feel one thing, son, and that doesn't come cheap. You alone? +Let's bleed the lizard." + +Lennox hesitated. "I'm looking for a man named Norman." + +"Looking for a man? Here? Man, your loins need regrinding." Audibon +left him abruptly and tapped a dark brown girl on the nape of the neck. +She turned and revealed a classic Egyptian face with high cheekbones +and wide deep-set eyes. Audibon spoke a few words and then swept her +out onto the dance floor. + +Lennox went out to the foyer to enlist the manager in his search. He +was informed that the manager was in the john. He investigated, but the +john was empty. As Lennox was about to leave, the door opened and one +of the upswept blondes entered. + +"Excuse m-me--" Lennox stammered. "You're in the--" + +"Hello Beulah," she said in a shrill fag's falsetto. + +"My God!" Lennox was appalled. "You're in drag? I never--" + +The fag blocked the door and regarded him seductively. + +"You're such a fast one," he said. "Miss Track Meet making her +appointed rounds. Who were you looking for? Pretty me?" + +"Listen," Lennox said, trying to be patient. "You're cruising the wrong +number, girl. Would you mind getting out of the way?" + +"Mary! She's in such a hurry," the fag giggled without moving. Lennox +took his elbow and shoved politely. Suddenly he lost control and +slammed the blonde violently against the wall. He let out a piercing, +falsetto shriek. Lennox yanked open the door and ran. + +As he crossed the dance floor to his table, a large ebony hand reached +out and stopped him. He turned and there was Gabby dancing with a +powerful bald-headed gentleman whose skin was stretched so tightly +across the big bones of his head that his face looked skeletal. + +"Cool, Clarence," he said in a foggy voice. "Here's yuh chick. +No, honey, yuh haven't got it right. It's a one and a tuh and a +zig-zag-zig!" + +"Mr. Norman?" + +"Eugene K. hisself." + +"He's a dance teacher," Gabby said. "I'm getting a free introductory +lesson." + +"Got tuh educate Mrs. Clarence's rhythm," Norman said. + +"He says I dance Square." + +"Livin' is elation and elation's syncopation. We'll turn yuh cool, +Cabbage." Still moving gently against the beat of the band, with his +arm around Gabby's waist, Norman grinned at Lennox. "Where's that bull +fiddle, man? Yuh welchin' on the bet? No, honey. Yuh zaggin' when you +should be ziggin'." + +"A one and a two and a zig-zag-zig." Gabby frowned and moved her feet. + +"What bet?" + +"You came up here with Mr. Norman," Gabby explained, "And you bet him +you could get a bass violin into a taxi on the first try." + +"I did? Not for even money!" Lennox protested. "You didn't sucker a +drunk and disorderly man, did you?" + +"They wouldn't let you use the one in the orchestra so you went out to +rent a bass violin. That's the last anybody saw of you." + +"So it's a dead-end, is it? What about Knott?" + +Norman shook his head. "Uh-uh. The Chick asked already, Clarence. Yuh +gettin it now, honey. We didn't rub up against any Knotts while we was +togethuh. That's it! Cool, Cabbage! Livin' is elation and elation's +syncopation." + +He swung Gabby around deftly, chanting in off-beats. A hand pinched +Jake's ear, and a falsetto voice whispered: "Want to dance, Beulah?" + +"Will you leave me alone," Lennox growled at the blonde. "Get lost, for +Christ's sake!" + +"Oh come on girl, get gay." + +The blonde entwined himself around Lennox who struggled angrily, and +then stopped aghast as he saw Gabby and Norman whirl in a circle and +collide with Roy Audibon and the Egyptian girl. Audibon stared at Gabby +and his face turned red. He let go of his girl so sharply that she at +once disappeared into the crowd. + +"What the hell is this?" he said. + +"Hello, Roy. This is Mr. Norman. He says that living is elation and +elation's syncopation." + +"Cool, pal," Norman said genially and extended his hand. Audibon +ignored it. + +"I'm cutting in," he said. + +"Not yet," Gabby laughed. "Not until I've got the zig-zag-zig." + +"I'm cutting in," Audibon repeated. Without looking at Norman he said: +"Get lost." + +Gabby turned pale. "Are you trying to insult my friend?" + +"He heard me," Audibon snapped. "Let him dance with his own kind." + +Lennox blew. "Look out!" he roared. "Here it comes." He shook off the +blonde and belted him across the jaw. He took two steps, shouldered +Norman aside and belted Audibon across the jaw. The blond shrieked and +clawed at the nearest man who swung on him and knocked his wig off. +Audibon got to his feet and came boring in on Lennox. Eugene Norman +dropped him again with a solid chop behind the ear. The Egyptian girl +appeared and kicked Audibon. The blond's friend appeared and swung on +Gabby. Lennox knocked him down. In five seconds that spark of violence +ignited all the violent hostilities in The Midnight Sun. + +"Get her outa here!" Norman bellowed in Jake's ear. He thrust Gabby +into Jake's arms, threw three vicious punches, caught a blow in the +throat and reeled back. Lennox steadied him and dragged Gabby and +Norman toward their table, bulling through the fighting crowd with his +chin on his chest. The band began riffing the National Anthem. Nobody +who could hear it paid any attention. A series of crashes commenced +and the wall lights began going out. There was a wild Chinese yell and +the Shroff appeared, crouched low, beating his way through the mob +with a mop he wielded like a bamboo staff. Behind him Lennox saw the +Killer teetering on a chair as he hurled empty coke bottles with deadly +accuracy. He was methodically smashing all the lights. + +"Out! Out!" Lennox roared. "Come on.... Out!" + +As they snatched their coats off their chairs, two very large men +charged out of nowhere and laid violent hands on Gabby. Lennox turned +with a snarl and clubbed one across the back of the neck. As he dropped +to his knees, the second was felled alongside him by the Killer. Gabby +bent over them. + +"This is not the way to do it," she said intensely. "You must organize. +Organize!" + +Lennox yanked Gabby up. He wanted to kiss her and spank her. The four +men formed a circle around Gabby and beat their way out to the foyer. +Gabby was hurling pacifist denunciations at the riot but no one could +hear her. As they started down the stairs, Norman, who was fighting a +rear-guard action, whistled shrilly and stopped them. + +"Cool, Clarence," he croaked. "Not that way, man. The police'll be +coming." + +He beckoned, slammed an anonymous assailant in the belly, and dashed +around the corner to the rest rooms. As the others followed, the +anonymous swung on Lennox who stiff-armed him back. The Shroff kicked +him and spun him around in time for the Killer to finish him. + +Norman led them into the ladies' john. Three girls were standing +there, unaware of the battle outside, trying to cope with a crisis of +their own. They were holding on to a fourth girl who was screaming +hysterically as she trampled on her dress. She wore a string of white +pearls, white satin slippers, and nothing else. The black and white +contrast was beautiful and worth closer inspection, but no one had time. + +"She main-linin' again?" Norman inquired. He flung open a door +revealing narrow stairs leading up and squeezed himself in. The three +girls began screaming too. + +"Her slip's showing," Lennox said. He propelled Gabby up the stairs. + +"She'll catch cold," the Killer said and followed. + +"Ve'y Happy New Yeah," the Shroff beamed and slammed the door behind +him. + +They climbed through a skylight and emerged into the chill night air. +The riot below them sounded distant and detached. Norman guided them +across roofs to the dim stairs of a respectable apartment house. They +descended and emerged on the street, around the corner and half a block +down from The Midnight Sun. There they took stock. + +Norman grinned at the Shroff and the Killer. They grinned back and +spontaneously shook hands. "Man!" he chuckled. "That bottle-bit and +that mop-mop-massacre. We're a goddam Foreign Legion. Damn if we +ain't!" All the men felt better after the scrap, but Gabby was very +angry. + +"Shame on you," she said. "Fighting like that. Hurting people. Making +fun of that poor sick girl. You're supposed to be civilized. You're +worse than animals." + +"Honey," Norman said reasonably. "It was self-defense." + +"No it wasn't, Mr. Norman. It was bad boys on a spree." + +"We were protecting you, Ma'am," the Killer said. + +"No you weren't, Mr. Hamburger. You were enjoying yourselves. I thought +you were all such nice men. Now I'm ashamed of you. I hate fighting. +There's no excuse for fighting ... ever!" + +"Gabby," Lennox said gently. "Get off the soap-box." + +She turned on him. "And you started it all, Jordan. Why did you hit +that poor blond man?" + +"He was a fag and he was bothering me." + +"That's no excuse. He's as sick as that poor naked girl. You've got to +feel sorry for homosexuals. You shouldn't hate them. But you do. You +like to hate and hurt." + +"Ah don't blame'm," Norman muttered. "Queens is poison. Make any man +want to punch 'em." + +"You be quiet, Mr. Norman." + +Norman shut up. + +"And what about Roy?" Gabby stormed. "I know why you hit him. You hate +him. You're jealous and--" + +"No. I slugged him because he passed a crack at Norman I didn't like." + +"He doesn't know any better. You have to reason with prejudice, not--" + +"Well he damn well ought to know better." + +"Do you think you taught him anything?" + +"Maybe," the Shroff said unexpectedly. + +"How?" Gabby demanded. + +"Chinese people ve'y ole-fashun. We have ve'y ole wise saying...." He +paused as though making a translation from the original. + +"Well?" Lennox asked after a moment. "You've left us hanging, Mr. Fu." + +The Shroff beamed around. "I fohget," he said. + +They burst out laughing. They hooted and groaned with laughter as +they lurched down the street to the Killer's car. There they parted +affectionately from Norman who presented each of them with an engraved +card that read: Eugene K. Norman, The Midnight Sun, Technique of the +Terpischore, Living is Elation and Elation's Syncopation. + +"Come to the show Sunday," Lennox called after him. "The Venice Theater +at nine o'clock. Ask for Jordan Lennox." He issued the same invitation +to the Shroff and the Killer. + +"What show?" the Shroff asked. + +"A television show called 'Who He?'" + +"Who's Jordan Lennox?" the Killer inquired. + +"Him," Gabby said. "His pen name. A one and a two and a zig-zag-zig." +They piled into the car. "Are we through, Jordan? Have we failed?" + +"You seem pretty cheerful," Lennox laughed. + +"I am. So are you." + +"Must be hysteria. I'm so loused up now that I don't give a damn any +more." + +"That's a relief." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"You get so oppressive when you're filled with resolve." + +"You sound like Sam. Well.... There's one last chance. I'll give it a +play after I take you home." + +"The blonde?" + +"Keep out of this part, Gabby." + +"Aimee Driscoll with two E's?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you really live in Brooklyn, Mr. Hamburger?" Gabby asked. + +"Yes, Ma'am." + +"Could you drop Mr. Fu at Chatham Square before you go across the +bridge?" + +"Sure, Ma'am." + +"And could you drop us on Third Avenue at.... What's the name of the +place, Jordan?" + +"I don't want you in on this." + +"Where did you pick her up?" + +"I think it was Ye Baroque Saloon." + +"At ... you should excuse the expression ... Ye Baroque Saloon, please, +Mr. Hamburger. It isn't a dead-end yet." + +The inside laugh on Ye Baroque Saloon is that it's named after the +proprietor, Chris Barokotrones, who came to The Rock and shortened his +name to Baroque before he understood enough French or English to know +what he was doing. By the time he found out, he had enough money to +buy a building on Third Avenue and build a saloon. He had it decorated +in American Baroque ... the exaggerated theatrical style that was the +vogue in saloons before the turn of the century. + +Everybody in the business goes to the Baroque for a nightcap. The joint +was jumping when Gabby and Lennox entered. It was a piratic crowd, very +young and very handsome. Crop-haired boys with hornshell glasses who +would become the Audibons and Bordens of the next decade.... Striking +young girls who would become their wives and mistresses.... A leavening +of the older men and women whom success and good living had kept young. + +Gabby and Lennox went down the bar, past the booths and into the back +room. Lennox saw Aimee Driscoll sitting alone at a table behind the +telephone booth. Her high fat bosom pushed out over the table. Her +wide fat bottom spread over the chair. Through the smoke and haze she +looked, at first glance, like a lusty Swede farm girl from Minnesota; +but the second glance shamed Lennox. + +"Nope," he said to Gabby. "She's not here. We'll go out the side door." + +They threaded their way between tables and went out the side door. +Lennox took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around for a cab. +A small man in a derby, pea-jacket and white duck trousers came around +the corner. He spoke to them in a bright voice. "Hi, Joe. H'ar ya? Hi, +Sally?" He continued down the street, addressing empty doorways in +friendly tones. + +"Ah," Gabby said compassionately. "He's lonesome, poor soul. He wants +friends. Do you think he's afraid of people, Jordan?" She came around a +corner abruptly. "As afraid as you are of Aimee Driscoll?" + +"W-What?" + +"Listen to me." Gabby backed him against the wall and pointed a finger +at him. "I know she's in there. At the table behind the phone booth. +You should have seen your face when you saw her. Are you afraid to +speak to her?" + +"Yes. I'm ashamed. Revolted." + +"Why?" + +"Gabby, don't be naive. Suppose you picked up a strange man and--Would +you want to see him again?" + +"I did," Gabby said. "Last Sunday night." + +"No. No, darling. It's different with us. We.... Did you see her? What +she looks like? I could kill her." + +"Have I seen you? What do you really look like? Maybe there'll come a +day when I'll really see you and want to kill you." + +"Gabby!" + +"Don't do that to me. Don't shame me now." + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Don't be angry and hateful. I want you to be honest and kind to +everybody. I want you to go in there and speak to her like Jordan +Lennox.... Not like Roy Audibon." + +"Gabrielle," he said, "You're a great woman ... but I'm not a great +man." + +He kissed her, then turned and re-entered the back room of the Baroque. +Gabby followed him. He walked directly to Aimee's table and smiled down +at her as pleasantly as he could fake. + +"Good evening, Aimee," he said. "Mind if we join you?" + +"Hi, Clarence," Aimee said. "Your friend deliver that coat and book?" + +"That's why I'm here. Have you got a minute?" + +"Sure." + +Lennox and Gabby sat down. As Lennox held Gabby's chair for her, Aimee +darted her a look of hostility. "Taking it from the top," Lennox said. +"My name isn't Clarence Fox. It's Lennox. Jordan Lennox." + +"Naughty, naughty!" Aimee said coyly. "Say, are you really the guy +which writes that TV show like you said?" + +"Yes." + +"How about me? Popular with the big-shots. I should've asked for your +autograph." Aimee glanced at Gabby. + +"This is Miss Gabrielle Valentine ... Aimee Driscoll." + +"Miss Aimee Driscoll," Aimee snapped. + +"Of course. I'm sorry." Lennox hesitated and finally forced himself to +meet Aimee's eyes. He saw in them an anger that startled him. He'd been +too drunk to notice that photograph of Aimee's father in her apartment, +and even if he had noticed it, he wouldn't have seen the connection. + +No one knows what happened between Aimee Driscoll and her father. +Anyone can guess, but it doesn't matter. The important result was +that the particular chasm over which she walked her tight rope was an +inescapable physical attraction for any man who resembled her father +plus an uncontrollable hatred for him. Lennox hadn't gone to bed with +Aimee that Saturday night. She was relieved, professionally, and +infuriated, emotionally. She looked at him now with hatred and at Gabby +with venom, completely unaware of what she was feeling or how she was +showing it. + +"Sweet guy you are," she said archly. "Sweet guy ... making a sucker +out of a poor working girl from the lower classes. You owe me ten +bucks." + +"I do? What for?" Lennox was terrified of what the answer would be. + +"The doctor. I had to see him Monday on account of what you done to me. +You practical jokers don't know your own strength." Aimee winked at +Gabby. "Your boy friend's a funny guy with a Christmas tree, Gabrielle. +We had a million laughs. He tell you?" + +"No," Gabby said quietly. + +"I guess he wouldn't at that." + +"Do you want to tell me, Aimee?" + +"Me? No." She laughed, concealing her teeth with her hand. "I'm a good +kid. I can take a joke. Anyway your boyfriend don't owe me a cent, not +after the gorgeous Christmas present he give me." + +Lennox swallowed painfully. "It was a television set, wasn't it, Aimee?" + +"Modest, ain't he? What a sweet guy. What did he give you, Gabrielle?" + +"Something I've always wanted, Aimee." + +"Jesus! Mink?" + +Gabby shook her head and smiled. + +Aimee examined the smile and tried to answer it. "Look at you. Up there +on Cloud Nine, ain't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, fall easy." + +"Were you hurt when you fell?" + +"Me? I never was up." Aimee laughed and covered her mouth. "Strictly +the subway type." + +"Listen, Aimee," Lennox smiled painfully. "I'd like to sit here yakking +it up, but I'm in a jam and I need help." + +"You're our last hope," Gabby added. + +"Me? No." Aimee looked from one to the other and the archness peeled +away from her malice. "Don't tell me a big-shot which can afford two +names and two girls needs help." + +"I do," Lennox said. "Look, we met here Saturday night. What time was +it?" + +"What are you checking up on?" + +"It couldn't have been too late because a store must have been open. We +were able to buy you that set." + +"Strictly your idea, Clarence. You kept on running off at the mouth +about bull fiddles." + +"Yes. I found out. So we went to a music store and ended up buying you +a television set. Where?" + +"Who can remember?" Aimee answered, enjoying Jake's misery. + +"Please, Aimee," Gabby said. "This is very important." + +"Why is it important? I had enough trouble with your boy friend +Saturday night. I don't want no more." + +"He's been getting threatening letters from a man he met some time +Saturday night.... A man named Knott. Dreadful letters. We're trying to +find Knott." + +"Did you go to the cops?" Aimee asked sharply. + +"Yes, I did." + +"You mention me?" + +"No. I'm working this out on my own. Let's see if we can't put it +together, Aimee. I left Harlem and wandered down here. We met and went +to a music store and bought the set. Right?" + +"It was around half past one," Aimee said grudgingly. "That place on +Forty-second and Third. They was closed and doing up their accounts. +You banged on the door until they let us in." + +"Thanks. Then what happened? We took the set up to your place?" + +"You got a hack and put it in. We must of hit a dozen joints on the +way. Then we ate. We didn't get home until light." + +"Did we meet anybody named Knott? Did I talk to anybody named Knott? +Did you see anybody write anything in this notebook of mine?" Lennox +pulled the book out of his pocket and displayed it. + +"You're really leveling with this, huh?" Aimee said slowly. "You're +really suffering, huh?" + +"Yes." + +"This Knott wrote something in your book?" + +"He did." + +"And you got to locate him or else?" + +"I do. Before Sunday." + +"Why before Sunday?" + +"Because that's the day he lowers the boom." + +"So you're going to have a tough couple of days sweating it out, ain't +you, Clarence?" Aimee stared at him with delight. "Ain't it a shame +I can't help you out? Tsk-Tsk! No. We never come across nobody named +Knott." + +"In this place?" + +"Nope." + +"In the music store?" + +"Nope." + +"Afterwards? In the bars? Where we ate?" + +"Nope." + +Lennox opened his mouth to ask another question, then faltered. Gabby +asked it for him. "And in your apartment, Aimee?" + +"He couldn't talk to nobody," Aimee snapped. "He passed out soon as +we come in. Big shot! And when he come to he ran right out." She +intercepted the look of salvation and relief that passed between Lennox +and Gabby and began to shake with rage. + +"And afterwards?" Gabby asked. + +"What about afterwards?" + +"The notebook was there for twelve hours after Jordan left. Did anybody +named Knott have a chance to leave a message in it?" + +"The only body in that apartment is named Driscoll." + +"Your friends?" Gabby persisted. + +"I got no friends." + +"Your ... clients?" + +"What's that crack supposed to mean?" + +"Look, Aimee--" Lennox began. + +"Shut up, big shot. I asked her. Leave her answer." + +"It wasn't a crack," Gabby said composedly. "I wouldn't dream of +insulting you, Aimee. I simply meant--" + +"Not now!" Lennox interrupted in alarm. "Don't be honest now, dear." + +"I meant that we know you're a prostitute," Gabby continued candidly, +"And one of your clients might have been Knott." + +"Suffering Jesus on echo!" Lennox groaned. "Listen, Aimee, she's just +kidding. She--" + +"Yeah. She's a sweet little kidder. And what price does she put on her +sweet little ass that makes her so high and mighty?" + +"What are you ashamed of, Aimee?" Gabby asked quietly. "I'm not ashamed +of you." + +Aimee turned on her in fury. "The come-on's your racket, huh? The +tickle and tease. You save your ass for the big price and after you're +married it turns out nothing. But nothing!" + +"You're old-fashioned," Gabby smiled. "We aren't amateurs any more." + +"And they come crying to me and taking it out on me, like Clarence.... +Because you save it so hard you don't know what to do with it but lay +on it." + +"Shut up," Lennox growled. + +"You must of got him plenty hot Saturday night, sister. You're so God +damned glad he never touched me. You want to see how he touched me? +I'll show you." Aimee stood up so violently that her chair toppled. +She yanked up her skirt and displayed her naked behind, criss-crossed +with black and blue welts. Then she dropped her skirt and burst into +hysterical laughter, covering her teeth with her hand. "It was like old +times when my old man took a strap to me after he.... I felt like a kid +again. We had a million laughs." + +Lennox grunted in anguish. Gabby looked at him, then stood up +impulsively and took Aimee's hands. "He did a dreadful thing, Aimee. +He's ashamed and so am I. Please let us make it up to you. We'll do +anything." + +"You can suffer," Aimee spat, jerking away from Gabby's touch. "You can +sweat. You can fry in hell until Sunday. Because I know who Knott is. +This guy you're looking for. I know him. Sure he left a message in your +book. I saw him." + +"Aimee! For God's sake, who is he?" + +"I ain't going to tell you. Suffer, you son of a bitch! God knows you +made me suffer with your God damned morals and your God damned strap. +Suffer!" + +"What strap? Make sense. Who is he?" + +"Go on. Ask a little. Beg a little." + +"What do you want?" Lennox demanded roughly. "Money? How much?" + +"I want you to suffer, big shot with your comical Christmas tree. We +had a million laughs. Now sweat it out, Mr. Lennox." She pushed past +Lennox and Gabby and waddled across the back room of the Baroque, +honking with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. The crowd +gaped at her. + +At the side door she turned and screamed: "I know him and I ain't going +to tell. Never. But I'll be up to the show Sunday, watching. And when +Knott catches up with you ... remember my ass!" + + + + + CHAPTER X + + +Nine o'clock the next morning, Roy Audibon left Gracie Hospital and +took a cab down to the network. His ribs were taped, his face was +bruised, his teeth were clenched in a dazzling smile that was sure to +hurt someone else worse than it hurt him. + +He rode the exclusive executives' elevator up to the twentieth floor, +strode through the three anterooms guarding the holy of holies, and +entered his office. It was rather ascetic compared to the conventional +top-level decor. It contained a very large English desk paneled with +gold-tooled leather, three Queen Anne armchairs covered with brocade, +two red leather library chairs, a walnut breakfront displaying +Dresden China and a brass microscope, a French stick barometer, a +framed illuminated transparency of M-31, the Andromeda Nebula, and a +constrained water color of Fire Island Beach signed: Valentine. + +Audibon examined the picture for a moment, then went to his desk, +thrust aside the mountain of predigested mail, and picked up the phone. +To his secretary he said: "Get me Grabinett and Bleutcher." + +"Yes, Mr. Audibon. What Bleutcher is that, please?" + +"Tom Bleutcher of Mode Shoes. Brockton, Mass. Check the 'Who He?' +file." Audibon licked his lips. "Everybody on my team is expected to +know the name and number of every player. This advice will be of value +to you in your next job which will start at the end of this week." + +The secretary gasped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Audibon. I--" + +"Accounting will arrange your severance pay," Audibon interrupted and +hung up. He examined the water color again, remembering a dark girl in +striped clam-diggers and an old shirt knotted under her bosom, sitting +cross-legged on a blazing dune ... a drawing board before her, tilted +on the bleached remains of a driftwood chair ... the tinkle of a brush +washed in a jar of water. + +"Never," Audibon said. + +The phone rang. He picked it up. "Yes?" + +"Mr. Grabinett cannot be reached in his office," the secretary reported +in a suppressed voice that soothed Audibon. "Mr. Bleutcher cannot be +contacted in Brockton. I left word that you called." + +"Word is too little and too late. Keep trying for both." + +"Yes, Mr. Audibon. John Macro is waiting to see you." + +"Macro? By appointment?" + +"Yes, Mr. Audibon. You told me to--" + +"Send him in." + +For a man who was not in the business, John Macro was the most hated +man in the business. He was a Maryland manufacturer who had taken it +upon himself to cleanse radio and television of subversive artists. +To this he devoted his patriotic heart and ample bank account. Once +a month Mr. Macro came to The Rock and purged. He was in no way +equipped for the job, intellectually or otherwise. In normal times his +impertinent intrusions would have been brushed as contemptuously as Mr. +Macro himself would have brushed any unqualified intruder attempting +to tell him how to do his own thinking; but these were not normal times. + +Honest John came to The Rock and studied the reports of his researchers +who were mostly free-lance trade journal writers playing detective. +He learned that so-and-so had once signed a petition. He ferreted out +the fact that a certain man was known to have supported a particular +drive; that this woman had lent her name to such-and-such a cause. Mr. +Macro judged and accused, and such was the hysteria of the times that +mere accusation was enough to make the world draw aside the hem of its +garment in terror and hound the victim out of the business. + +Mr. Macro was a good man and a sincere man. Unfortunately he was also +a Square. He believed he was doing his duty as a citizen. Actually, he +was a child playing with a gun. He entered Audibon's office with the +air of a Roman Tribune. He was very bald, very handsome, with a leaden +complexion and kindly features. He carried an alligator portfolio +which he unlocked ceremoniously after he shook hands with Audibon. He +withdrew a short list of names. + +"For these," he said melodiously, "I have proof positive." He produced +a dossier of stapled sheets, handed it to Audibon and then seated +himself in a Queen Anne chair and waited majestically. + +Audibon read the list of names and then the proof positive. He smiled +at Macro without liking. + +"This isn't proof," he said, "and it isn't positive." + +"Every organization cited there has been listed by the Attorney +General's office, Mr. Audibon." + +Audibon shook his head. "But it's not _prima facie_-type evidence." + +"Straws show how the wind blows." + +"God help us if we're judged by straws like this." + +"Good Heavens! I'm not judging, Mr. Audibon. Far be it from me to +judge my fellow citizens. Let the evidence speak for itself. If I'm +wrong, as I sincerely hope I am, these persons can easily clear +themselves." + +"Your frame of reference is unrealistic, Mr. Macro. It's impossible +for any man to clear himself today. These things are chain-reactive." +Audibon flung down the dossier and began to pace energetically. "Touch +the American pulse and what do you find? The systole and diastole +of paranoia. Do you know cybernetics ... the science of minds and +machines? There's a cybernetic feed-back in the American nervous system +today. The average American is synaptically inhibited. He can't believe +in the innocence of a man once he's been accused. He can't believe in +guiltlessness even after acquittal." + +Macro stared at Audibon. + +"Apart from the issue of freedom of conscience," Audibon went on +passionately, "there's the quanta of Popular Villainism. Literature +went through an Industrial Revolution in this country and was +transformed from an art-form into a story business. The political +thinking was metamorphised the same way. You don't find people weighing +political factors and extrapolating for valued judgements. Savanarola +died in vain. No, our people turn every political issue into Cops And +Robbers ... Boy Meets Girl ... Peter And The Wolf, you should excuse +the expression." + +"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Mr. Audibon." + +"Peter And The Wolf. Written by a Russian composer named Tchaikovsky," +Audibon explained patiently. "A musico-political joke." + +"But this isn't a question of Russian aliens, Mr. Audibon. It's +simply--" + +"It's a question of the write-in habit," Audibon interrupted. "The +basic mistake radio made. Radio tried to bring entertainment into +the home. Then the problem of audience response arose and we had to +encourage the write-in habit for purposes of analysis on a broad +consumer basis. From writing in about products, the public has taken +to writing in about politics. This is one mistake television will not +make. We're not going to bring the show into the home. We're going to +bring the home to the show." + +"About these people, Mr. Audibon...." + +"I know them all, Mr. Macro. They're artists, all of them; not +necessarily talentwise, but because they have magic. Talent died +with Goethe. These people have theatricality and mesmerization, not +intelligence. Three quarters of them probably did what they did out of +_Gestalt_ ... out of emotions. How can we judge them on the cybernetic +level?" + +"Mr. Audibon," Macro said in exasperation. "I'm a business man. Let's +get down to cases. Is your network prepared to suspend the employment +of these subversives, or must I call the attention of our sponsors' +organization to your--" + +"This network has never approved of a blacklist, Mr. Macro, and it +never will. If you've come here looking for an official blacklist, you +don't know the temper of our organization. However ... I see no reason +why the artists investigated by you shouldn't be given plenty of free +time to prepare their defense." + +Macro looked hard at Audibon. "Then you're prepared to--" + +"As good citizens, Mr. Macro, we're not prepared to endorse an official +blacklist. That's final. However, I suggest you monitor our network +shows. If, in the future, you see any of the people on this list +associated in any capacity with any of our shows, you can start a +rhubarb. But until then, as good citizens, we very politely tell you to +go to hell." + +Macro flushed and stared at Audibon. Then, as abruptly, he smiled and +nodded. "I think I understand. You have no official blacklist, of +course." + +"Of course." + +Macro stood up. As he closed his portfolio and was about to lock it, +he hesitated. Then he withdrew a small slip of paper and consulted it. + +"Is there a person named Valentine connected with your network?" he +asked. + +"Valentine?" Audibon stiffened. "What Valentine?" + +"A Miss Gabrielle Valentine. A note here says she might be working in +your art department." + +"What about Gabrielle Valentine?" + +"My researchers have come across the name quite often. A suspiciously +active person. If she's connected with your organization I should +advise you to have her--" + +"She doesn't work for us," Audibon said emphatically. "But we'd hire +her at any time. I happen to know the young woman rather well." + +"Oh?" + +"I know for a fact that she has clean hands." + +"There seems to be evidence to the contrary, Mr. Audibon." Macro +waggled the slip of paper. + +"You know I don't spitball off the cuff, Mr. Macro. Take my word for +it. You'll be making a great mistake if you mother-hen any ideas about +Gabrielle Valentine." + +Macro looked dubious. + +Audibon smiled dazzlingly. "The lady is my wife," he said. + +"Good Heavens, Mr. Audibon! I never--The idea is ridiculous, of +course." Macro crumpled the slip and tossed it into a gilt wastepaper +basket. + +Audibon took a breath. "But here's a replacement for the name," he +said. "I suggest you touch a piece of litmus paper to a writer named +Lennox, Jordan Lennox. My hunch is it'll turn a bright red." + +"Jordan Lennox," Macro repeated, carefully printing the name on a small +pad. He locked the portfolio, shook hands and departed. Audibon picked +the crumpled wad of paper out of the basket, smoothed it and tried to +decipher the symbols and abbreviations following Gabby's name. Then he +placed it inside his wallet. His day was made. He picked up his phone. + +"You're back on the payroll, love," he told his secretary. "Keep +trying for Grabinett and Bleutcher. Call Program and notify them we're +cancelling 'Who He?' as of the first of the year." + + * * * * * + +On the way home from Gabby's studio, Lennox took a wide detour and +stopped off at the Precinct where he found Fink in a small office +that smelled of disinfectant. Fink was doing paper work at a scarred +desk and looked more like a bank clerk than ever. Lennox sat down and +told his story from Cooper's recognition of the handwriting to Aimee +Driscoll's last words the night before. He handed over the page from +his gimmick book that contained the hysterical scrawled message. Fink +was neither impressed nor unimpressed. He listened carefully, smiling +at the wrong times, then bobbed his head. + +"I was pretty sure it was you getting the letters," he said. + +"How?" Lennox blinked. "I didn't know myself." + +"You make the big fuss. You must have known somewhere inside your head." + +"You're quite a psychologist." + +"No. Strictly statistics. I wish I had a nickel for every guy in a +jam who won't admit it. They make the big fuss and claim they're +worried about somebody else. Turns out they're really stewing about +theirselves." + +"I hate like hell to be a statistic, Bob." + +"We all are. There's hundreds of laws in the statute books, but cops +depend on one law most of all. The law of averages." + +"Is this an average case?" + +"It's tough." + +"Does any of this stuff I gave you help?" + +"Maybe. We'll check. I like what this Cooper said best." + +"About having seen the writing before?" + +Fink nodded and smiled. + +"Why?" + +"I'm pretty sure someone on your program is writing the letters. That's +why I like what this Cooper said best." + +"Someone on the show?" + +"Yeah. Ninety-nine out of a hundred it turns out like that. Someone in +the office. Someone in the factory. Someone in the department store. +We've been going over payroll vouchers and check endorsements on your +program." + +"Law of averages again. And?" + +"We'll see." Fink smiled. "This Cooper is a good friend of yours, huh?" + +"We share an apartment. Why?" + +"How long?" + +"About a year." + +"How long's he been on your program?" + +"He's worked the show since it started. Over nine months. What is all +this?" + +"You and this Cooper ever fight?" + +"Now wait a minute, Bob. I'm no fool. If you're headed in that +direction, I don't buy any of it. Not Sam." + +"Funny, this Cooper not remembering where he saw the writing." + +"He's got troubles of his own to remember." + +"Sometimes a grudge lasts a long time." + +"What grudge?" + +"You tell me." + +"There's nothing to tell. The whole idea's for laughs." + +"Tough," Fink murmured. + +"Forget Sam, will you! If it has to be someone on the show, maybe it's +a stagehand or a cameraman named Knott. Do we have a Knott on the +payroll?" + +"No," Fink said. "That's what makes it tough." + +"Can you get me off the hook by Sunday?" + +The office door opened and a swarthy man entered briskly. Lennox saw +at once that he was carrying the blue sheets and envelopes of the +threatening letters from "Guess Who." They were stained and discolored +and had been sprayed with a fixative that made them shine. As Lennox +straightened in excitement, Fink spoke. + +"Mr. Salerno," he said, "this is Mr. Lennox. He just figured out he's +getting these letters." + +Salerno grinned. Lennox was about to speak when suddenly he heard what +Fink had just said. "_Mister_ Salerno," he repeated. "_Mister_ Lennox. +That's the code, isn't it? You're warning him to be careful." + +"You see?" Fink said. "It doesn't make any difference if you know. +We're protecting ourselves." + +"From me?" + +"Not necessarily." Fink stood up. "Now don't worry. We'll try to get +you off the hook by Sunday." He took Lennox to the door and politely +closed it in his face. + +Lennox departed, not at all comfortable in his mind, and went home to +change. Cooper was there, in slacks and T-shirt, working feverishly at +the piano. He had a pencil in his mouth, a sheet of manuscript paper +on the music rack, and dozens more scattered around the piano bench. +He was working his way painfully through a chord progression while he +hummed to himself in the high composer's keen that only dogs can hear. + +"Fink's crazy," Lennox thought, and resolutely buried the suspicion in +the deepest crevice of his mind. + +He tip-toed around the apartment. After he changed, he locked the +Siamese upstairs in his office where they couldn't distract Cooper. He +made fresh coffee and slid a cup against the left side of the music +rack so as not to interfere with Cooper's writing hand. He intercepted +the cleaning woman (this day was vacuum cleaner day for the living +room) and told her to work upstairs first. Exiled from his own office, +he got tools from the kitchen and settled down at the table before the +garden windows to repair his gimmick book. + +In some primitive cultures it is believed that a man's soul can be +contained in an object ... an amulet, a bit of stone or wood, a +fetish ... which is carefully concealed by the owner and earnestly +sought after by his enemies. Destruction of the object means +destruction of the man. Lennox would never admit it, but he felt +exactly that way about his gimmick book. That was why he had become so +panicky when it was lost and quarreled so unreasonably with Cooper. +He spent hours at a time sewing it, mending it with scraps of leather +and metal, until it was a patchwork quilt of the original. It never +occurred to him that his soul might also be a patchwork of makeshift +repairs. + +From tinkering with the notebook, he got to reading it, and presently a +forgotten idea caught his attention. He thought about it and the idea +took shape. Lennox got a yellow legal pad and soft pencils and began to +block out a script, grunting and mumbling softly to himself in the low +writer's grumble that only seismographs can record. Working away like +that, Cooper and Lennox sounded like a duet between a peanut whistle +and a cement mixer. + +For the rest of the morning there was peace in the room, the old kind +of peace they hadn't known in the past week. Once Cooper murmured: +"Virgil, which sounds better?" He played two indistinguishable phrases +and Lennox rumbled appropriately. Once Lennox grunted: "Wolfgang, which +sounds better?" He read two indistinguishable phrases and Cooper keened +appropriately. This was the secret of their friendship and their deep +need for each other. + +Creation is the loneliest work in the world, which is why most artists +go stir-crazy. By some miracle of human chemistry, Cooper and Lennox +were able to work together. Not only did they have companionship, +a rare thing for working artists, but each was able to draw on the +other's creative drive and enlarge his own. They never worked so well +as when they worked together in the same room. + +At 11:15, Lennox grunted and mumbled his way to the kitchen for more +coffee, only to meet Cooper coming out with two cups in his hand. +Lennox took one and then forgot why. With his pencil he absently shaded +a moustache on Cooper's lip while Sam stood with eyes shut and hummed, +unaware of his disfigurement. + +"No!" Lennox exclaimed suddenly. "The whole point of the scene is that +the ingénue pivots. More kissed against than kissing." + +Cooper nodded to this gibberish, handed the second cup to Lennox and +went back to the piano still nodding like a porcelain mandarin. Lennox +returned to his yellow pad. The duet continued. + +At 11:45 they met in the bathroom where Lennox added a goatee to the +moustache. + +At 12:30 they met in the storage closet alongside Sam's room where the +cigarette cartons and stationery were stashed. + +At 12:55, without a word or a sign to each other, they quit work +simultaneously and became aware of themselves and the world around +them. They were in the manic mood that always follows intense creative +concentration. + +"Good morning," Cooper said. "You're new in this ward, aren't you?" + +"I was here before you," Lennox said in hot tones. + +"My good man, I was here before it was built. My name is Cornerstone." + +"The name is familiar," Lennox mused. "But I can't remember the face." + +"Ach! So. Und vhen did dis antikinetic facial phobia virst manifesdt +idself, Mr. Lennox?" + +"I can't remember, Doctor," Lennox answered in a low voice. + +"You can't remember? Tausend Teufel! Vas it at your mutter's breast?" + +"I ... I don't remember." + +"You must remember, Mr. Lennox, or I send you back to dat freud, Dr. +Quack." + +"Will you try that line again, please." + +"Oh. Sorry.... To dat quack, Dr. Freud." + +"Wouldn't 'kvack' be more authentic?" + +"Maybe, but I can't feel it, Mr. Sachs. There's a value missing." + +"That's because you've got your dialects mixed. I know Dr. Livingston +wouldn't speak low Dutch. I have a talent for never being wrong." + +"Livingston? I thought we were doing Pasteur. Cue, please." + +"You see, Dr. Livingston, bosoms are my problem." + +"Proceed, Mr. Stanley." + +"They ... I know this sounds silly ... but they all look alike. And +there's always two. Two! Two! Two! Why can't there ever be an odd +number? Sometimes I think I'll go mad, do you hear? Mad! Mad! Mad!" + +"Steady on, old man.... (Pipe business).... Pity you haven't read +my monograph on Trichinopoly ashes and busts. I can distinguish +twenty-four varieties by their action." + +"Amazing!" + +"Elementary. There's the plainbeat bust, the backfall bust, the double +backfall, the springer, the shaked elevation, the turn, the battery, +the double relish...." + +"Sam!" Lennox interrupted in delight. "Where did you find those +ever-lovin' words?" + +"It's musical ornamentation," Cooper grinned. "Didn't I ever tell you? +They're the old names for trills and grace notes and such, but they +kind of fit the front ornamentation of ladies too, don't they?" + +Lennox nodded as he jotted down the words in his gimmick book. + +"Kay Hill, for instance. She's the close shake. Irma Mason's the +battery. All directions. The dancers are strictly the plainbeat. One +bounce to a step. Robin's the shaked elevation. Your girl's the double +relish." + +"Who? Gabby?" Lennox blushed. + +"I noticed at the party. One of the few things I did notice, outside of +that hassle with Tooky Ween...." + +"I'm sorry about that, Sam, but I had to protect you. You would +have...." + +"And something Suidi let slip." + +"Oh? What he let slip?" + +"It was your party." + +"It may have been my idea, but--" + +"It was your bankroll." + +"Oh. He blew it. In French or English?" + +Cooper hoisted himself up on the piano and sat swinging his legs. Then +he began to speak, choosing his words carefully. + +"I appreciate what you tried to do, Jake.... But let me tell you how. +Last year a kid cousin of mine bought me a birthday present. He saved +up his allowance and bought the best present he could think of ... a +bag of marbles." + +"Immies," Lennox corrected absently. + +"What?" + +"They call them immies on The Rock." + +"All right, immies. I appreciated that present, Jake. I was really +touched. I appreciated your present the same way. It touched me the +same way. You understand?" + +"No." + +"The kid didn't give me anything I could use. He gave me what he loved." + +"You mean I'm a kid?" + +"No, Jake. You gave me the thing you love most. And when you found out +I didn't want any part of it, you tried to make me want it. You don't +understand anybody not wanting to be a big wheel in the business, do +you? That's your bag of immies." + +"What the hell are we working for?" + +"Fun." + +"Fun's not the answer. We've got to have something to show." + +"Fun's enough for me." + +"Why don't you grow up, Sam!" Lennox said impatiently. "You talk +about immies. You're the kid. Playing games with cap pistols. Soon as +somebody pulls a real gun on you, you turn chicken." + +"All right. I'm a kid playing games. Leave me alone. Don't protect me. +Don't sponsor me. Don't try to shove a loaded gun into my hand." Cooper +jumped down off the piano. "What's that line you use on the agency +kibitzers when they try to make you rewrite a script their way? What do +you always say? Go ahead ... tell me." + +"If you have to hang, hang on your own rope." + +"Q.E.D.," Cooper said. "You want to keep things going the way they +always have?" + +"You know that." + +"Then lay off. Let me go to hell my own way." + +Lennox turned away angrily. The hidden crevice in his mind opened and +Fink's dreadful hint shot up to the surface and burst like a bubble in +acid. + +"Who wrote those letters?" he asked abruptly. + +"What? What letters?" + +"You know damned well what letters. I told you yesterday I found out +they're written to me. They're written by somebody named Knott. That's +the writing you recognized. Who's Knott?" + +"Nobody I know." + +"But you know the writing?" + +"I thought so." + +"Changed your mind recently?" + +"What's eating you out all of a sudden?" + +"I don't play games. Neither does Blinky. He found out I'm getting the +letters and I'm off the show. If there's any kind of trouble, he'll +murder me with a lawsuit. So it's coming up to the clutch. Two days to +Sunday. I'm in so deep, if anybody makes waves I'm dead. This is fun. +Yak it up." + +"I'm not laughing." + +"If you've got anything besides immies to contribute, now's the time. +Who wrote the letters?" + +"Lay off, Jake. Don't badger me." + +"You can't tell or you won't tell. Which is it?" + +"I don't know. I can't remember." + +"I think you're lying." + +"That's a hell of a thing to say." + +"It hurts to say it. I think you're lying." + +"Why lying all of a sudden?" + +"Not all of a sudden. It's a slow take. You recognize the writing, but +you don't know whose. When I tell you the name, it doesn't ring a bell. +Who the hell are you kidding, Judas?" + +"Jake!" + +"I'm fighting to hold on to what's between us, too. I don't think it +can live through a lie. Not now. Not when I'm on the cross yelling for +help. Is it a lie?" + +Cooper shook his head. + +"All of a sudden it's sour between us. Nothing I do is right. I try to +plug your tune. No good. I try to hold the chiselers off. I stink. I +try to fight my way out of a jam. You object. I suppose when I tell you +I've set it up for you and one of the dancers to do a duet of 'We're +The Most' in next Sunday's show you'll--" + +"Damn you, Jake!" Cooper gestured angrily. + +"I stink again. But by God you'll do it. What's got into you? What are +you trying to do ... slug me when I come around the corner? I don't +think you're trying to pull out of the rat-race. I think you're trying +to pull me down into the grave!" + +Cooper attempted to speak, then gave it up and stormed into his room. +He slammed the door so hard that half a dozen books bounced off the +shelves. Lennox made no move to pick them up. The phone rang. Lennox +made no move to answer it. After five peals, it stopped, and a moment +later the P-lady called downstairs. Lennox picked up the living room +extension. + +"Yes?" + +"Jake, this is Melvin Grabinett." + +"How are your associates?" + +"What?" + +"It's a question I've been wanting to ask you for years. Who the hell +are your associates anyway? Helter and Skelter?" + +"Are you drunk?" + +"No. Unemployed." + +"Listen, I'm in Tom Bleutcher's suite at The Brompton House. Been here +the whole Almighty morning. Olga wants you to have lunch with us." + +"Olga? Who she?" + +"His daughter. You made a big hit with her last time they was in town. +Come on down." + +"Get the new writer." + +"I got no new writer. Anyway she yens for you. Come on down." + +"Why should I help entertain the client? I'm off the show. Remember?" + +"You still got a piece of the royalties. You want to keep on +collecting? Help keep it on the air. Come on down." + + * * * * * + +Grabinett's relations with his client were shaky because they were +based on marriage. Grabinett's wife was the daughter of Pan-American +Export. Grabinett's father-in-law was the biggest single purchaser of +Mode Shoes, exporting thousands of pairs each year to South American +dealers. So long as Mode Shoes remained on Pan-American's catalogue, +Tom Bleutcher would remain Blinky's client. But he didn't have to like +it. + +He was a heavy man with a red face and thick iron-grey hair; a third +generation German, and the Germans are the best shoe manufacturers +in the world. They are also the most pig-headed manufacturers in the +world. Bleutcher had formed his opinions in Chicago during the years +1900-1910. Nothing that had taken place subsequently had served to +alter them. He did not believe in advertising. He did not believe in +television. He was convinced that if a man builds a better mousetrap, +the world will beat a path to his door. He ran his million dollar firm +like a mousetrap maker and was the despair of his advertising staff. + +His daughter, Olga, youngest of a family of seven, was the Intellectual +Bleutcher. She had just graduated from college, had had her year at the +Sorbonne, and was the soul of the Brockton Literary, Marching & Chowder +Society. She was plain, verging on ugly, with a broad saddle nose and +wide clown mouth; but she had good teeth and magnificent cat's eyes. +Her figure was so arresting that it had to be thought of as a body, and +after sufficient contemplation of that body, most men raised their eyes +above the neck and even found the face attractive. + +In the grill room of The Brompton House, a tiered oval around a dance +floor on which visiting Firemen shuffled to the music of a lymphatic +band, the quartette drank Manhattans, ate shrimp cocktails, lobster +bisque, fried oysters, French fried potatoes, French fried onions, +French fried eggplant, Waldorf salad, strawberry shortcake and coffee. +Mr. Bleutcher insisted on fish on Friday. He saved his beef for labor +unions, manufacturing costs and the iniquities of the open-toe craze. + +In addition, he disapproved of smoking for women, high wages for +labor, modern dress and all modern medicine outside of chiropractic +correction. Although he never once looked at Grabinett or Lennox, he +demanded their complete attention. Grabinett blinked his all. Lennox +gave as much as he could spare from the daughter. + +Olga was very young and very intense. She put her hand on Jake's arm +and discussed Sartre, Kafka and Henry James. Since she was seated +on his right, this made eating difficult for Jake. She was plainly +excited with him as a professional writer. "Christ in close-up," Lennox +thought. "She wants to be a writer too. I'm dead." She attempted +an arresting originality of conversation that was exhausting. In +self-preservation, Lennox asked her to dance. This was a mistake. + +Olga Bleutcher was a lovely dancer, but she didn't melt into Jake's +arms. She projected her body against him and operated with alarming +suggestiveness. There was no escaping the pressures of her bosom, her +torso and thighs. It was obvious that Olga too was aware of her big +selling point. It was also obvious that she had been under restraint +while she was with her father. + +"My God!" she whispered in Jake's ear. "Isn't he a reactionary old +fart?" + +Lennox tried to turn his grunt of amazement into a chuckle. + +"Do you think they'd let us sneak a smoke on the floor?" Olga asked. +"I'm dying for a cigarette." + +"I don't know. We can try." + +"You keep dancing," she murmured. "I'll find them." + +Her hands began exploring his pockets. Lennox had to explain that he +didn't carry cigarettes because he didn't smoke. "What have I got +myself into?" he wondered. "Is she a nympho?" + +Miss Bleutcher pressed herself against him. "It's so comforting dancing +with a big man," she said. "You can spread out on him. There was a +private beach north of Cannes where I used to strip and sunbathe. You +feel just like the sand." + +"Careful of the shells," Lennox muttered. He glanced down at her. All +he could see was the cat's eyes. He was alarmed to discover that she +was getting better looking. + +"Where can a _soi-disant_ virgin get plastered New Year's Eve?" Miss +Bleutcher inquired. + +"You're going to be in town over New Year's?" + +"I'm going to be on the town New Year's ... after Four-Buckle Arctics +corks off." + +"Who?" + +Olga Bleutcher motioned with her head toward her father. "I'm going +to pour myself into a strapless and come to no good. Have you got any +suggestions?" + +"I've got a basic suggestion, but I also have a show to worry about +tomorrow night," Lennox stalled. "I'll phone. What's the password? +Metatarsal?" + +She laughed. "Bunions. No, leave a message for me at the switchboard. +Just say it's for Olga. They understand a gal's problems." + +After five minutes more of New Year's preview, Lennox managed to +detach her from his anatomy and return to the table. As they sat down, +a waiter appeared and presented a telephone message to Bleutcher who +read it carefully, then excused himself and lumbered toward the hotel +phones. Olga at once took a cigarette from Grabinett's pack, picked up +her handbag and departed for the woman's lounge. Lennox and Grabinett +were left alone. + +There was a long pause. Finally Grabinett lifted his eyes and blinked +into Jake's hard, level gaze. + +"If you don't want any trouble, don't say anything," Lennox warned. + +Grabinett's mouth opened and his face twitched. Lennox poured cold +coffee into his cup and went through the motions of drinking it. + +"Borden wants you and me down to his office for a conference with +Bacon," Grabinett blinked suddenly. "Two thirty." + +Lennox didn't answer. + +"What's Bacon after?" + +"Sachs' job," Lennox answered curtly. + +"The hell he is! He ain't going to get away with it." + +"He is, and I'm going to help him." + +"How do you think you're going to swing it? Who's running this Almighty +show anyway?" + +"The three of us are going to vote Sachs out. And if you give us any +trouble, I've got an ace in the hole." + +"What?" + +"Give Ned a hard time and find out." + +Grabinett blinked uncertainly. At last he blurted: "All I'm trying to +do is keep a show on the air. You're giving me the hard time. That +letter scandal, and now Bacon. What are you? In business or in war? +Listen. I got a contract with Sachs. He gets a flat weekly retainer +and it's a gut-buster. If I keep him working all my shows I just about +break even. But if I got to pay out an extra seven and a half bills to +Bacon for direction--Will you guys be reasonable! Have a heart!" + +Lennox stared at Grabinett incredulously. "Are you human?" + +"I'm asking you to be human." + +"You knifed me less than twenty-four hours ago. The moment when I +needed every check I could get and all the help I could get, you kicked +me off the show. And now you have the gall to ask me to have a heart! +Lay there and bleed!" + +"You're crazy!" Grabinett explained. "A crazy writer. What are you +cuddling a grudge for? You get yourself into a jam and then you blame +me for protecting the show. Didn't you tell me Monday I had to keep my +nose clean? So I took your advice. What do you want from me?" + +"I want the same thing from you that I want from the rest of the +world!" Lennox shouted. "I want a fair shake." + +"Jake! Quiet! Keep it quiet!" Grabinett blinked around in +embarrassment, then focussed his twitch on Lennox. He lowered his +voice. "All right. Here's a deal. I'll stick with you if you'll stick +with me. Yes? You're back on the show." + +"How do I stick with you?" + +"No Bacon on the payroll. Sachs stays. If Bacon wants to direct TV +leave him do it at somebody else's expense. Not on my budget. Okay?" + +Lennox swallowed. + +"Hurry up, Jake. Here comes Bleutcher. Is it a deal? For the good of +the show you vote with me. We're satisfied with how the show's going. +We want to keep everything exactly the way it always was. Yes?" + +"Yes, by God!" Lennox said. "Yes." + +Bleutcher lumbered up to the table and sat down. "Mr. Audibon has been +trying to reach me at the Brockton office," he explained. + +Grabinett started. "What for?" + +"I have not been advised as yet. His office called four times." + +"Did you call him back, Mr. Bleutcher?" + +"He's been out to lunch for two hours." Bleutcher compressed his lips. +"It is most inadvisable for a business man to clog his digestive +system with heavy foods during the working day. My staff has standing +orders to restrict the midday meal to greens and roughage. Our plant +cafeteria...." + +Bleutcher lectured on fats, proteins and carbohydrates until Olga +returned to the table. Grabinett paid the check with nervous haste and +the luncheon party broke up. + +"We'll see you at the show Sunday, Mr. Bleutcher?" he blinked. + +Bleutcher nodded ponderously. + +"Just leave word for Olga," Miss Bleutcher whispered. + +Lennox nodded absently. + +In the lobby of The Brompton House, Grabinett darted to a phone booth +and called the network. Audibon had not yet returned from lunch. +Grabinett came out of the booth, blinking anxiously. + +"He's been trying to get me all morning too. What the Almighty mischief +is he up to? What a business! Come on, Jake. Let's take care of Bacon +first." + +Avery Borden's office had the quality of a court room. His high-backed +desk chair looked like a judge's bench. Against one wall was a line +of mahogany armchairs that looked like a jury box. When they entered, +Bacon was sprawled on two of the chairs, confiding a thief-type +revelation to Borden who was leaning against a window, glasses in hand, +fascinated. Lennox and Grabinett sat down quietly and waited. No matter +how savage warfare may be on The Rock, there is one sacred law that is +never broken. No man ever kills the point of another man's story. + +When it was over and Borden had reacted satisfactorily, Bacon stood up +and began to swagger back and forth across the office. He preferred +to sit when other men were standing, and to stand when other men were +sitting. Borden obligingly seated himself behind the desk. + +"Now we're all here to read the up-state returns," Bacon drawled. "The +show isn't sick yet, but when you pull out the thermometer any interne +can read the temperature. It hasn't broken a hundred, but it will if we +don't yank the substitutes and send in the regulars." + +Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized. + +"You can't run a variety show like a girl's weeny roast," Bacon +continued. "Sooner or later some eager beaver is going to get a fork in +her eye and drop the marshmallows into the fire." + +Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized. + +"Now I'm the last man to blow the whistle on another man's act," Bacon +went on. "But we were in the fire last Sunday and if Jake hadn't cut +the heart of the plate from left field, they'd still be running the +bases. What we need is organization and direction. The show's got to be +handled like a military operation, and Sachs isn't the man to set up +the cadre." + +"It isn't a question of talent," Borden said tactfully. "Nobody's +attacking Sachs on the genius level. But Ned feels the show needs a man +more experienced in--" + +Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized. + +"More experienced in the aspects of handling talent rather than +providing talent," he went on. He charmed Bacon with a tactful smile. +"Editor's note: This in no way implies that you can't or won't provide +talent when required." + +Bacon swaggered up to Grabinett and stood over him. "Here it is, +wrapped for delivery. Sachs had his turn at bat. He couldn't get on +base. Now it's time for the clutch hitter to come up. Are you with me +or are you going to throw the game?" + +Grabinett squirmed in his chair. "God damn it! This is my Almighty +show. I'm satisfied with Sachs." + +"Your show?" Bacon laughed. "I'll read the fine print for you. Jake and +I worked this up together. It was a smart panel show with demonstrated +questions that had sell. You had Tom Bleutcher in your pocket and no +show for him. Of all the crap Bleutcher saw, he liked our package best. +But the network wouldn't sell the time unless they could put Mason to +work in a musical. So we all joined the team and pooled the bats and +gloves. Bleutcher let you shove a variety show down his throat. You let +the network hang Mason onto your budget. And we let you chisel fifty +percent of the package out of us. But what the hell did you contribute, +talentwise, that makes you the Captain?" + +"I'm satisfied with Sachs!" Grabinett shouted. + +"The rest of us aren't, so Sachs goes." + +"And I'm not the only Almighty one satisfied with Sachs, so he stays." + +"I've got my boys with me. Who've you got?" + +"I got Lennox." + +"Enlighten him, Jake," Bacon drawled. + +Lennox took a deep breath. "Ned, I'm sorry. I have to vote with Mel." + +Bacon's face froze. + +"I know what your problem is, Ned, and you know I sympathize. But I've +got problems too. I've got to go along with Mel." + +"You yellow scab! You're selling me out? What was the price? Don't I +even get a chance to bid against his thirty pieces of silver?" + +"If I'd known in time I'd have warned you." + +"You didn't have the guts, you cheap--" + +"I know you're burning and I don't blame you, but I want to tell you +something. I'm having a rough time myself this week and I'll take just +so much from you and no more. You're not the only man in this office +with a boom over his head. Remember that." + +Bacon turned on Grabinett. "All right, shyster, you got to one juror in +the box, but the fix isn't in yet. I've got another ace to play." He +gave Lennox a sour smile. "Your card, Benedict." + +"Don't play it," Lennox growled. "It's a deuce." + +"I can have Sachs thrown off the show for unethical conduct," Bacon +persisted. "That corn-ball tried the casting couch routine with an +actress named--" + +"Shut up, Ned," Lennox cut in. "It isn't going to do you any good. I +won't back the story and neither will she if I tell her not to. Leave +her name out of it." + +"Damn you!" Bacon yelled. "What are you doing to me? Cutting my heart +out with a dull knife?" + +"He's protecting the Almighty show, that's what he's doing!" Grabinett +blurted. "Why don't you let me keep it on the air? What do you want +from me? I provided the client. Ain't that enough? Maybe I got no +talent, but you don't see me dragging scandal into the studio. Dirty +letters and dirty cracks about my director. For Christ's sake, let's +all make a buck and live in peace." + +"I'm going to direct my own show," Bacon answered. "And I'm starting +the first of the year whether you or my former partner like it or not. +You want to make a buck, do you? Then make it on another sucker's +brains; because if I don't direct my own show, I want it back. I'm +taking it off the air. I'm picking up my marbles and going home." + +"Talk sense, Ned!" Lennox cried. + +"Shut up!" Bacon looked at him with loathing. "If you ever talk to me +again I'll cut your guts out. You knew what this meant to me. You know +the spot I'm in. 'The People Against--' is cancelled. The old man is +through. They've retired his number. This is the one hold I've got on +the future and you're stamping on my fingers. For why? What've you got +to lose giving me a break?" + +Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and said: "The show's cancelled." + +They all turned incredulously. + +"That was Roy Audibon. The network isn't renewing our Sunday night +time. I think we'd better table this hassle and get over there right +away." + + * * * * * + +Tookey Ween was in one of the red leather library chairs and Audibon +stood before the illuminated nebula when the three men entered the +office. Before the door was closed, a five-way battle was joined, +and the melee continued for fifteen minutes. The only way to describe +that brawl is to name the records from the network sound library that +a soundman would have to use to duplicate it. Spinning two turntables, +he would blend 261B--APPLAUSE: 5th CUT; BOOS AND SLIGHT HISSES, with +259A--RIOT CROWD EFFECTS: FRENCH CROWD, LARGE GROUP OF MEN, INCITED TO +RIOT BY FRENCH COMMANDS. He might also hammer on the studio walls to +get the desk-pounding effect. + +Through all the fury, Audibon remained adamant. The network was not +renewing the time. After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, he looked at +his watch and took control of the situation. + +"We're discussing a half hour show," he said sharply. "I can't allocate +more than the show's time to the discussion time. I have another +appointment coming up. Now ... if you've been listening to me with your +inner ear, you know the network's position. The nine to nine-thirty +Sunday night slot is rated at ten points better than 'Who He?' is +doing." + +"Roy...." Borden began. + +Audibon held up his hand. "We're not an entertainment business. We're +an institution. We have prestige to maintain. We have our honor to +polish. One of my responsibilities is to see to it that every one of +our shows reaches and maintains its ultimate rating. Entertainment +isn't our goal...." Audibon reached up and rapped the nebula with his +knuckles. "_This_ is our goal." + +"Damn it, Roy," Borden exploded. "Level with me. You and I know what's +behind this decision. It's the old network-agency feud. You people +can't forget that you sold out your radio time to the agencies and lost +control of your own business. You're so damned scared of that happening +with television that you're cancelling our show ... not because the +rating isn't high enough, but because the network doesn't own the +package. You want nothing but network packages filling network time." + +Audibon smiled. + +"It's a seller's market today," Borden shouted. "You've got a dozen +clients begging for every slot across the board. You can play snotty +and get away with it. But the market'll turn. If costs don't kick you +out of the saddle, then boredom will. And when that happens you'll come +begging to us. You'll come begging and we'll spit in your eye." + +"Incidentally," Audibon murmured. "I'm having this discussion +recorded ... for legal purposes." He pointed to a small microphone on +the upper shelves of the breakfront. + +"It's a sick show," Ween rumbled suddenly. He got up. "For the record +I want my property out of that show and out of that spot. It's a sick +show on account of him!" He pointed to Lennox dramatically. "He's the +one who's made all the trouble. Him and his poison pen letters. He's +been writing the whole show with a poison pen ... and now he's put my +property in danger of physical violence. If anything happens to Mig on +Sunday, I'll sue!" + +Ween waddled to the door and yanked it open. He glared at Lennox. +"Protect your property, will you? You got nothing to protect. Nothing. +Now go shove yourself up it." He exited and slammed the door. + +Borden looked at Lennox. "Are you behind this?" he asked icily. "That +Knott business you pestered me with yesterday. Is that what he means?" + +"He's getting threats for something Almighty dirty he pulled off," +Grabinett shouted. + +"I'm sorry to say that's one of the important reasons for cancelling," +Audibon said smoothly. "The rating was only one factor; but when +Tooky told me about the difficulties that Jake's been creating ... +embarrassing the star, embarrassing the show.... We decided that we +couldn't let him embarrass the network." + +Borden arose, gave Lennox one deadly cut-throat stare and marched +out, followed by Bacon who was too furious even to look at Lennox. +Grabinett sputtered and blinked for a moment, helpless before Audibon's +smile and Jake's impassivity. + +"It was that sock in the jaw last night, wasn't it, Roy?" Lennox asked +quietly. "You're fighting like Tooky, aren't you?" + +Audibon gazed at the water color and said nothing. + +"Tooky ran off at the mouth because I wouldn't let him chisel a piece +out of a hit tune. That was his knife in my back. You're cancelling +because you were a louse last night and I called you on it. It isn't +the seller's market or the rating or the galaxy or my personal mess. +It isn't anything but revenge because I pasted you in the jaw. This is +your knife in my back." + +"You Almighty sabotoor!" Grabinett cried. "The deal is off. You hear +me? It's off." + +"The show's off, Mel." + +"And I'm taking it out of your hide. If it's the last thing I do, I'm +taking it out of your hide, you Christ Almighty Vandal!" + +Grabinett flung out of the office without bothering to slam the door. +Audibon sauntered over, closed it gently, then smiled at Lennox. + +"So here you are, Jake." + +"I'll be on my way. Perish the thought that I should hold up your next +appointment." + +"You're my next appointment. Sit down. Enjoy." Audibon drifted to the +breakfront, opened the lower drawers and revealed a silver-lined bar. +"Drink?" + +"Thanks. Brandy, please." + +"Soda?" + +"Straight." + +Audibon filled two large shot-glasses and carried them to Lennox. As +he extended one glass, his control slipped, and in a blaze of fury he +slashed two ounces of dark brandy into Jake's face. Lennox laughed and +stood up. + +"That's all I want, Roy. Thanks for the confession." + +"Look at you," Audibon said in a voice that shook. "Take a panoramic +of yourself. Where are you? You've got no show. You've got no partner. +Your agency's ready to blacklist you. This network's blacklisting you. +You're got no friends. You've got no business. You've got nothing. +Nothing!" + +"But I've got something you haven't got, Roy." + +"Never." + +Lennox tapped the water color. "I've got the original of this." + +"Never!" + +Lennox smiled. + +"So you're chasing," Audibon snorted. "Go ahead and chase. You'll never +catch up. Not while she remembers me...." + +"Who's chasing?" + +"Then you're bluffing, you--" + +"Who's bluffing?" + +Audibon went white, then red. He turned, walked to the desk and put +down the shot-glasses so violently that they clattered. + +"I'm waiting for your offer," Lennox said pleasantly. + +"Get out," Audibon said in a low voice. + +"Tooky offered to trade. Blinky offered to trade. Why not you? Let's +hear how contemptible you can get." + +Audibon swung around. "I'll see you in hell first!" He came at Lennox +so fast that Lennox only had time enough to grasp his arms above the +elbow. They strained at each other for half a minute. + +"I'll see you dead and rotting first," Audibon panted. "I'll run you +out of the business. I'll run you off The Rock. If she stays with you, +I'll run her off too. I'll see both of you dead first." + +"Do you love her?" + +"I'll kill her!" + +Lennox looked deep into Audibon's drawn face. "I'm seeing you for the +first time," he said. "And for the first time I'm beginning to like +you." + +Audibon broke out of Jake's grasp and staggered back against the desk. +His hand fumbled behind him, and an instant later the office door +opened and his secretary entered. + +"Yes, Mr. Audibon?" + +"Lennox is leaving." + +"It's funny what The Rock does," Lennox said. "We ought to be friends." +He turned and left. + +"Get me Miss Valentine at Houseways, Inc." Audibon told his secretary. +She closed the door behind her. He went to the bar and had a shot. Then +he opened his wallet and took out the slip of paper Macro had thrown +into his waste basket. The phone buzzed. + +"Gabby? Roy. I want to see you tonight. It's important. No, I can't +tell you on the phone. I said it was important. Yes. When? All right, +I'll pick you up." + +He dropped the phone, went to the bar and had another shot. Then he +wandered to the water color and examined the picture while his fingers +mechanically smoothed Macro's slip of paper. Suddenly the dazzling +smile reappeared on his lips. + +"Never," he said. "Never." + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + +Audibon took Gabby's hand and pressed it gallantly. Then he led her +across the sidewalk to the waiting cab. He helped her in, followed, and +gave the network address to the driver. + +"I'm sorry," he explained. "My baby's in rehearsal tonight. 'Operation +Universe.' I've got to look into the studio. You don't mind?" + +Gabby was examining his bruised face with concern. "That happened last +night, Roy?" + +"Yes." + +"That's awful.... Awful." + +"You ought to see my ribs," he laughed. "I'll let you autograph them." + +"You mean you're in a cast." + +"No, just tape." + +"Let me see." + +"Sightseeing on odd Mondays only." + +"Let me see, Roy," Gabby repeated firmly. She reached out, unbuttoned +Audibon's shirt and opened it. His entire left side was bound with +white adhesive tape from spine to chest. She was so shocked and upset +that Audibon's hopes began to kindle. He let her rebutton the shirt and +adjust his tie. + +"Artistic, isn't it?" he said. "They're poets of the intercostals up at +Gracie Hospital." + +"I want to pay," Gabby said. + +"Pay? What?" + +"The hospital bill." + +"Why?" + +"It was partly my fault. Maybe it was all my fault." + +"No," Audibon said. "Not your fault. Never." + +"I think I should make it up to you somehow." + +"Do you?" Audibon's hopes rose even higher. "We'll discuss it." + +The cab dropped them at the network and they took the elevator up to +the big studio. It was an enormous room, half the size of an armory, +blazing with flesh-colored lights hanging in thick clusters fifty +feet overhead. On the studio floor were set up a country schoolroom +with a blackboard on which the solar system was chalked, a miniature +space-station, the interior of a rocket ship, half an observatory +including a six-inch telescope, half a laboratory with an electronic +microscope. The telescope and microscope were practical. + +Before a fifty-foot moonscape cyclorama, a symphony orchestra was +rehearsing "The Music Of The Spheres" from Gustave Holst's "The +Planets." Alongside the orchestra, a technician was sprinkling glitter +on the show title HOW TO KNOW THE UNIVERSE. There were six cameras on +the floor. Six hundred yards of cable coiled around the sets. + +The door from the dressing rooms opened and Galileo entered the studio. +He was followed by Albert Einstein in violent dispute with Jules Verne. +They were joined by Sir Isaac Newton and a striking red-headed girl who +looked incongruous in a Victorian dress and pince nez. Six children +from the Professional Children's School clustered around a piano on +which a man in a spacesuit and fishbowl helmet played softly. + +"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" a voice blasted on a loud-speaker. There were +muffled commands from the control talk-back and the voice tried it +again with different inflections: "THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" + +Audibon rejoined Gabby after a lightning tour of the studio and took +her to a dark corner behind stacked flats, inhabited by a soda fountain +and a potbellied stove. It was illuminated by the twelve-inch screen +of a small monitor which cut dizzily from camera to camera, picking +up a fag director, a fag assistant, a fag floor-manager, a fag camera +director, a fag makeup artist, and finally following the red-headed +girl's interesting bottom as she strolled around the studio. + +"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE, EXPANDING WITH THE SPEED OF LIGHT INTO NEW +INFINITIES!" + +"Hello, pet," Audibon said softly. + +"Hello, Roy." + +"I'm sorry about last night too." + +"I'm glad you're sorry. I hope it's for the right reasons." + +"I'm sorry I wasn't with you." + +"That's not the right reason." Gabby lifted a finger to lecture. +Audibon caught it and held it. + +"You're a schoolmarm, pet," he said, motioning to the monitor which now +showed the schoolroom. "You belong on that set." He kissed the finger +gallantly. Gabby reclaimed it. + +"I was looking at that water color you did out at Fire Island. You know +I've got it hung in my shop?" + +"I wish you didn't," Gabby said slowly. "It isn't a happy picture." + +"We were happy when you painted it." + +"No. Not inside, Roy. That's why it turned out so badly." She looked +away. + +"It's a happy picture. We were happy." Audibon smiled. "Do you +remember ... I had an idea for a show? Following the summer around the +world. I didn't want that summer to end. I wanted it to go on and +on ... with you getting darker and darker, and that old shirt of mine +you wore getting tattier and bleached.... What made us imagine it +ended?" + +"You're frightening me, Roy." + +"Why, pet?" + +"I'm afraid to say." + +"Maybe you're afraid to remember. No. Listen to me. Looking at that +water color and remembering how you looked high up on that dune, I +did a take. The summer never ended. There's been a little winter-type +weather, but it's only a station break. I don't think our summer will +ever end." + +"What do you want, Roy?" Gabby asked quietly. + +"I'm propositioning you," Audibon smiled. He took her arms and pulled +her close. "I'm asking you to make a dishonest woman of yourself +and have a fling with me. It's summer in North Africa. I'm spending +February in Egypt. Fly over with me, pet. Let's spend the month +together. I'll bring an old shirt. You bring your brushes. We'll live +in sin and improve our minds." + +"And afterwards?" + +"Why worry about afterwards? Maybe it'll be cold weather when we get +back; on the other hand, maybe not. Let's enjoy our summer again and +see how long it lasts this time." + +Gabby came around a corner abruptly. "What does this have to do with +last night, Roy?" + +"Last night?" Audibon was taken aback. "What do you mean?" + +"This is the first time you've been romantic since we separated. +Something special must have happened." Gabby examined him candidly. "It +was last night, wasn't it?" + +"No, pet." + +"I was with Jordan Lennox and he hit you." + +Audibon's fists clenched. He recovered himself and abandoned the +tenderness. "All right," he said crisply. "If you insist on being +cerebral ... I'm worried about you. I hate the idea of you free-lancing +around from job to job, never knowing where the next check is coming +from. I want to offer a contract." + +Gabby looked at him steadily. + +"I want to offer security and success. Not materialistically, but +Rennaissancewise. Don't waste time and talent on subsistence-type jobs +to keep bread in the house. Do the creative work you're equipped to +do ... and you know how stratospheric my opinion of your talent is. It +needs an oxygen mask." + +"Thank you, Roy." + +"Stop slumming, pet. Come back to me. You and I are top-level talent. +You've got to work where the work counts. Architectural design? The +network's dreaming up a new office building in Cuba. Take a dive at it +from the twenty-foot board. Stage design? Come into our set department +and rub up our imagination." + +"You're very kind, Roy." + +"Not kind. Practical. New talent is our priority headache. We know +it's around, but we can't tap it. The slobs outside the network think +there's a cabal to keep new talent out. There isn't. We just can't mock +up an efficient screening operation to locate it. But once we bark our +shins on new talent, we burn incense and work overtime building it up. +Let me build you up, pet. Don't waste yourself on the outside." + +"This is quite a change," Gabby murmured. "When last heard from, the +picture you painted of me was a Gibson girl in mink doing public +relations for you." + +"I've graduated since last year," Audibon smiled. "I took a +post-graduate in Women's Rights. I'll even go along with your +politics.... And think for a minute how much more you can do as the +wife of the network veep." + +"You really are a wonderful salesman," Gabby said with admiration. She +came around a corner again. "Why are you so angry with me, Roy?" + +"Me? Angry?" + +She nodded and blurted out the truth. "You're furious. That's why I'm +frightened. I.... It's a secret I don't have to keep any more. You only +called me 'pet' when you hated me. You're hating me now." + +"No." + +"You are." Gabby faced him squarely. "Don't you think I remember all +your tricks? You smile. You flatter. You call me pet.... And then you +pounce. I want to know why. Why are you hunting me now?" + +"I'm asking you to come back to me," Audibon said in a fury. + +"Why?" + +"To save your neck." Audibon whipped out his wallet, opened it and +removed Macro's slip of paper. "This was left in my office by a man +named Macro. Do you know him?" + +"I know all about John Macro." She looked at the slip of paper, holding +it up to the greenish light of the monitor. "So he's got around to me +at last. Did you send him?" + +"No. I talked him out of it. That's why he left this slip. I saved you, +pet. I told Macro you were my wife and he dropped you. I'd like to keep +on saving you ... as long as you're my wife." + +"So you are hunting me." + +"Listen!" Audibon grabbed her wrist and wrenched her toward him. "Macro +can hound you out of work. I can run you off The Rock. How would you +like that? Network veep sues for divorce. Communism and adultery. +Think how the papers would play it up. Gabby Valentine, the party +girl, recruiting new members in her bed. The latest volunteer ... +script-writer Jordan Lennox. Oh yes, I know all about your roll in the +hay with Lennox. We had a long talk about what a lovely piece you are." + +"Roy!" + +"Do you know what you've done to me?" He thrust her violently against +the monitor and trapped her with his body. "Do you know why I was up at +the Midnight Sun last night? Why I'm up there every week? I'm looking +for substitutes. I'm tying to find a replacement for you. I've tried +all kinds. They don't work. Nothing works." + +Gabby caught her breath. + +"You know that's always been my problem. Even when we were living +together, I--You said you'd take nothing from me when you walked +out, but you took my last chance. You took the one thing a man can't +lose. Why shouldn't I hate you? Do you understand? Do I have to spell +impotence for you?" + +"No," Gabby whispered. + +"I'm fighting for my self-respect. You're the only woman who can give +it to me. For God's sake, come back!" + +"But why me? Why only me?" + +"I wish to God they could tell me. Maybe they will some day, but I'm +desperate now. I'm begging. The nights I've thought of cutting my +throat.... You've got to come back. On your terms. On any terms. You +can't lose. I've put the whip in your hand." + +"No, Roy. No." + +"Some of those bitches I tried are talking," Audibon went on savagely. +"The word's getting around. You know you can't keep a secret on The +Rock. You've got to come back. The talk's got to stop. It's the one +thing no man can stand. You can lose an arm or a leg and they're sorry +for you ... but when you lose that, they laugh." + +"Please, Roy...." Gabby tried to escape the trap. Audibon held her. + +"I'm being honest now, pet. No romantic pitch from me. I'm not asking +for old-fashioned marriage and virtue and chastity. Understand? I said +on your own terms. You'll be free. Completely ... so long as you're +discreet." Audibon's face twisted. "I'll give everything. All I want is +you in my house." + +"So I'm back to public relations again." + +"And you in my bed ... once in a while, to give me a fighting chance. +Just once in a while. Take time out from whoever it is and give me a +break. For God's sake, is that unreasonable?" + +"No. It's generous and horrible." Gabby stopped struggling and looked +at him with disgust. "If you don't let me go, I'm going to scream." + +He flung her from him. She stumbled against the soda fountain and one +of the stools toppled with a crash. + +"So help me God," Audibon said, "I'll ruin you. I'll tear you +apart ... you and Lennox. I'll run you off The Rock. I'll run you out +of the country. You'll lay for him in a two-bit flea-bag remembering +this. Now get out!" + +He turned, stalked around the monitor and walked back onto the sets, +the dazzling smile corroding his face. Gabby began to cry. She opened +her purse, groping blindly in it for a handkerchief, scattering the +contents of her purse over the soda fountain and the floor. + +"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" the voice roared suddenly. "AN INVITATION +TO EVERYMAN TO ABANDON SELFISH THOUGHT AND JOIN THE GREAT GALAXY ... +CONCEIVED AND PRODUCED BY LEROY W. AUDIBON!" + +When Gabby regained control of herself, she gathered her possessions +and returned them to her purse. The last thing she picked up was +Macro's slip of paper. She examined it again, then followed Audibon out +onto the sets. She walked with her lazy carriage, shoulders square, +arms relaxed, followed by wolf-whistles from the technicians. Audibon +was in the schoolroom, one foot on a bench, lashing the director and +assistants with his smile and his words. Gabby went to him, apologized +for interrupting and handed him the slip of paper. + +"You forgot this, Roy," she said quietly. + +"Oh? Will I need it?" + +"Of course. That's why I returned it." She held out her hand. "Goodbye, +Roy." + +He ignored her hand and turned away. Gabby smiled and left the studio. +Downstairs, she went to a telephone booth and called Jake's apartment. +Cooper answered the phone and sounded cold when Gabby asked for Lennox. + +"He's not home, Gabby." + +"Do you expect him? I'd like to leave a message." + +"No, I'm not expecting him, I'm happy to say." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I'd rather not discuss Jake with you, if you don't mind." + +"You still don't like me, Sam." + +"What's your message, please?" + +"Tell him I can't see him tonight." + +"I can't guarantee he'll get it." + +"Oh," Gabby said. "That's bad. I don't want to stand him up without +warning." + +"Why don't you try the theater? They'll still be rehearsing. He may be +there." + +Gabby called the Venice Theater. The stage doorman was the deaf, quaint +type ... wonderful for anecdote, impossible for messages. After two +minutes of patient shouting, Gabby got Tooky Ween on the phone. + +"Tooky Ween speaking," he rumbled. "Make it fast. We got headaches." + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Ween. That man made a mistake. I want Jordan Lennox." + +"Lennox!" Ween roared. "That lousy, chiseling son of a--He wouldn't +have the crust to show his crust here. If he did he'd be dead and +couldn't answer the phone anyway." + +Ween hung up. Gabby considered, then called the Grabinett office. It +was after hours and only the line to Grabinett's desk was open. Blinky +took the call himself. + +"Is Jordan Lennox there?" Gabby asked. + +"No," Grabinett snarled. "I only wish he was. I'd kill him with my +naked hand. I'd kill him dead and do a repeat for the west coast, +that--" Grabinett caught himself. "Excuse me. Are you a relative?" + +"No," Gabby said. "I wanted to leave a message." + +"Not here!" Grabinett shouted. "Not with this office. I wouldn't do +that Almighty vandal a favor if I was to get paid for it." + +Blinky hung up. Gabby made one last try and called me. When I answered +the phone, Ned Bacon was in our living room, murdering our Bourbon and +Lennox. Gabby could hear him cutting Jake to pieces while she gave me +the message. I wanted to ask her up. I'd seen enough of her at the Rox +Record party to be interested, and I had about twenty-seven questions +to ask her, but there was no way of getting Bacon out of the house +and we couldn't have the two of them there together. So I promised to +deliver the message, if possible, and let her hang up. + +That was about seven o'clock. She wandered east to the 59th Street +Bridge, cutting through some of the toughest sidestreets on The Rock. +She went through those streets unmolested. Gabby had a miraculous +quality of escaping the common dangers that make every woman think +twice. Perhaps it was because she never thought of them once. Perhaps +it was her candid, virginal manner that forced the world to give her +extra special treatment ... the way men are reluctant to swear before +a child, unwilling to be the first to teach it what they know it must +inevitably learn. + +She went to a gloomy candle-lit restaurant under the bridge. It had +_avant-garde_ murals on the walls, Puccini records on a phonograph, +and hectographed menus. Half the waiters were enrolled with the Art +Students League and were friends of Gabby's. Half the patrons knew her +too. Nevertheless, she sat alone, consumed half a plate of pasta and +half a bottle of California wine. She began to cry again, and had to +snuff out the candle on her table. She was so upset that she wandered +out of the restaurant without paying. No one made a fuss. They tucked +her check in the cash register for another day. + +It was half past nine when she got home. She took the elevator up, +trembling, aching, yearning for a hot bath and ten hours of sleep. As +she stepped out of the elevator and glanced down the corridor, she +stopped short. A man was squatting on the mat before her apartment door +with crossed ankles, knees high, forearms draped on his knees. It was +Lennox. He arose as she approached. + +"Didn't you get my message?" + +He nodded. "From Sam." + +"Please go away, Jordan. I can't see you now." + +"I've got to see you, Gabby." + +She was so weak she dropped her key. Lennox picked it up, unlocked the +door and opened it for her. He followed her into the apartment, shut +the door and switched on the lights with a practiced hand. Then he +pulled up the giant shade that covered the studio window. Gabby sank +down on a low, quilted bench before the cold fireplace and said nothing. + +"I wasn't parked here because I was jealous," Lennox said anxiously. +"Please don't think that. I mean ... I am jealous, yes; but I trust +you." + +Gabby didn't look at him. + +"I've loused myself beautifully today. I've been tramping around the +Village waiting to see you." + +"I can't talk, Jordan." + +"Could you listen a little?" He smiled appealingly. "Comes a time in +every man's life when he knows he's done bad things and feels guilty. +That's when he needs a friend to reassure him. Everybody has to have +somebody who believes he's never wrong." + +She shook her head. "I haven't got the strength." + +"Then could I just be near you a little? Maybe we can help each other +without words." + +"No," she said. "Please go." + +"What's the matter, darling? You're in trouble too." + +"I can't talk about it now." + +"Something's happened?" + +"Yes. You loused me beautifully, too." + +"I did?" + +She nodded. + +"How?" + +"With Roy." + +Lennox went cold. He waited for her to continue. + +"Roy delivered an ultimatum. Either I go back to him, or--" + +"That Communist routine?" + +"And adultery." + +"What!" + +"Adultery," Gabby repeated. "You let something slip this afternoon.... +Or did you boast?" + +"This afternoon! I--Oh my God!" Lennox sat down heavily. + +"Don't sit down, Jordan. Please go." + +"Sit down? I'm groveling. I'm on my knees. How in Christ's name could I +have...." + +"Be quiet. Just go." + +"We've got to discuss it. We can't let him pull off a filthy trick like +that. We've got to fight him." + +"No!" Gabby wailed. "No! No more fighting. I can't stand it any more. I +feel filthy. You're like starving dogs, all snarling and fighting and +eating each other. I won't be a part of it any more." + +"You're just scared, darling. Don't...." + +"You can't drag me into it again. Never again. Go away, Jordan. Go +away. Don't come back." + +"Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You don't just mean tonight? You mean +for good?" + +"Yes. I do." + +"What the hell's got into you?" he demanded roughly. + +"And now you're fighting with me again." Gabby pounded her fists on +her knees in desperation. "Get away from me. Leave me in peace, for +pity's sake!" + +"That's a hell of a way to talk. Hello. Goodbye. I thought we were in +love." + +"No," she said bitterly. "It was a roll in the hay with a stranger." + +"For God's sake, Gabby...." + +"That's what you're turning it into. You're not the man I met. You're +somebody else. I'm really meeting you for the first time, and I'm +ashamed. I ... If you love me ... whatever your idea of love is ... for +pity's sake go away!" + +"My idea of love isn't running away," he answered. He put his hand on +her shoulder. "It's sticking together right down the line and fighting +it out together." + +"Please don't touch me," Gabby said, shrugging her shoulder out of his +grasp. "And stop using that horrible childish word over and over again. +Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. That's all you know." + +"What else is there?" Lennox glared at her. "Will you grow up! Somebody +mentions fight and you start screaming. Do you know what you're +screaming about? Have you ever been in a scrap?" + +"Don't argue like a child." + +"I'm asking a question. I want an answer. Have you ever been in a +fight?" + +"No." + +"I thought not. You're so damned pretty and so damned sweet-tempered +you've never had to fight for anything. Life's handed you everything in +your lap." + +"I haven't had everything." + +"Only because you haven't wanted everything. Sweet God, why don't you +find out what it's all about before you pass sentence on slobs like +me who've had to fight every inch of the way." Lennox pounded a fist +into his palm. "You're blind. You've had it too easy. A writer-type +guy once made up a circle. Life is Character, he said. Character is +Conflict. Conflict is Life. That's the vicious circle we're all trapped +in. You too." + +"No! I won't be trapped in the dirt." + +"Yes, you too! And it isn't dirt. You're like the prudes who think sex +is dirty. What the hell are you afraid of? Try a fight. Maybe you'll +get to like it. Maybe you'll get to grow up a little and come out of +your dream world." + +"You're impossible!" she cried. "You're hateful!" + +"You make a big pitch for peace," he growled, his face darkening. "You +talk it up about feeling filthy because the dogs are fighting; but +that's just cover-up, girl. That isn't the truth of what's in you." + +"No?" Gabby answered steadily. "What is?" + +"Jealousy. Envy." + +"Of what?" + +"What every man has and no woman has. You love to castrate us. That's +the one burning drive in you with your career and women's rights and +politics. You can't forgive us for that. You try to cut every man down +to your size, your sex, your weakness. I don't know what you did to +Audibon with your knife, but you're not doing it to me!" + +She turned white. "You're horrible," she whispered. "You're worse than +Roy. Worse! I don't want to see you again ... ever! Go away. Don't come +back ... ever!" + +"So you can go back to Audibon?" + +"Is that what you think I'll do?" + +"What else can I think if you won't fight and won't let me fight? How +else am I supposed to take this?" + +She leaped up, ran to the front door and opened it. She held it open, +her dark eyes flashing furiously at Lennox. He picked up his burberry +and went to the door. There he hesitated. + +"Listen," he began. "We can't do this. We've got to help each oth--" + +"Go away!" she cried. "Go away and fight. Find your Aimee Driscoll and +beat her up again. Or would you rather stay and beat me? That would +make you feel manly, wouldn't it? Then I could go to Aimee and show her +my bruises. Would you enjoy that ... you big, virile beast?" + +"Go to hell, you God damned bitch!" he shouted and blundered out into +the hall. Gabby slammed the door and locked it. She began to sob and +gag painfully. She ran to the bathroom and was violently ill. One +thought persisted through the sobbing and the sickness, Lennox had +destroyed everything and finished with her ruin. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + +By five o'clock Saturday morning, Lennox had walked himself to +exhaustion. He slipped into the apartment in 33 Knickerbocker Square +and went to bed. At nine o'clock he was shot out of bed as by a cannon. +He dressed, went downstairs, picked up his mail and left the house. Two +envelopes were from the Grabinett office. They contained his script fee +and his royalty for the "Who He?" show of December 18th, a total of +seven hundred and fifty dollars. + +The banks were closed on Saturday. Lennox went to a bookie he knew +on 14th Street who also operated a check cashing office. There, he +converted his checks into fifties and twenties. + +"Getting set for a big New Year's Eve, hey?" the bookie laughed. + +"No," Lennox told him. "I'm going to be murdered tomorrow." + +He stepped into the nearest saloon and had two brandy Alexanders. + +"Startin' early, hey?" the bartender laughed. + +"No," Lennox said. "I'm having my last fling. I'm going to be murdered +tomorrow." + +On the way uptown he had a couple of more Alexanders and then breakfast +at Androuet's on Persian melon, coffee, and Croque Monsieur Roquefort, +which is a blend of Roquefort, Brie and cream, broiled on Virginia ham. +It is usually taken with wine. Lennox finished a bottle of Muscadet +and ordered another pot of coffee and a telephone. When the phone was +plugged in at his table, he called the East River Airport and chartered +a plane. + +"You are celebrating the New Year en l'air, M'sieur Lennox?" his waiter +inquired in astonishment. + +"No," Lennox answered. "I'm taking a last trip home." + +It was cold and still on the East River. A heavy grey ceiling hung low +in the sky. As Lennox climbed from the dock to the pontoon of the tiny +Cub and then into the cabin, the pilot looked dubious. + +"There's fog coming in at Montauk," he said. "I hope we can beat it." + +He swung the Cub out into the river and taxied frantically toward the +59th Street bridge. Lennox wondered whether they were going under or +over the bridge when suddenly the buffeting of the chop ceased and they +shuddered their way sky-ward. Instantly The Rock was transformed into a +make-believe city ... a toy on a table. + +They flew east over Long Island City and Jamaica and then northeast +from Freeport up Great South Bay, past Amityville and Babylon to the +Bay Shore Harbor where the Cub landed in Great Cove and taxied in. + +"I won't be an hour," Lennox told the pilot. + +He went to a white clapboard fish-house on the dock, phoned for a cab +and waited in the bar. There was an enormous coal fire glowing in the +fireplace grate and an enormous jolly proprietor glowing behind the +bar. He looked like a benevolent wrestler. + +"If you were drinking your last bottle on earth," Lennox asked him, +"what would it be?" + +"Irish," the wrestler answered promptly. + +Lennox sampled the Irish until the taxi honked its horn outside the +fish-house. He got into the car and they drove through Bay Shore to +Islip and then down a bleak road to the Champlin Marshes. + +"There's nothing down to the end of this road," the cab driver said, +"It's a dead-end." + +"So am I," Lennox grunted. + +The road ended in a small circle of pits and ruts. Around it was half a +mile of dry brown marsh reeds rustling listlessly in the light breeze. +Beyond the marsh was the steel grey of Great South Bay. A rotting +boardwalk led from the circle to a large shack built at the edge of a +narrow creek that wound out through the marsh to the bay. The house +was weathered silver, the windows had long since been burst in, the +shutters had been blown away. + +Lennox got out of the cab and walked down the boardwalk to the shack. +When he reached the door, his hand automatically lifted high to grasp +the doorknob. His lips twisted at this memory of the childhood flesh. +He lowered his hand, pushed the door open and entered. For a paralyzing +moment he thought his dead father was standing inside the house. Then +he looked closer and saw that it was a stranger, a tall, thin man with +white hair, fussing with a camera on a tripod. + +"God has answered my prayers!" the photographer exclaimed. "Can I +trouble you for just a moment, sir? Look here...." He pointed. The +seaward wall of the house had collapsed. The marsh, the sea and the sky +were framed in broken, silvery timber ends. + +"A perfect L composition. Verticals on the left; horizontals below. The +eye is led in to the middle distance from any corner. Quintessential +desolation. But there's a fundamental weakness on the right. You see +it?" The photographer darted to a heavy square stud and rapped it +sharply at the precise spot where Jake's slicker used to hang. "This +must be broken. What I need is a shoulder. Someone outside, leaning +against this post, staring out to sea. We don't see him, of course. +Just the part of the back and the shoulder carrying the eye back to the +center. You don't mind?" + +The photographer led Lennox to the stud, positioned him, and rushed +back to the camera, chuckling and twittering. Lennox stood there, +staring at the marsh, the creek, the remnants of the dock where his +father's clam boat had been moored. He was filled with hatred and shame. + +"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much," the photographer called. "If you +only knew how many weeks I've been waiting for this light. And then to +have you come along just in time.... What brought you, h'mm? Are you an +angel or a photographer?" + +"I was born and raised here," Lennox answered. "As a matter of fact, I +think I own this place." + +"My dear sir! Am I trespassing?" + +"Yes," Lennox said. "We both are." + +He returned to the cab and drove back to the Bay Shore docks. There he +sampled the Irish again until the pilot hurried him into the plane. He +had been phoning up and down Long Island and the fog was closing in +rapidly. By twelve-thirty when they were over The Rock again, it had +covered the river. + +"We can't get in here," the pilot muttered. + +"What do we do? Head for Spain?" + +"I'll settle for the Coney Island station," the pilot said. "How about +it?" + +"Why not?" Lennox said. Suddenly he began to laugh. "Do you know, I've +never been to Coney Island in all my life? Why not now?" + +"It's dead now." + +"I'll be dead tomorrow. Why not catch up on everything I've missed? +What the hell am I so damned gloomy for? I'm going to enjoy." + +The Cub circled and soared over the Upper Bay and sneaked down through +breaks in the heavy nacreous blanket. There was no chop on the water +off Coney Island, but there was a swinging groundswell as they taxied +in to the small station. It made the brandy and Irish fume pleasantly +inside Lennox. + +He paid off the pilot, parted from him genially, found a saloon, and +requested to be served with "Dog's Nose," a drink he recollected from +Dickens. He was now in the first, or literary stage of drunkenness. +The bartender consulted his blue book and regretfully reported that +no such drink was listed. Lennox settled for a pair of Boilermakers +and wandered out to the desolate amusement park, empty, canvassed and +boarded up. + +Lennox beamed. He took out his gimmick book and silver pencil, turned +to a clean page and wrote: "Blessed be the man who sells joy. He is +humanity's benefactor." He tore the page out, folded it and slipped it +under the shutter of a dormant shooting gallery. He strolled to the +ticket office of the roller coaster, wrote: "Better to be happy than +wise," and tucked it under the window. + +To the Half Man Half Woman booth he donated "Pleasure is virtue's gayer +name." To the 25 CANNIBAL BEAUTIES 25 he contributed "Life is not life +at all without delight." And for the Giant Swing he wrote: "Pleasure +is the sovereign bliss of humankind." As he was tucking this fond +salutation under the door of the box-office, a thought struck him. He +opened the slip, considerately wrote "Alexander Pope 1688-1744" under +the quotation and replaced the message. + +He left the amusement park, bought a pack of cigarettes and hailed a +cab. He told the driver to take him back to The Rock, and as they sped +along the Belt Parkway, he opened the pack and lit up. + +"Look at me smoking. I'm intox'ated," he told himself, and laughed +immoderately, thinking of the dear Shroff. + +The fog slowed the traffic and there was a slight jam as they +approached the tunnel to Manhattan Island. The car behind them lost its +temper and began an exasperating horn honking. + +"That's rude," Lennox muttered. He called: "Stop, driver!" + +The cab stopped its forward crawl, Lennox got out, went to the car +behind them, bowed politely, opened the engine hood and pulled the +wires off the horn. He marched back to the cab, got in, and with a +grand air ordered: "Drive on, coachman. Drive on!" + +At Sabatini's he had three very dry Gibsons and entered the dining room +where he ordered oysters, turtle soup, Shrimps Livornese, marinated +asparagus, escarole and coffee. The dining room was half empty; very +few of the people in the business are around on Saturdays, and fewer +still on the afternoon before New Year's Eve. Lennox consumed his +oysters and soup and allowed his gaze to relax on a couple at the next +table. He didn't know the man, but the young lady was familiar. + +She was a blonde, with enormous blue eyes and an exquisite pouting +mouth. She wore a black siren-type dress that exposed her neck, +shoulders and altogether too much cleavage. + +"That's a Theda Bara dress," Lennox muttered in annoyance. "No ingénue +ought to be wearing it." + +What annoyed him even more was the fact that the ingénue was behaving +like a road-company Theda Bara. She pouted, she hooded her eyes, she +undulated her shoulders and heaved her poitrine like the High Priestess +of the Python. + +"Now where have I seen that corn-ball playing that routine before?" +Lennox asked himself. Suddenly he remembered. An ingénue in a velvet +gown trimmed with miniver, batting her eyes at Oliver Stacy over a +champagne glass. He began to laugh. The girl looked up, caught his +eye, and gave him a slinky undulation. Lennox arose and bowed. Then +he reached into his water glass, took out a lump of ice and dropped it +into her cleavage. + +He didn't have to pick himself up off the sidewalk, but there was no +doubt he'd been thrown out of Sabatini's. + +"Live dangerously," he chuckled and was afflicted with thirst. He +quenched it with a bottle of stout at the saloon in the network +building and then wandered upstairs to visit the studios. + +He poked his head into rehearsals and waved affectionately to friends +and strangers. The last studio down the corridor was on the air with +some kind of radio mystery. Lennox tip-toed in, waved, and placed +himself alongside the sound table where the soundman stood with a gun +poised in his hand while a couple of gangster-type actors snarled at +each other on mike. Lennox watched the script over the soundman's +shoulder, and as the gunshot cue came up, on sudden impulse he snatched +the gun out of the soundman's hand. + +The director behind the glass waved frantically. The actors shook their +scripts at him. The soundman struggled to get hold of the gun. + +"Bang!" Lennox shouted. He beamed, put the gun down quietly and +tip-toed out. + +"My girl doesn't approve of violence. Guns and such," he confided to +the bartender in the Greek's. + +"The peaceful teep, huh, Jake?" + +"A veritable dove of peace." He considered. "Chris.... What's the +difference between doves and pigeons?" + +"There ain't no difference, Jake." + +"There has to be. Otherwise wouldn't have two different names," Lennox +said. "That's relentless logic." + +"No," Chris said. "I keep 'em. I ought to know. Doves is white pigeons. +You sure you want all this garbage in your old fashioned, Jake?" + +Lennox nodded. "My system needs ascorbic acid. Where could I buy some +doves, Chris?" + +"Down to the poultry market. Just ask for white pigeons," Chris added +stubbornly. + +Lennox took a cab down to the poultry market which adjoined the +Chambers Street Food Market. In the former he purchased twelve doves +(white pigeons). In the latter he consumed six banana fritters and a +quart of a dangerous brew called Still Ale. The doves in their cage +refused the fritters and the ale, but they partook of breadcrumbs with +joy. + +He carried them up to Greenwich Village, found Gabby's apartment house +and rang the downstairs bell. There was no answer. He located the +superintendent, bribed him, and was escorted up to Gabby's apartment by +that careful man to leave the cage within. Lennox was not permitted to +enter more than three steps where he was directed to put the cage down. +He did so, but opened the door. He was gratified to see the studio +living room fill with doves. + +"Make her happy," he chuckled. "Make em all happy, huh? How?" + +He thought it over in a basement bar where he drank Moscow Mules not, +he explained to the bartender, because he was sympathetic to the Soviet +cause, but because he admired the copper mugs. How to spread joy? Three +Mules led him to the light. + +He went back to Sixth Avenue and entered the premises of a sign +painter. To him he entrusted four sheets of notebook paper on which he +had printed carefully. + +"Want four signs in an hour," Lennox beamed. "Make 'em six feet by +three feet in black and red. Just do 'em freehand. Yes? Rush job for +very special friend of mine. Back in one hour." + +He crossed Sixth Avenue to a large photographer's supply store and +bought one hundred flash bulbs which were packed in a large carton for +him. He took a cab up to Mason's apartment house. He phoned from the +corner. Irma answered. + +"Irma," Lennox said urgently. "Mig wants you down at the theater right +away. He wants everybody. Hurry up!" + +He waited. Ten minutes later Irma, her brother and his wife emerged +from the building and hurried off. This was not the first time they had +been summoned to attend Mig, but it was the first time that Mig hadn't +done the summoning. + +"Chances are he'll be grateful I remembered for him," Lennox murmured. +"That is, if he remembers he didn't call 'em himself." + +He went up to the Mason apartment and entered. There was no one there. +Carrying the carton with him, Lennox kindly removed all the light bulbs +and jammed a flash bulb into every socket in the apartment. + +"Oh, it'll be a sunny New Year for Mig all right all right," Lennox +laughed. He returned to Sixth Avenue, poked his head into the sign +painter's to urge him on, then went to a large hardware store where he +purchased one hundred pounds of moth balls. + +"What the hell do you want with so much?" the hardware man asked in +amazement. + +"Not for me," Lennox explained patiently. "For a friend who's all the +time worrying about his property. Can't protect it enough. I'm afraid +he's forgot about moths." + +"Crazy! Where you want this shipped?" + +"Want to take it myself. Can I hire your assistant? Pay five dollars +for five minutes." + +"I guess so. Alfred!" + +Alfred shambled out of the back of the store and helped Lennox carry +the mothballs to the building where Tooky Ween had his office. They +went up on the freight elevator but were dismayed to discover that +Ween's office was closed for the day and locked. + +"What we gone do now?" Alfred asked. + +"Never admit defeat," Lennox said. "Go back to freight elevator. Was a +big piece cardboard there. Bring it." + +Alfred brought the sheet of corrugated board. Lennox twisted it into a +funnel and inserted the narrow end into the mail slot in Ween's office +door. + +"Now open the boxes," Lennox beamed. + +Carefully and kindly, they funneled one hundred pounds of mothballs +into Ween's office. + +"Won't have to worry about his property again," Lennox said. + +He accompanied Alfred back to the hardware store where he purchased +a stapling gun. Then he paid for his four signs, rolled them up and +carried them to Grabinett's office. He nodded to the receptionist, +breezed past her and entered the twisting halls of the rat-nest. There +was no traffic. Lennox stopped, measured with his eye, and stapled the +first six by three sign to the wall. In garish red and black letters it +read: + + 40 FEET 40 + TO THE OFFICE OF + _MELVIN GRABINETT_ + The Man + of + V*i*s*i*o*n*! + +Lennox went ten feet down the hall and stapled the next sign to the +wall: + + ONLY 30 FEET MORE + TO THE OFFICE OF + _MELVIN GRABINETT_ + The Showman's + S*h*o*w*m*a*n + +At the corner of the hall he stapled: + + NEXT RIGHT TURN + TO THE OFFICE OF + + M G + E R + L A + V B + I I + N N + E + T + T + +Alongside Grabinett's door he affixed the last sign: + + O*F*F*I*C*E + O*F + MELVIN (BLINKY) GRABINETT + +"Secret acts of kindness performed by stealth," Lennox murmured and +returned to the hardware store. "I need Alfred again," he said. + +"What! More mothballs?" + +"No. Got a hungry friend needs taking care of. Give me Alfred." + +"He ain't gonna eat me, is he?" Alfred inquired. + +Lennox beamed, patted Alfred and gave him another five dollars. He also +gave him the stapling gun, warning him that it was loaded. Then he +took him to a grocers and bought every package of Jello in the store. +They were packed into a carton which Alfred carried behind Lennox who +conducted him to the network building and up to the twentieth floor. It +was empty. They went into Audibon's office and put the carton down. + +"They sure let you in easy," Alfred said. + +Lennox nodded complacently and opened the door to Audibon's private +bath. He ran the hot water in the wash basin until it came out +scalding. + +"What flavor would my hungry friend like in his toilet, Alfred?" he +asked genially. + +"Strawberry?" Alfred ventured. + +"And strawberry it shall be." + +They plugged Audibon's toilet and filled it with strawberry gelatine. +They filled the floor of his enclosed shower with lime gelatine. "The +only specific for athlete's foot," Lennox insisted. They mixed a +potpourri of gelatine and filled his ink-stands, his Dresden china, the +glasses in the bar, the hollow globe of his ceiling light, and last of +all, the wash basin. + +"I'm not given to boasting, Alfred," Lennox pronounced, reeling +slightly, "but I will venture to predict that my very good friend will +never be hungry again." + +He offered to buy Alfred a malted, but Alfred had a New Year's date and +was anxious to get back to the store to finish work. + +"So have I got a date," Lennox said, and parted wistfully from his +friend. + +He walked home without incident except for a car which stopped for a +traffic light directly in the path of the pedestrians' crossing. Lennox +would have none of that. Refusing to detour around the car, he opened +the rear door, climbed through the back, opened the opposite door and +continued on his way. + +He entered the apartment prepared to greet Cooper with brotherly +affection, but Cooper was not home. Lennox gave the Siamese and the +mink-dyed skunk a holiday meal of canned crabmeat, then bathed, changed +to dinner clothes and demolished the Canadian whiskey in the bar. He +stole a pack of cigarettes from Sam's cache in the storage closet, put +on his burberry and decided to have dinner in The Crystal Key. + +The Crystal Key is a private house in the West Fifties which caters +both to Hipsters and Squares. It has a butler who looks like a magazine +advertisement. It has footmen in knee-breeches, waiters, French +chefs, a wine steward and even a cellar to go with the steward. It +has a resident book-maker. It employs a slightly known chanteuse who +entertains on the second, or dining floor. It provides a dozen young +hostesses who will drink, chat and dance intimately on the third or +supper room floor. It has a fourth and fifth floor for personalized +entertainment. + +Lennox entered with his mind intent on dinner. He permitted an +attendant to take his coat, went into the bar on the street floor, +nodded to the bookie and the neighborhood cop drinking beer in a +corner, and ordered sherry. He began to laugh at himself. He recalled +that no matter what he wanted to drink when he entered The Crystal Key, +he always ended up ordering sherry. He gave the matter some thought, +blamed the knee-breeches, and went upstairs to dine. + +It was fortunate there were no menus. Lennox could not have read a menu +even if there had been enough light. He was served hors-d'oeuvres, +mussel soup, saddle of lamb, pommes soufflés, a still burgundy, salade +fatigué, and something in a covered dish which he was too hazy to +investigate. His faculties were restored by the blinding discovery that +the gentleman seated two table down from him was Mr. Thomas Bleutcher +of Brockton, Mass. The young lady with him was not his daughter. + +"The scoundrel!" Lennox muttered. "The lecherous dog. He richly +deserves a lesson." + +He perceived that there was a brandy inhaler before him with a half +inch of cognac in the bottom. Quite defiantly, he drank the cognac off +without ceremony and devoted himself to the problem of disciplining Mr. +Bleutcher's morals. + +"How to chastise the heart of old Four-Buckle Arctics?" he asked +himself. "Hit him in his carbohydrates? No. Where is his heart? In his +boots. Very funny, Mr. Lennox. Oh, very funny indeed." He shook with +laughter, slid under the table and began crawling on the floor toward +Bleutcher. The maitre d'hotel rushed toward him in dismay. Before he +could speak, Lennox lifted a finger to his lips and gave him an urgent +look. The maitre d'hotel hesitated for a moment in perplexity. Lennox +reached under Bleutcher's table and seized that unsuspecting man's +feet. With a violent yank, he tried to pull Bleutcher's shoes off. + +Bleutcher disappeared under the table as if dropped through a trap +door. The table went over with a crash, and the hostess toppled with +it. Lennox arose triumphantly from the screaming and shouting with one +black kid chiropractic oxford in his hand. He still had it, concealed +under his coat, when he was deposited on the street outside The Crystal +Key one minute later. It was fortunate for Lennox that the policeman +had returned to his beat; otherwise he might have been seriously hurt. + +He weaved downtown, searching for a phone. In the forties he passed a +theater, entered the lobby and politely requested to be directed to a +booth. He was informed that the telephones were inside the theater. He +puzzled this out and with a flash of logic that delighted him, reasoned +that he needed a ticket to make the phone call. There were no tickets +left but he was sold standing room admission. Lennox tip-toed into the +theater, went down to the men's lounge and called The Brompton House. +After some hanky-panky, Olga answered the phone. + +"Your father," Lennox said, "is a rogue." + +"My father," Olga replied, "is a pain in the ass." + +"No longer. You are revenged." Lennox described his triumph. Olga began +to scream with laughter. + +"Does he know it was you?" she asked. + +"Couldn't say. What are you doing up in the hotel?" + +"Having dinner in the suite. I got so fed up with him I played sick. +What are you going to do about it?" + +Lennox hesitated and then thought: "Oh, what the hell!" He said: "I was +thinking of bringing his shoe back." + +"Lovely. Wait for me downstairs in the bar." + +"How long?" + +"I'll be able to sneak out an hour after he gets back." + +"He'll be back any minute.... Unless he's going to hop into New Year. +Bunion and Over." + +"Metatarsal," she said and hung up. + +Lennox shook his head in disgust with himself. Then he brightened and +went upstairs. There was a good broad arm-rest for standees in the back +of the house. He leaned against it and tried to focus on the stage. +Some kind of mood piece was in progress, filled with long, poetic +pauses. Lennox napped comfortably until the applause at the end of the +act woke him up. + +He was thirsty. He had two stingers in the saloon alongside the +theater, one with green mint and one with white to determine whether +his palate had lost its famed sensitivity. + +"I am happy to announce," he announced to the bartender, "that my +palate has lost none of its famed sensitivity." He pointed to the +glasses. "That is Spearmint '34. A very good year. That is Wintergreen +'26. Its pert bouquet is unmistakable to a palate of famed sensitivity." + +Lennox walked east to The Brompton House. New Year's horns were +beginning to blare in the streets with the sound that boys make when +they blow through blades of grass pressed between their thumbs. Lennox +paced massively. He had reached the Gibraltar stage of drunkenness, a +mixture of Johnsonian gravity and pathological lying. + +In the bar of The Brompton House, jammed by the overflow of +respectables from the grill room, he ordered a pitcher of French 75s +and two glasses. Olga was nowhere in sight, but Lennox knew better than +to trust to his sight. He tapped a handsome bald gentleman with leaden +complexion and kindly features who was seated alongside him. + +"Would you be good enough to lend me your stool, sir? Just for a +moment." + +The gentleman got off the stool. Lennox mounted it and teetered on +top, four feet above the crowd. He whistled shrilly with two fingers, +waited for Olga to notice him if she were present, and then climbed +down again. + +"Thank you very much, sir." + +"May I ask why you did that?" the gentleman inquired. He looked exactly +like a Roman Tribune and had a melodious southern drawl. + +"One if by land, two if by sea," Lennox answered significantly. "Our +identification code. You wouldn't expect us to sing the Internationale +for a signal, would you? Not here." + +The leaden-faced gentleman stared. Lennox nodded darkly, +drank a 75 and offered a glass to his companion. "To the +_counter_-counter-revolution," he said. "This year is yours. Next year +is ours." + +"How do you mean?" + +"This country's been living in a dream," Lennox sneered. +"Communists.... Tcha! They're our decoys. We use them for red herrings +to conceal us. The real us. We are the danger." + +"Who are the danger?" the man asked intently. + +"Us. We.... Us." + +"Can you name names?" + +"Can I not? Lennox. Mason and Dixon. Mason and Slidell. Lewis. Clark. +But above all, Lennox. Lennox is the man. He pulls the strings. He +controls the Eastern Cell." + +"Cell!" the gentleman exclaimed. + +"Indeed yes. The movement is beautifully organized ... from here +through Washington, London, Paris, Rome ... straight up to our central +headquarters--" + +A pair of hands blindfolded him. "Guess who," Olga said. + +"Goody Twoshoes," Lennox answered. He removed her hands from his eyes +and continued. "Our headquarters on Mars. We're all Martians. We're +going to--" + +He stopped. The strange gentleman had already removed himself, Lennox +searched dazedly and saw him in a corner, unaccountably scribbling in +a notebook. He shrugged, flexed his right arm to feel for his own +gimmick book, then contemplated Olga. She had, in truth, poured herself +into an evening gown; or better still, someone had painted it on her +body and only given it one coat. Lennox handed her a 75. + +"What's this?" she asked. + +"Paint remover," he said. + +She drank it cautiously, finished it with appreciation and held out her +glass for more. They emptied the pitcher and went over to Beekman Place +to look in on a party thrown by one of Olga's friends. It was in a +square apartment house, in a square apartment, and it turned out to be +a Square party ... the men in one room telling dirty jokes, the women +in another room shrieking with laughter and pulling up their skirts as +they loaded up on martinis. + +"This is from hunger," Lennox muttered to Olga. "Leave us blow." + +"We'd better," she giggled. "It's the wrong apartment." + +So it was. They went downstairs to the right apartment which was +identically square. The party was also identically Square. + +"I liked the first one better," Lennox said. + +They left and went uptown to the West side where Johnny Plummer owned +a house opposite the Museum of Natural History. His party was more +party-line than anything else. They were required to pay five dollars +each as they entered ... in aid of some nebulous cause. No scotch was +served in order to boycott Great Britain. Everyone sat around in tweeds +and dirndls and sang the songs of the People to the accompaniment of an +accordion and a mandolin. Lennox tried to drink up his five dollars in +straight gin, but Olga gave him the out sign within half an hour. + +"My turn now," she said and took him to the East side and a +cosmopolitan-type party conducted in French, Dutch, Italian, Flemish +and Swedish. This one, Lennox loved. He ate lobster stewed in absinthe, +drank aquavit, learned Swedish massage, how to cut diamonds, when to +hear an opera entitled "Teresa's Teats," where Kafka was buried, who +was whose mistress at the party, and the particular sexual foibles +of each of the guests. But Olga was party-hopping and impatient. She +dragged him out. + +"I liked it there," he complained. + +"Too respectable. Where next?" + +They went to Charlie Hansel's place in the Village. It was filled with +ballet dancers; fag boys doing petit point in corners, sway-backed +girls waddling with duck feet like pregnant women. They all talked shop +to each other. They talked to nobody else. + +"Out," said Lennox, yanking open the door and marching into a closet. +Olga rescued him and guided him to fresh air. He was properly grateful +and offered to kiss her in the taxi. She permitted this token of +gratitude and startled him with her lips and tongue. He was relieved +when the cab deposited them at the front door of a red brick converted +stable, now a photographer's studio. + +"Do I know him or do you?" Lennox inquired as he lurched in. He +stared around the giant studio and rubbed his eyes. "Must be getting +bloodshot," he mumbled. + +It was the reddest damned party he had ever seen. Everyone wore fireman +red costumes, from Santa Claus down to a snake-like woman with tangled +black hair who wore fireman red Dr. Dentons with a drop seat. She +turned out to be the hostess. A small man with a guilty face whom +Lennox surprised searching the pockets of the guests' coats was the +host. There was an insidious brew called Fish-House Punch, composed +of sugar, Jamaica rum and peach brandy in an enormous crystal bowl. +Lennox had three glasses and was returning for a fourth when he saw the +hostess unbutton her drop seat and bathe her bottom in the punch bowl. + +"Out!" he said to Olga. + +"It is out," she laughed. + +"I'm r'sponsible for your moral health. _In colo parentis._ Feel +strongly this's no place for you." + +"No. I like it here. It's not too respectable." + +"Oh?" Lennox said. "You want disrespectable party? Come on. Got +jus'place fyou." + +He took her to Kay Hill's apartment. Olga entertained him in the cab, +and when he was able to focus on her he perceived that she was a damned +beautiful girl. They took the elevator up and rang Kay's doorbell. +There was so much noise inside that they had to ring three times. + +The door opened. Kay stood there wearing a fringed green stole and +nothing else. + +"Come on in!" she screamed in honest Canarsie accents. + +She pulled them in, slammed the door, turned to the foyer table on +which a dozen scotch bottles stood, and picked up a black grease +pencil. She wrote JAKE across one white label and handed the bottle to +Lennox. She wrote OLGA on another and handed it to Olga. They both had +swigs. Kay led them down an endless Early American hall, past various +doors, and into a Colonial bedroom. A naked girl was seated at the +dressing table feebly trying to hook on her brassiere. + +"Coats there," Kay said, pointing to a black mound of clothes on the +four-poster bed. She turned and left. + +Lennox reeled and looked at Olga. "Out?" he asked. + +She took off her coat and threw it on the bed. Lennox had no intention +of losing his coat in that grab-bag. He lurched into the bathroom and +carefully hung his burberry in the shower. As an afterthought, he +turned the water on. When he came back to the bedroom, both girls were +gone. + +He had a solid drink from his private bottle and wandered down the +hall, caroming from wall to wall. He peeped into rooms. A seven-man +poker game was in progress in various stages of undress. Three +partially draped girls were decorating an oil painting with their +lipsticks. Two couples in underwear and aprons were cooking something +in the kitchen. Lennox investigated the pot. It contained onions, +potatoes and a cookbook. + +The living room was insane. Some guests were dressed, some were naked, +the rest were any stage between. Everyone carried an individual scotch +bottle. Lennox searched for his charge. He spoke to three different +women before he finally realized he was speaking to Olga. Then he +realized he was having difficulty speaking. He was pleased to see that +she had not undressed. He was relieved to see that her companion also +was dressed. + +"What?" Lennox asked. + +"I said," Oliver Stacy repeated, "You're holding that bottle +upsidedown." + +"Am I? Scout's Honor?" Lennox peered. "It's empty," he said with +delight. He flung the bottle from him. "Who's that talking to Olga +Bunion?" + +"I'm right here," Olga said. + +"I'm talking to her," Stacy said. + +"Could you excusr minute? Most say something utmust p'ortance. Utmust!" +Lennox took Olga's arm and tacked up the corridor. She stopped him in a +corner and pressed the body against him. + +"What did you want to say?" she asked. + +"Wanted warn you." + +"You wanted to warn me?" + +He nodded. "Men'll temptyr chastity t'night. Mustnt succumb whilem your +chaperone. Your honors my honor. See?" + +She laughed and explored his mouth with her mouth. "You big old bear +you," she said. + +"Listen," he said. "Listen. I'm rsponsible fyou but you maket pretty +tough fme...." + +Lennox staggered around a door-jamb and fell backwards into a room, +carrying Olga with him. They landed on a soft hooked rug. It was some +kind of sewing room with a dress form, blanket chest and cutting table. +It was empty. Lennox tried to get up. + +"Why do you keep running?" Olga asked. "Are you afraid of me?" She +kissed him again. For the first time he returned the kiss. His hands +got busy with the tight sheath of the dress, trying to expose the body. + +"Stop it," Olga said. + +Lennox grinned and continued his attempt to extract her body from the +dress. She pulled his hands away. + +"I said stop it," Olga repeated. "Don't spoil it." + +"Don't worry. Won't hurt th'dress. Zit'zip or hook?" + +"You're making everything nasty. Stop!" + +"Oh no. Make everything lovely." + +"Stop pawing me like that. What do you think you're going to do?" + +"What comes natal to a fella." He kissed her again and slid his hands +along her legs. She struggled violently, bruising his lips against his +teeth. She was breathing heavily. Lennox pinned her arms back with +his left arm while he gently slid her dress bodice down to her waist. +She screamed and bit his hand savagely. He let her go and sat up in +bewilderment. + +"Why allv sudden?" he asked faintly. + +She scrambled to her feet and backed away, hastily pulling the +dress bodice up into place. He squinted at her. She was shocked and +terrified, and gooseflesh showed on her arms. Suddenly he realized what +she was and the mistake he'd made. + +"Oh. My. God." Lennox whispered. "You're justa baby. A tease. Virgin +tease, yes? Noodnick, not nympho. Throw your body 'round. Don' know +whatyr doing. Use dirty words. Don' know what they mean. A baby +makin'like a woman. Yes?" + +"You're disgusting!" she spat. + +"No. Decoyed. Mowss-trapped. Shoulda known. You smell like babies." + +"Let me out of here!" she hissed. She edged past him. He burst out +laughing and flipped his hands up under her skirt. She screamed again +and ran, slamming the door behind her. Lennox sat on the floor and +laughed. Then he wept. He climbed to the edge of the blanket chest and +sat with his arm around the dress form. + +"Love on'y you, Gabby. On'y wantbe with you. On'y you, sweetheart." + +The door of the sewing room burst open. A nude woman in a green stole +berated him blurrily. Something about a bitch girl pulling a crying jag +on some anonymous named Stacy and sneaking out to alley cat with him. +The woman in the stole considered herself robbed. She blamed Lennox. He +arose with dignity. + +"Bringum backal ive," he said. He tottered to the foyer, picked up +a bottle of scotch and wondered about his coat. He went back up the +Early American hall to the Colonial bedroom and peered into the mound +of clothes on the four-poster. He pulled coats, hats and trousers off +the top. A left hand was revealed, thrusting up stiffly out of the +coke-black mass. Lennox let out a hoarse cry and backed away. He turned +and ran blindly out of the apartment, trying to erase the memory of +maggots. + +Yorkville was blazing with holiday lights. Festoons of red, white and +green bulbs arched over the streets. Lennox blinked and blundered +into a Hofbrau on Third Avenue which was aswarm with _gemütlich_-type +celebration. A sign of burnt leather hung over the bar between +moose antlers. It read: _Wein-Weib-Gesang!_ Underneath it hung its +translation: Whiskey. Women. Swing. + +"No. No. No." Lennox said indignantly. "Should be wine-women'n song. +Yes?" He gazed up and down the bar trying to count the customers. "Want +t'buy set-ups f'the house." + +"Drinks?" the bartender inquired in a genuine low Dutch dialect. + +"Set-ups." Lennox displayed his bottle. He lurched playfully up and +down the bar, pouring drinks for his friends into their beer, their +rye, their cognacs, their wine glasses. He was quelled with difficulty. +Accord was restored when he planked fifty dollars down on the bar and +requested demon rum for his playmates. + +"What happened to your hand?" someone inquired. + +Lennox lifted both hands. The left was encrusted with blood. "My +pitching hand!" he wailed. "My bread'n'butter hand. Don't anybody +rec'nize me? Lefty Jordan, the Big Train?" + +Nobody recognized him. He left the Hofbrau in a state of high dudgeon +and staggered down Third Avenue until he reached the Irish bars in the +sixties. He entered The Poplin crying: "Hoch Der Kaiser!" The clients +of The Poplin were equally exuberant and traded drinks with Lennox +generously. + +"Lissen," he kept repeating. "Lissen. Lissen. Lissen." + +Nobody listened and he was content. Somebody asked him his name. + +"Lefty," he said. "Jus' call me Lefty. Om inna shoe business. Make +shoes f'left foot only." + +He vacated The Poplin and continued down Third Avenue until he reached +the fag bars in the fifties. He entered The Fantasy and elbowed his +way through the buzzing and the hissing and the sibilation to the bar +where he fell into easy conversation with the languid boys around him. +He informed them that he was Leftwich, a wealthy shoe manufacturer from +Brockton, Mass. They were not impressed. They went on gossiping and +name-dropping and Lennox fancied he heard something familiar. + +"Anybody here jus' mention 'Who He?'" he asked. + +"Oh _that_ thing," a voice drawled. "The original Rigor Mortis, from +the picture of the same name." + +"You're so right so right so right," Lennox agreed. "I watch it up in +Brockton. Come'ome fr'm hard day inna factry. See nothin' but puke. +That show's vomit. That show's.... Alla fault of a lousy stinkin' louse +who writes it. Lousy phoney. Name of Lennox. Anybody here know'm?" + +Somebody said they knew him intimately and he was a big queen. + +"No-no-no," Lennox said. "He'sa whore. Thinksee writes clever with his +fancy filth from's stinkin' sewer mind. People like me don't think +hesso clever. Plain people like Lefty Leftwich witha feet onna ground. +Want heart and soul and meaning. Y'unnastan? Heart. And. Soul. And. +Meaning ... not garbage outa fancy barrel. Faker sells hisself out f'ra +buck and sells us out too, Y'unnastan?" + +No one was paying any attention. Lennox went on raging to the bored +backs. "I know'm. Me. Plain old Lefty Leftwich from Brockton, Mass. +Know allabout'm from way back. He could write from's guts ifee wasn't +so busy pimpin' f'pennies." Lennox began to shake his fists in fury. +"Lousy sewer Lennox! Fancy filthy fraud! Sells hisself downa river soee +can live fancy'n'elegant like a duke or a marquiss. Betrayal. Why don't +somebody honest tell'at corpse where to get off? Why don't someone +kill'm an' make room frhonest writers?" + +He elbowed his way from the bar, left The Fantasy and continued down +Third Avenue. Below 42nd Street he made up his mind and turned east. He +came to a dim stationery and candy store with K N O T T spread across +the window in an arc of brass letters. He entered and staggered against +the marble soda fountain, peering blearily at the faded woman who was +just closing up. + +"Wanna write a letter," he said. "Spehshul d'liv'ry letter. Wanna best +paper'n'envelope inna house. Pen too. Teach'm a lesson." + +The faded woman looked at Lennox, recognized him, and without a word +produced a sheet of blue paper, a blue envelope and a cheap fountain +pen which she filled. She took a three cent stamp and a special +delivery stamp out of a cash box and affixed them to the envelope. +Lennox picked up the pen, paper and envelope, placed five dollars on +the counter and staggered out. + +He entered the Baroque through the side door, stared around wildly and +located an empty chair at the table behind the telephone booth. He +swam to the chair through the smoke and the noise and sat down. With +his breast pocket handkerchief he mopped the table dry. He looked up. +Seated across the table from him was a blonde who appeared to be a +Swede farm girl. She was looking at him. + +"Hiya Goldilocks," he said. + +"Hiya," she said. "Long time no see." + +"Jus' got in from Brockton." + +"Where?" + +"Brockton, Mass." + +"Since when?" + +"Since always," he said. "Live'air all my life. Inna shoe business. +Permit me innaduce myself. Lefty Leftwich." + +"What the hell!" she exclaimed. "You got three names?" + +"Lefty. Leftwich." Lennox counted on his fingers. "Is on'y two." + +"Skip it, Lefty." She laughed and covered her teeth with her hand. + +"Scuse me, Goldilocks. Gotta 'portant letter to write." + +She watched with increasing interest as he placed the paper and +envelope on the table, unscrewed the pen, took it in his left hand and +began to write in a sick, hysterical scrawl: Dear Who He.... This is +your last warning. I'm going to kill you, you fancy filth, you penny +pimp, you garbage from a fancy barrel.... + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + +Gabby had gone to bed early Saturday night. The work of catching twelve +white pigeons and cleaning up their droppings had exasperated and +exhausted her. By five o'clock Sunday morning she was half awake and +positive that she heard thumpings at her door. She got up, put on a +pyjama top and padded out to the studio room. The pigeons rustled and +cooed in their cage. The thumpings continued. She put the chain on the +door, opened it an inch and peeped out into the corridor. A large man +was squirming restlessly on her door mat trying to get comfortable. It +was Lennox. + +She bit her lip, debated with herself, and finally unchained the +door and pulled him in. He was semi-conscious, incoherent, rank with +alcohol, sweat and vomit. Gabby locked the door and tried to get Lennox +on his feet. He got to his hands and knees and no further. + +"Make a bes'damn oxfords inna worl'," he muttered. + +"On your feet," she said. + +"Name's Lefty Leftwich an' Icn lick any man inna--" He expired. + +She pushed and prodded him down the foyer, through the living room and +into the bath. He crawled on hands and knees, whimpering dolorously. In +the bathroom, she tugged and tussled until she got his clothes off. She +threw the clothes into a corner and worried the hulk until it climbed +into the tub. Gabby turned the shower on hot. Lennox lay under the +deluge, crooning. She took off her pyjama top, got a wash rag and soap +and cleansed him thoroughly. Then she turned off the water, placed a +giant bath towel on the floor and got him out of the tub and sprawling +on the towel. She dried his back, kicked him over and dried his front. +Then Gabby harried him to her bed where he lay, prone and catercorner, +snoring raucously. + +She took Jake's clothes to the kitchen and placed them in a carton for +the cleaners, first emptying out the pockets. On the table she placed +his pocket watch, chain, keys, gimmick book, silver pencil, three +dollars in change, one hundred and five dollars in bills, and last of +all, a blue envelope stamped special delivery and addressed to "Who +He?" in a familiar hysterical handwriting. She stared at that envelope +for five ghastly minutes. + +It was half-past seven. Gabby made coffee, drank it, put on a dressing +gown and wandered fearfully around the living room for two hours. At +last she went back to the bedroom. Lennox hadn't moved. She picked up +the phone and dialed the number of Jake's apartment. She let the phone +ring until Cooper answered in an inhuman voice. + +"Sam," she whispered. "This is Gabby. I've got to see you right away. +Can I come up, please?" + +"Now?" Cooper croaked. + +"It's very important, Sam. Please. Can I come up?" + +"What time is it?" + +"Nine-thirty." + +"Oh God!" There was a pause. "Got to be at rehearsal by eleven anyway. +Come up." + +Gabby dressed, left a note for Lennox, and went downstairs. On this +New Year's Sunday morning The Rock was dead. She found a taxi, still +littered with confetti, and was driven north to Knickerbocker Square. +Cooper was dressed in slacks and jacket, waiting for her. He offered +coffee which she refused and they sat down in the wing chairs in the +living room eyeing each other. Gabby was frightened. Cooper looked +drawn and twitchy. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Do you know where Jordan keeps the photostats of those letters?" + +"Why?" + +"I want to compare them." + +"With what?" + +Gabby took the blue envelope out of her purse and showed it to Cooper. + +"Another one!" he exclaimed. "Where did you find it?" + +"In his pocket. It hasn't been mailed yet." + +"But how did he...? Oh. He must have run up against that Knott again. +Last night." + +"Yes?" + +"He gave it to Jake personally." + +"Stamped? Marked special delivery?" + +"Maybe he wanted him to mail it for him. Irony." Cooper stood up and +crossed to the piano where he fidgeted with manuscript paper. + +"I don't think there's any Knott, Sam. Neither do you." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"The way you're behaving now." + +Cooper turned around. The corner of his mouth was ticking. "Hell!" +he burst out. "What's the sense of pussy-footing? He's writing those +letters, Gabby. I know that." + +"How long have you known?" + +"Since last week when he showed me the photostats." Cooper loped into +his bedroom and came out a moment later with three paper slips from a +telephone pad. He handed them to Gabby. They were covered with the +same hysterical scrawl, matching the writing on the latest letter. + +"He has an unconscious habit," Cooper explained. "He scribbles with his +left hand when he's extra nervous. While he's talking on the phone. +When he's reading. It's almost like automatic writing. He doesn't do it +all the time ... just occasionally, but you can't miss it. The minute I +saw those photostats, I knew." + +"Does he know?" Gabby asked. + +"No. That's what makes it hell." + +"We can't let him find out, Sam." + +"Maybe he ought to know." + +"Maybe later, but not now. It would be disastrous for him. We've got to +protect him." + +Cooper jammed the phone slips into his jacket pocket and fretted around +the room. "I tried to warn you. At that crazy cocktail party Thursday. +If I hadn't been so paralyzed myself I might have--Christ! What a mess!" + +"What are we going to do?" + +"I don't know. He had to call in the police, yet." + +"Will they find out?" + +"I don't know." + +"What would they do if they did?" + +"Send him down to City Hospital for observation. Maybe worse. I--Jesus! +What a mess!" + +"You mean an asylum?" + +"Yes." + +"Then we'll have to keep it from the police too. We'd better destroy +this letter." + +"It's against the law. That letter's evidence." + +"Then we'll be accessories?" + +"Yes." + +"Burn it," Gabby said. + +She spoke with such decision that Cooper took the envelope, placed it +in the practical fireplace and touched a match to the corner. The +flame ran along the edge and then curled slowly across the face. The +letter crackled and gaped. + +"Put it out!" Gabby cried so abruptly that Cooper started. She ran past +him and beat the flame out with her hands and purse. Then she picked up +the charred envelope and opened it. It was empty. + +"What happened to the letter?" Gabby asked. + +Cooper made a feeble gesture. "I can't keep up with this. I--Maybe +he didn't write the letter. Just the envelope. Maybe he--Was it last +night? He was probably plastered. For God's sake, who can figure +anything Jake does sober, let alone drunk? I tell you, I'm lost in +this. I'm nowhere." + +"Isn't there anything we can do?" + +"Get him off The Rock. Send him somewhere. Get him out of here." + +"Is that the only answer?" + +"It's the only one I can come up with." + +"Did you try?" + +"Try? What?" + +"To make him go away last week? You tried to make me go away." + +"No, I couldn't. I--" + +"Why couldn't you?" + +"I don't know. Quit hounding me, Gabby. I've got troubles of my own." + +Gabby's face darkened. "He's your friend, Sam." + +"I can't do anything for Jake." + +"That's a shocking thing to say." + +"Do you think I enjoy saying it? For God's sake, don't you be angry +with me too. I tell you, I've got my own problems to handle." + +Gabby watched Cooper while he prowled around the room as if pursued by +demons. Finally she made up her mind to be frank. "I think I know what +they are, Sam." + +"Do you?" He laughed without humor. "That's more than I can say for +myself." + +"I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't necessary for Jordan's sake," Gabby +said gravely. She came around a corner. "You don't want to be Jordan's +friend. You want to be his wife." + +Cooper turned white. + +"You've been acting like a woman," Gabby blurted. "Jealous, possessive, +hysterical. That's why you made such a fuss when he tried to protect +you at the party. It was like a man protecting a woman. You enjoyed it +so much you felt guilty." + +"You're kidding, of course." + +"No," Gabby said honestly. "I'm trying to help you so you'll help +Jordan. It isn't wrong to be a homosexual, Sam. You mustn't feel +ashamed. You have to face it. You haven't been able to face it and +that's why you made so much trouble for Jordan." + +"Are you calling me a fag?" + +Gabby nodded. "You knew about the letters a week ago, and you did +nothing. You let it come to a crisis when you could have stopped it. +And I think I know why. You've been living on his strength and you feel +guilty deep down inside because you know it's the way a woman lives on +a man's strength." + +"This has gone just about far enough, Gabby! I think--" + +"You couldn't admit that to yourself," Gabby went on firmly. "But you +had to do something to wipe out the guilt. So you let Jordan destroy +his own strength. That's the way you're going to prove to yourself that +you're not dependent on him ... that you don't love him like a +woman ... that you're as much of a man as he is." + +"This is insane!" Cooper shouted. + +"You keep house for him. You wait on him. You watch over him like a ... +like a jealous woman. Because deep down inside you want to go to bed +with him. That's why you resent me. Isn't it the truth?" + +"No." + +"And that's what makes you dangerous," Gabby said. "If you could see +the truth, you wouldn't be helping Jordan destroy himself." + +"I told you!" Cooper cried, shaking so hard he could barely speak. "I +told you! I had problems of my own. I--" + +"They're just your excuse for standing by and watching him fall." Gabby +leaned forward intensely. "I can't let you do that, Sam. It isn't fair +to yourself and it isn't fair to Jordan. You'll be horribly ashamed of +yourself. We've got to come to an understanding and work together." + +"Understanding!" + +"Yes. He wants you for a friend. I promised him I'd keep you +friends.... And I'm going to keep that promise," Gabby added grimly. +"But not until you understand that you're going to be his friend, not +his wife." + +There was an agonizing pause. The phone rang. Cooper looked around in +bewilderment, then jumped up and took the call. + +"What? No. He's not in. I don't know where you can get in touch with +him...." + +"He's at my place," Gabby said. + +"Wait a minute. I do know where he is. He--" + +"Who's calling?" Gabby asked. + +"Who is this? What? Driscoll? Aimee Driscoll?" + +"I'll take it," Gabby said with determination. She seized the phone. +"This is Gabby Valentine, Aimee. What do you want?" + +"I want to talk to your boyfriend, sister." + +"What about?" + +"A man named Knott." + +"You're wasting your time. That was a lie you told us Thursday +night ... a cruel malicious lie." + +"Sure." Aimee laughed and Gabby could picture the hand covering the +teeth. "Only now it happens I know what plays. I know who this Knott +really is." + +"That's another lie." + +"Not this time, doll. I seen him write the letter. In front of my eyes. +And what's more, I got the letter. So if Mr. Three-names wants to get +it squared off, tell him he better come down and see me this morning. +And tell him I ain't settlin' for no lousy TV set neither!" + +Gabby hung up and looked at Sam. "She's got the letter." + +Cooper shook his head. He was dazed. + +"We've got to get it from her, Sam." + +"Yes, I--" He looked at his watch. "I have to go to the theater." + +"Sam!" She took his arm and shook him. "We've got to get that letter." + +He stood perplexed, the corner of his mouth twitching, then without +another word, he walked out of the apartment. Gabby ran after him. From +the door she saw him cross the square and disappear around the corner. + +Gabby went up to Jake's room, found an overnight bag and packed it with +Jake's clothes. She came downstairs with the bag, took an overcoat from +the closet and let herself out of the apartment. At Third Avenue she +got a cab. + +"Nine hundred East Thirty-third, please," she told the driver. + +The cab dropped her before a brownstone apartment house. She rang Aimee +Driscoll's bell and the door-release buzzed promptly. Gabby entered the +house and climbed two flights with the bag and overcoat. To Aimee, who +was standing at the door of her apartment wearing the green and scarlet +petuniaed dressing gown, she said: "Good morning, Aimee. I dropped in +on my way home." + +"Spent the night out, huh?" Aimee answered, looking at the bag. +"Naughty-naughty. Come in." + +She closed the door behind Gabby who put the bag and coat in a corner +and waited. + +"Too high class to take a load off in my dump, huh?" + +"I was waiting to be asked," Gabby said quietly. + +"So I'm asking. Park your high-priced ass." + +Gabby sat down on the sofa and looked around. She saw the television +set with the framed photograph on top, and her eyes widened at the +resemblance of the picture to Lennox. Then she noticed that Aimee was +watching her closely. + +"Pretty crappy, huh?" Aimee asked. "Not what your kind is used to." + +"The trouble with you is you're old-fashioned," Gabby said directly. + +"That chair's brand new modernistic. And what about the TV set? Nothing +old-fashioned about that." + +"I don't mean your furniture. I mean your attitude toward people ... +talking about my kind and your kind. It's Victorian." Gabby smiled. +"We're both of us people. Don't let's quarrel." + +"No? I thought you come up here looking for a fight." + +"I don't believe in fighting. What is there to fight about?" + +"Your boy friend's letter." Aimee lit a cigarette. "I won't kid you, +doll. I seen him write it last night. He was so dirty drunk he forget +to put it in the envelope when he sealed it. I got it right here." + +"May I see it, please?" + +"Wouldn't you like to?" Aimee smiled without parting her lips. "Old +three-names is in a bad jam, ain't he? I ought to take that letter to +the cops. It's against the law writing dirty letters like that and +sending 'em through the mail." + +"You misunderstand, Aimee. It was a joke." + +"Yeah? Ha. Ha. A gag got you up here so fast, did it? Try something +else, doll." + +"I came up because I'm afraid other people will misunderstand ... like +you." + +"Don't hand me that. I seen the fuss you and him made Thursday. I +figured it out. That guy's off his rocker. He ought to be put away. He +ain't fit to hang out with sane people. He's dangerous." Aimee crushed +out the cigarette violently. "No wonder he beat hell outa me last week. +I'm lucky I didn't get killed." + +"Then are you going to the police?" + +"So help me, I ought to. But I'm willing to be a right guy if he'll +keep away from me ... and make it worth while. He can afford it, being +a big-shot writer." + +"How much?" Gabby asked. + +Aimee gave her a poker face. "Ten grand." + +Gabby mustered herself and began her first lie. She burst out laughing. + +"What's so funny?" Aimee demanded. + +"Your price. You'll have to be a little more realistic." + +"He ain't got ten grand to keep outa trouble?" + +"Of course not." Gabby blushed, being unused to the sensation of +flagrant lying. She inched her way further into falsehood. "How much do +you think he gets for writing that show?" + +"At least three-four hundred bucks a week." + +"Half that." + +"You're crazy." + +"Half that," Gabby repeated. "One hundred and fifty dollars a week." + +"I don't believe it. + +"It's the truth." + +"He had a couple hundred bucks on him last Saturday." + +"It took him two months to save two hundred dollars." Gabby was +discovering it was no problem at all to lie. She pointed to the +television set. "It took him two months to save up enough to buy that +present for you, Aimee. The money was supposed to be for me. I think +you owe me a favor." + +"All right. Here's your favor. Five grand." + +Gabby shrugged. "He can't do it." + +"One grand. He's got to have a thousand bucks stashed somewhere. +Everybody's got a thousand bucks." + +"I don't. Do you?" + +"I will if three-names don't want his letter to go to the cops." + +"All right," Gabby said. She held out her hand. "Now may I have the +letter, please?" + +"Are you kidding, sister?" + +"I can't pay you until tomorrow. Won't you trust me?" + +"No." + +"But you want me to trust you." + +"You'll have to." + +"All right. I will." Gabby arose. "I'll bring the money tomorrow +afternoon." + +"Not you. Him." + +"He may not be able to come. I'll bring the money. That won't make any +difference, will it?" + +"Either he brings it himself or it's no deal." Aimee insisted. She +looked at Gabby malevolently. + +"Why?" + +"Never mind why. He brings it himself. He hands it to me like a +gentleman, and he asks me extra polite like a gentleman to do him a +favor and give him back the letter. Extra polite or it's no deal." + +"Then I can't trust you." + +"You can trust me if he behaves himself." + +Gabby hesitated. At last she said: "He can't do that, Aimee. We can't +let him find out he's been writing those letters ... not now. Please +understand." + +Aimee's eyes lit up. "So it'll hurt him a little. It's time he found +out how it feels to get hurt." + +"What are you trying to do? Punish him?" + +"That's between me and him." + +"No. I think it's between you and somebody else." Gabby examined Aimee. +"You're using him to punish somebody else." + +"It's between him and my ass!" Aimee shouted. + +"Don't show me your bruise again," Gabby said. "Please listen to me. +He's in trouble. Don't make it worse for him. You must have been in +trouble yourself. You must know what it means to need help." + +"And who got me in trouble?" Aimee spat. "The nice respectable safe +ones like you." + +"Why are you so hostile to me? You think I look down on you, don't you. +Why are you so class conscious?" + +"Class my ass! What the hell do I care about class? They all gimme a +lousy time ... all of them. So now it's my turn to hand out a little +grief." + +"Stop whining, Aimee. You're just feeling sorry for yourself. I'm doing +the same thing you are, but I'm not whining. Half the women in the +world are too, and they don't whine either." + +"Do what?" + +"Sleep with men the law doesn't approve of." Gabby tried to smile. +"Let's be honest, Aimee. As far as the law's concerned we're both +whores. Let's stick together and help each other." + +"Get outa here," Aimee raged. + +"Not without the letter." + +"I already told you. Let him bring the dough and beg, and he'll get the +letter. Now beat it." + +Gabby shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's a dreadful thing to say, but +you're not even an honest whore, Aimee. You'll have to trust me for the +money. Give me the letter." + +"I'll give you a kick in your high-class ass," Aimee cried. She darted +at Gabby, seized her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the door. +"You get the hell outa my house." + +Gabby tore her hands away. "How dare you!" she exclaimed. + +"Yeah. Now it comes! The high-tone how dare you!" Aimee screeched. "How +dare anybody like me touch somebody like you, you goddam high-assed +duchess!" She leaped at Gabby in a burst of fury, kicking and clutching +at her hair. Gabby staggered, then swung her purse and knocked Aimee +back against the wall. + +"I'll bring you down," Aimee spat. + +"You aren't bad," Gabby answered grimly. "You're spoiled. You're a +spoiled, selfish, lazy slut." + +As Aimee advanced, she backed away, kicking off her shoes and stripping +off her jacket to clear for action. Aimee clawed like an alley cat. +Gabby threw up her left arm to defend herself from the tearing nails +and cracked Aimee across the face with her right. + +Aimee began to scream. She clinched, biting and kicking, and they +staggered against the window. Gabby's blouse was torn off. Both women +lost their balance and clutched at the drapes. The curtains came down +on top of Aimee, pole and all. When she struggled free, she had lost +the dressing gown. + +She ran into the kitchen. There was a crash and she came charging +back, left arm shielding her bosom, the neck of a broken beer bottle +in her right fist. Gabby gave ground in terror, dodged a vicious +swipe and stumbled back against the window where Aimee cornered her. +In desperation she snatched up the five foot curtain pole that had +fallen. She delivered a frantic chop that caught Aimee between neck and +shoulder and dropped her to her knees. The beer bottle slipped out of +her hand and clattered across the floor. + +Aimee clawed at Gabby's legs, ripped off her skirt and brought her down +to the floor. They rolled across the room, pummeling each other with +knees, elbows and hands. When they jammed against the television set, +Gabby twisted on top of Aimee, took her blonde hair in both hands and +hammered her head against the cabinet. After three punishing blows, she +stopped. + +"Where's the letter?" she gasped. + +Aimee screeched and swore. Gabby pounded her head three times again, +and Aimee went limp. + +"Where's the letter?" + +"Bedroom," Aimee answered faintly. + +"Show me." + +She got up and pulled Aimee up by the hair. Never releasing her hold, +she dragged Aimee into the bedroom. Both women were gasping and +gleaming with perspiration. In the bedroom Aimee fumbled at a dresser +drawer. Gabby opened it for her. Under a pile of black net nylons was a +sheet of blue writing paper. + +Gabby glanced at it and then released Aimee who dropped on the bed. +Gabby went back to the living room, folded the sheet twice and placed +it in an ash tray. She lit a match and burned the letter. She crushed +the ashes with her fingers until they were dust. Suddenly she shivered. + +She took off the shreds of her stockings and put on her shoes. The +blouse was hopeless. She opened Jake's bag, took out his clean shirt +and put it on. Over that she put her jacket and skirt. The zipper of +the skirt was wrecked. She went to the bedroom and searched the dresser +until she found a couple of safety pins. While she pinned her skirt she +watched Aimee who hadn't moved. + +"I'm sorry for you," Gabby said at last. "You should have had this +lesson when you were a child. Maybe it isn't too late now." + +"I'm going to the cops anyway," Aimee moaned. "I'll have him put away. +I'll fix both of you for this." + +"If you make any more trouble," Gabby answered in a hard voice, "I +promise you'll regret it for the rest of your life." + +She went back to the living room, hoping that her threat would +silence Aimee for good. She picked up Jake's coat and bag and left +the apartment. Her knees gave as she went down the stairs and she was +trembling; but her eyes sparkled and her face wore a triumphant smile. +And when, on the street, she tasted blood from a cut inside her mouth, +she spat into the gutter with the cocky assurance of a kid who has won +his first fight. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + +Lennox awoke in the role of Mr. Lefty Leftwich from Brockton, Mass. +He turned over in bed like a ship launched sideways and immediately +began bellowing the ballad about feet, feet, marching up and down +again, with which he had annoyed the patrons of the Baroque until Chris +Barakatrones had been forced to throw him out. + +Gabby heard the racket and ran into the bedroom and turned on the +lights. Lennox winced, closed his eyes, and sneezed three times in +stately waltz tempo. "Less light," he muttered. "A switch on Goethe. I +am excessively educated. Need more crud in my blood." He began to roar +again. + +"Stop that noise, Lefty," Gabby called from the door. She came to +the bed and sat down beside Lennox. She was wearing a grey skirt and +a slate blue sweater. Lennox immediately reached up and seized her +breasts with his heavy hands. + +"The All-Mother," he laughed. + +He hurt her. She eased his hands and said: "Yes, that's how they're +tattooed, Lefty." + +He began to wrestle with her, trying to tear off the sweater. + +"Take it easy," she said. "Or do you want to hurt me?" + +"No, no, lady," Lennox apologized. "Act of homage. 'Pillow'd upon +my fair love's ripening breast. To feel forever its soft fall and +swell....' Etcetera. Etcetera. Sonnet by J. Keats. Theme song of L. +Leftwich." He hauled her down on the bed. She kissed him once and then +bit his ear until he roared with pain. + +"Jesus!" he complained. + +"Did I hurt you?" she inquired. + +"Christ, yes!" + +"I'm sorry, Lefty." She kissed the injured ear and bit the other until +he roared again. + +"Listen, lady," he said, half annoyed, half ecstatic, "No fair. You +play Boys' Rules. I'm the fella. You're supposed to be the girl." + +"Male Supremacy," Gabby said. "I am so the girl. Feel your fair love's +ripening breast." She pulled his face down into her bosom and banged +the back of his head with her fists. She rolled him over in bed and bit +his mouth. He struggled up, protesting. She caught him and huffed and +puffed against his bulk until he collapsed again. + +"Fins," he said. + +"You give up?" + +"I give up. Fins." + +She braced herself on her arms and looked down at him. He looked up and +grinned. "You're the first one that played Boy's Rules with me. Why +aren't there more like you, lady?" + +"All girls want to, Lefty." + +"Why don't they?" + +"Because men won't let them." + +"Why not?" + +"They want girls to be girly-girly." + +"Why?" + +"Because it makes them feel manly." + +"Crazy." He tapped the tips of her breasts. "Double-relish," he said. + +"What's that mean, Lefty?" + +"It's musical ornamentation," he explained after a moment's earnest +concentration. "Friend of mine, Sam Cooper, said--" He collapsed and +stared at her with his mouth open. + +"Yes, Lefty? What did Sam Cooper say?" + +"Gabby?" he faltered. + +"Right here." + +"But I thought you--I thought I--" + +Lefty Leftwich fled back to Brockton. + +"W-Where've I been?" + +"Right here." + +"Gabby...." + +"Yes, darling?" + +"I think I'm going to be sick." + +She smacked her palm against his nose and thrust back determinedly. He +grunted in pain. + +"Still want to be sick?" she asked after a minute. + +"No," he answered in patient agony. + +She released his nose. "Hello, Jake," she said. + +He began to cry. She soothed him. "It's all right, baby. Don't cry. +What's the matter, darling? You don't have to cry." + +"It's the first time you ever called me Jake," he said in a muffled +voice. + +"Is that why you're crying, sweetheart?" + +"It's like we're finally meeting for the first time.... No ... I--I'm +mixed up again. Like last week. What's today?" + +"Sunday. New Year's day." + +"What time is it?" + +"Six o'clock." + +"Morning?" + +"Evening." + +He digested that information, thought intensely and groaned. "I've +lost the whole damned New Year's Eve. I'm blacked out again from ten +o'clock last night. What filth am I going to start remembering now?" + +"Don't be frightened," Gabby said briskly. "I was with you from +midnight on." + +"You were?" + +She nodded. + +"Did I do anything bad?" + +She shook her head. + +"Where did we meet?" + +"You called for me here." + +"And you went out with me? After that fight? After the lousy things I +said to--" + +She put her hand over his mouth. "Don't talk about that. We both +apologized and made up." + +"Honest?" + +"You know I never lie." + +"Did.... Did we run into Knott?" + +"No." + +"I could swear something about Knott is flitting around in the +blackout. I--" + +"Your imagination," Gabby said. "On your feet, Jake. Time to get +dressed and have something to eat. We've got to catch the nine o'clock +plane." + +"What plane?" + +"Don't you remember anything from last night? We made up our minds to +fly down to Mexico today." + +"Mexico? What for?" + +"My divorce. Your wedding." Gabby looked at him sternly. "If you're +pretending amnesia to get out of it, Jake, it won't work. I've got +witnesses." + +"I think," he said feebly, "I'd better have some coffee." + +He stood up, still dizzy and blurry. Gabby tossed him clean shorts. +He put them on and followed her to the kitchen where he drank coffee +humbly and in a hushed voice reported what he remembered of his New +Year's Eve ... the trip to Islip, his insane practical jokes ... he +even blurted out all he remembered of his date with Olga Bleutcher, the +body incarnate. Gabby was annoyed, the more so because his memory died +at the point where the date with Olga began. She covered her chagrin +with a laugh. + +"The pigeons were a nuisance," she said, "But after the mothballs and +the gelatine I got off lucky. You're a Monte Cristo, Jake." + +"No," he insisted. "It wasn't revenge. I swear I was trying to spread +sweetness and light." He looked at her for the first time with +something like focus. "What happened to your right eye? It's all red." + +"Caught cold in it last night," Gabby said briefly. "How did you manage +to get rid of fatal Olga Bleutcher?" + +"I don't know. We must have gone to parties. Probably I lost her +somewhere." + +"And before you lost her did you--" Gabby stopped. + +"Did I what?" + +"Nothing." + +After a moment Lennox asked: "What time did I pick you up here?" + +"Around midnight." + +"That's two hours not accounted for." + +"We won't try to account for them. We won't even ask Olga." + +"No. I mean, do you think I ran into Knott while I--" + +"Forget Knott," Gabby said. "You never ran into him and I don't think +you ever will. The whole thing will blow over while we're in Mexico." + +"What'll Roy do to you if you divorce him?" + +"To hell with Roy. Now come on, Lefty. It's time to get dressed." + +"Who's Lefty?" + +"You." + +"Since when?" + +"Since last night. All of a sudden you turned to me and announced you +were Lefty Leftwich from Brockton." + +Lennox grunted. "A comic, that's what I am. A New Year's comic. If you +tell me I put on women's hats, I'll hang myself." + +"You didn't while you were with me. You can check with Olga some other +time." + +"You aren't jealous about Olga?" Lennox asked timidly. + +"Yes," Gabby said. "I am. I could knock her block off." + +"But we had that fight, and she pestered me until--" + +"You listen to me, Jordan Lennox. We'll probably have a lot of fights +in the future, but never for a minute imagine they'll give you any +excuse to chase other women." She rapped him under the chin with her +knuckles. "If I ever catch you, I'll knock your block off too." + +"All of a sudden you're such a fighter, all of a sudden," he said in +awe. "What happened?" + +"Something." + +"What?" + +"I don't fight and tell. Now get dressed." + +He dressed and admired her for bringing him his clothes. He admired her +most for preserving his sacred gimmick book from loss, theft and other +catastrophe. As he placed it in his inside pocket and flexed his right +arm, Gabby handed him a long white envelope. + +"This is our expense money," she said. "You had a hundred and eight +dollars left from last night. I borrowed another two hundred. We can +make bank arrangements in Mexico. Somebody I know at the airport--" + +"An eclectic Chinaman?" + +"No." She laughed. + +"Hasty Hawaiian?" + +"No. It's a woman I met at a WVL meeting. She got me the tickets on +some kind of credit. We can settle up when we get back." + +"You're leveling about Mexico?" + +"Of course I am. Now, it's seven o'clock. We have two hours to pick up +our tickets and get weighed in. I packed your fortnighter and brought +it down. It's out in the foyer...." + +"By God, you were busy today." + +"By God, you don't know how busy. All I have to do is finish packing +myself. Then we'll start. Wash the dishes, Jake. Oh, and give those +pigeons their freedom or something." + +He swallowed. "I can't do it, Gabby." + +"Don't be silly. Just take the cage to the window and open it. +Nature'll do the rest." + +"I mean I can't go to Mexico tonight." + +"Don't be obstinate, darling. Just clean up the kitchen and keep out of +my way." + +"I can't go tonight, Gabby." He took her shoulders and held her. "And +don't think I'm playing noble on account of Roy. I love you so much +I'll marry you even if it ruins us. I'll marry you any time or any +place you say ... but I can't go tonight." + +"I want to go tonight, Jordan." + +"I'm sorry. I can't. I can't run out on the show." + +"You can so run out on the show. They fired you." + +"That isn't what I mean. I can't run out on those threats. I've got to +stay and face Knott." + +"Jordan, believe me, there isn't any Knott." + +"How do you know?" + +"I just know it." + +"You mean you just hope it. Who's writing the letters? Who's +threatening me?" + +"No one. It's some kind of silly joke." + +"A joke! That filth?" + +"So it's a filthy joke; but we can't take it seriously." + +"I'm taking it seriously. I want to meet the joker who's picked me out +for his filthy humor. I'm going to meet him tonight." + +"Jordan, please! I want to go to Mexico tonight." + +"If he doesn't show up," Lennox continued grimly, "I'll drag Aimee +Driscoll down to the precinct and we'll beat the truth out of her. +We'll pry it out of Sam, too. There's got to be a pay-off tonight." + +"Jordan!" Gabby shook his arms frantically. "I want to leave tonight. I +want it more than anything else. Will you do this for me?" + +"I can't, sweetheart. I've got too much to settle up first." + +"And you'll find another excuse tomorrow and the day after and the day +after that...." + +"You know that's not true." + +"Remember what you said about politics? To hell with politics because +we're more important. I agree, Jordan. That's the truth. And to hell +with Knott and his letters too." + +"No." + +"Oh, why are you so stubborn?" + +"I have to do what has to be done," Lennox said patiently. "You go +ahead and finish packing. We'll leave as soon as I've called the +lunatic who's been crucifying me. I'm going up to the theater now. I'll +phone you when we're off the air." + +"No," Gabby said quietly. "The packing can wait. I'll go with you." + +It was seven-thirty when they arrived at the Venice Theater. More +than a hundred ticket-holders were already queued up before the main +lobby, waiting for the nine o'clock show. When the doors opened at +eight-thirty, there would be at least five hundred more. As Lennox took +Gabby around to the stage door he passed down the length of that line, +staring into each strange face, searching for his hidden enemy. + +To the deaf doorman he spoke in a low flat drone that was more +effective than any shouting. He was expecting a Mr. Fu, a Mr. +Hamburger, and a Mr. Eugene K. Norman. If they came to the stage door +they were to be admitted and given seats. If anyone else asked for +him ... A Mr. Knott, say ... Lennox was to be called at once. He +repeated these instructions three times. Gabby bit her lip. + +The stage door opened into a small square foyer. To the left was the +narrow corridor which led down the left hand side of the theater to +the green room and thence to the right wings of the stage. There is no +paradox in this reversal of left and right. Since the actor faces the +audience, right and left are reversed as you cross from the theater to +the stage. + +A broad curtained arch led from the stage door foyer directly into the +theater orchestra, opening out into the left aisle. The curtain was not +drawn now. Through the arch, Lennox could see little islands of people +scattered through the orchestra ... a clump of dancers in costume, +four cameramen drinking coffee from cartons, Oliver Stacy with Olga +Bleutcher, Ween and Grabinett with Mason's gag writers, Avery Borden +and Ned Bacon en rapport with the client. + +Lennox took Gabby's arm and marched into the orchestra. He refused to +be inconspicuous. It was like running the gauntlet but he made a full +circuit of the house, meeting every hostile glance with an arrogant +smile. He threw the smile in their faces, daring them to accept the +challenge. Every hackle in the theater arose, but before the battle +could be joined, Raeburn Sachs started a muffled uproar on the P.A.: + +"Dress, please. Dress. Everybody on stage for dress." + +The dancers and Stacy returned to the stage. The cameramen returned to +their cameras. Johnny Plummer put on his ear-phones and stammered to +the orchestra on the low platform at the foot of the right aisle. The +gag writers assembled in the center aisle, just behind the dolly-track +of the No. 2 camera, to simulate contestants for the dress rehearsal. +Lennox seated Gabby and excused himself to go backstage. He did not +slip around through the green room. As the orchestra began its opening +fanfare, he went down to the edge of the old orchestra pit, climbed up +on the rail and leaped to the stage in full view. + +He turned and grinned into the lights. "Poison eaters!" he said +contemptuously and walked toward the prop table in the right wings. +Mason passed him on the way from his dressing room to open the dress. + +"You lousy burglar!" Mason shouted in a whisper. Even feuds must be +conducted sotto voce during rehearsal. + +Irma was a step behind Mason. "You lousy burglar," she whispered. +"We'll fix you for those lights." + +"What's the matter?" Lennox inquired. "Didn't you have cameras?" + +From out front came the echo of Mason's voice, the cackle of the dummy, +the brassy punctuation of the orchestra. The empty house put every +sound on echo. Kay Hill, in a 1920 evening gown, passed Lennox on her +way to take her place on the Clara Bow "Charleston" set. + +"So you helped him add another one to his score," she hissed, her acid +eyes raking Lennox. + +"Who?" he asked, bewildered. + +"The Bleutcher." + +"Maybe she added him to her score." + +The ballet girls came down the stairs from their balcony dressing room +in geisha costumes, and clustered around the rosin box, shuffling their +feet. Across, in the left wings, the ballet boys assembled, dressed in +Lt. Pinkerton whites. Stacy ran off stage, stripping off his dinner +jacket to change for his second spot. + +"Thanks, pal!" he whispered bitterly. + +"For what?" + +"For Typhoid Olga. Ask me a favor some time." + +"I'll tell Kay." + +Grabinett shot out from behind a drop, arguing furiously and +soundlessly with the uniformed theater fireman. He stopped long enough +to blink at Lennox. + +"And you'll pay for them Almighty signs too," he whispered. "Defacing +my office!" + +"I'll tell the painter." + +Bacon swaggered in from the green room with the client and the client's +daughter. He was explaining the workings of the theater like an old +showman from way back. As they drifted around behind the drops, he gave +Lennox one venomous glance that disemboweled him. Olga stopped long +enough to confront Jake. + +"You filthy pig!" she said in a clear voice. + +"Shhh! Rehearsal! All insults in a whisper, please." + +She slapped his face and followed her father. + +"I'll tell mother," Lennox said. + +Tooky Ween waddled across the temporary bridge from the orchestra to +the stage with the notes he had made for Mason's opening spot. He +shook his fist at Lennox. Lennox blew him kisses. The hatreds and +the hostilities were recharging him. He felt alert and stimulated. +He lounged against the prop table, looking sardonic and unyielding, +carrying his naked weapons ready for quick murder. + +Mason came off the stage, followed by Irma. Lennox applauded +soundlessly and asked for his autograph. Mason lifted the dummy to +hit him, thought better of it, and continued to his dressing room, +shrugging out of his tuxedo. The orchestra blared. Irma kicked Lennox +in the leg. + +"That's the wooden one," he smiled. + +Stacy rushed out in a scarlet Grenadier's uniform. + +"Olga went that way," Lennox said. + +Kay Hill came back from the Clara Bow. + +"Oliver went that way," Lennox said. + +The orchestra blared and segued into dance tempo. The geishas and Lt. +Pinkertons took position before the No. 2 camera. Raeburn Sachs tore +down the center aisle from the control booth and leaped up on stage. He +came back into the wings. + +"Wardrobe!" he hissed. "Where's the wardrobe mistress? I told her +Household Guards, not Grenadier." + +"Same thing," Lennox said. + +Sachs looked at him. + +"Don't argue with me," Lennox said mildly. "You have a talent that +terrifies me. It always puts me in the wrong." + +Sachs turned, leaped across the pit and ran back to the controls. + +The orchestra fanfared. The dancers came off and ran up to the balcony. +Mason charged out of his dressing room, buttoning up his Philip Nolan +uniform. Across the stage a group of actors were assembling on a +courtroom set before the No. 3 camera. Lennox waved to Robin, picked a +bunch of artificial flowers off the prop table and threw it to her. The +flowers were intercepted by Oliver Stacy's face. + +Stacy spread his shoulders and telegraphed the punch. Lennox stepped +inside and hooked his right to Stacy's heart. Then he caught him before +he could fall and disrupt the dress. They clinched. + +"Rehearsal! Rehearsal!" Lennox whispered. + +Stacy broke away and ran into his dressing room. Lennox massaged his +fist happily. The stage manager appeared and returned the flowers to +the prop table in a marked manner. Kay Hill came out in black lace +court dress, ruff and cap to take position before the No. 1 camera with +an Extra dressed in leather and carrying an axe. The wardrobe mistress +appeared. + +"Not Grenadier. Household," Lennox told her severely. + +"I'm having trouble with Cooper." + +"What's the matter?" + +"He won't get into costume." + +"Where's he dressing?" + +"Up in Nine." + +Lennox ran up the iron steps to the balcony, three at a time. He +passed the dancers' dressing room and had a flashing glimpse of naked +flat-chested girls juggling into can-can costumes. He knocked once on +the door of Nine and burst in. It was the size of a privy. Cooper +sat on a stool before the bulb-ringed mirror staring at a red and +white blazer and a scarlet banded straw hat. His face bore a ghastly +expression. + +"What the hell, Sam?" + +Cooper looked at him without changing expression. + +"Your spot comes up in five minutes." + +Cooper shook his head. + +"What's the matter? Speak." + +"I'm sick." + +"Stage-fright, hey? Don't worry, I'll see you through." Lennox picked +up the blazer. "Come on. Change." + +Cooper made no move. Lennox took his shoulder and shook him. "Wake up, +boy. You're on in five minutes. Take off your coat." + +"Leave me alone!" Cooper knocked Jake's hand away. + +"Take it easy, Wolfgang. Don't get panicky. I told you I'd see you +through." + +"See me through what? More hell?" + +"It may be hell, but it's worth it. We're promoting you, son." + +"Promoting me?" Cooper laughed hysterically. "You're an expert, aren't +you? You've promoted yourself to hell." + +"Maybe I have, but I'm not quitting on the way down. Don't you quit on +the way up." Lennox glared at him. "For Christ's sake, Sam! Do I have +to fight for both of us? Don't you have any strength of your own?" + +Cooper started to his feet in horror. + +"Get that coat off." Lennox jerked the coat off, spun Cooper around and +put him into the red and white blazer. He cocked the straw hat on his +head, tapped it into a rakish tilt and shoved him out of the dressing +room. Cooper trudged to the stairs like a sleepwalker. The stage +manager below beckoned frantically and he increased his pace going down +the stairs. + +Lennox nodded and picked Cooper's jacket up to hang it away. Three +slips of paper had fallen out of the pocket in the tussle. He was +about to return them; then he stopped short as his eye caught the +familiar hysterical writing. He smoothed the slips out and examined +them fearfully. His heart began to pound. There were fragments, +phrases, names, numbers; all scrawled in that sick hand: SUIDI ... +$$$ ... MOST ... MERRY XMAS ... AMPMAMPM ... ROX ... §§§3 ... ¶7 ... MY +HEART & ... BLOOD. SWEAT. TEARS ... WHO WHO WHO WHO HE? + +Lennox went black with rage. He placed the slips in his pocket and +burst out of the dressing room. Down on the main floor he left the +stage, leaped down the short flight of steps to the empty green room +and called Sergeant Fink on the pay phone. + +"Bob? Jake Lennox." + +"Yeah. Hello. We'll be over in time for the program." + +"Get over now. I've found out who's writing the letters." + +"You don't say?" + +"I do say. And I've got proof." + +Lennox hung up. He glanced at the green room monitor. Cooper and one of +the dancers had started their duet. Lennox turned up the speaker volume +and watched, his face drawn and savage. The spot started badly. Cooper +and the dancer missed their cue, the orchestra had to wait for them, +they came in off beat. Their singing was inaudible and ragged. Cooper +moved like a St. Vitus dancer. Even on the monitor his shaking was +obvious. + +"Varsity show talent," Lennox snarled. + +After two agonizing minutes, the voice of Avery Borden cut through the +orchestra and singing with the clarity of exasperation: "No! No! No! +This is impossible." + +Cooper and the dancer stopped and peered out into the theater. + +"Get them out of here!" Borden shouted. "What is this? Amateur Night?" + +"So they stink," Grabinett's voice came faintly from another part of +the theater. "What can we do? We got three Almighty minutes to fill." + +"I'd rather fill three minutes with dead air than that no-talent. Sweep +'em off the stage." + +"This is a dress rehearsal!" Sachs roared on the P.A. + +"This is a goddam trappisty!" Grabinett answered. + +The dancer began to weep. Cooper left her and staggered off camera. +Lennox ran up the steps from the green room to the stage and met him +as he came into the wings. There was a confused uproar in the theater +punctuated by Raeburn Sachs' repeated commands to the staff to stop +their clocks. Lennox took Cooper by the scruff of the neck and dragged +him back to the green room. He flung him into a chair and stood over +him. Cooper shook and gasped for air. + +"You son of a bitch!" Lennox shouted. + +"Stand by me, Jake. I'm in a bad way." + +"You're going to be in a worse way, you bastard." + +"Please, Jake...." + +Lennox pulled the telephone slips out of his pocket and shook them in +Cooper's face. "Look at these. Look at them, you filthy Judas." + +"Jake ... I need a drink. I'm in a bad way." + +Cooper tried to get out of the chair. Lennox backhanded him across the +jaw. Then, in his fury, he yanked him up and cuffed his face. When he +let him go, Cooper collapsed. + +"So it was you writing them," Lennox shouted. "What's inside you? What +in God's name did you have against me? Why couldn't you come out into +the open instead of sticking a knife in my back and twisting it?" + +"The ... letters?" + +"Yes, the letters. The threats. The filth." Lennox thrust the slips +before Cooper's face again. "I found these in your pocket. It's the +same writing. Your disguised hand, yes? What are they, practice +sheets?" + +"No," Cooper said faintly. "I ... Jake, I've got to tell you. You're +writing them. You're writing those letters yourself. Not me. You." + +Lennox burst out laughing. + +"It's true, Jake. Those times when you get drunk and black out.... +That's when you write yourself those letters. So help me, Jake. I've +been trying to keep it from you, but--" + +"I thought we were friends," Lennox broke in fiercely. "I thought we +were working together ... standing by each other ... backing each other +up. I thought we were two sane men bucking the rat-race and beating +them at their own game. I believed in us. I'd have killed myself to +keep it from being destroyed. I should have killed you before you +destroyed it. You're not sane. You're like all the rest of them ... +sick, vicious, living on hate and poison." + +"For God's sake, Jake! Will you listen to me?" Cooper struggled up out +of the chair and put his arm around Jake's shoulders. "You're the sick +one. You're the one who's destroying everything. You--" + +Lennox twisted away from Cooper and looked at him with hatred. "You can +think of more vicious ways to knife a man in the back than a fag. Why +didn't you dress under the stage with the other queens? That's where +you belong!" + +"Mr. Lennox," the doorman called in his deaf voice. "Man here for you. +Mr. Fink or such." + +"Be right out," Lennox answered. He showed his teeth to Cooper. "Wait +here. I've got a surprise for you." + +He ran out to the stagedoor foyer. Fink was standing there with his +swarthy colleague, Salerno. + +"He's in the green room," Lennox said. "This way." + +"Just a minute," Fink smiled. "Who's in this green room?" + +"Guy who was writing the letters. You were right, Bob. It was Cooper. +Sam Cooper who lives with me. Look at this." Lennox waved the telephone +slips. "I found them in his pocket. It's the same writing. You see? +You see, Mr. Salerno? Come on." + +"Oh Jesus," Salerno grunted. + +"Come out to the car a minute," Fink said. + +"What for?" + +"To talk." + +"What about?" + +"Tell you when we get there. Come on." + +"What the hell is this?" Lennox looked from Fink to Salerno. "I tell +you who's writing the letters and you want to talk. Go talk to him." + +Salerno slipped behind Lennox and caught his arm in a paralyzing grasp. +"Come on out to the car," he said softly. + +"I will like hell come out to the car. What's the matter with you two?" + +"You want it tough?" Fink asked. + +Lennox was bewildered. In the background, the orchestra echoed +brilliantly. + +"Tell him," Salerno said. + +"Now don't blow your top." Fink smiled. "We want to drive you down to +City Hospital for a check-up." + +"Me? City Hospital?" + +"Just for a couple of days. Won't cost you a cent." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"Come on, Lennox. Don't make it tough." + +"I asked you what the hell you're talking about. City Hospital! Is this +your idea of a funny?" + +"Tell him," Salerno repeated. + +"We know you're writing these letters," Fink said. + +"You know I'm writing--" Lennox was staggered. "You know I'm writing +the letters? To myself?" + +Fink nodded. + +"You always smile at the wrong time," Lennox said slowly. "This is a +joke-type joke at the wrong time. Yes?" + +"We'll talk it over down at the hospital." + +"What makes you think I'm writing the letters?" + +"Tell him," Salerno said impatiently. "Maybe he'll listen to reason." + +"Will you behave yourself if I show you?" Fink asked. + +Lennox nodded. There was a last fanfare off and then dead silence as +the dress ended. Fink took a manila envelope out of his pocket and +produced the poison pen letters. He unfolded one and pointed to the +hysterical scrawl. + +"See? Five words to a line. In every letter. Five words to a line, no +more, no less. That's an old telegrapher's habit, from counting ten +word messages. We checked this program. You're the only ex-telegrapher +working it. You're a professional telegrapher from twenty years back, +when you were a kid in this town on Long Island." + +"Islip," Lennox croaked. "Yes." + +"And we found your prints in the envelopes." + +"I handled the envelopes," Lennox said desperately. "When Grabinett +showed me the letters." + +"I didn't say on the envelopes. I said in the envelopes. We found your +prints inside, under the flap, but the envelopes were slit open at the +end. The only one who could leave prints inside there is the one that +put the letter in the envelope and sealed it. Now come on, Lennox. +Don't make it tough." + +"For God's sake, Bob! How could I write them and not know about it? I +was scared. I was out of my mind trying to find who it was. How could +it be me?" + +"They'll tell you down at the hospital. Come on." + +"The lunatic ward?" + +"Don't get jumpy. You won't be in a strait jacket." + +"Yeah," Salerno said. "Nice down there. Pretty nurses." + +"But--" + +"Come on," Fink said, and for the first time a terrifying hardness +manifested itself under the surface of his mildness. + +Lennox whirled and wrenched himself out of Salerno's grasp. He didn't +so much hit him as catapult him back into Fink with a bull thrust. He +ran through the arch into the orchestra, whipping the heavy curtain +across the arch behind him for cover. He squirmed through an empty row +of seats to the center aisle and yelled: "Gabby!" + +She turned. Everybody turned and stared through the gloom. + +"Out!" Lennox roared. "Out!" + +Behind him, Fink called sharply: "Lennox! You'll be sorry!" + +Lennox sprinted up the center aisle, knocking aside the vague figures +that blundered into his path. He cut around the glass corner of the +control booth and headed for the bronze doors that led out to the +theater lobby. At that moment, the doors opened and the studio audience +poured into the theater in a solid mass, fighting and elbowing for the +best seats. + +Lennox was slammed back against the control booth. He lowered his head +and tried to charge through that unyielding wave. He could hear Fink +and Salerno struggling near him and shouting orders to the network +pages, the house manager, the theater fireman. Lennox was carried +back again and shunted to the right where the broad stairs led up to +the balcony. He started up the stairs. The fireman appeared above him +and came down after him. Lennox turned and ran around the foot of the +stairs to the right aisle, searching for fire exits. + +He went down the steep slope of the aisle toward the stage. There +were no exits he could reach through the crowd. Fink and Salerno were +calling to each other. The studio audience was in an uproar. Lennox +leaped up on the orchestra platform at the foot of the aisle, battered +his way through musicians, stands and chairs, and vaulted onto the +stage. Gabby began screaming. + +Lennox started across the stage to the right wings. He tripped on the +No. 3 Camera cables, fell, rolled over and was on his feet again. +Salerno appeared in the right wings. Lennox stopped short and turned +downstage. Fink was coming at him up the No. 2 Camera dolly-track. +Lennox turned to the left wings. The fireman was advancing on him from +that side. He backed up, panting, trapped. As Fink came onto the stage, +the curtains swept in from either side, narrowly missing him. + +Lennox looked around wildly, searching the stage for a loop-hole ... +left, right, back, up. Suddenly he was transfixed. Still staring up +into the flies, he screamed: "Sam! Sam!" + +Every eye on the stage looked up. Fifty feet overhead, a figure in a +red and white blazer balanced precariously on the criss-cross bars of +the iron grid. Cooper teetered and sat down on a bar, his feet dangling +through the opening of the three foot square. Then he thrust himself +off and came plummeting down, feet first, arms outstretched. There +was a sharp crack and his body was jerked up in mid-flight. His shoes +flew off and clattered down. The arms flailed, the body shuddered once +as though the bones were trying to burst out of the skin; and then it +was still, swinging gently, the feet just a yard above the edge of the +teaser that masked the top of the stage from the audience. + +Lennox sank to his knees and began to sob. The appalled silence was +jarred by a fanfare from the orchestra on the other side of the +curtain. Oliver Stacy, in dinner jacket, paused long enough to vomit in +the wings, then slipped through the curtain, white-faced and smiling. +There was a burst of applause. His voice rang out in cheerful greeting, +and the warm-up for the New Year's Day "Who He?" show began. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + +THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED +THE BODY CAME down and jerked the body came down and jerked +thebodycamedownandjerkedthebodycamedown andjerked THE. BODY. CAME. +DOWN. AND. JERKED. + +Lennox rolled out of the bed and knelt on the floor. He leaned his +elbows against the iron bedstead, pressed his palms together and +pressed his lips against his hands. + +Alongside him, No. 17 slept open-mouthed and filled the ward with +the fetor of decay. No. 8 laughed in a baby voice, No. 20 scratched +methodically with a monotonous rasp. No. 5 chanted: "The Lord is my +hospital, I shall not want. He marries me to green Packards. He leadeth +me leadeth me leadeth me...." + +"No. No. No. Not a hospital. It's a jail, that's what it is," No. 9 +told him. "It's a jail run by the lousy Catholics and Masons where they +can pull off their crooked political deals. Nuns and Priests letting on +they're nurses and doctors. Spying me out. Reporting. Giving me blue +looks and electric sparks out of the walls. They know I won't let 'em +run the country. I'll tell the papers. I'll tell everybody!" + +"Did I ever tell you about paper?" No. 10 chattered with manic +brightness. "Did I ever tell you? A sheet of paper is an inclined +plane. A sheet of paper with lines on it is an ink-lined plane. An +inclined plane is a slope up and a slow pup is a lazy dog." + +There were steps behind Lennox, and a heavy voice said: "Jesus! Will +you look at him? He's prayin' again." + +Before the attendants could throw him back into bed, Lennox got up and +climbed in. They laughed ... two impervious men in identical white +uniforms wearing the identical expression of indifference. The only way +they could be distinguished was by their hair; one black, one red. + +"Got you trained, huh buster?" the red-head said. "Not this time, +though. Come on." + +Lennox put on the blue bathrobe and the straw slippers and meekly +followed the attendant down the ward. + +"What day is today?" he asked. + +"Wednesday." + +The ward doors were unlocked and they passed out into a white corridor. +Barred windows looked west across The Rock and halfway into New Jersey +on this crisp, clear afternoon. + +"More tests?" Lennox asked. + +"Nope. You're all finished, buster." + +"What now?" + +No answer. Lennox shuffled in silence and terror. + +"Are they going to lock me up for good?" + +The red-head thrust open a door and led him into a tiled bathroom. +Alongside the shower was a white table on which was neatly folded the +clothing Lennox had worn the previous Sunday. + +"Extra special for you," he said. "Why didn't you tell us you was a big +wheel, buster? Wash up and get dressed." + +In a daze, Lennox bathed and dressed. He looked at himself in the wash +mirror. He was completely unchanged ... except for the three-day beard +on his face. + +"Why should I be changed?" he thought. "Nothing's changed inside me. +I'm like all the rest. Sick. Feeding on what happened to Sam. Living on +poison. Loving the poison. It's only the innocents like Sam who suffer. +Our diet kills them." + +Outside in the corridor, the red-head was waiting for him, sneaking a +smoke like a convict. He pinched out the end of the cigarette, put it +in his pocket, and took Lennox downstairs. There was a blurry business +in an office of unlocking a file and restoring his possessions ... +money, watch, keys, and the gimmick book which he slid into his jacket. +He flexed his right arm against it repeatedly. It was his one hold on +his life. + +There was further confusion in other offices; papers to be signed +by a hand that could hardly bring itself to touch the pen, warnings +and official counsel to be heard, a brisk lawyer whom Lennox vaguely +recalled meeting before somewhere in the network. And most incredible +of all, there was Ned Bacon waiting for him in the hospital lobby, +leaning against a pillar like a Private Eye with his hat cocked over +his brow. Bacon shook hands warmly and took him out to his car. Lennox +was confused. + +"Yeah," Bacon said as he drove uptown, "We kicked it around and figured +the best thing would be to hand Cooper the rap. He was cooled anyway +and there was no percentage letting you sit in the penalty box." + +"You told them Sam wrote the letters?" Lennox faltered. + +"Sure. That's how we sprung you. That lawyer could be a Federal judge +if he was willing to lose money." + +"But Fink and Salerno...." + +"Bob's a buddy," Bacon drawled. "We gave him the sign and he listened +to reason." + +"So everybody thinks Sam...?" + +"Yeah." + +Lennox lay back in the seat, limp and helpless, too exhausted after +three days of horror and remorse even to ask questions. He flexed his +right arm against the gimmick book and let the arm drop into his lap. +Bacon glanced at him and smiled knowingly. + +"Been rubbing elbows in the marketplace, huh Jake?" + +"I'm thinking of Sam." + +"Hell, he's dead. Think about the Quick." + +"I killed him, Ned." + +"A rope killed him, Jake." + +"I tied the rope for him." + +"He was an amateur," Bacon said. "He was out of his class. Nobody +killed him. He killed himself trying to mix with the pros." + +"Trying to mix with the poison eaters." + +"What?" + +"Nothing." + +"Did you write those damn fool letters, Jake?" + +"Yes, I guess I did." + +"What the hell for?" + +"I don't know for sure yet. I think because I was sore." + +"What at?" + +"Myself." + +"What for?" + +"I don't know," Lennox said wearily. "It's like there were two of +me ... and one didn't like the other. You know how every man's got a +voice inside him that talks to him like a stranger. Mine didn't talk. +It wrote letters." + +"You aren't thinking about taking from a head-shrinker, are you?" + +"I don't believe in them." + +"Stay away from those guys, Jake. I wouldn't trust a talent that wasn't +crazy a little. It's the crazy that makes you the writer. Stay with it +and enjoy." + +"Enjoy what? I've lost everything. God knows I made it a fight ... but +I've lost everything. I've got nothing left." + +Bacon laughed. + +"If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in there doing word associations +and ink-blot tests and--This is a big favor, Ned, but why? I thought +you hated my guts after I sold you out to Blinky." + +"Just the Irish temper," Bacon said. "I'm directing 'Who He?' starting +February." + +"It's going off." + +"No it's not. + +"But--" + +"Sachs is moving over to our new show." + +"Our new...?" + +"'The Couple from Missouri.'" + +"What's that?" + +"Wake up, Jake. You remember that show we faked to cool the Kansas beef +last week." + +"The couple competing on give-away shows?" + +"Uh-huh. The network bought it. We've had to change it around a little. +Blinky'll tell you while we're signing the contracts." Bacon parked the +car in the low Forties. As he got out he said: "And remember, this time +we split three ways. No fifty percent for Grabinett." + +They walked up Madison toward Grabinett's office. Lennox was even more +dazed. A moment ago his world had been in ruins. Now it was apparently +back in business and doing better than ever. He flexed his arm against +his gimmick book. Then he phoned Gabby from a drugstore. There was no +answer. + +As they passed Borden's office building, Avery came bouncing out and +saw them. Lennox flinched. Borden ran over and shook hands. + +"Only got a minute," he said, glancing at his watch. "Have to grab an +early train. What was it like in the hatch, Jake? They put you in a +strait jacket? Do they really have padded cells? I tell you, let's have +lunch tomorrow. I've got to hear all about it. Give me a call, not too +early." He waved buoyantly and darted into a cab. + +Lennox watched him go. His jaw hung. He looked at Bacon with so much +astonishment that Bacon laughed. "Wake up, Jake. You've got enough new +material to eat free for a month." + +"Material?" Lennox echoed. + +"What else? You're lucky." + +They continued up Madison Avenue. Everybody in the business was on the +street and everybody greeted Lennox as though nothing had happened. +Oliver Stacy hailed them and shook hands. "I'll give you a little +advice, Jake. Next time you have to handle three in a hassle, don't +fight high. Work low ... from the gut down. And use your knees. Forget +about fouls when the chips are down." + +"Thank you, Oliver," Lennox said humbly. + +Stacy spread his shoulders and massaged his ribs. "I can't figure how +Cooper ever got up there. It took me twenty minutes to get across that +grid and cut him down ... and I know how to climb." He turned to Bacon. +"How'd you do with her?" + +"I'm going up to Brockton next week." + +"She can't be that good." Stacy tilted his fingers at them lazily and +departed. + +Bacon led Lennox up to Grabinett's office. The signs had been removed +from the corridor. Tooky Ween was in the main office with Grabinett and +both greeted Lennox warmly. + +"What a Christ Almighty thing!" Grabinett blinked. "That crazy Cooper +jeopardizing a show like that. Tsk. Tsk. You get any good ideas down +there, Jake? Ray was saying how we ought to do the mad scene from 'The +Count of Monte Cristo' on the 29th. Jesus, you need a shave." He picked +up the phone and ordered a barber. + +"He helped my boy write a great tune," Ween rumbled. "I don't care +what anybody says about him." He looked at Lennox. "Don't worry, Jake. +I'm takin' good care of that property. His sister's gettin' her fifty +percent regular, and it ain't a bad check." + +Lennox was too weary to argue. He phoned Gabby and there was still no +answer. The barber arrived and shaved him while Bacon swaggered up and +down the office with his hat tilted over one eye and organized the +cadre of the show. It was to be a panel format on the insult level. +Mr. and Mrs. Missouri would interview guest stars, challenge their +right to celebrity and stardom, and demand to be shown. The stars would +entertain to prove their merit. Ween would provide the stars from his +stable. Grabinett would provide production and direction, Lennox would +provide script. + +They argued budget for half an hour and then signed the agreement. +Jake's hand hardly trembled when he picked up the pen and signed +his name. He was beginning to feel solid again. The three days were +disappearing. + +As he left the office, Grabinett called after him: "Regular show +conference tomorrow at two. Don't forget. Have the script ready." + +"Mel! Have a heart. I've been in the hospital since Sunday." + +"So you had a nice rest. Get to work." + +Downstairs, he met Kay Hill, very slim and English in tweeds and a +fisher scarf, dashing into Sabatini's for a drink. She dragged him +with her. Lennox went back to the phone booth and tried for Gabby at +Houseways, Inc. She was not there either. He returned to Kay at the bar. + +"So they let you out of the hatch, darling," she said. "Happy, happy +day. We'll pickle it." + +"My God," Lennox said. "Nothing's changed." + +"Nothing ever does change. What's your brew?" + +"Soda." + +"Scotch and soda? Bourbon and soda? What and soda?" + +"Soda and soda." + +"Lent's a little early this year," she told the bartender. "Soda for +my father. Listen, darling, there's no earthly reason why--Hello +darling!" She waved to someone who kissed her cheek and clapped Lennox +genially on the back. "Why you have to hire a pair of bloody squares +from--Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back. "From +Missouri to expert your new show. I'm your girl for the job and--Hello +darling!--I'll sleep for it." + +"Listen," he said abruptly. "What happened at your place Saturday +night?" + +"Oh that? I was bloody plastered. You pulled in around midnight with +that Bleutcher bitch and--" + +"Midnight? You're sure?" + +"Of course--Hello darling!--and when Oliver ran out with her I thought +the usual had happened." She finished her drink and snapped her fingers +to the bartender. "Poor dear, he went out like something after a hot +bitch. He came back like something after a cold shower; and I wouldn't +turn my electric blanket on for him. What about that job? It's a +cozy--Hello darling!--blanket." + +Sabatini's was filling with the regular cocktail crowd, the men in the +same grey flannel suits with white oxford shirts and large expensive +ties, escorting the same pretty girls, exchanging the same dangerous +dialogue that flashed sparks like steel knives scraping together. It +was familiar and steadying. Sick, it might be, but it was the only life +that Lennox knew. He actually was able to grin at Kay. + +"I could use your body, love," he said, "but I wouldn't dare touch your +dialogue." + +"Don't be a bloody bug, Jake. You know I'm discreet on camera, I'd +never say--Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back +from somebody who paused to chat. + +"What's with Cooper?" he inquired. "I hear he got into some crazy jam +and hung himself in the middle of the first commercial." + +Lennox looked at him. "It was an accident," he said slowly. + +"Darling," Kay began. "Everybody knows poor Sam--" + +"It was an accident." He turned to Kay and for a searing moment his +eyes were more acid than hers. "Never forget that for a moment. Pass +the word around." + +"Yes, Jake," she whispered. + +"He was a wonderful guy ... too good for this business. I wrote those +crazy letters. Not Sam. He died in an accident." + +Lennox left the bar and walked south on Madison, the highway of his +business, the highway of his life, the quintessence of Now. And the +Now was the same Now of last week, last month, last year. Nothing had +changed; nothing was lost, except Cooper. The life he had fought so +bitterly to hold together still stood firm, better than ever ... except +for Cooper. + +"I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you, Sam," he thought. "I +don't know what I'm going to do. I can make the business jump through +the hoop, but that's not enough of an answer." + +He turned east in the Twenties, threading through the dismal +sidestreets until he came at last to the little square with its +sycamore trees, its Greek cross of gravel paths, its black and brass +fence. He unlocked the street door of No. 33 and entered the kitchen. +His heart constricted. There were the Siamese making love to what +appeared to be Cooper kneeling on the kitchen floor filling their +dinner plate. The figure arose. It was Gabby in blue jeans and a shirt, +wearing dark glasses. + +The plate was empty by the time he forced himself to release her. He +looked at her, still without a word. He had knocked the glasses off in +the first fierce embrace. She had a lurid black eye. + +"Can you go inside?" Gabby asked. "Is it all right? We can go down to +my place." + +"It's all right, I think...." + +They went through the pantry hall into the living room. It was exactly +the same, even to the pile of manuscript paper on the piano. + +"Why shouldn't it be?" Lennox muttered. + +"I had to give the skunk away," Gabby said. "I didn't know what she +ate." + +"He," Lennox said mechanically. "Raw chicken." + +"Was it ... all right in the hospital? Did they hurt you?" + +"No. I'll tell you about it.... Some other time." + +With his arm around her waist, he paced up and down the long living +room slowly, letting his eyes wander, not daring to think. At last he +said: "A week's a long time on The Rock." + +"Sometimes it's a lifetime." + +"Usually it is. That's why we burn out so fast. Do you remember what +you said to me the Sunday we ended this affair?" + +"You mean began it." + +"No. That was the end. It's been backwards all along. Here we are at +the beginning. Let it be the real beginning." + +"All right, Jordan." + +He stopped pacing, took her hand and smiled artificially. "Good +afternoon. May I introduce myself? Jordan Lennox." + +"I'm Gabby Valentine." + +"What does Gabby stand for?" + +"Gabrielle." + +"Jordan stands for Junky. That's a hophead ... a lunatic." + +"Oh Jord--" + +"Shh! I'm introducing myself. I'm a crazy man, Miss Valentine. +Unbalanced. That's what makes me a successful writer, they say. Some +people don't believe talent is talent unless it's crazy. Do you think +so?" + +"No," she answered gravely. + +"Now while I'm introducing myself, Miss Valentine, I should tell you +what I write. You know the dirty words you see written on subway +station walls? I write them. That's my job. I also compose poems in +public toilets and do dirty drawings...." + +"Please, Jordan...." + +"Recently I was graduated to de luxe work ... dirty letters. But I was +so crazy I wrote them to--" He began to shake. "Remember what you +said? That I was poison. I am. I am. Be kind to me. Kill me." + +"You know the truth now?" + +"Yes." + +"Then don't waste it. Remember it. Don't throw it away. Use it." + +"How long have you known?" + +"Since Sunday." + +"And you're still around? Why aren't you running from me?" + +"I've known since Sunday morning, not Sunday night. I wasn't running +Sunday, was I?" + +"No. You were lying like an account man to save me." Lennox turned +away. "How long did Sam know?" + +"A week." + +"And he tried to save me, too." + +"Yes, Jordan. He tried very hard. He tried to protect both of us." + +"Do you know why he did it, Gabby?" + +"Yes," she said. She was about to blurt the truth of her last meeting +with Cooper when she caught herself. "But you'd better tell me." + +"I let him down," Lennox said bitterly. "He was a sweet guy, a whole +man, the only normal in the business. He had sense enough to want to +stay out of the rat-race and I shoved him into it. And then I let him +down." + +"How?" + +"I don't like to remember." + +"It'll be best for you to remember. You won't be free of it until you +confess it. How did you let him down?" + +"When he loused the song spot. He was shaky with stagefright. You saw +him. Sure he loused it. Why shouldn't he? He wasn't a performer; he was +a composer. He came offstage licked. And instead of standing by him I +blew my crazy stack about the letters." + +"What did you say to him?" + +"Christ! What lousy things didn't I say! I called him a fag and a Judas +and tried to get the cops to arrest him...." Lennox grunted in agony. +"How can a man do a thing like that to a friend? He was half my life." + +"He still is." + +"He's gone." + +"No, you still have him." + +"I destroyed him." + +"You can't destroy remembering him. Never. Always remember Sam Cooper, +the whole man, your friend." + +"It hurts," Lennox groaned. + +"You're lucky. You can punish yourself for what you did. It's the +people who can't confess who suffer." + +"Is that why you think he did it?" Lennox asked. + +"Yes," Gabby answered steadily. + +"Why didn't he hold on? Just a few more days. I licked 'em. I beat 'em +at their own game ... maybe because I'm their own kind ... but I came +out on top. I've still got the old show. I've got a new one. I've got +everything I was fighting for. Why couldn't he wait a little?" + +"I put you on top," Gabby said. + +"That goes without saying. I couldn't have done anything without you, +I--" + +"You didn't do anything. I did it for you. Roy did it for you." + +"Roy! Audibon?" + +She nodded. "I made a bargain with Roy. I told him I'd go back to him." + +"You told him you'd...." Lennox slumped on a chair. "So that's why the +show was renewed. That's why the network bought the new one. It was a +deal. Yes?" + +"Yes. So here it is," Gabby said. "The life you love ... the life +you've been fighting for so desperately ... the life you want more than +anything else in the world. Here it is wrapped in ribbon, and cheap at +the price." + +"Cheap!" + +"Cheap. You won't even have to give me up. That's part of the bargain +too. I can have a lover if I'll be discreet." + +"You're kidding," Lennox said faintly. "Please don't, darling." + +"No, I'm serious." Gabby watched him closely with solemn dark eyes. +"You're two people in one. Everybody is, more or less, and it doesn't +matter. But it does to me because I'm in love with one of you and not +the other. I hate the one who built this life for you. I love the one +who's trying to knock it down. He's the real Jake." + +"You've got it backwards, haven't you?" + +"You've got it backwards. You admire the wrong one. You're trying to +protect the wrong one. I hate the one that's your favorite." + +"But the letters? The crazy filth...?" + +"I don't care. He's the one I love. He's filthy because he's never had +a chance, but he's the real Jake ... the honest Jake. He's a man to be +proud of; not the arrogant, hostile Jordan Lennox who hides him." + +Lennox shook his head in bewilderment. + +"Sometimes people fight to keep something alive when they should let it +be destroyed," Gabby said. "That's what you've been doing. You taught +me there are times when it's right to fight." She touched her eye. +"I'll tell you about this some day. Now I want to teach you that there +are times when it's right to surrender." + +"What do you want me to do?" Lennox asked. + +"Make a choice. All this and me for a mistress, or none of this and me +for a wife." She backed against the piano, still watching him intently. +"I won't cheat. I'll love my Jake just as hard as I can ... as long as +I can find him in you. But the rest is up to you. You can have your +shows and your victories and your money, and take your chance of losing +the real Jake forever...." + +"And you too?" + +"And me too. Or you can let this life come down in ruins ... you know +what Roy can do to both of us ... and start building the real Jake out +of the rubble." + +"Maybe you're wrong about the real Jake." + +"Maybe I am. That's a chance you'll have to take. But it's a fighting +chance, and you're a fighter, aren't you?" + +"I used to think so." + +"And there's one more thing. You know you're sick." + +"I said I was." + +"But you don't mean it. You're upset now, and ashamed. Later on you'll +forget. You've got to go to a doctor." + +"A talk-doctor?" + +"Yes. It won't be easy." + +"I don't believe in analysts." + +"That's why it won't be easy. But you need one, badly. You'll have to +promise to start and go through with it." Gabby took a breath. "All +right, Jordan. There's your choice. Keep on fighting the old way, or +tear it down and start fighting for something new. Make up your mind +now." + +Lennox stood up slowly. He looked once around the room and then was +caught again by Gabby's intent gaze. For a long moment they stared at +each other while a voice within Lennox cried: "Run! Run! Run!" Suddenly +he reached into his jacket and pulled out the gimmick book. With one +powerful swing of his arm, he hurled it through the garden window into +oblivion. As the glass came tinkling down, he swung Gabby up in his +arms and carried her upstairs to his bed. + +"I cheated," she murmured honestly. "I dressed for the part." + +"Sweetheart?" + +"Ned Bacon told me you'd be home today and I know you're sucker for +girls in pants." + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + +This Friday, Robin and I packed a bag, bought groceries and liquor, got +into the car and got off The Rock. We drove out toward Trenton, and ten +miles this side of Princeton Junction we turned off the express highway +onto Gun Hill Road, went through the fat Jersey farmland and finally +reached Stokewold, a village of one church, one supermarket, one bank, +one--Oh, one of each. You take the right fork out of Stokewold around +the pond and it's two miles to Gabby and Jake's house which they've +named Cooper Union. + +By the time we reached Stokewold we were halfway into a laughing jag. +We always start laughing on the way to visit the Lennoxes. You think +about their accidents and adventures building their house and you can't +stop.... The three second-hand cars Gabby bargained for and bought +which, one after the other, broke down as soon as she got them home, +turning the place into a Used Car lot. The time Jake got arrested for +trucking their nine-foot plate glass picture window on the express +highway. The big July Fourth party weekend when the water system went +haywire and Gabby tried to empty out a hundred gallon tank with a +teacup. Privately, Robin and I call the house Hysteria Cottage. + +Outside of Ned Bacon, Robin and I are the only people from the business +who like to see the Lennoxes. The Rock's turned its back on them. But +we love to come down to Cooper Union and help Gabby and Jake build +their house. We hammer and saw and paint while Gabby lectures to us +from Builder's Guides. Robin plants, mostly, and I'm the king of the +concrete, I have a touch with a trowel that astonishes people ... +including myself. + +The reason the house is still building is that they blew all their +money on the property. They have about a hundred acres of farmland, +meadow, timber, and whatever else they call rural-type land. The house +(what there is of it) is on a small hill shaded by elms. A hundred +yards behind the house is a tiny extinct quarry which was flooded out +by natural springs years ago. We swim there in summer and the water's +glacial. + +Gabby's pregnant. Gabby's the cute type. Her figure's exactly the same +except she looks like she swallowed the head of a torpedo. Ned Bacon, +who lets on to be a shingling expert, spends all his time finding out +if it's going to be a boy or a girl. He makes her lie down, borrows a +wedding ring (Gabby doesn't have one yet), and dangles it on a string +over her stomach. The theory is, if it swings in circles it'll be a +girl and if it swings back and forth in a straight line it'll be a boy. +So far the odds are seven to three on a boy. + +Gabby hasn't changed a bit. Robin and I were there in April when +they held a town meeting and we drove in with them. There were about +a hundred people sitting on camp chairs in the church basement, and +half of them were glowering at the Lennoxes because of the way the +unfinished house looks. They're all rich Squares who write stinging +letters to the Stokewold Star Times beefing about the gutter-bred +Lennoxes who are turning their township into a slum. + +This didn't make any difference to Gabby. She was on her feet a dozen +times, lecturing and admonishing the township on ethics, fair play and +civic corruption. Lennox sat solemnly alongside her and nodded his head +emphatically to her points. Once he caught my eye and winked, but the +laugh was on him because Gabby got him elected chairman of the Garbage +Committee. + +Jake does a few scripts now and then, most of them under a pen name +now that Macro and Audibon have had him blacklisted (not officially) +for Communism, which is a laugh. He sells a few stories. They struggle +along. It isn't easy with those two trips a week to the talk-doctor to +pay for, but they don't complain. Gabby tells me that Jake is having +a rough time getting straightened out, but he doesn't bleat. Both of +them are so grateful for their fighting chance that they act as though +they've won already. That's why we like to visit them. + +We never bring our troubles out to Gabby and Jake. You can always find +someone on The Rock who'll enjoy listening to your headaches. In fact +most people get sore at you if you don't complain a little. Happiness +is the problem. You have to share it with someone to get full enjoyment +out of it, but there's no one you can do this with on The Rock. If you +tell one of the tight rope walkers you've had a lucky break, he's so +jealous he's ready to kill you. So we save the good luck stories for +the Lennoxes. + +Gabby and Jake are glad if anyone else gets a break. They beam and +shake your hand and she delivers a ringing lecture on how creative you +are and how much you've deserved success. And they write you follow-up +letters to ask how your success is doing and they make you forget that +they've got problems too. The result is, you can't wait to be invited +down to break your back building their house. + +So we drove up the little hill this Friday afternoon and honked the +horn, Gabby and Jake came pouring out of the house followed by the +Siamese who looked like amateur tigers. Gabby kissed me. Jake kissed +Robin. I wasn't too jealous because I've got a kind of yen for Gabby. + +We yakked all that Friday night and didn't get to bed until three. +Eight o'clock Saturday morning we were awakened by Gabby who was +making weird noises in the unfinished study. When we investigated, she +explained that she was trying to hammer quietly. We began to laugh, got +into our work clothes, had breakfast with Jake and didn't stop laughing +all day. + +Sunday, the volunteer slaves started arriving to spend the day. Bacon +pulled in with Olga Bleutcher. Then came the friends of exile ... the +odd people who live on The Rock and never let it bother them. Eugene +K. Norman brought a man with a guitar. Two of the prettiest girls I +ever saw in my life drove up with a man wearing a red beard. In their +car was a wicker picnic basket the size of a steamer trunk. They were +artist friends of Gabby and spent the afternoon painting L*E*N*N*O*X on +the RFD mail box. + +After lunch, Lennox and I strolled down the hill, across the little +valley and up into the rise where his stand of timber was. I looked +back at the house and was suddenly struck by a resemblance. + +"Jake," I said. + +"Yes, Kit?" + +"Look at the house from here, will you?" + +He looked. + +"What does it remind you of?" + +"Should it remind me of anything?" + +"Yes. That place you showed me out in Islip. Where you were a kid." + +For a moment his face lost its calm and I had a glimpse of the +agonizing road he was climbing toward adjustment. It shocked me and I +was ashamed of my slip. I tried to change the subject. He stopped me. + +"It's all right, Kitten," he smiled. "You haven't done anything wrong. +These things have to be faced. The house does look like the old place +in Islip." + +"You see it?" + +"I feel it." He was silent for a moment. "It's a funny thing. I spent +half my life running away from that clam-shack, and here I am right +back in it again." + +"Any idea when you'll get this place finished?" I asked, still trying +to change the subject. This time I succeeded. + +"Who knows?" Jake said. "There's no rush." + +"Don't those letters in the paper bother you?" + +"Hell no!" He laughed. "You've seen Gabby's plans. You know how +beautiful the house'll be when we're finished. What's the hurry?" + +"Your neighbors'd like you to hurry." + +"Squares!" he grunted. "They're just like the noodnicks on The Rock, +Kitten. You find them everywhere. Rush. Rush. Rush. Nobody wants to +work for the work's sake. They want it done overnight so they can have +the result quick. But it's the work that's the fun. I finally found +that out. Nobody's going to hustle me into rushing through the best +part." + +"How long do you expect to take?" + +"There you go thinking like The Rock again. You mean three months or +six months or a year, don't you?" + +"It couldn't take longer, could it?" + +"I hope it takes three generations," he said. + +I didn't have any answer. + +Sunday night we were the last to leave. It's a point of pride with +us to show that we're the Lennoxes' favorite friends. We kissed them +goodbye, drove down the hill and started back toward The Rock. We +looked up and saw them, silhouetted against the lights of the house, +arms around each other, waving madly. We started to laugh again. + +"Crazy kids," I said. + +"They're pure gypsy," Robin said. + +"When the baby comes he'll have to get to work again." + +"Gabby says they're going to name it Sam if it's a boy." + +"What if it's a girl?" + +"She says they'll name her Ned to teach Bacon a lesson." + +We chuckled and rehashed the weekend and the glow lasted all the way to +the George Washington bridge. There The Rock loomed up before us like a +vast purple volcano, lights flaring over it sulphurously, the sky above +reflecting the burning craters below. Robin began to cry. + +"What's the matter, Robin?" + +"Somehow I can't help feeling sorry for them." + +As we drove across the chasm of the river back to the private chasms +of our lives, we both knew she was lying. The weak never weep for the +strong; they weep only for themselves. + + * * * * * + +[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphens left as printed.] + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75234 *** diff --git a/75234-h/75234-h.htm b/75234-h/75234-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3151770 --- /dev/null +++ b/75234-h/75234-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13372 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + "Who He?" | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: -1.5em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75234 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<h1>"WHO HE?"</h1> + +<p class="ph1">By ALFRED BESTER</p> + +<p>THE DIAL PRESS<br> +NEW YORK<br> +1953</p> + +<p>Copyright, 1953, by Alfred Bester<br> +<i>Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 53-9322</i></p> + + +<p>DESIGNED BY WILLIAM R. MEINHARDT<br> +Printed in the United States of America<br> +By The Haddon Craftsmen Inc., Scranton, Penna.</p> + +<p>To<br> +ROLLY</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Every morning I hate to be born, and every night I'm afraid to die. I +live my life within these parentheses, and since I'm constantly walking +a tightrope over hysteria, I'm perceptive to the dilemmas of other +people as they cross their own chasms.</p> + +<p>I'm a script-writer by trade, specializing in mystery shows. I'm +married to an actress. We're both of us second-raters in the +entertainment business ... mostly anonymous to the public, fairly +well-known to our colleagues. Between us we make from ten to twenty +thousand dollars a year, depending on the breaks. This is only fair +money in our business.</p> + +<p>It seems like a fortune to our families, and we dazzle them with our +glamour. We hate this, but we can't dispel the illusion that General +Sarnoff claps me on the shoulder and calls me by my nickname. Now +we've given up trying. We realize that people want their friends to be +glamorous, so we've stopped trying to avoid undeserved admiration. But +I can't stand deception, and if I appear to be cynical in this story, +it's because I'm leaning over backwards to tell you the truth. As a +matter of fact I'm the reverse of cynical ... rather naive, in love +with adventure and romance, with the moral and ethical standards of an +Eagle Scout.</p> + +<p>This is all I intend telling you about myself, because the story isn't +about me; it's about some tightrope walkers I know, and their strange +adventures in this fantastic frontier town we natives call The Rock. +The Rock, of course, is Manhattan Island, the only part of Greater New +York that we consider to be the genuine New York; and in our business +there is a very small society of natives born and raised on The Rock. +You'd be surprised at how few there are.</p> + +<p>The Rock is the roaring frontier of the new life we are all beginning +to live, a life that is a terrifying mixture of the conscious and +unconscious levels of our minds. It is new and terrifying because the +unconscious depths which were concealed up to now, have become exposed, +and participate openly in our every-day life, turning it into a savage, +merciless war.</p> + +<p>It's like those subway rides you take on trains that tunnel deep under +the city, emerge abruptly into the daylight to roar past third-storey +windows, and then plunge down into the lower levels again. So, when you +meet people on The Rock, you never know when some unexpected turn will +carry you up for a flashing glimpse through the windows of their souls, +or down into the black depths of their hatreds and formless desires.</p> + +<p>Adventurers from all over the world crowd into our town, just as +fortune-hunters went west a century ago. In the old days in Denver and +Fargo you fought for your life and your fortune, but in our frontier +town you fight for your sanity as well. The drives and ambitions, +the deep passions and compulsions, the blind search for symbols and +compensations that bring the bandits to The Rock are naked and exposed, +and this is where the danger lies. A man may declare war on you because +you're a threat to his job, or merely because you're the symbol of a +threat to his precarious stability. When you cross a street you never +know whether you're going to be sandbagged by a thief's blackjack or a +neurotic's nightmare.</p> + +<p>The Rock is so wild and wide-open that nobody ever pretends to mask the +deep chasms and smouldering fires in their lives. We carry our fears +and fixations like naked weapons as we walk our tightropes, and we use +them as quickly and murderously as Billy The Kid used his six-gun. The +result is that we fight, love and adventure on all levels and never +bother to distinguish reality from illusion because both are equally +living and dangerous.</p> + +<p>I'll try to separate fact from fancy in this adventure I'm going to +tell you, but in the end I think you'll agree that it's unnecessary. +Like the classic bartender in the classic Western, you'll duck behind +the beer kegs at the first shot, whether it comes from a real gun or +the explosive ferment in a man's mind. And don't imagine for a moment +that this story is a plug for psychoanalysis. Whether you believe +in analysis or not, you must admit that man, like the iceberg, is +nine-tenths submerged. I'm simply going to describe what life is like +in our frontier town where the submerged levels float up to the surface.</p> + +<p>The locale of this story is a show I never worked. It's a TV variety +clam-bake called "Who He?" ... one of those lunatic mish-mashes that +started out as a panel quiz show and ended up as a musical. It stars +Mason & Dixon, supported by Kay Hill and Oliver Stacy. It's directed by +Raeburn Sachs, written by Jake Lennox, with music by Johnny Plummer. +It's produced by Melvin Grabinett Associates and costs the client, Mode +Shoes, $50,000 a week.</p> + +<p>"Who He?" is not an expensive show as TV variety shows go. It's in the +middle bracket. I think you might be interested in a rough break-down +on the budget which will give you some idea of the stakes for which the +people in this adventure were fighting. The monetary stakes, that is. +The network charges $25,000 for a half-hour of coast-to-coast time. Mig +Mason, the star, gets $2,000 a week. Diggy Dixon, who is co-starred +with him, doesn't get a nickel because Mason's a ventriloquist and +Dixon is the dummy. Stacy, Kay Hill and other talent and specialties +including the dancers get $3,000.</p> + +<p>The writers, Jake Lennox and Mason's gagmen, split $1,500 between +them. Lennox also gets a small cut in the producer's take for helping +create the show. Incidentally, one of the gagmen got married for the +first time on his forty-third birthday. The marriage broke up after +two weeks. The bride went home to Canada and the gagman went down to +Washington and became a spy for the government. We're still trying to +figure it out. Maybe he decided that any tight rope, even an espionage +tight rope, would be safer than the one he was on.</p> + +<p>Raeburn Sachs gets $750 a week for directing "Who He?". How Sachs got +started in the business is one of the great legends, and the only +explanation for his weird public and private life. He was a stencil +clerk in a Chicago advertising office, and one day he drove to work +in a new Cadillac. He also wore new clothes and a new look. Everybody +asked Ray if he'd robbed a bank. Chicago-type joke. Ray told them +proudly that he'd written a hit tune called "Lumbago" or something like +that.</p> + +<p>Nobody ever heard of the tune. The office did a little detective work +and discovered that "Lumbago" did exist, had truly been written by Ray, +and had been recorded as a favor to him by a cousin who led a band +working for a Chicago recording company. The gimmick was that there was +another side to the record, the Flip, they call it, and Sinatra was on +the Flip. Sinatra made the sales, but Ray shared the money. That made +him a reputation and started him as a variety expert. He's been trying +to justify that wrong Flip ever since.</p> + +<p>Here's a little more budget: Johnny Plummer, married to the most +exotically beautiful noodnick in the world, is allotted $1,500 a week +for orchestra, copying and his own fee. The noodnick has standing +orders to keep out of the theater because she disrupts the camera men, +and camera time is counted like radium. Cameras and technicians cost +$2,000. Sets and props cost $3,000. Special effects like rain, snow, +Acts of God and Rear-Projection cost $500.</p> + +<p>The producer, Mel Grabinett (Mr. Blinky to his enemies; he has no +friends) takes $3,000 which he cuts up with Jake Lennox and Ned Bacon +who developed "Who He?" with him. Jake and Ned get two and a half bills +each. That's $250. Borden, Olson and Mardine, the advertising agency +representing the client, adds 15% of the gross cost of the show for +agency fee, and that plus prize money and incidentals comes to $50,000 +a week to demonstrate the superior quality of Mode Shoes.</p> + +<p>Some forty hard-working, variously talented people put together "Who +He?" every week ... artists, technicians and business men. Each of +them is walking his own private tightrope, but all of them must walk +the communal tightrope of the show on Sunday night at nine o'clock +before 37 million viewers. The individual pressures added to the common +tension of the show make it seem inevitable that the program will +blow up during rehearsal and never get on the air. Yet "Who He?" has +appeared 39 weeks in succession without mishap. Without mishap, that +is, until the performance on New Year's night.</p> + +<p>It was one of those nightmares. Everyone who saw the show knew +something was wrong. Mig Mason performed so badly that you could see +his mouth twitch and his neck muscles jerk during the ventriloquist +routines with the dummy. Oliver Stacy handed out the wrong prizes. +Johnny Plummer missed his cues. Floor managers and stagehands wandered +dazedly before the cameras. The dancers went through the production +numbers as though they expected the roof to collapse at any moment. +<i>Variety</i> happened to catch the show that night and murdered it.</p> + +<p><i>Variety</i> was unfair. Their reviewer should have checked first. He +would have learned that the show went out the window because one man +fell off his private tightrope with such a disastrous jar that everyone +else was shaken. He would have discovered that less than five feet of +sight-line saved the theater audience and the TV viewers from the +spectacle of a dead man hanging by the neck from the iron grid above +the stage.</p> + +<p>For twenty-nine minutes and thirty seconds, stars, actors, dancers +and technicians went through the motions of playing "Who He?" under +a corpse with starting eyes and swollen tongue ... a victim of the +savage, merciless warfare in our frontier town, murdered by the ferment +in a man's mind.</p> + +<p>I knew the corpse. I know what killed him. I'm still friendly with most +of the cut-throats who watched him die. I've spoken to them, questioned +them, and heard what they couldn't say as well as what they said. I've +pieced out all the strands that wove themselves into a rope around a +man's neck. This is the story of what happened....</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Jake Lennox had been fighting a losing battle with himself for ten +years, and it was a struggle he had never been aware of. The two levels +of his mind hated each other and were tearing him apart. Jake had a +conscious ideal, the model of the man he wanted to be ... austere, +kindly, infallible, sophisticated. Like many of us, he suffered +from the Mignon Complex. He was bitterly ashamed of his background. +He had had a squalid childhood as the son of a drunken Long Island +clam-digger, and would have liked to awaken one morning to discover +that he was really the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk.</p> + +<p>But deep down inside, Jake was a hell of a rowdy guy; full of laughter +and boisterous energy, yearning for ribald friends and a burning girl +he could love and marry and riot in bed with. He was not aware of this. +He believed in the conscious image of what he wanted to be. And while +the lusty passions within him fought to overturn and destroy the world +he had made for himself, his conscious mind was fighting desperately to +hold it together.</p> + +<p>Occasionally the conscious mind gave way, which is why Jake Lennox +awoke on Christmas night in the role of another man. He was convinced +that he was Mr. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia. I got this story from +Jake and from Aimee Driscoll when I went up to her apartment to claim +Jake's overcoat and precious gimmick book. Jake couldn't face Aimee +again. She represented the turmoil inside him which he could not +acknowledge.</p> + +<p>Aimee (how about that name?) is a blonde with a poached face and +the fattest behind and bosom in the hustling racket. If you looked +at her through a gin bottle you might imagine that she was a busty +Swedish acrobat, which was what betrayed Jake. There are front-men and +rear-men, Aimee kindly explained to me, and she parlays both into a +lovely living. Mr. Clarence Fox was an All-Around Camper.</p> + +<p>He awoke, still drunk and still bloody from the brawl in Ye Baroque +Saloon where he had acquired Aimee. He wore his underwear and was +cramped into an overstuffed sofa and covered with a gritty Navajo +blanket. It was dark. Lennox let out a roar that slid into a ballad +which he'd composed the night before and with which he'd been injuring +ears ever since.</p> + +<p>Aimee heard the racket, ran into the living room and turned on the +lights. Lennox winced, closed his eyes, and sneezed three times in +stately waltz tempo.</p> + +<p>"Less light," he muttered. "A switch on Goethe. I am excessively +educated, and all by hand. Need more crud in my blood." He began to +roar again.</p> + +<p>"Stop that noise, Clarence!" Aimee called from the door. "Stop that +goddam singing."</p> + +<p>Lennox finished the ballad which included every dirty word he knew. +Seventeen, by actual count.</p> + +<p>"And stop talking dirty," Aimee told him primly. She was wearing a bra, +panties and high black net stockings; not, she pointed out, in hopes of +arousing the beast in Mr. Fox. It was her conventional uniform. As a +matter of fact she knew he was still drunk and hoped he wouldn't start +anything. She waddled to the sofa and bent over Mr. Fox solicitously. +He had been very generous to her even though her professional services +had not yet been requested. Mr. Fox stared up at her bursting cleavage, +then suddenly thrust his heavy hand down into it.</p> + +<p>"The All-Mother," Lennox laughed.</p> + +<p>He hurt her. Aimee squawked and jerked back. Lennox held on to the bra +and tore it away. He began to cheer: "Brah! Brah! Brah!" waving the bra +like a college pennant.</p> + +<p>"You goddam lousy bum!" Aimee screamed. "You're mean. You're mean dirty +drunk. I never liked you from the beginning, you goddam lousy son of +a—"</p> + +<p>"No, no," Lennox protested. "An act of admiration. 'Fair is my love, +for April's in her face, her lovely breasts September claims his +part....' Poem by R. Greene. Speaks for C. Fox."</p> + +<p>He lurched up from the sofa, captured Aimee and clutched her +reverently. He pressed his face between her breasts. He had not shaved +in a day and a half, and his beard was excruciating. Aimee fought and +twisted and thrust him away. Lennox straightened and rocked like a high +mast.</p> + +<p>"'But Cold December dwelleth in her heart,'" he mumbled sorrowfully. +"Where's the woman who'll give passion with the sweetness of virgins +and the lunacy of whores? You give, Aimee, but you taste like money." +He staggered, tripped on a mass of cardboard and wrapping paper, and +fell heavily into a three-foot Christmas tree that expired with a +jingle and pop.</p> + +<p>Aimee burst out laughing. She was revenged. Lennox arose in a fury, +seized the Christmas tree by the butt and beat it savagely against the +wall. Aimee protested. He leaped toward her and lashed her across the +high fat buttocks. Aimee screamed. Lennox slipped and bruised himself +on a solid square object covered with tissue paper. He clutched it.</p> + +<p>"You leave that alone, Clarence," Aimee yelled. She forgot all other +outrages and ran across the room. She clawed at Lennox and tried to +pull him off. The tissue paper tore away.</p> + +<p>"What'r you protecting? Virginity?" Lennox growled.</p> + +<p>"It's the Christmas present you gimme. You bought it last night. Don't +you bust it!"</p> + +<p>Lennox peeled away tissue paper to reveal a dark wood console and a +twelve inch TV screen.</p> + +<p>"The Monster!" he cried. "The One-Eyed Beast!" He hammered the top of +the set with his fists. Aimee fought him helplessly, then darted away +and returned with an empty quart beer bottle. She swung it with both +hands and clubbed Lennox across the back of the neck. He fell forward +into the rubbish like a tackle throwing a rolling block. He was the +size of a tackle.</p> + +<p>Lennox climbed to his feet, his throat working convulsively. +"Bathroom," he croaked. He was sick. Aimee knew the symptoms well, and +no vendetta was worth another cleaning bill. She turned Lennox around +and pushed him competently through a narrow door into the small bedroom +and then into the bathroom. She turned on the light, flipped up the +toilet lid and with the skill of long experience, bent his head down to +the bowl. Then she backed out and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>During the preliminary moment of agony, Lennox thought: "They play +Boys' Rules. Oh Virgins! Respectables! Learn from them—" Then the +purge began.</p> + +<p>When the heaving stopped, Lennox straightened painfully, flushed the +toilet, then examined his face in the mirror. To him it was the face of +Mr. Clarence Fox, the visiting Quaker from Philadelphia. His cropped +hair was still sleek; nothing could ever muss it. But his dark eyes had +heavy purple shadows around them, and his lined face was bruised.</p> + +<p>He was purged, still drunk, but beginning to sober. He staggered to +the bedroom, found his clothes neatly hung in a closet, and dressed. +He went out into the living room. Aimee had straightened it. She wore +a white housecoat blemished by green and scarlet petunias, and was +kneeling alongside the new television set plugging it into a wall +outlet.</p> + +<p>"If you got any on the floor you better clean it up," she said icily.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas," he answered. "Happy to pay for damage to life and +limb."</p> + +<p>Lennox reached into his pocket, took out his wallet and was fingering +through it for money when his eye noticed the identification card.</p> + +<p>"This isn't my wallet," he said.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Lennox plucked at his shirt dubiously. "Not my clothes either."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Clarence? Them's your clothes." Aimee +switched on the set and fiddled with the controls.</p> + +<p>"No. Not mine. Belong to somebody else. Character named Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>He extended the wallet for Aimee to examine. "My name's Fox. Clarence +Fox from Philadelphia. This is Jordan Lennox, says here. See? Jordan +Lennox. How'd he get into the act?"</p> + +<p>The screen ignited, herringboned, then sprang into life. The blast of +Johnny Plummer's orchestra filled the room with bright expectation. +A Main-Title card displayed white comedy letters against a cartoon +background while the voice of Oliver Stacy read it with frenetic sell: +THE MODE SHOW ... STARRING MIG MASON AND DIGGY DIXON ... PLAYING—'WHO +HE?'</p> + +<p>"Who He!" Aimee called over the burst of studio applause. I love that +program. I get every question right. I could make a fortune if I could +get on." She backed up, feeling for a chair, her eyes fixed on the +screen.</p> + +<p>Jake Lennox's consciousness ignited, herringboned, then sprang into +life.</p> + +<p>"'Who He!'" he burst out, stunned and bewildered. "That's my show."</p> + +<p>Clarence Fox stole back to Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"That's my show," Lennox repeated.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, your show?"</p> + +<p>"I write it. I own a piece of it."</p> + +<p>"That's a hot one," Aimee laughed.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand? It's my show. I'm Jake Lennox. I write +that—I—What the hell am I doing here? I'm supposed to be at the +theater."</p> + +<p>Lennox turned and stumbled out of the apartment. He clattered down the +brownstone stairs and fell half a flight. It was bitter cold on the +street. Snow and rain were falling, and the air was like ice-water. +Lennox ran west to 3rd Avenue, the great exposed nerve of The Rock's +delirium. It was empty. The bars exuded urine-colored light. The +antique shops blazed with cut-glass chandeliers. Alongside him, a +darkened barber-pole still revolved its red and white spiral with the +sound of guillotines.</p> + +<p>A small man in a derby, pea-jacket and white duck trousers passed him +and addressed him brightly: "Hiya, Dan. Nice to see you again." The +man in the derby continued up 3rd Avenue greeting empty doorways in +friendly tones: "Hello, Jerry. Long time no see.... Hiya, Pete? How's +the family? Glad to see you, Ed." Lennox stared at him, then saw a cab, +ran for it and leaped inside.</p> + +<p>"Gotham four one thousand," he called to the driver. He shook his head. +"No. That's the backstage number. I—Let's take it from the top. Venice +Theater. 50th and Sixth. I'm in a rush, Mr...." He tried to focus on +the license card above the glass partition. It would be considerate to +call the man by his name instead of Mac or Bud. His eyes bleared and he +gave it up.</p> + +<p>He sat on the edge of the seat, terrified by his abrupt return to +sanity, fighting to recapture the Lennox he admired and wanted to +be ... the sober Lennox, the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk. He +found his wristwatch in his jacket pocket and put it on, Nine-three. +Mig Mason would be starting the first Mason & Dixon spot on the show. +What was it this week? The football routine. Mason in moleskins. The +dummy under a sheet. <i>What football player made ghosts famous? For five +hundred dollars, Who He? Red Grange. That's ab-so-lute-ly</i> CORRECT! +(Applause). Lennox began to shake,</p> + +<p>"What's happened?" he muttered. "Where've I been? I'm in a panic. Why, +for five hundred dollars?"</p> + +<p>Lennox sorted through his shattered memory of the past twenty-four +hours. He was afraid to unearth, uncover, reveal; yet compelled, +like a man exploring the pain of an aching tooth. The fragments were +incomprehensible and crumbled under the most delicate touch. A Chinese +face appeared, then faded. A series of meaningless explosions sounded +like a vanishing execution squad. There was a knot. A gleaming African +smile. The knot again. A brass-bound staff and the brazen uproar of +gongs. A knot. A target. A knot.</p> + +<p>"And fear," Lennox said. "Fear. For God's sake, I was drunk, that's +all. Nothing more. Why am I afraid? What've I done?"</p> + +<p>He examined his wallet. Twenty three dollars left out of four hundred. +How much had gone for that television set bought for the blonde.... +What was her name? Anna? Mamie? Bought for her by a Quaker. Mr.... Who +was it? Charles something? Claude? Lennox winced and shook his head. +The memory was going ... going ... like the streets disappearing under +the sleet. Twenty four hours, and nothing but veiled patches left. A +Quaker. A blonde. A knot.</p> + +<p>"Christ," he prayed. "Dear Christ stand by me. Stand by me now."</p> + +<p>Lennox discovered he was crying. He was outraged. An austere, kindly, +infallible, sophisticated man didn't weep. It was that other character +he was forgetting with sickening speed ... a lurid, roaring, shameful +savage. He pounded his fists together, then looked again at his watch. +Nine-seven. Oliver Stacy and Kay Hill in the first song spot. Stacy +dressed in sheik's robes singing to Kay wearing an English riding habit +and making like Agnes Ayres. <i>For seven hundred and fifty dollars what +famous actor was the first famous sheik? Who He? Rudolph Valentino, +(Applause). Play-off from orchestra and segue into Intro for drama +spot.</i></p> + +<p>The cab jammed in traffic at 42nd and Vanderbilt, and again at Madison. +Lennox resisted the impulse to thrust his head out the window and roar +at the hacks and busses. He fought for control. Nothing remained from +the lost night but a Quaker, a blonde, a knot and terror. He turned his +back on the fragments and the fear and clung to the framework of the +world he knew. He was Jordan Lennox who owned a piece of and wrote most +of "Who He?" He had never won a Pulitzer Prize but he had never been +less than a contract writer in his life. He had never auditioned for a +job in his life. He had never been fired from a job in his life. In ten +years of brawling and knifing his way up in the business he had never +lost a fight.</p> + +<p>"No, by God!" he said suddenly. "What have I got to be afraid of? +They're all afraid of me."</p> + +<p>When he got out of the cab at the stage door he was no longer +tremulous. He was again the Jake Lennox we all knew, sardonic, hostile, +unyielding. He poked a dollar at the driver for the fare, and another +dollar for a present. "Merry Christmas, Mac," he said, not unkindly, +and walked into the theater. His feet left black prints on the +sidewalk. The city too was covered with sleet.</p> + +<p>It was 9:31-30. The show was two minutes off the air. Lennox pushed +through the crowd of wives and friends that crammed the backstage +corridor and reached the wings. Instantly, he halted. He smelled +trouble, and the prospect recharged him with energy. He stared around +with quick, guarded eyes.</p> + +<p>The house was emptying out. The two glass control booths at the back of +the orchestra were filled with gesticulating agency men who might or +might not be berating Raeburn Sachs, the director, and Sol Eggleston, +the network camera-director. Jake's nostrils dilated. The stage was in +a turmoil. Six dancers in snow-crystal costumes dashed past him with +their duck-footed gait, whispering nervously.</p> + +<p>"Angie ... Flo ... Ruthanna!" Lennox called. They were his favorite +pipe-lines to the backstage. They glanced at him with frightened +eyes, looked away and scampered up the iron stairs to the dressing +rooms on the balcony overlooking the stage. In a corner book-fold set +representing Santa's workshop, Oliver Stacy was snarling at Kay Hill, a +thin, attractive girl with acid eyes and a slack mouth.</p> + +<p>The camera crews and stagehands were striking equipment and sets in +silence. There was no chatter or laughter despite the fact that the +Grabinett office had slushed them with Christmas graft and it smelled +as though the graft had been sampled. Lennox turned and looked across +the house to the right boxes where the musicians' platform was built, +searching for his friend, Sam Cooper, the rehearsal pianist. The +musicians were leaving. Sam was nowhere in sight. Lennox mustered +himself for another fight. Carrying his naked weapons ready for quick +murder, he strode to the star dressing room on stage, knocked once and +entered, prepared for attack or defense.</p> + +<p>The star stood in scarlet Santa costume with half a beard clinging to +his lantern jaw. Mig Mason was thin, dark, young, with a good hairline +and a bad nose-job. He was sobbing hysterically. His wife, Irma, in a +mink coat, wearing Christmas orchids, a bad platinum dye and a good +nose-job, was trying to soothe him. The producer, Mel Grabinett, +blinking and jerking, was roaring at Tooky Ween, Mason's agent. Diggy +Dixon, the dummy, in gnome's costume, sprawled on the dressing table +alongside the door and regarded the scene with a wooden grin.</p> + +<p>"I don't care how much you're worth," Grabinett stuttered. "I don't +care how much goddam billing you handle. What the hell are you trying +to do? Bury my show?"</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to do?" Ween rumbled. "Bury my property?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't bad enough you gouge my budget for three grand. Three +Almighty Grand for that special skyscraper set so he can crawl around +like a cowardy cockroach and drop the dummy and turn my show into a +trappisty—"</p> + +<p>"I told you I had to have three hours' rehearsal on camera," Mason +shrieked.</p> + +<p>"He had to have three hours," Irma said.</p> + +<p>"But then he has to bitch the telephone contestant!" The producer's +face twitched hideously. "She give him the right answer. Kris Kringle, +she said. My operator was monitoring that Kansas call. She heard it. +The dame give the right answer."</p> + +<p>"She did not," Mason cried. "Tell him, Tooky. The right answer was St. +Nicholas."</p> + +<p>"The right answer was St. Nicholas," Irma said.</p> + +<p>"It was Kris Almighty Kringle, you no-talent son of a—"</p> + +<p>"Lay off!" Ween broke in. He glared at Grabinett. "Lay off my property. +You ain't just talking to talent. He's a star."</p> + +<p>"The question," Grabinett told the star with exaggerated calm, "was: +You seen me play the part of Santa Claus in our comedy sketch. Now, for +five thousand dollars, can you tell us another name for Santa Claus. +That was the question. And she give the right answer. Kris Kringle. +But no, you said. Sorry, you said. That's not right. Thank you. Merry +Christmas. And you hung up the phone and hung me up with the FCC. That +dame's husband is a lawyer. He called back before we went off the air. +He's so goddam mad he's suing us for fraud. He's suing the network." +Grabinett's voice broke in agony. "He's suing the client. The client!"</p> + +<p>"The answer was St. Nicholas," Mason shouted.</p> + +<p>"It was Kris Almighty Kringle!"</p> + +<p>Lennox could have backed out and disappeared unnoticed; instead +he thrust the dressing room door wide. The knob struck the dummy +and knocked it to the floor. Everyone twisted around and saw him. +Instantly they seemed to close ranks. Even the dummy shifted its eyes +malevolently. Lennox looked them over insolently, daring them to +attack. They attacked,</p> + +<p>"Ask him!" Mason cried. "Ask him! He wrote it. He's supposed to know +all the answers. The Thinker!"</p> + +<p>"It's his fault," Irma said.</p> + +<p>"Where the hell you been?" Grabinett blurted. "You know what happened? +If you'd been around tonight we wouldn't be in this jam."</p> + +<p>"You got one hell of a nerve writing a lousy show like this for my +property," Tooky Ween growled, "I want a new writer hired."</p> + +<p>"You don't need a writer," Lennox snapped. "You need an education. And +don't try to rap me for that skyscraper fiasco. F-I-A-S-C-O. I voted +for Rear-Projection at the conference."</p> + +<p>"You can't get laugh values with projection," the agent rumbled. "You +got to pin-point my boy on a genuine set."</p> + +<p>"And what happened on the genuine set? Lennox eyed Mason coldly. You +dropped the dummy? For laugh values?"</p> + +<p>"They never gave me a chance to rehearse the chimney," Mason wept. +"When I got halfway down with the bag of presents and I say to Diggy: +Hey Diggy! This ain't the right chimney. It smells wrong. And Diggy +says...."</p> + +<p>From the floor the dummy cackled: "Better get your paddle out, Mig. +You're up the creek."</p> + +<p>Lennox scowled. "I told your gagmen not to use that. We agreed to cut +it." He enlisted Grabinett. "You backed me up, Mel. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Grabinett answered. He too scowled at Mason.</p> + +<p>"But it's the best boffola in the routine. When I did it on the +Oddfellows show last year they—"</p> + +<p>"Used it last year? You swore the Santa sketch was an original." Lennox +attacked Tooky Ween. "You guaranteed Mason would use nothing but +original material on this show. Fact?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," Ween began to explain, "My boy is—"</p> + +<p>"Your boy is going to lay a suit for breach of contract in your lap if +you don't watch him."</p> + +<p>"It was so strictly original," Mason protested hysterically. "Last year +we did it like a chimney sweeper and his helper. We—"</p> + +<p>"And next year it'll be a burglar and his friend. What happened tonight +in the two thousand dollar chimney? Two, Mel?"</p> + +<p>"Three!" Grabinett howled. "Three thousand bucks so he could get his +pants full of nails and drop the dummy trying to ungoose hisself. It +was a trappisty!"</p> + +<p>"Who'd he drop it on, Tooky?"</p> + +<p>"Who cares who?"</p> + +<p>"Mel and I care. We're still trying to find a laugh in that sketch."</p> + +<p>"I care on who." Irma raked Ween with her eyes. "Happens he dropped +Diggy on me. My head."</p> + +<p>Lennox kept his face straight. "Did it get a laugh?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody saw. I was behind the set."</p> + +<p>"Cuing him from the script," Grabinett sputtered. "He didn't even know +his lines."</p> + +<p>"If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do," Ween told him.</p> + +<p>"There's co-operation for you," Lennox said bitterly. "What does +he have to lose, Mel? He's got a network contract for his boy. Two +thousand a week guaranteed, work or no work. What does he care about +the show?" Lennox looked at Mason sympathetically. "But you ought to +care, Mig. It won't do you any good to go off and lose your fans while +Tooky collects his ten percent."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen," Mason snapped.</p> + +<p>"Oh? Three bills a week out of you? For what? Watching? Advising? +Protecting? No. 'If you don't like my boy, you know what you can do.' +Agents!"</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you trying to parlay?" Ween demanded.</p> + +<p>"I think you're looking for an excuse to get out of the show," Lennox +answered. "You're trying to duck the Kansas lawsuit. Your property got +Mel into this jam. Now you want out so he'll have to face it alone."</p> + +<p>"They'll never get away with it," Grabinett shouted. "Neither of you +both. You got me into this. You're stuck with it."</p> + +<p>"St. Nicholas!?" Mason cried. "St. Nicholas!"</p> + +<p>"Yeah? Show me where it says in the contract," Ween answered, "It ain't +our headache. It's yours."</p> + +<p>"Then how would you like it if I handed you a real genuine headache, +Mr. Ween? Something I had been protecting your Almighty property from." +Grabinett blinked ominously. "A nice little headache waiting for your +boy up at the office in a blue envelope. Number six, it is."</p> + +<p>"What?" Lennox exclaimed. "Another one, Mel?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Another one. It come special delivery this morning. What a +sweet Christmas card! Wait'll you read it, Jake. It got me so scared, +I—Wait'll Mig reads it."</p> + +<p>"What's this? What's this?" Tooky Ween said angrily. "You been holding +out on my property's fan mail?"</p> + +<p>"Not any mail he wants to read. Some elegant letters in blue envelopes +which—"</p> + +<p>"Mel! Hold the phone," Lennox interrupted. "We decided we weren't going +to mention those letters to anyone. Are you going to blow it?"</p> + +<p>"It's already busted wide open. If Kansas don't take us off the air, +them letters will." Grabinett shook his fist at Ween. "Threatening +letters which come addressed to 'Dear Who He' and signed 'Guess Who' +and they'll curl the hair off all his property, including that atom +bomb shelter he built in Westchester and this no-talent dummy-dropper."</p> + +<p>"Cut out them insults," Ween said furiously.</p> + +<p>"Cut out them grammar," Lennox murmured. Having turned the united +front back into civil war, he felt secure again; in full control of +the situation, austere and infallible. But the news about the letter +was alarming. It was another attack to be met ... a vicious, anonymous +onslaught, far more dangerous than the threatened lawsuit.</p> + +<p>"I been trying to protect my show," Grabinett continued passionately to +Tooky Ween. "I been trying to protect your lousy artiste so he could +earn his two yards and get us a rating, but if you're gonna rat on me, +then I'll—"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you leave me alone?" Mason screamed. "What are you trying to +do? Murder me? Leave me alone!"</p> + +<p>He scooped up the dummy, thrust past Lennox and dashed out of the +dressing room. The others stared in astonishment, then all four ran +after the star. Mason was at the prop table. He snatched up a ski-pole +and veered out on the naked stage, whirling the pole over his head, +making whimpering sounds. He smashed the single work-light hanging down +from the grid, and the stage was in darkness. Irma screamed. Grabinett +groaned. Tearing noises came from the back wall where the struck sets +were stacked. Lennox took over.</p> + +<p>"Angie! Flo! Ruthanna!" he shouted. His favorites heard him. They +opened their dressing room door and came out on the balcony. The stage +was flooded with dilute light from overhead.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Jake? What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Keep that door open. We need light," Lennox answered. He called to +the star: "Mig, don't be a fool! If you want to break something, your +agent's right here."</p> + +<p>Mason stopped ripping the flats apart, dropped the ski-pole, turned and +ran wildly behind the master switchboard in the left wings. An instant +later they heard the clatter of his feet ringing down iron steps. They +pursued him down the spiral stairs to the huge dressing room under the +stage where six naked ballet boys in half makeup were standing and +staring in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Excuse us, ladies," Lennox called. "Where's Mig?"</p> + +<p>They pointed to a heavy bulkhead door just oozing shut.</p> + +<p>"Jesus Almighty," Grabinett moaned. "He's down in the cellar."</p> + +<p>"Find the electrician," Lennox told him. "Tooky, get a flashlight. +Irma, you wait here."</p> + +<p>Lennox went through the cellar door, stumbled down an endless zig-zag +flight of concrete steps, clinging to the rail. He came to the bottom +of the steps, lost his grasp on the rail and was lost in blackness.</p> + +<p>"Mig!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Mig! Come back. It was St. Nicholas."</p> + +<p>He fumbled in his pockets for matches, listening for the sound of +footsteps. He heard faint echoes far ahead, and ran forward, meanwhile +pulling a book of matches out and trying to light one. "What a +Christmas," he muttered and blundered against a wall with a stunning +impact. The matches flew from his hand. He clung to the wall, waiting +for the crashing in his head to subside.</p> + +<p>"Tooky! Mel!" he called. "Hurry up with the lights!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. There was no light.</p> + +<p>"There must be an easier way to earn a living," he told himself and +began to grope blindly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he lost control again. For the second time in that monstrous +day he was attacked by panic. It was inexplicable and gut-chilling.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "No. Please."</p> + +<p>He was blacked-out and could not withstand this second blow. He began +to wilt and fight for breath. The mass of the theater overhead pressed +down on him, slowly collapsing, painfully crushing. He clawed at the +wall and searched feebly for the stairs. He turned a corner, another, a +third. He was lost forever.</p> + +<p>A hard hand thrust into his neck. Lennox cried out and jerked his arm +up. He was struck savagely across the forearm by something stiff and +wooden. He backed away from this menace and blundered into a jagged +field of metal bones that rattled and clashed. Lennox sagged to his +knees and cried shamelessly. That was how Sam Cooper found him half +an hour later; kneeling in a cellar storeroom amidst overturned music +stands, sobbing before an imperious wooden Indian.</p> + +<p>Without a word, Cooper pulled Lennox to his feet, brushed him off and +led him back to the cellar stairs. His flashlight played erratically on +the glistening tunnels and rotting wooden doors. In the days of past +glory, the Venice had been one of the big musical houses and its vaults +were stuffed with the jetsam of ancient hits: Congo masks, Hessian +boots, racks of tarnished costumes, ear-trumpets, Civil War muskets, an +entire Merry-Go-Round with peeling poles and blind horses.</p> + +<p>"Love to steal them and deal them out to Mig's audience some night," +Cooper murmured.</p> + +<p>"The guns?"</p> + +<p>"The ear-trumpets."</p> + +<p>Cooper helped Lennox up the concrete stairs. As he thrust open the +bulkhead door, he said: "Easy. Gone home. The dancers."</p> + +<p>"Get reporters," Lennox said. "I found Judge Crater."</p> + +<p>They entered the empty dressing room which was still lit. Cooper sat +Lennox down before a bulb-ringed mirror, handed him a box of cleansing +tissue and a comb. Lennox cleaned himself wearily and pretended to comb +his hair. Cooper lit a cigarette and thrust it between Jake's lips.</p> + +<p>"I don't smoke," Lennox said, handing it back.</p> + +<p>"You smoke when you're plastered."</p> + +<p>"I'm not plastered."</p> + +<p>"It says here." Cooper took a drag. "They've got an old Bechstein Grand +in that cellar," he said softy. "I'm going to take your tape recorder +down some night and break it up with an axe. The Bechstein. Could sell +a dub to every pianist in town. Wish fulfillment."</p> + +<p>"Do me a favor," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>"Name it."</p> + +<p>"Break up the wooden Indian on the Flip."</p> + +<p>"I thought that was Judge Crater."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was Kris Kringle," Lennox said somberly, fingering his +neck. Suddenly he asked: "Where's Mason? Dead?"</p> + +<p>"Went under the cellar. Came up the other side. Went back to his +dressing room and doing very well I hear."</p> + +<p>Lennox grunted thrice in anguish. Cooper eyed him solemnly in the +mirror. His face wore a permanent expression of perplexity. He was +tall, compact, with strong hands, high cheekbones and deep-set narrow +eyes. He had the well-scrubbed Princeton look, and as a matter of fact +had been a big wheel in Triangle shows before he broke into television. +He was a mediocre song-writer and a magnificent rehearsal pianist, +which is a high art unappreciated outside the business.</p> + +<p>Cooper and Lennox had been close friends for over three years, and +for the past ten months Sam had been sharing Lennox's apartment. When +Lennox invited him, Sam had moved in his grand piano, seventeen copper +pots, one hundred and thirteen record albums, a complete Hi-Fi sound +system, two Siamese cats, and a mink-dyed skunk. He'd said: "Gosh, +fellows, let's room together all through school." They were still +together, despite the skunk.</p> + +<p>"Great God on echo!" Lennox said after a long pause, "I think I'm on my +way to the booby hatch."</p> + +<p>"Oh? Why the hell did you go charging down there? For Mig?"</p> + +<p>"I was playing the scene."</p> + +<p>"Rover Boys to the rescue. Which were you? Fun-loving Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No. Noodnick Jake. And then I lost hold...."</p> + +<p>"On Mig?"</p> + +<p>"Myself. You saw me down there...." Lennox winced in shame. +"Hysterical."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're afraid of the dark."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were something nice and simple like that; but the cellar was +just the pay-off on something worse. I.... When did you see me last?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday. After rehearsal. You went out for a drink with Avery +Borden," Cooper answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"I remember that. I remember the drinks. Then—I didn't sleep home last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Not last night. No."</p> + +<p>"Christ, stand by me!" Lennox muttered.</p> + +<p>Cooper looked bewildered. "You've slept out before. Why the production? +What plays?"</p> + +<p>"I've lost a day," Lennox said slowly. "I don't know where I was or +what I was doing from nine last night to nine tonight."</p> + +<p>"Um. Loaded?"</p> + +<p>"Looks like."</p> + +<p>"Smells like. What were you drinking? Caveat Emptor Reserve?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a feeling that I did something dirty.... Something that's +going to shock hell out of me if I ever find out.... Something as dark +as that cellar. Maybe that's why I blew down there."</p> + +<p>"You're not the dirty type, Jake."</p> + +<p>"But I'm scared. I—You know those newsreels where they dynamite a +smoke-stack?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. Always comes after the Miami water-skis. They play suspense-type +music in two-four."</p> + +<p>"I feel like that moment just before everything collapses. But what +blew up, Sam? What happened?"</p> + +<p>"You think something blew up between tonight and last night?"</p> + +<p>"I know it. That must be why I blacked out. I can remember ... I can +remember a Quaker and a blonde...."</p> + +<p>"Quaker? Man from Philadelphia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A Quaker and a blonde and a knot."</p> + +<p>"Blond woman?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"What kind of knot?"</p> + +<p>"What kind could there be?"</p> + +<p>"Dozens. The kind you tie, like hangman's knot. How fast a ship goes. A +knot in wood. A knot in palmistry. A knot in—"</p> + +<p>"You're no help. I can't remember. Just a Quaker and a blonde and a +knot. It's crazy. Why'm I shaking like this?" Lennox tried to control +himself. His eyes burned with tears. "Look at me. Jake Lennox, leader +of men, crying like a fag."</p> + +<p>"You know something," Cooper told him solemnly. "On you it's becoming. +Makes you human."</p> + +<p>"Human!" Lennox burst out in contempt, grinding his eyes with his +knuckles.</p> + +<p>"You need a bath and some food," Cooper said firmly. "Leave us go +home. On your feet, Beaver Patrol. Watch it! You've got your hand in +something."</p> + +<p>"Robust Juvenile No. 4," Lennox muttered, peering at the makeup jar.</p> + +<p>"Robust and juvenile men.... Forward!"</p> + +<p>They left the dressing room, turned out the lights and mounted the +spiral staircase. A new work-light had been hung from the iron grid +high above the stage. Mason's dressing room was open and an informal +party was in progress, Mason had the dummy in one hand and a bottle in +the other. He was going through a comedy routine while Grabinett, Ween, +Irma and a dozen others shrieked with laughter.</p> + +<p>As Cooper and Lennox passed the door, the dummy cackled: "Ah! The +Thinker and the poor man's Paderoosky. Merry Christmas, boys."</p> + +<p>Lennox pulled to a stop despite Cooper's urging. "Peace on earth, good +will to all men," he answered savagely. "For five thousand dollars can +you tell us what it means?"</p> + +<p>Grabinett, Ween and Mason glared at Lennox with hatred. He scowled +back and then permitted Cooper to lead him to the stage door. As they +plunged out into the sleet, he growled: "I'll fight."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know ... but I'll fight. I'll go down fighting, and I won't go +down."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The Lennox apartment was on Knickerbocker Square which is one of scores +of hidden relics of the past concealed on The Rock. There are elongated +sycamore trees corseted with cement, a Greek cross of gravel paths, +four square patches of grass, and a black and brass fence surrounding +all. The houses facing the square are red stone Dutch style with copper +roofs, bottle windows and glass orangeries in the rear. The old night +lanterns and polished stone carriage posts are still standing. Lennox +occupied a floor and a quarter in Number 33.</p> + +<p>You entered from the street into the kitchen, decorated with Cooper's +cooking utensils and garish butcher charts he had charmed out of an +influential meat-packer in Grosse Pointe. There was also a lunatic +side-arm Oliver typewriter which he had charmed out of a Brooklyn +druggist. It wrote in minims and other pharmaceutical symbols, and +Cooper typed recipes on it. He once sent me one that read like Witch's +Brew. Turned out to be Fruit Soup.</p> + +<p>Past the kitchen, through a short hall lined with cupboards, you came +into the living room. It was forty feet long with high windows looking +out on a rear garden, and had evidently been enlarged from two smaller +rooms because there were two fire-places on the right wall. On the left +was the door to Cooper's bedroom, the door to the bath, and a narrow +flight of steps leading up to the other quarter floor Lennox had. This +was a second bedroom and study where Lennox slept and worked.</p> + +<p>The living room contained Cooper's piano, his Hi-Fi system, his records +and his two Siamese which hunted in pack. The mink-dyed skunk had +conceived a passion for the bathtub and only came out grudgingly when +the shower was turned on. Lennox had four or five hundred books in +walnut breakfront cases and a pair of butterfly wing chairs to which he +was devoted and over which he waged relentless war with the Siamese who +well knew how to punish him when he offended them.</p> + +<p>There was an Italian couch before one fireplace, which was kept +practical, as we say in the business, and a sawbuck table that doubled +as a bar against the other which contained an aquarium of adenoidal +goldfish. The walls were decorated with smouldering photographs +contributed by Cooper's sister who had studied with Berenice Abbott, +but had not yet recovered from the childhood influence of a Doré Bible. +There was a magnificent refectory table with six captain's chairs near +the windows.</p> + +<p>It was a warm, pleasant apartment since Cooper had moved in. His easy +style took the curse off Jake's stiffness. In the past we used to +dread going to Jake's parties. He was such a punctilious host that he +invariably chilled the guests. But Cooper, who came from fresh-water +society, had lived with protocol too long to be impressed by it. He +kidded Lennox into relaxing and showing us flashes of his real self ... +the Lennox that Cooper knew. I think everyone would have loved Jake if +they could have seen him the way he showed himself to his friend.</p> + +<p>But this Christmas night Lennox was not lovable; he was impossible. It +was his custom to make his prayers in the shower, asking God to keep +him austere, kindly, infallible and sophisticated. He never begged. He +made his request as one son of the Marquis of Suffolk to another. Now, +however, he was raging. He stood under the hot downpour with uplifted +head, fists clenching and unclenching, furious with himself and God.</p> + +<p>"What next?" he asked the shower-nozzle. "What else? Don't pull any +punches. I won't whine or beg off. Let's have it all, and I'll show +You!"</p> + +<p>He cut off the water, wrapped himself in a towel, kicked open the +bathroom door and stalked out into the living room. The mink-dyed skunk +galloped past him back into the bathroom and stamped its paws angrily +when it discovered the tub was wet. Cooper had a fire going in the +practical fireplace, and a pot of coffee tactfully exposed on an end +table alongside one of the wing chairs. It was half-past ten and the +Siamese were enjoying their bedtime magic hour, skittering crazily up +and down the apartment with crossed eyes and flattened ears.</p> + +<p>Lennox dried his back and rump carefully before he sat down. He poured +black coffee and drank it as though it were poison hemlock. Cooper came +in from the kitchen and appeared to be having a magic hour of his own, +for he was wearing his chef's hat and a dinner jacket. Lennox stared at +him.</p> + +<p>"Black tie tonight, Scout Lennox," Cooper told him, removing the hat. +"All out for the Christmas jamboree."</p> + +<p>"What the hell, Sam?"</p> + +<p>"Pull in your feet." Cooper poked at the logs with an old bayonet. +"Must apologize, Sir Jasper. Only a cad would touch another man's +hearth. They teach you that in Islip? Rules for Perfect Behaviour. Like +passing the port to the left."</p> + +<p>"They taught me nothing in Islip," Lennox growled. Nevertheless he +filed this lesson away, until he caught the gleam in Cooper's eye. +He squirmed a little. "What's this black tie routine? More Perfect +Behaviour?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, son. There's no food in the house. So I thought we'd +accept Alice McVeagh's invitation and free-load. She's giving a monster +rally. A debutante party. Turkey, ham, chutney, kedgeree, boiled +mutton, boiled guests, boiled debs—"</p> + +<p>"Who's Alice McVeagh?"</p> + +<p>"You'll like her. She always passes the port to the left. Gives Square +parties. Strictly Square. Nobody in the business. A pleasant change."</p> + +<p>"I'm staying home."</p> + +<p>"Not a crust in the house, Jake."</p> + +<p>"I'm staying home."</p> + +<p>"Um. You want to brood, eh? In F-minor."</p> + +<p>"Sam, I need a party like a hole in the head."</p> + +<p>"The hole's there already. You need to fill it. Get dressed. We'll go +mingle."</p> + +<p>"Sit down."</p> + +<p>"Get dressed."</p> + +<p>"Sit down."</p> + +<p>Cooper cocked an eye at Lennox, then sat down in the facing wing chair. +Instantly one of the Siamese leaped on him. Cooper calmly extinguished +it with the chef's hat and deposited it on the floor where it struggled +ecstatically.</p> + +<p>"Death to the invaders," Cooper murmured.</p> + +<p>After a long pause, Lennox pointed to the frantic hat and said: "Look, +Sam. That's me."</p> + +<p>"The cat in the hat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Cooper gazed at Lennox with solemn perplexity. "You said you were like +a smoke-stack."</p> + +<p>Lennox waved his hand irritably. "I'm fighting blind, Sam. I'm in a +hassle. The show's in a hassle. You know about my blackout. You know +about Mason lousing the grand prize tonight?"</p> + +<p>Cooper nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's bad enough, but there's something worse. We've been getting +letters. Threatening letters. The filthiest crazy letters you ever saw +in your life. Five already. Blinky tells me there's a sixth up at the +office ... more dangerous than the rest. If I don't do something about +those letters, we may go off; but so help me, Sam, I'm so mixed up I +don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"Told anybody about them yet?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"The network?"</p> + +<p>"How can I? All they have to do is smell trouble ... particularly dirty +trouble like this ... and they'll yank us off. They've got a dozen +clients hungry for that nine to nine-thirty spot. They've got nothing +to lose."</p> + +<p>"Um. Dangerous letters?"</p> + +<p>"Filthy dangerous."</p> + +<p>"That means trouble if you stay on?"</p> + +<p>"Probably."</p> + +<p>"What kind?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. It's an audience show. Suppose we let a lunatic in one +Sunday night. You draw the pictures. Anything could happen."</p> + +<p>"Police?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid to go to the police."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"That turns it from a private stink into an official stink. That's why +Blinky and I've been keeping it quiet. If the story gets out we'll be +cancelled."</p> + +<p>"Not positively."</p> + +<p>"I won't take the chance."</p> + +<p>"Why not? So you're cancelled. Is that the end of the world?"</p> + +<p>"I won't be cancelled," Lennox said grimly.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not. You won't let anything be cancelled, will you, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody's going to end anything for me except me."</p> + +<p>"And you won't ever end anything."</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" Lennox exclaimed impatiently. "I like what I've got. +I'm thirty-five, Sam. I've come a hell of a long way from a kid +telegrapher counting words in Islip, Long Island. What kind of a +chicken-gut would I be to let it fall apart?"</p> + +<p>"This I don't follow," Cooper said plaintively. "You mean the end of +'Who He?' is the end of everything? Exit Jordan Lennox, homeless, +friendless, trudging back to that clam-shack in Islip, a broken man...."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, will you level with me! I've had a hell of a day and +I don't feel like yakking it up. Who am I fighting, Sam? How am I +going to fight? Jesus Christ on camera!" Lennox pointed again to the +struggling hat. "I'm like that amateur tiger ... banging my brains out +against nothing."</p> + +<p>Cooper looked at the bounding hat, then back at Lennox. "Exactly like +that," he said softly. "The cat's doing it for kicks. So are you."</p> + +<p>"For kicks!"</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"That's a lousy thing to say."</p> + +<p>"Why? It's a compliment. Everybody says you've got deep freeze inside +you. I know better. This is proof you've got emotions, Jake. Trouble is +you only let 'em out of hock once a year, so you have to turn it into a +production to make up for lost time."</p> + +<p>"Who's making a production? We've got a law suit coming. We've got a +lunatic knocking on the door. I've got a blank day full of memories I +don't want to remember hanging over me. I've got emotions. What do you +want me to do? Whistle 'Dixie'?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to calm down and spread it out over the rest of the year. +Make a note in your gimmick book: New Year's Resolution by Jordan +Lennox. I will faithfully—"</p> + +<p>Lennox started up from his chair. "My God! Where's the notebook?"</p> + +<p>Cooper shook his head.</p> + +<p>Lennox raced up the stairs to his bedroom. He carried a famous +black gimmick book in which he noted down ideas, gags, references, +characters, and so on. He had carried it for ten years. He was never +without it, and had developed a nervous mannerism of feeling for it +every few minutes ... a sudden sharp flexing of his right arm against +his chest to see if the precious gimmick book was in place in his +inside pocket.</p> + +<p>He came down the steps a minute later. "Where's my overcoat?" he yelled.</p> + +<p>"Which coat?"</p> + +<p>"The one I wore tonight."</p> + +<p>"You weren't wearing any coat."</p> + +<p>Lennox raced to the front closet, pulled it open and tore at the racks. +Then he swung around in dismay. "It's gone."</p> + +<p>"Which? The burberry?"</p> + +<p>"No. Yes. I must have carried it in the coat last night. I lost it in +the blackout."</p> + +<p>"Is the coat insured?"</p> + +<p>"To hell with the coat," Lennox cried. "I'm talking about my notebook. +It's gone. Lost. The gimmick book, Sam!"</p> + +<p>"Forget it. I was hoping you'd lose it. It was beginning to fall apart."</p> + +<p>"But I've got everything in it. A year of ideas...."</p> + +<p>"You transcribe 'em every week," Cooper said comfortably. "You've got a +complete file upstairs in the office. You haven't lost anything. Calm +down."</p> + +<p>"What the hell is the matter with you? Can't you understand? I've +carried that book for ten years. I've never been without it."</p> + +<p>"Then it's time you bought another one. Start the New Year right."</p> + +<p>Lennox paced in agitation. "I've got to remember where I was last +night. I've got to remember. I've got to find that gimmick book."</p> + +<p>"Oh come on, Jake. How long are you going to milk this hysteria +routine? Lost nights, lost books, threatening letters.... What d'you +think you're doing? Auditioning? You need a new script writer, boy."</p> + +<p>"You lousy bastard! Maybe I need a new friend," Lennox shouted.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you do at that. Want to start a fight? You want to end it right +now?"</p> + +<p>"I'm damned well fighting right now."</p> + +<p>"Then let's go." Cooper leaped up and faced Lennox aggressively. He +cocked his right fist and pointed to his chin. "Go ahead. Let loose. +I've been waiting three years to watch you throw a punch."</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at Cooper uncertainly. In his blind fury he could not be +sure whether Cooper was grinning in anger or amusement. At that moment +the Siamese burst out of the hat, leaped to Jake's rump and clawed its +way up his naked back to his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Jesus!" All the pressure in Lennox exploded in a strangulated yell. +He doubled over. Cooper snatched the cat off his shoulder and hurled +it onto the couch. He shoved Lennox into the bathroom, held his neck +firmly and sluiced his back with rubbing alcohol.</p> + +<p>"My compliments to Captain Bligh," Lennox said through his teeth. He +stamped his foot in agony, almost trampling the mink-dyed skunk.</p> + +<p>"Mutiny never pays," Cooper murmured, kicking the skunk out of the way. +He swabbed efficiently with iodine, then led Lennox back to the fire +and sat him down on a stool to dry. The Siamese, no fools they, had +disappeared. Lennox sat rigid with control until the pain faded. He +remained rigid.</p> + +<p>"Stay mad; stay human," Cooper urged. "On you it's becoming. I could +kill those cats for lousing our brawl. Let's find them, Jake. I'll hold +them while you beat the bejezus out of them. Then the cats can hold me +while you beat the—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up. Don't be a damned fool, Sam."</p> + +<p>"Which of us is the damned fool, Jake?"</p> + +<p>Lennox took a deep breath and relaxed. "Me," he said. "A nuisance and a +noodnick. Don't tell anybody."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary. I tell everybody. That's why you're getting popular."</p> + +<p>Lennox stood up, took Cooper's shoulder in his big grasp and clutched +hard. He looked at his friend with a secret glance of devotion and +gratitude, then turned away in embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"After we eat," Sam said casually, "we'll go look for the gimmick book. +You'll start remembering. We'll find it. And don't worry.... You won't +remember anything to be ashamed of."</p> + +<p>Lennox choked. "How's my back?" he asked. "Is there blood?"</p> + +<p>"Nope. Just scars."</p> + +<p>"Tsk! And me with that Hattie Carnegie backless collecting dust in the +boudoir. Black tie?"</p> + +<p>"Black tie."</p> + +<p>Lennox went upstairs and dressed.</p> + +<p>Myself, I don't like Square parties; neither does my wife. Squares +are all right, but there's an invisible barrier between us and them. +For one thing, our tempos don't match. We can throw away a dozen gags +while a Square is beating a cliché to death. For another thing, Squares +persist in thinking about the entertainment business the same way they +did back in Victorian times. To them we're artificial, child-like and +irresponsible. When Squares learn that I'm a writer, I can see that +look pass over their faces ... the look that says: He's lazy and hates +to get up in the morning.</p> + +<p>They reveal this when they invariably ask the question: "Do you work +all night?" If I say yes, they gloat, and I have to restrain the angry +impulse to point out that I'm forced to work at night in order to avoid +the interruption of Square phone calls and luncheon invitations and all +the other pleasant devices which enable them to do four hours work from +nine to five.</p> + +<p>My wife has a tougher time. Her face and voice are highly expressive, +naturally, being an actress. Whenever she's with Squares they watch her +with appraising eyes and constantly interrupt with: "Oh stop it. You're +acting now, aren't you? Why can't you be natural?" Once my wife lost +her temper and answered a solid citizen: "You want to go to bed with +me, don't you? Why can't you be natural?"</p> + +<p>There was a gratifying hush of horror. I whipped out a pencil and +scribbled on my cuff. "I've been watching you all with my keen eye," +I announced, "and constantly analyzing ... dissecting. I'm going to +crucify you in the <i>New Yorker</i>." We swept out, and at the door my wife +turned and said: "What's more, we're not even married. He's my brother +and we're living in incest."</p> + +<p>Jake liked Square parties. He enjoyed winning respect by admitting that +he worked regularly from nine to five, by wearing proper conservative +clothes, by showing the outward signs of success which business +men understood and approved. He spoke about his profession like an +industrialist; and although he was a sensitive, gifted writer, he +pooh-poohed such matters as talent and inspiration, and discussed +creativity as merchandise, his stock-in-trade.</p> + +<p>He liked Alice McVeagh's party. It was given in her penthouse on +East End Avenue, a Georgian duplex with delicate curving staircases, +panelled study, oval library, a ballroom and two kitchens, one for +the staff alone. The buffet in the dining room glittered with silver +and crystal ... fresh caviar on crushed ice, scarlet lobsters, smoked +turkeys, great oriental melons oozing thick nectar, a frosted copper +cask in which peaches soaked in liqueurs, and dozens of coffee flagons +bubbling over alcohol lamps.</p> + +<p>The guests were charming. Cool young ladies and their energetic +mothers. Pleasant young men Cooper had known at Loomis and Princeton, +and the jolly old gentlemen they would in time become. They were all +exquisitely casual about the perfection of their dress and manners. +They were assured. They belonged. And how badly Jake wanted to belong +on their terms. How badly all of us want to belong on somebody else's +terms.</p> + +<p>He was painfully well-behaved. He stood tall and erect and moved +slowly, keeping his voice quiet and his hands at his side. He had two +sherrys at the bar and chatted respectfully with guests ... a burly +gentleman who owned half the cotton mills in New England and was +devoted to game fishing, the goggle-eyed son of a near-East ambassador +who discoursed in French and broken English on <i>Le Jazz Hot</i>, a +red-headed man loading up on white Martinis who confessed he taught +scene design at Yale, a pregnant young matron who had been a famous +debutante.... Jake's deep-lined face was wooden and unrecognizable to +Cooper who smiled privately.</p> + +<p>There was music in the ballroom and couples dashed in to the buffet +and back; crop-haired young men and boyish girls with delicious young +figures and stereotype faces framed in straight honey hair. Lennox +felt awed and hostile toward them. He escorted a brisk dowager to the +buffet. She took an instant liking to him (older women always adored +Lennox) and favored him with a ringing denunciation of the Metropolitan +Opera Management and glowing praise for Charles of the Ritz.</p> + +<p>Cooper rescued him at last and took him to the ballroom. "Eat enough?" +he whispered. Lennox nodded. "All right, boy. Leave us mingle."</p> + +<p>There was a Candle-Dance in progress in the darkened ballroom. Ten +couples were turning and circling through a simple dance figure while +the orchestra played "Pop Goes The Weasel." Each dancer carried a +silver saucer candlestick in which a white taper burned. When the +orchestra "Popped" the dance stopped, and the dancers tried to blow out +each other's flames. When a candle went out, the dancer left the floor. +The spinning and weaving of yellow flames gleaming on silk and satin +and jewels made an enchanting picture.</p> + +<p>Cooper nudged Lennox and handed him a candlestick and a burning taper.</p> + +<p>"No, Sam!" Lennox protested.</p> + +<p>"Come on, gents. All out for the sack-race."</p> + +<p>Lennox perceived that a second dance circle was forming. There were two +girls alongside Cooper, holding lighted candles and waiting impatiently +to join the circle.</p> + +<p>"But I've never danced this before, Sam. We had fire laws in Islip."</p> + +<p>"You'll pick it up." Cooper whispered introductions to the girls. "My +great and good friend, Arson Lupin. Ouch! Let's go."</p> + +<p>The four slipped into the second circle and began the dance. It was +bewildering for Lennox, but he had been a schoolboy fencer and was +quick and graceful for a big man. Also, he was intensely competitive. +He watched sharply, learned the simple figures and protected his flame. +By the time half a dozen had been eliminated from his circle, he was +able to look around and enjoy himself. There was one hand-clasp in +particular that had electrified him, and he was trying to identify the +owner.</p> + +<p>It was a woman's hand, warm, slender and strong. Each time he grasped +it, his spine tingled and he thought of the deep carpets in the +network offices that produced leaping sparks when you touched a light +switch. The hand had been helpful, too, turning him left and right +with friendly pressures, leading him through his first confusion. The +orchestra went "Pop." Lennox stopped, held his candle high and looked +around the circle.</p> + +<p>There was Cooper, looking solemn and perplexed in the glimmering light +as he blew mightily in the direction of <i>Le Jazz Hot</i>. There were +two honey-haired stereotypes in thin-strapped gowns, shielding their +candles with their hands. There was a horsy woman with an extinguished +flame, tramping off the floor. The music started again before Lennox +could examine the others. He was cynically certain that the horsy +woman had owned the hand. Then, as he circled, again came that +electrifying touch.</p> + +<p>He looked quickly at his partner. Lennox had a weakness for +straw-colored blondes, big-boned women who looked Swedish. This was the +exact opposite. She looked like a slave on a Moorish auction block; +cropped jet hair in tight ringlets, deep dark almond eyes, a full +mouth, strong white teeth. The head was beautifully poised on a long +neck. She had wide shoulders and the deep-cut jersey bodice revealed a +high full bosom. Her skin was astonishing, very clear, very dark, and +as lustrous as black pearl under the candle-light. She was slender, not +tall, and moved with a lazy grace that was familiar to Lennox but not +yet identifiable.</p> + +<p>The orchestra went "Pop." Lennox and the girl stopped and examined +each other, unmindful of their candles. She smiled. Her smile was +sudden and changing, like the unexpected dazzle of light reflected from +water. The music started again and she danced on to the next partner. +Lennox watched her circling and weaving and suddenly recognized what +was familiar about her carriage. She moved like a slender, graceful, +cow-puncher; the shoulders square, the slim hips swaying, the arms slow +and relaxed.</p> + +<p>In that moment Lennox remembered that he had written a thousand love +scenes and knew that every one had been a lie. There was a thundering +confusion in his head; exultation and terror pounded in his heart. His +whole life seemed drawn by the burning glass of this moment into a +focus on this girl. She was smiling now at Cooper and murmuring to him. +Lennox could have killed Sam.</p> + +<p>He murdered each of her partners in succession until she came around +the circle to him again. As he reached eagerly for her hand, the +orchestra went "Pop." The other dancers stopped. Lennox continued until +he was close to her and took her hand. In the flickering light, his +face was black and white with shadows and highlights and looked almost +ferocious. The girl's almond eyes widened slightly, and her smile +faded, but her body did not lose its easy poise.</p> + +<p>Dancers nudged Lennox politely. The music had started. The girl +released herself and continued. Lennox went through the motions and +grimly defended his flame from extinction while the girl remained +in the dance. <i>Le Jazz Hot</i> left. The stereotypes left. Cooper was +eliminated. Six remained. Then five. Then three. Finally it was Lennox +and the girl, circling and turning, hand in hand, candles fluttering no +more than his own breath.</p> + +<p>They danced for timeless moments, and Lennox, dazed and intoxicated, +was not aware that he was speaking to her in silence ... by touch, by +glance, by moving expression ... revealing the secret part of himself +that had never been shown before. Then he did something extraordinary +for Jordan Lennox, the man who never quit, who never conceded, who had +wanted to win a victory before those awesome spectators. The music went +"Pop." He held out his candle to the girl, and with his right hand +extinguished the flame.</p> + +<p>There was a burst of applause. The lights went up. The orchestra swung +into a dance tune and the floor filled. Lennox lost the girl in the +crush and wandered aimlessly to the side of the ballroom where an +unidentified person took the candlestick from him. He went to the bar, +now inhabited exclusively by the red-headed teacher from Yale and the +bartender.</p> + +<p>"Listen," Lennox began incoherently, "A dark girl. In an +off-the-shoulder dress. She.... With cropped hair and oriental eyes. +She gleamed...."</p> + +<p>"Who?" the red-head inquired, weaving violently.</p> + +<p>"A girl with black short hair. She—You heard me. Do you know her? Know +who she is?"</p> + +<p>The bartender shrugged. The red-head eyed Lennox fixedly, meanwhile +shaking his head. "Never heard of her. Never-never-never. No such +thing's dark girls anymore. Species extinct. Like used t'be everywhere +poodles. Now only boxers. Poodles extinct. Also poodle brunettes, +Q.E.D.?"</p> + +<p>Lennox returned to the ballroom. He searched for the girl. He searched +for Cooper. Two steps led up to the white door of the oval library. +Lennox mounted them for a better view and found himself face to face +with <i>Le Jazz Hot</i>.</p> + +<p>"Who was she?" he burst out.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, M'sieur?" <i>Le Jazz Hot</i> goggled at him.</p> + +<p>"The dark girl. In the dance with us."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>Lennox abandoned him, left the steps and prowled around the edge of +the ballroom. He went again to the bar, regarded the red-head and the +bartender without comprehension, wandered off and discovered, in a +hall of Chinese teapaper, a small Christmas tree hung with corsages. A +honey-haired girl in a thin-strapped evening gown was unpinning some +orchids from the tree.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," Lennox mumbled.</p> + +<p>She looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"The dark girl who was dancing with us. Do you know her?"</p> + +<p>"Dancing with us?" All her charm disappeared in the bray of her voice.</p> + +<p>"My God!" Lennox thought in panic, "I haven't heard her speak. What if +she...." Aloud, he said: "The Candle-Dance. The dark girl in our circle +who—"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't in the Candle-Dance," the girl informed him coldly and turned +away. She was the wrong stereotype.</p> + +<p>Lennox went back to the library steps and began searching the dance +floor, couple by couple. Below him and to one side a voice called: +"Psst! Hey Jake!"</p> + +<p>He looked down. Cooper was standing there, grinning. "Three down from +the drums. With a guy in hornshell glasses."</p> + +<p>Lennox glared at Cooper, challenging derision, then stared at the dance +band. He found her and murdered the man in the spectacles. Without +moving his eyes he asked: "Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know."</p> + +<p>"I've got to meet her."</p> + +<p>"Grab her after this dance."</p> + +<p>"I've got to be introduced."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Jake! This isn't the nineties."</p> + +<p>"I want to be introduced. Can you swing it?"</p> + +<p>"I can try."</p> + +<p>Cooper departed. Lennox remained where he was, watching the girl as the +man in the hornshell spectacles whirled her out to the middle of the +floor. The dance ended, the couples applauded languidly and shuffled. +Lennox looked around desperately for Cooper. When he turned back to the +dance floor he had lost the girl again. Before he could get panicky +he saw her as the music started. She was alone on the floor, walking +toward him, with square shoulders and lazy arms and hips. He could not +believe his eyes. She came directly to the library stairs, stepped up +and held out her hand. Lennox took it and felt both of them tremble +slightly.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you cut in?" she asked in a candid, transparent voice.</p> + +<p>He could not believe his ears. Drawing her with him, he backed into +the white and gold oval library. She was smiling uncertainly. After a +tremulous pause she asked: "Is this how it happens?"</p> + +<p>Lennox couldn't speak. There was a long silence; a long communication +that seemed to dread words.</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened," she said.</p> + +<p>Lennox shook his head.</p> + +<p>"At first I thought I'd help. You know, the dance? Then I thought you +were being hasty. And then it happened, didn't it?"</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded.</p> + +<p>"If you don't let go of my hand, I'll faint ... I think. What do we do +now?"</p> + +<p>Before he could answer, Cooper appeared in the door with a magnificent +white-haired woman wearing a bronze dress and a jade necklace. Both +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Just in time," Cooper said, "Our hostess, Madam McVeagh. Jordan +Lennox."</p> + +<p>"So nice to have you, Mr. Lennox." Alice McVeagh shook hands +magnificently. Everything about her was magnificent and overpowering. +"Gabby, dear, have you met the gentlemen? Jordan Lennox ... Sam Cooper. +Gabby Valentine." She overpowered Lennox. "Sam tells me you're an +author, Mr. Lennox. Do you write all night?"</p> + +<p>Lennox pulled himself together before the Presence. "No," he answered +in the voice of the second son of the Marquis of Suffolk. "I work from +nine to five, Mrs. McVeagh."</p> + +<p>"But how disappointing. Aren't you an artist?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mrs. McVeagh, I'm a business man. I sell ideas for a living."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! And I had such a lovely picture of you ... working all night +and smoking opium."</p> + +<p>"Only when he's plastered," Cooper grinned.</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at him stonily. Poor Jake! Standing there on his best +behavior, tall and erect with his hands at his side; keeping his face +wooden and unrecognizable, trying to belong on Alice McVeagh's terms, +and destroying himself before Gabby Valentine. To his hostess he tried +to appear austere, kindly, infallible and sophisticated. To Gabby he +seemed hostile and unyielding. If only Cooper had come five minutes +later. When he finally departed with the hostess and Lennox turned to +resume the intimacy with Gabby, it was too late.</p> + +<p>"Gabby...." he began.</p> + +<p>"No," she interrupted, bitterly disappointed. "No. It was only the +candle-light." She took a deep breath. Her smile was no longer a +private matter between them. "Please forget everything I said. I +thought you—" She broke off.</p> + +<p>"You thought I what?" Lennox asked sharply. He was deeply hurt by her +abrupt change.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"It matters to me."</p> + +<p>"Please don't cross-examine me," Gabby said gently. "I made fool of +myself, that's all."</p> + +<p>"I think you're trying to make a fool of me."</p> + +<p>"No. It's all right. I'm the idiot, not you. What do you write, Mr. +Lennox?"</p> + +<p>"I write better scenes than this, Miss Valentine. My characters don't +play games."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I."</p> + +<p>"Then what the hell happened?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing happened. That's why I'm an idiot."</p> + +<p>Lennox was furious, and, consequently, icy and sardonic. He imagined +that this was an impudent young society girl, willful and cavalier, who +had taken it into her head to make an ass of him. He couldn't have been +more wrong.</p> + +<p>Gabrielle Valentine was a unique creature. You meet people like that +occasionally, and if you're not too cynical you treasure them ... +beautiful beings who've been loved and adored from birth and have grown +up unspoiled and trusting, completely honest and without guile. This +is rare because beauty is more often a curse for a woman and usually +sickens her unless she turns it into her profession. No plain girl will +believe this, but it's true.</p> + +<p>Gabby had received affection all her life and gave it as freely. +She was not brilliant, which was just as well. No one really likes +brilliant people. She was a girl of average intelligence who had grown +up in a world which she was able to treat with the disarming confidence +of a child. Half the world treated her with the tenderness reserved for +children. The cynical half could not abide her transparent honesty.</p> + +<p>She was twenty-eight. Her father had been an old-line Socialist and had +worked with Eugene Debs. He had come from a French Colonial family +which had lived in Indo-China for generations and, I suspect, probably +intermarried with natives. Certainly Gabby seemed to support the legend +that women of mixed French and Oriental blood are the loveliest in the +world. Her mother was still living and was a very smart couturiere. +Gabby didn't see much of her. She was too busy making her own +affectionate way in the world.</p> + +<p>She had trained, of all things, as an architect, and worked as a +free-lance draftsman. Drafting pays well and Gabby was able to afford +her own apartment in one of the better Village studio buildings. She +was political-minded, an inheritance from her father no doubt, and +was an invaluable asset in fund-raising campaigns. She had once gone +down to Wall Street and bearded a Republican financier in his den for +a contribution to the Democratic party. Or maybe it was a Democrat +for the Republican party. I forget which, not being political-minded +myself. The point of the story is that she got the money.</p> + +<p>She was an artist, but she didn't understand music. She had learned to +be chic, but wasn't interested in clothes. She liked good food, but had +to be told when it was good. She drank very little. She liked people +more than anything else ... liked to be with them and talk to them, +provided they were honest and unaffected. Everyone came to her with +their troubles and she gave all her affection and help. She had never +been in love.</p> + +<p>And then had come this burst of flame in the glimmering darkness with +Lennox, and there was a stranger in his body who had killed the flame +with his rigid poise before Alice McVeagh and was trampling on the +embers in icy fury.</p> + +<p>"Please go away," Gabby said quietly. "You're making me hate you, and I +don't like that."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Miss Valentine," Lennox answered. "I don't know the rules +of your game. Is that a request or a challenge?"</p> + +<p>"Why should it be? Do you like to fight?"</p> + +<p>"I'm enjoying this fight ... with all my heart." Lennox showed his +teeth in a smile.</p> + +<p>"That's a sign of weakness, isn't it?" Gabby looked at him with steady +eyes. "Like sick dogs that bite. Please go away."</p> + +<p>"You've done the biting."</p> + +<p>"Oh. You're hurt. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm enjoying the game. What do you do, Miss Valentine, when you +can spare the time?"</p> + +<p>"You can't be a very good writer if you talk like that," Gabby said +slowly. "You sound as though you like to hate people."</p> + +<p>"I'm a very successful writer."</p> + +<p>"There's a difference."</p> + +<p>"What big teeth you have, grandma."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to be with people who hate," Gabby nodded gracefully. +"Goodbye, Mr. Lennox."</p> + +<p>"The end of Round One?"</p> + +<p>"No. The end. I don't think we should see each other again."</p> + +<p>"You'll see me often," Lennox assured her. "We'll fight this to a +finish."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to fight."</p> + +<p>"Something happened, and then you changed your mind. I'd like to find +out how your gears mesh. Professionally, of course. I can always use +a comedy gimmick." Automatically he flexed his right arm against his +chest and was appalled to remember that his gimmick book was lost, but +he was too angry with Gabby to concentrate on it.</p> + +<p>"Who did you hope I was in the dark?" he asked. "Aly Khan?"</p> + +<p>"You're making it worse."</p> + +<p>"Who did you think I was?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you...." She shook her head. "How can I say? I thought I—" +Suddenly her dark eyes filled with tears. "You're not very kind. I've +just made a fool of myself and I'm hurt too. Are you enjoying this?"</p> + +<p>"Passionately."</p> + +<p>"Please let me go."</p> + +<p>She broke away from him and descended the library steps to the +ballroom, her shoulders square, her carriage relaxed and graceful. +The bright chandelier lights gleamed on her skin. Lennox followed her +doggedly around the edge of the ballroom and into the bar. He could not +let go. He would not let up. Gabby bent over the red-head sleeping on +the bar.</p> + +<p>"Phil," she said. "It's time to leave." She shook him gently.</p> + +<p>The red-head snorted and slept. Gabby looked reproachfully at the +bartender who instantly became apologetic, as though he had personally +supervised the downfall of the teacher from Yale.</p> + +<p>"It's not your fault," Gabby told him. "He comes down from New Haven +full of undergraduate notions. He had to work his way through college. +He never had a chance to be hedonistic."</p> + +<p>Lennox stepped forward. "I'll take you home, Miss Valentine."</p> + +<p>"It isn't me that has to be taken. It's Phil."</p> + +<p>"To New Haven?"</p> + +<p>"What if I said yes?"</p> + +<p>"Bon voyage, Miss Valentine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why are you so hostile?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm a damned fool," Lennox answered furiously. "All right. +I'll take him back to New Haven for you."</p> + +<p>"Not New Haven. New York. The Harvard Club."</p> + +<p>"A neat one-two. Next time I'll know when to duck. I'll take you both +home."</p> + +<p>"Not me. Phil."</p> + +<p>"You and Phil both."</p> + +<p>"That's your price?"</p> + +<p>"It's a bargain, Miss Valentine. Snap it up."</p> + +<p>"I think I'd better get someone else."</p> + +<p>She left the bar. Lennox heaved the red-head up, powerfully but not +unkindly, and hauled him to the door. There, an efficient man in black +uniform located hats and coats without clues and helped Lennox dress +the red-head. Then Lennox dressed himself. When Gabby came to the +foyer with three eager admirers, Lennox looked them over and growled: +"I'm taking you both home. I'm prepared to fight for it. If you don't +believe me get ready for a scene."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed, but she dismissed the men and got into her coat. +Together they took the teacher downstairs in a burning silence and +propped him in a cab between them. As the cab drove off Lennox asked: +"Why the Harvard Club? He teaches at Yale."</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>He contrived to peer past the red-headed barricade at her. She was +impassive. The street lights flickered on her skin like lightning on +jewels. He had never wanted anyone and hated anyone so badly in his +life; nor known anything so inexplicably out of his grasp.</p> + +<p>He said: "I worked my way through college too. I was a telegrapher."</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>After five minutes he said: "Can you spell hedonistic?"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>They arrived at the Harvard Club and turned the teacher over to a +patient doorman. Lennox did not ask permission to re-enter the cab. He +got in and slammed the door. Gabby gave her address in the Village and +the cab started. Lennox was startled. He had expected a number on Park +Avenue. He revised his guess about her society background.</p> + +<p>The cab crunched downtown through crusted streets. The rain and snow +had stopped. There was no wind, but the air was still bitter. A few +blocks from Union Square, Lennox abruptly called to the driver: "Stop +here. On the right, two doors down. Don't argue with me. Stop."</p> + +<p>The cab stopped. Lennox opened the door and got out. To Gabby he said: +"Wait here for me. Understand? Wait." He turned and ran across the +sidewalk to the open door of a Salvation Army Mission in a small +store. There were candles burning in the window. He ducked into the +store, removed two candles from the window, dropped a five dollar bill +in their place, and ran back to the cab. He got in and shut the door.</p> + +<p>"All right, get going," he told the driver. He handed one of the +burning candles to Gabby without a word.</p> + +<p>She smiled; that sudden dazzle of light on water, then her face lost +its expression when she saw the cold fury in him. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>Lennox slid the glass partition panel aside. "Can you sing?" he asked +the driver. "Sing Pop Goes The Weasel."</p> + +<p>"Have a heart, buddy."</p> + +<p>"'Pop Goes The Weasel' ... in the key of C. Take it."</p> + +<p>"That ain't no Christmas Carol."</p> + +<p>"And this ain't no Christmas present." Lennox poked a bill through the +slit and dropped it. "Sing."</p> + +<p>The driver began a miserable croaking. Lennox sat back and eyed Gabby. +She blew out her candle and turned her head away. He dropped his candle +and trampled it.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," he said. "My name is Jordan Lennox, I'm thirty-five +years old. Unmarried. My income is thirty-five thousand a year. I have +no family left, but the Islip YMCA director will provide a character +reference. My blood type is O. My eyes are twenty-twenty. My I.Q. is a +hundred and nineteen. I understand people, but I don't understand you. +I would like permission to get to know you better. If necessary, this +oral request can be followed by a formal letter from my attorney and a +bond will be posted."</p> + +<p>The cab stopped before a squat studio building with great duplex +windows, Lennox had the fare ready. He thrust it over the driver's +shoulder, then helped Gabby out of the cab and with a fierce secret +gesture signalled the driver to get lost.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. He would not give up. He took her arm, escorted +her the five steps to the doorway, thrust open the door and handed her +through.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Goodnight."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't understand."</p> + +<p>"Make me understand."</p> + +<p>"Goodnight."</p> + +<p>His fingers gripped her arm. "Make me understand."</p> + +<p>"What can I say? I thought you were somebody else. I thought...."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Once," she said slowly, "I had to study chemistry. And in the +stockroom there was a glass jar filled with the most beautiful candy I +ever saw. Then someone told me it was poison. Crystals of poison.... +That's what happened."</p> + +<p>"Poison!" he exclaimed. "I'm poison to you?"</p> + +<p>"No; but you aren't what I thought you were. It's my fault. I made the +mistake and I—" Gabby broke off in astonishment. The color had drained +out of Lennox's face. The fury drained out of his body. He took a step +into the foyer and let go of the door which swung heavily and smashed +his hand resting limp on the jamb. He wrenched his hand free and took +another hypnotic step toward the row of brass letter-boxes on the foyer +wall. Each had a white call button underneath the name plate. In clear +block letters alongside VALENTINE was FOX.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Gabby cried.</p> + +<p>"'Fair is my love, for April's in her face,'" Lennox mumbled. "Her +lovely breasts September claims his part...." He turned a wild face to +her. "What made me think of that? What's terrifying about it?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he answered, swallowing hard and lifting a trembling +hand to his face. It left blood smears on his cheek. "I'm lost. Again. +I.... Christ!" He shut his eyes and pressed his fists together. "Sam," +he whispered. "Sam. Come and get me. Please."</p> + +<p>"You'd better come in," Gabby said in alarm. She took him upstairs to +her apartment and through a barn-like studio to a tailored bedroom +where she helped him off with his coat and sat him down on a chaise +longue. He was shaking. He tried to joke. "We shouldn't be here," he +said. "Very suggestive."</p> + +<p>"It's too cold in the studio. What's the matter? What happened to you?"</p> + +<p>"Downstairs. That name ... Fox. It cut me off from everything. I don't +know why. I'm crying again," he groaned. "Crying. There's been nothing +but dirt and tears all day. I don't know what happened."</p> + +<p>"I'll get you a drink."</p> + +<p>"No. Thank you. I'm not sick. It's just something trying to come back +and hurting like sin."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I can't explain. Give me a minute.... It'll go away again, if I'm +lucky. Then I'll go too."</p> + +<p>He sat in silence, trying to control himself, looking around the room +with smarting eyes. Gabby took off her coat, left the bedroom and +returned a moment later with a glass and a sealed bottle of whiskey. +She tried to remove the cap and failed. She handed the bottle to Lennox +who took it, opened it mechanically and then put it down.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you lived like this," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Like this. Not girly-girly. I thought ... Park Avenue and decorators. +This could be a man's place. Do you play Boys' Rules?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I've been trying to start all over again for the last two +hours." He stood up, went to the bed and touched the pillow gently. +"Hello, Gabby," he said. He went to the dressing table and touched it. +He touched the window drapes, the lamps, the books, the pictures ... +everything that was hers as though he were touching her heart.</p> + +<p>Without looking at her he said: "You're right. I'm poisonous ... but I +love you. I'm the wrong man, but I love you. It's too quick ... only a +few hours, but I love you. I hate too much, I hurt too much because I'm +poisonous.... And I love you. I'd better go now. Goodnight."</p> + +<p>He searched blindly for his coat, ashamed to meet her eyes, and the +real Lennox appeared, the Lennox she had seen by candle-light two hours +ago.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Gabby exclaimed in tears, "Oh darling ... darling! Why did you +hide from me? Why?"</p> + +<p>He caught his breath. She came to him and he took her in his arms. +After a moment he managed to speak.</p> + +<p>"Is this how it happens? Has it happened again?"</p> + +<p>She clung to him.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm frightened, Gabby."</p> + +<p>"Why did you hide from me? Why did you change like that? You were so +cold and hateful...."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I was hiding. I didn't know what I was doing. I've been +half crazy all day." He raised her hand and pressed it against his +eyes. "I dreamed about meeting you, but not like this. I was going to +be at my best. You know? Brilliant and successful. Scattering money and +charm in all directions. Winning you ... not whining my way into your +heart."</p> + +<p>"No. No. You don't understand. No one wants to be won. We want to be +wanted.... Needed."</p> + +<p>"God knows, I need you. God knows, I—"</p> + +<p>"Shhh." She seated him again, ran out of the room and returned with a +warm moist cloth. She cleaned his hand and his cheek. Lennox seized her +suddenly as she stood over him and buried his face in her body.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, darling," she whispered. "Don't be afraid. You're just +used to taking, that's all. Nobody ever gave you anything."</p> + +<p>He looked up at her. "What happened to us after the dance? What did +I do then? What's wrong with me? Was I mean dirty drunk? Did I—" He +stopped. He stood up slowly. In a strange voice he said: "Mean dirty +drunk. Clarence Fox from Philadelphia. The Quaker and the blonde. Yes. +That's where the gimmick book is...."</p> + +<p>Gabby was alarmed again. She put her hands on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"But why can't I remember the rest?" Lennox asked in terror. "The knot. +What's so horrible about a knot? What is it? Why can't I remember what +it is?"</p> + +<p>She tried to press him back on the chaise longue. He was too big to be +forced but he responded instantly to her pressure.</p> + +<p>"You're in trouble," she said. "Let me help."</p> + +<p>He tried to smile. "Yes. It's bad. I want to hide things from you, but +you empty me out. Let me keep a few secrets for a little while. I can't +do it unless you let me."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>He took a breath. "I'm afraid to break this moment. I'm remembering +what happened two hours ago."</p> + +<p>She shook her head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"But I.... But something's got to be written down before I forget it +again. Someone has to go somewhere and get something for me."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," Gabby offered.</p> + +<p>"No," Lennox said sharply.</p> + +<p>She picked up a sketch-pad and pencil from the bed table and looked at +him. Lennox spoke as though each syllable were acid on his lips. "Aimee +Driscoll. 900 East 33rd Street." Suddenly he burst out: "There's worse. +There's going to be worse to remember!"</p> + +<p>She came to him and took his face in her hands. "This isn't a moment, +is it?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Please God, darling.... No." He pulled her down +alongside him and kissed her until he plunged into a darkness which he +did not fear.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Four o'clock in the morning after Christmas I was trying to see how +many different ways I could type NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD MEN TO +COME TO THE AID OF THEIR PARTY when my phone rang. I was indignant but +I had to find out who'd be calling at that hour. I picked up the phone. +Lennox was on the other end.</p> + +<p>"Kitten? Jake Lennox."</p> + +<p>"What are you calling for?"</p> + +<p>"Are you working?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm hung up on a script."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm not interrupting. I want a favor." Jake was always direct on +the horn. "I'll tell you first, then you can say yes or no."</p> + +<p>"Shoot."</p> + +<p>"I think I left my gimmick book in the apartment of a woman named Aimee +Driscoll, 900 East 33rd. I can't get it myself."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Just listen, Kit. I need somebody I can trust to go there and pick it +up for me first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Don't you trust Cooper?"</p> + +<p>"I can't locate him."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he home?"</p> + +<p>"No. You ask too many questions, Kitten."</p> + +<p>I admit I'm curious. That's how I got my nickname; but I'm always +annoyed when anyone throws it up to me.</p> + +<p>"Ask Cooper when he comes home," I said. "And that's not a question."</p> + +<p>"I can't." Lennox sounded a little strained. "That's why I'm asking +you. Yes or no."</p> + +<p>"Do I owe you a favor?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll do it."</p> + +<p>"As soon as possible, Kit."</p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Meet me in Grabinett's office at ten."</p> + +<p>"Can't you wait a few hours, Jake? Ten's too early."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It's like this. If I stay hung up I'll have to research in the library +for an idea. I can pick up the book first thing, but then I'd like to +get a few hours work done in the Reading Room."</p> + +<p>"Right. Reasonable. Twelve o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Meet me at Sabatini's. I'll spring for a drink."</p> + +<p>"Sabatini's at noon. What's that noise?" In the background I could hear +sound. I listened hard. It was music. Delius.</p> + +<p>"Oh. I almost forgot," Lennox said. "I left a coat too. My burberry. +Will you latch on to it, Kit? Thanks. Goodnight."</p> + +<p>He hung up hastily. I went down the hall and looked into the bedroom. +My wife was still up, reading. Robin has straight straw-colored hair +and is stacked like a Swede acrobat, a fact which always made me +nervous where Lennox was concerned.</p> + +<p>"Put on a nightgown or pull up the sheet," I told her. "You're +demoralizing the neighbors." Robin grinned shamelessly. I closed the +blinds and turned on the bedside radio. "Find me Delius," I said. "I've +got to write down a name and address." I wrote it down, only I spelled +it Amy. Robin dialed through the stations one by one. No Delius. She +looked at me.</p> + +<p>"Dig this," I said. "I happen to know Cooper hates Delius. Won't have +a record in the house. But Jake just phoned and there was Appalachia +blasting in the background. Big romantic stuff, and not from a radio +either." I told her about Jake's call. "All right, Robin, you guess +first."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he's good in bed?"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake! Women! Haven't you got any romance in you?"</p> + +<p>"That was romance."</p> + +<p>"It was not. You give us complexes. Is bed everything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What about all the rest?"</p> + +<p>"Bed first."</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right," I said and I was an hour late getting to Aimee +Driscoll's apartment next morning.</p> + +<p>I was lucky at that. She'd just gotten up and was in a vicious mood. +She handed me the freeze reserved for Squares and I handed it right +back. That gave us an understanding and put us on a basis of armed +neutrality as fellow members of the entertainment profession. The +blonde and I passed a few remarks about the Quaker. She called my +attention to the new television set and laughed it up because she'd +gotten it out of the Quaker for nothing; but I noticed that she laughed +angrily. I didn't know why.</p> + +<p>The photograph should have tipped it. It stood on the set in a silver +frame, faded and vignetted, a costume piece, circa 1913. It was a +portrait of a man with heavy brows and a stern face and could have +been a photograph of Lennox in costume and makeup. The fact that +she'd placed it on the set Lennox gave her was significant, but I only +realized that after the death in the Venice theater.</p> + +<p>"Who's the grim reaper?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"My old man," Aimee answered. She darted a look of loathing at the +photograph. It was so poisonous that I wanted to ask more questions, +but before I could get started, she gave me the brush-final. I left +with Jake's gimmick book and burberry and didn't get to the library +until eleven....</p> + +<p>Lennox marched into the Grabinett office at ten sharp. It was in a +small building off Madison Avenue in the fifties. Grabinett had started +there as a two-bit agent in a rat-hole, and when he hit the big money +it turned out that rentals were too tight for him to move into larger +quarters. He spread into stockrooms, broke through closets and halls, +had it all decorated and air-conditioned, and it still looked like a +blond wood rat-hole. They held daily rat-races there.</p> + +<p>Grabinett was in his corner office eating Danish and coffee and reading +Red Channels. There was a stack of mail, Nielsen Reports, <i>Variety</i>, +<i>Billboard</i>, Radio and TV Newssheets on the desk before him. Lennox +tore off his coat, revealing that he was still wearing black tie. He +flung the coat on a chair piled with bundles of stenciled scripts.</p> + +<p>Grabinett eyed Lennox with lively hatred and verged on continuing the +battle from the night before until his attention was distracted by the +dinner jacket.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" he blinked.</p> + +<p>"Costume."</p> + +<p>"You're a panel expert?" Grabinett leaped up in dismay. "Jesus +Almighty! Don't tell me A&B sold another panel show to the network. +What have they got on Roy Audibon? Do they know where the body's +buried?"</p> + +<p>Lennox didn't bother to answer. He pulled a sheaf of notes from his +inside pocket and glanced at them. "What's your schedule this morning, +Mel?"</p> + +<p>"Loaded. I ain't got a minute."</p> + +<p>"What about Kansas?"</p> + +<p>"That's up to the network. I got a conference scheduled with Roy +Audibon for thissafter."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you tried anything else?"</p> + +<p>"What the hell else is there to try?"</p> + +<p>"I've got an idea." Lennox reached across the desk and picked up +Grabinett's phone. He punched buttons until Patsy Lewis, the office +operator, answered him in a jaw-clenched Bennington drawl.</p> + +<p>"Patsy? Jake Lennox. Good morning. You were monitoring that call to +Kansas last night?"</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Lennox. Yes, I was."</p> + +<p>"Remember the number?"</p> + +<p>"Who could forget?"</p> + +<p>"Get 'em for me, please. Right away." Lennox hung up.</p> + +<p>"What the Almighty are you up to?" Grabinett cried. He reached for the +phone. Lennox reached for his wrist.</p> + +<p>"Leave go. You know what a call to Kansas costs?"</p> + +<p>"Less than a lawsuit. Let me try this, Mel. You can bill me for the +call if I louse it. Where's that love letter that came yesterday? Get +me the file."</p> + +<p>"Who the hell do you think you are this morning? Jesus H. Napoleon?"</p> + +<p>"What? Does it show?" Lennox smiled suddenly. "That's the trouble with +turning over a new leaf. You do it in the old style and people don't +understand."</p> + +<p>"Are you drunk or something?"</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at Grabinett keenly. "You're a lot more perceptive than +I thought, Mel. Yes, I'm something. Something as high as a kite. And +full of New Year's Resolutions." He tapped the sheaf of paper. "My list +of good deeds, waiting to be crossed off. Oh!" He looked closer at +the list and flushed. "Says here: Section One. People. Relations to. +Paragraph One. Grabinett. Attitude toward. Make it up to Blinky for +being a louse last night."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"At the theater last night," Lennox said steadily. "I was a louse. +Please excuse me. I apologize."</p> + +<p>"Who the hell are you calling Blinky?"</p> + +<p>"Oh God!" Lennox groaned. "She's right. It takes practice."</p> + +<p>The phone rang. He picked it up. It was the Kansas contestant with +her husband counseling her on an extension. It was eight o'clock in +the morning in Kansas, and bitter cold, but no colder than those two +litigants.</p> + +<p>"Good morning. This is Jordan Lennox, the writer on the 'Who He?' +show," he began smoothly. Kansas sputtered. Lennox paused and then went +on: "Yes, I know. It was an unfortunate mistake last night, but of +course you'll get the prize. Mr. Grabinett has mailed your check out. +Anyway, it isn't important because I think you'll agree it was your +good luck when you hear the proposition I have for you. What?"</p> + +<p>Lennox waited patiently while Kansas fumed. Finally he interrupted; +"I'm very sorry you feel that way. You see, the accident last night was +the springboard for a new TV show that we'd like to build around you. A +half-hour situation comedy about a real life couple that competes for +prizes."</p> + +<p>Grabinett's jaw dropped and he blinked at Lennox. Jake winked and +continued: "The idea is to combine realism and comedy. You'll appear on +all the give-away shows and compete. We'll follow your adventures, show +what you do with the prizes, how your friends react, and so on. We were +planning on starting promotion with a publicity spread in one of the +picture magazines, but if you insist on suing I'm afraid we'd better +forget—What? Certainly I'm serious. I'm a writer. I know a solid idea +when it hits me in the face."</p> + +<p>Lennox clamped a hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Grabinett: +"Get that check in the mail. Airmail special." He unclamped the phone. +"Of course. Of course. I understand. Naturally you were upset; but we +can forget about that now. I'll arrange for a few words from Mr. Mason. +You'll get your check tomorrow and we'll start preparing your new show +immediately. Mr. Grabinett will send out contracts for you to sign. In +the meantime.... Happy New Year."</p> + +<p>He hung up, reached for the list and crossed off an item.</p> + +<p>"Cooled?" Grabinett blinked incredulously.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. "As soon as they deposit that check we're safe. Have +a couple of exclusive service contracts made out to them for a show +called.... Oh, let's see.... 'The Man and Woman from—' No. 'The Couple +From Missouri.' That'll keep 'em happy."</p> + +<p>"Genius Almighty! What was that about Mason?"</p> + +<p>"They'll settle for an apology on the show next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"An apology from Mason? He'll never do it."</p> + +<p>"We'll worry about that at the show conference." Lennox consulted his +list. "Can I see the letter now, Mel? That's our real problem."</p> + +<p>"Napoleon," Grabinett muttered and went to the wall safe. He twirled a +dial perfunctorily and swung the door open. He withdrew a manila folder +and brought it to the desk, handling it as though it were crawling with +roaches.</p> + +<p>"The top letter," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. See about the check and the contracts, will you, Mel? Let's +get the minor rap all squared off. I'll get out of your way now. Where +can I go read the letter?"</p> + +<p>"Stay here!" Grabinett exclaimed. "Don't let it out of here." He left +the office and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>Lennox opened the folder. It contained six pale blue envelopes and six +sheets of blue letter paper. The quality of the paper was good. The +quality of the writing was bad; clumsy scrawlings, jagged, hysterical, +sick. The pirates on The Rock are notorious for the freedom of their +language, but there is a vast gulf separating profanity from malignity. +The first five letters had been filthy gutter abuse. This last was +comparatively clean, but even more sickening for the naked venom of its +hatred.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Dear Who He:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do you remember me yet?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are you feeling the pain?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I'm going to kill you.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I'll tear your guts out</div> + <div class="verse indent0">and rip your eyes and</div> + <div class="verse indent0">listen to you scream. Your</div> + <div class="verse indent0">bones will smash and your</div> + <div class="verse indent0">blood will run and the</div> + <div class="verse indent0">fancy filth in you will</div> + <div class="verse indent0">pour out like sewers like</div> + <div class="verse indent0">rot like ruin. I promise</div> + <div class="verse indent0">there will never be any</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Happy New Year for you!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This is the last warning.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Be killing you New Years.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Guess Who</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Lennox closed the folder. There was no need to re-read the earlier +letters. He remembered them and they were more revolting, if less +specifically threatening. He took a deep breath, then went to the +corner sink behind a screen and washed his hands. He had been carried +down into the sewers of a sick mind. It was not a new experience, but +Lennox could never accustom himself to it. Grabinett came back into the +office.</p> + +<p>"Well, Napoleon? How about that one?"</p> + +<p>"It's the pay-off." Lennox shook himself. "We can't stall, Mel. We've +got to go to the police."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I'll go. Get a girl in here. The letters ought to be photostated +before I take them."</p> + +<p>"Not the cops, Jake. For crank letters?"</p> + +<p>"They aren't crank letters any more. They're threats."</p> + +<p>"Against who?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody on the show."</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"One of the permanents who's on every week. Mig. Stacy. Kay Hill...."</p> + +<p>"Kay? A dame?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? You read the letters. They could be written to a man or a +woman."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. I guess you're right."</p> + +<p>"Then there's Johnny Plummer. Raeburn Sachs...."</p> + +<p>"Nobody sees Ray. He ain't ever on camera."</p> + +<p>"It has to be someone who's seen every week or whose name appears every +week. Ray's name is on the credit drum after every show. So is yours."</p> + +<p>"Me!" Grabinett cried in astonishment.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. "Every week. 'A Melvin Grabinett Production.'"</p> + +<p>"That's a goddam lie. Those letters ain't to me."</p> + +<p>"You say. How do I know? Maybe that's why you don't want to go to the +police. Maybe you're covering."</p> + +<p>"Would I show 'em to you if I was? Would I—You get a credit too. +'Written by Jordan Lennox.'"</p> + +<p>"That's right. Let's include me too. That makes seven. Who else +appears every week ... name or face? Oh. Charlie Hansel, the dance +director. That's all. A total of eight. One out of the eight is getting +threatening letters and we've got to do something about it before +everything blows up in our face next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Throw 'em off the show, goddam 'em!"</p> + +<p>"All eight of us?"</p> + +<p>"No. The one that's getting wrote to."</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"Find out which."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how. You're The Thinker. You think it up how."</p> + +<p>"I can't. Not off-hand. It wouldn't do any good to ask. Who'd tell the +truth with something dirty as this in their past?"</p> + +<p>"God damn!" Grabinett blinked furiously. "Why hasn't anything happened +before? Why wait 'till now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mel. They're crazy letters. Go figure a lunatic mind. +Maybe the police can. We're sitting on dynamite. The fuse is lit. We +know the blow-up's coming next Sunday. We've got to do something to +stop it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know for sure next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"You read the last letter. It's plain. Be killing you New Years'. What +more do you want? We have to go to the police."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"You can't run away from it, Mel. I'll draw you a picture. Look ... +it's next Sunday night. Mig's doing the drama spot, the 'Man Without +A Country' question. They're working on No. 2 Camera dollied back for +the full courtroom shot. Ray's in the controls calling shots to Sol +Eggleston. Sol's on the Party-Line talking to the camera crews. Johnny +Plummer's got the music soft. You're with the agency men in the back of +the control booth.... Yes?"</p> + +<p>Grabinett nodded, fascinated.</p> + +<p>"And then there's a wild yell in the house and a lunatic comes charging +down the center aisle. He's got a gun. He jumps up on the stage, and +he's right on camera. He's cursing and swearing. The audience realizes +it isn't a gag and starts screaming. Before Master Control can pull +us off the air, he starts shooting.... Who? What difference does it +make? Thirty million people see it. And when the police start asking +questions you'll have to say: 'I was warned. I got letters, but I +didn't do anything about it.' How long would you stay in the business +after that?"</p> + +<p>Grabinett blinked for half a minute, then pressed a button on his desk. +The office door opened and his secretary came in three steps and waited.</p> + +<p>"Got something for photostat," Grabinett said faintly.</p> + +<p>Lennox placed the folder inside a large script envelope and handed it +to the girl. "This is a rush job, please. Three copies. Tell them to +handle the material as little as possible, in case of fingerprints." +The secretary's face brightened with interest as she took the envelope. +Lennox added sharply: "Don't read any of it. You'll be sorry if you do. +This isn't for little girls."</p> + +<p>He put on his coat and buttoned it up to the neck. As he left the +office, he muttered: "It isn't for little boys, either."</p> + +<p>He went home. Cooper wasn't in the apartment, but his bed had been +slept in and the animals had been fed. Monday was the one day of +vacation for the entire "Who He?" staff, and there was no telling where +anyone might be on this blessed day of release from the rat-race. +Lennox changed, then went to the phone and dialed Houseways, Inc.</p> + +<p>"Miss Valentine, please."</p> + +<p>"Who's calling?"</p> + +<p>"Frank Lloyd Wright."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, then Gabby's voice, soft and reproachful. "You +shouldn't have said that."</p> + +<p>"I know. There's something about a phone that always makes me lie. +Being invisible, I suppose. Do draftsmen come under the Women's +Employment Regulations?"</p> + +<p>"Why ... there's no such law."</p> + +<p>"Of course there is. You know the one I mean, sweetheart. You lectured +all about it just before I spilled the coffee. Where they have to let +women out for five minutes every hour to use the bathroom."</p> + +<p>"Oh. You mean—"</p> + +<p>"Where's your bathroom?"</p> + +<p>"Jordan! For Heaven's sake!"</p> + +<p>"I can't wait till tonight to see you. I borrowed full drag from +Costume. Cloth coat with fur collar. Spike heels. Eugenie hat. I'll +meet you in the john. I'll smuggle in brownies and coke. We'll have a +spread."</p> + +<p>Gabby began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Go away. I have to work."</p> + +<p>"Chicken! How about lunch?"</p> + +<p>"Darling, I'm sorry. You know I can't. I told you last night."</p> + +<p>"How about Elevenses?"</p> + +<p>"Go away."</p> + +<p>"Tea?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What do you look like when you work? Smock and beret and a calabash +pipe?"</p> + +<p>"Not nearly so glamorous. More like 'Out Of The Inkwell.'"</p> + +<p>"Who He?"</p> + +<p>"The old movie cartoon."</p> + +<p>"Oh. We'll have to do something about that. I can't hang up."</p> + +<p>"Neither can I."</p> + +<p>"Let's be strong."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how."</p> + +<p>"I'll count to three. Then we'll both hang up."</p> + +<p>"Count to ten."</p> + +<p>"No. Three. That's the way to be strong. Ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"One.... Two.... What comes after two?"</p> + +<p>"Ten," Gabby said and hung up.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded to himself approvingly. She knew how to tag a scene. He +called Robin.</p> + +<p>"Robin? Jake Lennox. Did Kit pick up my stuff?"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" Robin mumbled.</p> + +<p>"Eleven."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Jake! I'm not up yet."</p> + +<p>"Did Kit go downtown this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Yes. He did. Now get lost. You're stunting my growth."</p> + +<p>"Can you write?"</p> + +<p>"I forget."</p> + +<p>"Well memorize this. A call for 'Who He?' next Sunday. Show-time nine +to nine-thirty at the Venice Theater. Pick up your script at the office +tomorrow and they'll give you the rehearsal schedule. The job pays two +bills. Can you fit it into your schedule?"</p> + +<p>"Can I!" Robin exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant dreams," Lennox chuckled and hung up. He knew how to pay for +a favor.</p> + +<p>He took a cab uptown, bought a beret and smock in Saks and a calabash +pipe in Dunhill's, and had them delivered to Gabby Valentine at +Houseways, Inc. Then he went up to the network studios and walked in on +the morning rehearsal of "The People Against—" the radio show produced +and directed by Ned Bacon, his partner on "Who He?"</p> + +<p>Bacon was a short, stocky Irishman in his mid forties. He had an +impudent boyish face on which he had superimposed an expression of +pugnacious cynicism. He seemed to regret that he had not been a bad boy +and spent his life making up for it. There is an ancient and honorable +association of Fire-Buffs, amateurs who are fascinated by firemen and +run after fires. Bacon was a Thief-Buff. He spent his nights on 3rd +Avenue running after crooks, cops and crime.</p> + +<p>His crime show had been an outstanding leader in radio for fifteen +years, and only the advent of television which was strangling all +night-time radio was now bringing it to an end. In the old days "The +People Against—" had owned the network on Mondays. It was their +prized show. Its studio was sacred and officiously guarded. Inside, the +orchestra minded its manners, a rare thing for musicians, and the cast +worked in terror of Bacon who swaggered through rehearsals with his hat +cocked over one eye.</p> + +<p>Now, all was changed. The studio doors were unprotected. No actors +stood before them waiting for a chance to smile at Bacon. Inside, the +full orchestra was reduced to an organ and two instruments. The studio +itself was crammed with stored television sets, leaving just enough +working space around a couple of microphones before the control booth. +Half of Bacon's cast was in makeup and costume. They had obviously +sandwiched "The People Against" in and were earnestly memorizing lines +for TV shows. But Bacon still swaggered with his hat cocked over one +eye.</p> + +<p>Lennox sat down quietly in a corner and waited. Bacon was directing an +actor in the style that had made him famous.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand it," Bacon spoke confidentially. "You don't feel +it like a gimpster. Let's have the line again."</p> + +<p>"I want my vigorish, doll!" the actor snarled.</p> + +<p>Bacon shook his head and sidled up to the actor like a pick-pocket. +"Vigorish," he explained, "is thief talk for percentage. See? You're +filing a beef about your cut in the caper. But it has to mean something +more. Make like you're pimping for the broad when you say that. You've +got your hands up her skirt. You're naked but you're not catching any +colds. Think about her naked and warm up. Then we'll try it again."</p> + +<p>He swaggered over to Lennox. "So Mason blew it last night," he said.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. Bacon eyed him pugnaciously. "It's time we separated the +men from the boys."</p> + +<p>"Oh?"</p> + +<p>"Sachs has got to go."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to start that again?"</p> + +<p>"Jake, that varsity cheer-leader is turning everything into a +clam-bake. He's so busy playing the genius routine he's tuned in on +dead air. Next Sunday's his last show. I'm taking over after the first +of the year."</p> + +<p>"Directing?"</p> + +<p>Bacon nodded. "I'm from radio," he said bitterly. "I'm not supposed to +know anything about the theater. TV's one of the Mysteries, and I don't +know the pass-words. That's the line these Johnny-Come-Lately fags in +TV are handing out. If you haven't got talent, turn the business into a +secret fraternity so real talent can't get in. Well, the old man from +radio is coming out of his cave."</p> + +<p>"Does Blinky know?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be notified. I got the agency on the horn this morning. Avery +Borden's with me. How about you?"</p> + +<p>"What have I got to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Between us we own half the show. If it comes to a Mexican stand-off +with Blinky, we can swing the vote with Avery in our corner."</p> + +<p>"I'm not ready to hassle about that yet, Ned. I've got something more +important to worry about."</p> + +<p>"This is important."</p> + +<p>"Mine's worse."</p> + +<p>"I thought we were partners," Bacon said angrily. "Are you welshing on +me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm trying to keep our show from falling apart."</p> + +<p>"So am I. Either you're with me or agin' me. Make up your mind."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, Ned. This is no time for Civil War. We're sitting on a blast +right now."</p> + +<p>"You gutless Summer Soldier!"</p> + +<p>"Will you listen! The show's in a jam. We're all in a jam. We're being +threatened. It's going to hit the fan next Sunday. I came here to +get the name of that detective friend of yours over at the Precinct +Station."</p> + +<p>Bacon's face lost its rage and kindled. "Oh? Threats? What kind? +Extortion? Blackmail? Is it one of the Heavies or a Con? I know all the +rackets, Jake. That's my business. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you now."</p> + +<p>"What rumbled? Who blew the gaff?"</p> + +<p>"We can't discuss it here. I'll see you later and let you have +everything. What's the name of the detective?"</p> + +<p>"Fink. Sergeant Robert Fink. Tell him Ned Bacon sent you. Ned Bacon +from...." He paused for a soundless fanfare. "'The People Against—.'"</p> + +<p>"Right."</p> + +<p>Bacon escorted him to the studio door. "Tell Bob to take you out on the +case. Meet the people, Jake, People are your business. Get a load of +life. Break out of that Ivory Tower. Rub elbows with the marketplace."</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at him contemptuously. "You love this, don't you, Ned? +Threats.... Rackets.... Crooks.... The spittoon life."</p> + +<p>"It's people, Jake. It's life. It's my business."</p> + +<p>"I like my life just the way it is," Lennox said. "That's why I'm going +to see your detective ... for salvation, not masturbation."</p> + +<p>Bacon flushed angrily. "You're never the genial type, Jake, but there's +times when you fill me with death wishes."</p> + +<p>"Be seeing you, Scarface." Lennox exchanged a level glance of loathing +with his partner and left the studio.</p> + +<p>"Salvation!" he repeated emphatically. "Yes, by God! Now we know where +we're going."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> + + +<p>"I've got to look into a butcher store," Fink said. "Drive over with +me. You can tell me about those letters."</p> + +<p>They got into a dusty car parked in front of the Precinct Station. Fink +was a small, slender man with thin blonde hair and the harmless manner +of a bank clerk. He had a soft sweet voice. He seemed shy. His smile +was hesitant and haphazard, as though he acknowledged humor but had +given up hope of ever recognizing it.</p> + +<p>"Shopping for dinner?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"No. The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad +meat. They couldn't find anything so they handed it to us. You can tell +me about those letters."</p> + +<p>Lennox told him. Fink drove carefully and listened without comment. +Finally he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Tough," he said.</p> + +<p>"You mean dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"Tough to locate the writer."</p> + +<p>"Are the letters dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"Everything's dangerous."</p> + +<p>"That isn't much help. I'm scared."</p> + +<p>"It's smart to be scared. You don't know who they're written to?"</p> + +<p>"No. Like I told you, it could be a choice of eight."</p> + +<p>"Maybe." Fink smiled. "We'll see if we can find out who's writing them. +You've got all the letters in this folder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public out +of your theater?"</p> + +<p>"We can't do it, Sergeant.... Mr.... Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"Bob."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you people were so informal."</p> + +<p>"We're not. It's code."</p> + +<p>"Code! You're kidding. I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>Fink nodded. "Say you're in my office being questioned. One of my +associates walks in and he doesn't know who you are. I have to warn him +to be careful what he says. Instead of calling him by his first name I +call him Mister. That's the tip-off."</p> + +<p>"I'm flattered. You make me feel like a deputy."</p> + +<p>"If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public out +of your theater?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know I'm not a crook, Bob? Why'd you teach me your code?"</p> + +<p>"Any friend of Ned's."</p> + +<p>"No. Honestly."</p> + +<p>"You know everybody in your business, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Practically."</p> + +<p>"I know everybody in my business."</p> + +<p>"But suppose I tell other people and it gets out?"</p> + +<p>"What difference? We're protecting ourselves. We don't care who knows +it. If you're worried about next Sunday why don't you keep the public +out of your theater?"</p> + +<p>The third repetition of the question, identically phrased, made Lennox +aware of a tenacious quality in this quiet little man. He could not be +diverted.</p> + +<p>"It's a comedy show," Lennox explained. "We have to have an audience. +Our star wouldn't work without one."</p> + +<p>"He could try."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't want to try."</p> + +<p>"You can ask him."</p> + +<p>"I'll ask him, but I know the answer. I thought ... well, that you +might put some of your men in the house Sunday night."</p> + +<p>"For eight hundred people? It wouldn't do much good." Fink smiled +haphazardly. "How do you hand out the tickets?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly through the network. They're requested by mail."</p> + +<p>"They never keep any record. Doesn't your sponsor get tickets too?"</p> + +<p>"I'll let you in on our code," Lennox grinned. "We never call them the +sponsor. Always the client. In case you want to pass as a TV artist."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Doesn't your sponsor get tickets too?"</p> + +<p>"He gets a batch. So does the agency. Also the producer, Mel Grabinett."</p> + +<p>"How far ahead do you hand out tickets?"</p> + +<p>"About two weeks."</p> + +<p>"Then they're all out for next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Fink smiled. "Well.... We'll see if we can find out who's writing them. +You've got all the letters in this folder?"</p> + +<p>"All. Oh. I had them photostated. Is that all right?"</p> + +<p>Fink nodded and parked the car before a small butcher store in a +run-down tenement. He opened the glove compartment, placed the manila +folder inside, then carefully locked the compartment. They got out of +the car and he locked the doors carefully.</p> + +<p>"Need any more from me, Bob?"</p> + +<p>"The letters are enough."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll be going."</p> + +<p>"What's your hurry? Come on in."</p> + +<p>Fink led the way to the tenement doorway alongside the butcher store. +Lennox had expected him to enter the store. Instead, Fink entered the +house in which the store occupied the street floor front. The letter +boxes were battered and unnamed. A card stuck in the glass door read +DUGAN—SUPER.</p> + +<p>"It's a condemned house," Fink said. He pushed open the door and walked +past a lopsided flight of stairs. He knocked on the door of the rear +apartment. Lennox held his breath. There was an incredibly foul odor in +the building.</p> + +<p>The door opened and a shriveled woman appeared.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dugan?" Fink said quietly. "The Health Department had a complaint +this butcher is selling bad meat. I'm Fink from the Precinct." He +slipped his wallet out, flipped it open to display the blue and gold +badge pinned inside, then returned it to his back pocket.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothing about it, I'm sure," Mrs. Dugan quavered.</p> + +<p>"This is just routine."</p> + +<p>Fink pushed into the apartment, followed by Lennox. They went down a +hall to a tiny parlor facing a narrow court. It was dark and cluttered +with dismal furniture. Fink remained standing. He caught Jake's +eye, looked down at a chair, then back at Lennox and shook his head +slightly. Lennox remained standing. His skin began to crawl. Mrs. Dugan +slumped down in a rocker.</p> + +<p>"The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad +meat," Fink repeated. "Anybody in the building buy from him?"</p> + +<p>"There's nobody but us," Mrs. Dugan said.</p> + +<p>"No tenants?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Just you and your husband?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Dugan's the super?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You buy meat from this butcher?"</p> + +<p>Her hands twitched on her knees. Fink waited patiently for her to +answer.</p> + +<p>"You buy meat from this butcher?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Dugan whispered.</p> + +<p>"Any of it bad?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Fink took out his notebook and scribbled. Lennox flexed his right arm +against his chest, then looked around uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Where's Dugan?" Fink inquired.</p> + +<p>"He went up to the roof to look for leaks." The woman tapped her knee +with a stained forefinger. "On account of the snow."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Snow was pretty bad last night?"</p> + +<p>She nodded and tapped her knee again. "Awful. He been up there all +morning. The roofs is shot."</p> + +<p>Fink put away the notebook. As he turned to leave he jerked his head at +a framed photograph of a man in World War I uniform.</p> + +<p>"That Dugan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "He lost his eye at Shatto Theory."</p> + +<p>"Tough," Fink murmured and departed.</p> + +<p>Outside in the hall the odor was sickening.</p> + +<p>"Smell that?" Fink said. "It's why the Health Department got those +complaints."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to check the butcher?"</p> + +<p>"Is the old lady still in the apartment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Where's the way to the basement? Oh. Here. Come on." Fink +opened a wooden door behind the flight of stairs and produced a +flashlight. He started down. Lennox followed.</p> + +<p>"Why the basement?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you see her give it away?"</p> + +<p>"Give what away?"</p> + +<p>"When she said Dugan was up on the roof. She kept pointing down with +her finger."</p> + +<p>The basement was a reeking mass of rotting crates and cartons. There +was a furnace in the middle with hot-air ducts spreading up to the low +ceiling like square octopus arms. Fink located a hanging light bulb and +switched it on. He walked to the street end of the basement, crouching +under the ducts.</p> + +<p>"We'll try the coal bins first," he said. "That's the usual."</p> + +<p>"Bob! What is this?"</p> + +<p>"She was lying," Fink explained. "You have to be good to make all of +you lie at the same time. Part of you always gives the truth away. That +finger gave her away. Dugan's down here." He picked up a long-handled +shovel and began turning over coke in the wooden bunkers.</p> + +<p>"Dugan's down here?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Didn't you see his war picture? The wives hate to give up +the pension when the husbands die, so sometimes they don't report the +death. But they have to hide the body...." Fink shoveled vigorously, +then grunted: "Look."</p> + +<p>A hand and arm were thrust out of the coke. It was a left hand, +rotting, swarming with maggots. Lennox let out a hoarse cry and backed +away. He turned and ran crouching under the ducts to the basement +stairs.</p> + +<p>"Hey! Lennox!" Fink called in surprise.</p> + +<p>Lennox gasped out an apology and raced up the steps. He held his +breath. In the hall he came face to face with Mrs. Dugan just coming +out of her apartment. He averted his head and ran out into the street. +He found a saloon, went in and had two quick shots of brandy, trying to +forget that hideous left hand. The brandy took hold in his stomach and +he was able to relax. Presently he nodded emphatically. "By God!" he +muttered. "He'll find out who's writing those letters. He'll save us. +I wouldn't have believed it. A bank clerk."</p> + +<p>He was still nodding and muttering to himself when he met me in +Sabatini's. I took him to the coat room, showed him the burberry and +handed him the check. I took out his gimmick book and gave it to him. +He patted it fondly, the way you pat a faithful dog, and slipped it +into his pocket. Then he flexed his right arm against his chest and +grinned at me.</p> + +<p>"Like getting my heart back, Kit," he said. "Thanks. I had one hell of +a fantastic experience this morning. What are you drinking?"</p> + +<p>We went to the bar and gave Romo our orders and Lennox told me about +his guided tour through a nightmare and the corpse in the coke. "If you +didn't come up with anything in the library," he said, "I'll make you a +gift of the story."</p> + +<p>"I can't use the story, Jake. Continuity would never pass it. But I +could use the gimmick."</p> + +<p>"It's yours."</p> + +<p>"You mean that? Thanks." I really was grateful. Lennox knew how to pay +for a favor. "It's solid, Man. That finger pointing down when she's +swearing the husband's up on the roof. Great sight gimmick. It's the +most." I began to drift off into a plot.</p> + +<p>"Write it down, Kitten."</p> + +<p>"What? Oh, I don't have to. Gimmicks like this you never forget."</p> + +<p>"Locate anything this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Something real odd. Poison-eaters."</p> + +<p>"Poison-eaters? You're putting me on."</p> + +<p>"No, Jake. I'm not kidding. I'm going to use it for a switch on the +tired routine about an unknown killer menacing unknown victims. You +know. Who's doing what to who and why."</p> + +<p>Lennox spilled his drink.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Go on."</p> + +<p>"Here's the gimmick. You know about the dope habit. People start +hitting heroin or cocaine and can't get off the hook. Well, the same +thing happens with poison."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"Some people acquire the poison habit. They eat arsenic for their +health and—"</p> + +<p>"Their health!"</p> + +<p>"That's right. They take it in small doses so it isn't lethal and they +build up a tolerance for it."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"They've got an idea it's good for them. For malaria. A tonic. An +aphrodisiac. But dig this. Once they start they can't stop. It's +habit-forming like dope. They've got to keep on eating poison the rest +of their lives."</p> + +<p>"I'll be damned."</p> + +<p>"And they thrive on it, Jake. That's the truth." I waited a couple of +minutes and then asked: "Why'd you throw a fit before?"</p> + +<p>He grimaced. "That line about an unknown killer and unknown victims. It +was a little too close to home."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in the same fix, Kitten."</p> + +<p>"You're an unknown killer?"</p> + +<p>"No. One of the victims."</p> + +<p>"This I got to hear."</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "Let's have another drink. I'll tell you about it if you +swear to keep it quiet."</p> + +<p>I reached out with both arms and touched the crowd surrounding the bar. +"On a stack of agency men."</p> + +<p>Jake snorted. We had another drink and he unloaded the letter story +in a low voice, his eyes flashing angrily, his fists clenching and +unclenching. He had a set of photostats in his pocket, but he wouldn't +show them to me then ... not in Sabatini's with half the business +leaning over our shoulders warning Romo to leave the garbage out of the +old-fashioneds. When he was finished, Lennox looked at me expectantly.</p> + +<p>"You're a mystery writer, Kitten. How would you crack this one?"</p> + +<p>"When I plot 'em," I said, "I've got sense enough to give myself a +gimmick to get out on. A left-handed man pulls matches from the left +side of the book. The U. S. didn't mint any silver dollars from 1909 to +1921. All ticket punches have different designs ... and so on. Where's +your gimmick?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any I know of."</p> + +<p>"Then leave it to Fink. Smart cop, Fink. He'll find the gimmick."</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. "But damn it, I can't sit on my credits and wait for the +explosion Sunday. I've got to do something."</p> + +<p>"You're an amateur, Jake. Stay out of the act."</p> + +<p>"I've got a crazy feeling that everything's hanging on this one week. +If I fight through the week, I'm safe. I've got to fight, Kitten."</p> + +<p>"You fight too much. Sit tight for a change and wait."</p> + +<p>"No. Damn it. No." He brooded, then burst out: "I've got an idea what +to do."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"While Fink's looking for the guy who's writing these letters...."</p> + +<p>"Could be a dame."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"A dame. A doll. A tootsie. A—"</p> + +<p>"I heard you. I never thought of that, but you're right. It could be a +woman. So. While Fink's looking for the writer, I could be looking for +the writee."</p> + +<p>"Where's your gimmick?"</p> + +<p>He waved around at the bar. "Right here in this Violent Ward."</p> + +<p>"You better explain. Take it from the top."</p> + +<p>"If I called in everybody on the show and just told them about the +letters, they'd deny they were written to them. There wouldn't be any +impact. They'd be able to cover up the secret."</p> + +<p>"Why should they cover?"</p> + +<p>"You don't get threatening letters unless you've got something dirty in +your past."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be secret?"</p> + +<p>"Because the letters are anonymous. No addressee. No signature. It's +got to be a secret between two people. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I'll buy it."</p> + +<p>"Whoever's sending those letters knows the right man will recognize +them as soon as he sees them. All right. I know how to tag the one out +of the eight who's getting the threats."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"They're all in the business. Mixed up, neurotic, sick in the head like +this sunny straight-jacket crowd in here right now. You have to be sick +to like this rat-race. The higher up you rise in the spiral, the more +precarious your balance becomes ... like a kid on ten-foot stilts."</p> + +<p>"I think of them balancing like tightrope walkers."</p> + +<p>"But balance is the gimmick, Kitten." Lennox pounded his point like a +piledriver. "Balance. Balance. Balance. Suppose I pulled these letters +on them in private, one after the other. Mason. Sachs. Stacy. Kay Hill. +Plummer. Charlie Hansel. Took the letters out and said: 'This was sent +to you. Read it.' Watched them read it. You know how precariously +they're balanced. On twenty-foot stilts. Living on nerves. Wouldn't the +impact knock them off? Wouldn't the right one give himself away?"</p> + +<p>I thought that over. "The trouble with your idea," I objected, "is that +if they're all precarious like you—"</p> + +<p>"They are. You know that. The whole damned business is. That's what I +hate about it. I feel like a visitor in a booby-hatch."</p> + +<p>"Then they'd all be knocked off balance, guilty or not guilty. They'd +all fall off their tightrope."</p> + +<p>"No, you're wrong."</p> + +<p>"What about Blinky? You said he threw a fit."</p> + +<p>"But not a guilty fit. That was obvious. No, by God! It'll work. I know +it'll work. I'm going to try it. You want to place any bets? I'll make +book."</p> + +<p>"My money's on Sachs. He stole that song he wrote back in Chicago."</p> + +<p>"What about Kay Hill? From Brooklyn. Trying to pass as English. She's +from Canarsie where they really breed crooks. What about Charlie +Hansel, the undercover queen? Trying to pass with that hoofer he +married."</p> + +<p>"She's married? That fag?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. To a dame named Gretel. They used to be 'Hansel and Gretel, +Dansomimes.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! Dansomimes?"</p> + +<p>"The queens could be catching up with Charlie. What about Oliver Stacy? +He's run through every woman in town. He went through the Rehearsal +Club like a plague. Forty-three ingenues in thirty-six days. And how +about Johnny Plummer? He's a Commie."</p> + +<p>"You sure?"</p> + +<p>"Almost positive."</p> + +<p>"God knows, you may be right about them, Jake. When the right man reads +those letters there could be a blast that no one could miss. Maybe a +complete confession. If—"</p> + +<p>I broke off because Lennox wasn't listening. He was staring at Roy +Audibon, the network veep, who was passing through the crowded bar on +the way into the restaurant. Vice-presidents are job lot in Sabatini's +and Lennox couldn't be gaping at Audibon even though he is the original +charm-boat. Tall, slender, grizzled hair, hornrim glasses, a smile +that could register on a Geiger Counter.... Audibon is the veep's veep. +He's Mr. Network. I noticed that he was with a dark girl in a grey +flannel suit. She had cropped curly hair, oriental eyes, and a lazy +carriage. She was a looker, but you get to expect that in Sabatini's. +Only the lookers get taken there. It was Gabby Valentine, of course, +but I didn't find that out until later.</p> + +<p>"Roy Audibon!" Lennox exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in pain."</p> + +<p>"Where does it hurt?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Let's find out." He waved to Heitor, the head waiter. +Heitor came bustling up to the bar prepared to give us a hard time. I +saw Lennox slip him two tens and lay down the law in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Lennox? At once, Mr. Lennox?" Heitor always made every +statement a question. "If you will bring your drinks to the table, +please? The table is ready now, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"I'll spring for lunch," Lennox said and we went into the dining room. +Heitor bustled to the side tables against the wall and pulled an empty +away from the banquette. It was alongside Audibon's. Lennox, who is +invariably punctilious, broke his rule and held me back with a firm +nudge. He slipped in first and sat down alongside Gabby who was gazing +at him with big eyes. Then I sat down and the table locked us in.</p> + +<p>That was one of the best luncheons I never had. I got stuck with the +check, too, but that didn't bother me. I knew Lennox would settle +up, once he recovered his sanity ... if he ever did. He started off +ignoring Gabby. He just pressed against her as he leaned over to speak +to Audibon.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, friend. I'm a stranger in town. Would you point out +some celebrities, if any?"</p> + +<p>"Hello Jake," Audibon smiled. All the Geiger Counters went +clickety-click.</p> + +<p>"Are you a celebrity?" Lennox inquired genially. "They say that +real life vice-presidents can be seen in the flesh, or was it the +Altogether?"</p> + +<p>"Why sure, son. Got your autograph album? There's Mr. Avery Borden +right across from you." Audibon smiled across the restaurant to +Avery Borden who also is the original charm-boat. Tall, slender, +grizzled hair and hornrim glasses. Mr. Agency. Borden smiled back. +Clickety-click. Clickety-click.</p> + +<p>"But are you a vice-president?" Lennox wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you my tax statement," Audibon answered and turned to Gabby.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss." Lennox drew back. "Was I leaning on your +derriere?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have to answer that in French."</p> + +<p>"Are you a vice-president?" Lennox asked her. "Answer in English."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," Gabby said. "Haven't you accosted me before?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think it possible. I just got out of stir."</p> + +<p>Gabby clapped her hands. "Of course I know you. You're famous. They +wrote you up in the <i>Calabash Chronicle</i>."</p> + +<p>"The Calabash King." Lennox nodded modestly. He leaned across her +again, his hand groping for hers. "Are you in this here theaterical +game, Mister? I hear you're all pretty fly. Bohemian. Stay up all night +and drink like sixty. Is it true? Speak."</p> + +<p>"Oysters," Audibon told the waiter. Clickety-click went the smile. "We +smoke too, sonny. And ride bikes no-hands."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet my father can lick your father."</p> + +<p>"The hell he can. My father's a cop."</p> + +<p>"What have you got, Meccano or Erector Set?"</p> + +<p>"Meccano."</p> + +<p>"Yahh!" Lennox sneered.</p> + +<p>"What have you got, Lionel or American Flyer?"</p> + +<p>"Lionel. O-Gauge."</p> + +<p>"Pfff! Which do you get, <i>Boy's Life</i> or <i>American Boy</i>?" A "Both," +Lennox said with a superior air.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes?" Audibon retorted with heat. "Well let me ask you one +question. Just one question. Do you get <i>Ropeco Magazine</i>?"</p> + +<p>Lennox cringed and hung his head, then he and Audibon burst out +laughing. Clickety damn click all over the place. I started looking for +somewhere to hide. There was a war breaking out. They were hating each +other and skirmishing in the tunnels beneath the glitter. They were +hating for reasons I didn't know and probably they didn't know either; +but that wouldn't make any difference, not on The Rock where you killed +first and went to the head-shrinker later.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do about that Kansas hassle?" Audibon asked with +sincere concern.</p> + +<p>"It's been taken care of," Lennox smiled. "There won't be any suit."</p> + +<p>"Good boy. Glad to hear it." Clickety-click. "I know you wouldn't +cross-ruff the network into a Donnybrook."</p> + +<p>"We aim to please, boss."</p> + +<p>"It's knowing how that scores. Damn it, Jake, I wish we had more like +you. We could use you on our other sick shows."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean ... other?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Jake, we're a couple of Pros. We know how to count without +fingers. You've got a pretty sick show, boy."</p> + +<p>"It's got a damned good rating for an invalid."</p> + +<p>"The best!" Clickety-click. "Of course your Sunday slot is rated at ten +points better than you're doing, but that's not your fault. You can't +maximize variety on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"The client doesn't think so." Lennox smiled till it hurt. "We've got +'em convinced they're going to rename it Shoeday."</p> + +<p>"Bless their dear little souls," Audibon enthused. "Of course they're +not getting dollar and cents value percentagewise. Your package +doesn't integrate with their product. There's a synthetic overlap but +not a genuine structural mesh."</p> + +<p>A chill ran down my spine. When network veeps start talking like that +the words don't mean anything because they're just the sound of a knife +being sharpened. Lennox stiffened and returned Audibon's smile doggedly.</p> + +<p>"We welcome suggestions," he said. "Name a mesh."</p> + +<p>"Now don't ask me to sign this, but I think they need a Frontal Lobe +show with a broad base of family appeal on a week night. They need a +spacious universe type show. Something more galactic, with meaning."</p> + +<p>"With meaning," Lennox repeated in an ominous voice. He looked at +Gabby. "It's awesome. How does it feel to have lunch with a frontal +lobe?"</p> + +<p>Audibon laughed. Lennox laughed.</p> + +<p>"Steak," Audibon told the waiter. He transferred the charm back to +Lennox. "Jake, why are writers so hyper-conservative? You people are +the bottle-neck of the business. Every time we try to revaluate and +mock-up a new concept, you come out of the garret and say no."</p> + +<p>"And what were you thinking of slipping into our Sunday night slot?" +Lennox smiled. "A galactic 'How To' show?"</p> + +<p>Audibon had worked his way up by parlaying a series of 'How To' panels +through the agencies. How To Sing. How To Dance. How To Make A Dame. +Every time you turned around there he was in another agency with +another How To.</p> + +<p>He gave Lennox the clickety-click again. "How To Educate Writers," he +said. "Present writers excluded."</p> + +<p>"You're optimistic. We gave up all hope for vice-presidents years ago. +Present restaurant excluded. Tell me, Miss Calabash. Would you rather +be marooned on a desert island with a mink-dyed skunk or a mink-dyed +vice-president?"</p> + +<p>"Gabby," Audibon laughed. "This is Jake Lennox. I pay him to entertain +at lunch."</p> + +<p>"Society's Favorite Funster," Lennox grinned. "And the lady is...?"</p> + +<p>"My wife."</p> + +<p>"That's a genuine funny. Goody for you, Roy. What's your name when he +isn't dreaming galactically, Miss Calabash? Are you—" Lennox stopped. +He stared at Gabby, at Audibon, then back at Gabby.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>She nodded. Jake's face turned black. He shoved our table out, knocking +glasses and rolls all over the place. He stood up, grabbed a corner of +Audibon's table and slewed it into the aisle. He seized Gabby's arm.</p> + +<p>"Out!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Jordan!"</p> + +<p>"Out."</p> + +<p>"Behave yourself."</p> + +<p>"Come on. Out!"</p> + +<p>"Lennox! What the hell is this?" Audibon demanded.</p> + +<p>"One more word out of you and I'll kill you," Lennox growled. He pulled +Gabby to her feet and went out of the restaurant with her. Heitor saw +the fuss and bustled up, ready to give Lennox a hard time. He took one +look at his face and backed away.</p> + +<p>On the street, Lennox pushed through the lunch hour crowds, never +relaxing his grip on Gabby's arm. Both of them were too angry to speak. +Finally Lennox spat: "Married? To him?"</p> + +<p>"We're separated."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"A year."</p> + +<p>"How long were you married?"</p> + +<p>"Eight months."</p> + +<p>"To him! Married to that—"</p> + +<p>"Thank God it wasn't to you."</p> + +<p>"Thank Roy, dear. He's our local god."</p> + +<p>Gabby suddenly clutched his arm and dragged him to a stop before a +sidewalk pitchman demonstrating a silver-plating fluid. The pitchman +lost his audience.</p> + +<p>"You listen to me," Gabby said,</p> + +<p>"You answer me first. Why didn't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Last night."</p> + +<p>"When you were so charming? The way you're acting now?"</p> + +<p>"I mean later."</p> + +<p>"We were talking about you."</p> + +<p>"Exclusively?" Lennox showed his teeth. "You couldn't find a moment to +let me know? It wasn't important enough even for a throw-away?"</p> + +<p>"Is it important to you?"</p> + +<p>"It's damned important."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You're behaving like a fool."</p> + +<p>"That I do know."</p> + +<p>He started off again, plowing through the crowds, hustling Gabby along +full speed. Her skirt was narrow, she was wearing high-heeled opera +pumps, it was painful for her. Lennox knew it and enjoyed it. He didn't +know why he was trying to punish her; but Gabby had an inkling of what +chasm might be producing the rage, and she was so transparently honest +that she blurted it out.</p> + +<p>"Dog in the manger," she said.</p> + +<p>"Is that supposed to have meaning?"</p> + +<p>"You're not jealous."</p> + +<p>"I never said I was."</p> + +<p>"You want revenge."</p> + +<p>"Revenge for what?"</p> + +<p>"Because you weren't the first."</p> + +<p>"What!" He stopped and backed her into the recessed show-window of a +lunchroom. "What was that?"</p> + +<p>"You want revenge," Gabby repeated angrily. "You want to punish me +because you weren't the first."</p> + +<p>"Damn you, Gabby...."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it true?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You didn't need me. You needed a conquest."</p> + +<p>"Shut up."</p> + +<p>"You thought you owned me. From the beginning. All of me. You're +selfish, egotistical, self—"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you say your date was with Audibon?"</p> + +<p>"It was none of your business."</p> + +<p>"Everything about you is my business. What did Audibon want?"</p> + +<p>"You moved in on me last night," Gabby said. "And now you'd like to +move in on the rest of my life. You want to own everything."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Everything, damn it! You own all of me."</p> + +<p>"I don't want it. I don't want ever to own anybody, and I won't be +owned. Don't interrupt, Jordan. Listen to me." Gabby was raging. +"You think you've staked out a claim, but it isn't like that at all. +There'll be days when we discover we need each other and then we'll +be together. There'll be other days when nothing will happen. But no +claims, no ownership, no possession, no habit. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think you're lecturing a child?"</p> + +<p>"You are a child. Selfish. Spoiled. Rude."</p> + +<p>"You're talking about manners. What the hell does that have to do with +love?"</p> + +<p>"Everything. Do you want to love me or use me?"</p> + +<p>"Use you? For what?"</p> + +<p>"Your whipping boy. You were rude to Roy in the restaurant. I don't +know why you were fighting but—"</p> + +<p>"He's knifing my show!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care. You were rude. You behaved dreadfully. Then you were +ashamed and you tried to take it out on me. Is that your kind of love? +Hurtful? Hateful?" She began to tremble.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. I'm not going to apologize. I told you last night ... you +open me up. I look at you and my guts come out. If part is poison, I +can't hide it. And I don't give a damn. I earn my living in a lying +rat-race. There has to be honesty between us or what's the use?"</p> + +<p>"Not this kind. This isn't honesty. It's—"</p> + +<p>"I'm being honest," Lennox insisted savagely. "I can fake a romance +with a woman any time, but I don't want faking between us. There wasn't +any last night, Gabby. Not from me. Don't hand me that revenge routine. +I didn't have any illusions. You were too good for me to imagine that I +was the first—"</p> + +<p>She slapped his mouth with all her strength, and raised her hand to +slap him again. Lennox caught her wrist and twisted it down.</p> + +<p>"Bitch!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>She burst into tears. "What are you doing to me?" she cried in +desperation. "What are you making me do? Look at us ... fighting like +this. It's horrible. But you like it, don't you? You want us to hurt +each other. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>His heart constricted. "No. For God's sake. No. I—" He looked around. +People were staring. Behind them, a chef at a window grill was gaping +through the plate glass. There was no taxi in sight; no hiding place. +There was an empty delivery truck parked at the curb. Lennox took Gabby +across the sidewalk, opened the truck door and forced her into the +driving cab. He got in himself and slammed the door. Gabby was crying +without control. He was shamed and elated.</p> + +<p>"Gabby...."</p> + +<p>"Go away."</p> + +<p>"Listen...."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet. Go away."</p> + +<p>"Not now. Not when you're like this."</p> + +<p>"I never hit anybody in my life. I never wanted to hit anybody ... +ever. I'm cheap and...."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I'm so ashamed. My God! How you can fill me with shame."</p> + +<p>"I know. I warned you, didn't I!"</p> + +<p>She didn't answer. Lennox waited, then he said: "Look at it my way. +I'm having a rough time this week. I don't know how I'm going to get +through Sunday. That's why I'm acting like this. I said last night I +wanted you to see me at my best. This is my worst."</p> + +<p>"It can't be just this week. It—"</p> + +<p>"Yes it is. And I thought: Thank God for Gabrielle. I'm in the worst +hassle of my life, but I've found her when I needed her most. I can +depend on her forever. I've got someone sane and beautiful to hold on +to in this rotten war."</p> + +<p>"Well? Well?"</p> + +<p>"And then Audibon was sprung on me. 'My wife.' Bang."</p> + +<p>"Which meant you couldn't depend on me. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I was scared. Maybe I'm jealous. I was afraid I was +losing you."</p> + +<p>"Jordan—"</p> + +<p>"No. Let me finish." He took a deep breath. "I did everything wrong. +But I couldn't help myself. I think I knew I was doing everything +wrong. But I couldn't stop myself. You know how dangerous a drowning +man is? He'll clutch at you and drown you too if you don't hit +him. That's what happened. I was drowning.... You hit me.... I'm +grateful...."</p> + +<p>Gabby turned to him, her dark eyes searching his face. He met her gaze +steadily. Her expression slowly changed from anguish to compassion, +and she reached out and touched his mouth gently. Lennox smiled a +peace-offering, and it was answered. He pulled her to him and kissed +her until the kiss was returned. Then they sat quietly, allowing the +silence to speak for them and heal the quarrel.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the truck door was wrenched open and a burly man bawled: "What +the hell are you doing in there?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," Lennox snapped. "We're from the phone company. Why the hell +don't you pay your bill?"</p> + +<p>Gabby burst out laughing. Lennox helped her out of the truck and glared +at the astounded driver. "This is your last warning, cheapskate. Next +time we take the truck away."</p> + +<p>They scampered off down the street and flagged a cab. As they got in, +Lennox exclaimed: "Jesus! Me mackinaws."</p> + +<p>"Jesus, me job!" Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"What about lunch? I loused your steak."</p> + +<p>"I'll have something sent up."</p> + +<p>They sat close together in comforting silence all the way to Houseways, +Inc. At the office door Lennox took her shoulders in his hands for a +moment, then asked: "Forgiven?"</p> + +<p>Gabby nodded.</p> + +<p>"See you tonight, please?"</p> + +<p>"Tonight."</p> + +<p>"Don't spring another husband."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You'd better divorce him. I've got serious-type intentions."</p> + +<p>"I can't."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"He won't let me. He wants to own me too."</p> + +<p>"How can he stop you?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, Jordan. Some other time. But ... I've got problems too."</p> + +<p>She ran into the office. Lennox stood watching her and grinding his +teeth on Audibon's name. Then he looked up and down the street, +located a restaurant, went in and bought a lunch and had it sent up to +Gabby.</p> + +<p>"This is Monday," he muttered. "Six more days. Christ, stand by me. +Gabrielle, stand by me."</p> + +<p>He returned to Sabatini's, claimed his overcoats, and went home. Cooper +was in the kitchen piling canned goods on the shelves while the Siamese +climbed on him and begged shamelessly for food. There was a rigid law +in the house that neither man ever questioned the other about his +private life, but Cooper's face wore such an expression of blank dismay +that Lennox was startled into breaking the rule.</p> + +<p>"Sam! What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Cooper opened his mouth, then closed it.</p> + +<p>"Where were you last night? Has anything happened? Speak."</p> + +<p>"I'm famous."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Cooper nodded, "You remember last month Mason wanted a song spot with +the dummy? Comedy duet."</p> + +<p>"Sure. I couldn't come up with a suggestion and you cooked up a tune. +'We're The Most.' So?"</p> + +<p>"They released it last week. It.... So help me, it's turning into a +hit. Suidi took me down for a disc-jockey interview last night."</p> + +<p>"Suidi? Who he?"</p> + +<p>"The ambassador's son."</p> + +<p>"<i>Le Jazz Hot?</i> Goggle-eyed guy?"</p> + +<p>"That's him. He owns a record company. They make race records mostly, +but he took a chance on 'We're The Most' and it.... You should have +heard them rave last night."</p> + +<p>"This is sensational, Sam. Man, this <i>is</i> the Most!"</p> + +<p>"It's an outrage," Cooper said. He was angry and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"What's burning you?"</p> + +<p>"I spend years writing tunes. I drudge like a sincere-type writer. +A veritable Irving Beethoven. And what happens? Nothing. But a lousy +little novelty I work up in half an hour during rehearsal.... It's a +trappisty."</p> + +<p>"Lay there and bleed, long-hair. This is great. Can I shake the hand +that shook the hand of Irving B. Cooper, author of 'We're The Most' and +countless other hit tunes which their names are legion?" Lennox pumped +Cooper's limp hand and dragged him into the living room. "This needs a +drink. We'll all have a drink, by God. Bring out the skunk."</p> + +<p>He filled glasses and thrust one into Cooper's fist. "We'll plug it +on the show. Maybe we can get Mason to use it for his theme. Tell +me about last night. Why the hell didn't you say <i>Le Jazz Hot</i> was +your publish—" Lennox did a take. "Hold the phone. You mean you were +supposed to meet him at Alice McVeagh's party? It was a business date?"</p> + +<p>"Well...." Cooper began.</p> + +<p>"And you were supposed to go down for the interview afterwards. Yes or +no?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, Jake...."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't tell me. No. You let me bellyache and offered to go +looking for the gimmick book, and you would have too, you liar. You'd +have given up the interview, you perjurer. Wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>Cooper was flustered. "How about the book? Did you locate it?"</p> + +<p>"All taken care of. I figured out the Quaker and the blonde. I'll tell +you later."</p> + +<p>"What about the knot?"</p> + +<p>Lennox flinched. "That's still hanging over me. I haven't remembered +everything yet." He swallowed and tried to regain his enthusiasm. "To +hell with it. Kit went down and rescued the book. Here it is. Now let's +have your story."</p> + +<p>He pulled out his notebook to display it. The photostats came out with +it and scattered on the floor. Cooper looked down at the white writing +on the black background.</p> + +<p>"What's this?"</p> + +<p>"The letters we've been getting. To hell with them too. I want to hear +about you." As Lennox picked up the photostats, Cooper took one and +examined it curiously. "Forget the letters, Sam. I've worried enough +today. Let me have a few jollies. How much money are you going to make? +Will you hit the jukeboxes?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen this writing before," Cooper said.</p> + +<p>Lennox froze. "What?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen this handwriting before."</p> + +<p>"Sure?"</p> + +<p>"Positive."</p> + +<p>"Don't put me on, Sam. This is serious."</p> + +<p>"I am serious."</p> + +<p>"Where did you see the writing?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember."</p> + +<p>"Whose is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Sam. For God's sake! Everything hangs on this. You—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up a minute."</p> + +<p>Lennox sat down slowly and chafed while Cooper studied the photostats. +Finally Cooper looked up and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Jake. I know I've seen it before, but that's all I can +remember. It's like you and the knot. We're both stuck."</p> + +<p>"Holy Mother on Mike!" Lennox surged up from his chair and paced the +room furiously. He noticed the drink in his hand and hurled it into the +fireplace. As it smashed, he turned to Cooper.</p> + +<p>"But you'll remember, won't you?" he said. "We've got six days to +Sunday. You'll remember."</p> + +<p>"I'll try."</p> + +<p>"And you'll do it. We'll lick it, won't we, Sam? We'll both fight it, +and we'll come out on top Sunday."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Jake. Fight what? Where's top? Fill me in, boy. So far +I'm just a bystander."</p> + +<p>Lennox poured it out; the whole story up to that moment. He was +discreet about Gabby. He merely indicated and let Cooper figure out +the details for himself. Cooper listened in silence. When it was all +finished, he looked at Lennox strangely. Then he exploded.</p> + +<p>"You God damned stupid idiot! Ass! Imbecile! Lennox, the Thinker. Why +the hell can't you stop thinking? You haven't got what to think +with ... Agency Man!"</p> + +<p>Lennox quailed before the storm.</p> + +<p>"What the hell is the matter with you? You've been tearing around +looking for the villain in the piece like a soap opera hack. You +want to find the villain who's writing the letters. You want to find +the villain who's getting them. You want to find the villain who's +threatening your career. Damn you, you're the villain. Can't you see +that, dunderhead?"</p> + +<p>"Me!" Lennox was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Natch, you. You're the one who's making all the trouble for yourself. +You insulted Ned Bacon. You insulted Tooky Ween and Blinky and Mason. +You picked a fight with Roy Audibon. With Audibon! The one man who can +ruin you in this business."</p> + +<p>"But...."</p> + +<p>"You've been fighting with this Gabby girl who sounds like one of the +angel-type innocents. That's despicable. It's shooting a sitting duck. +You even tried to pick a fight with me. You're so busy fighting the +invisible villain you don't realize you're him ... he ... it.... To +hell with the grammar. You're the only villain in the piece, Lennox. +Face it."</p> + +<p>"Jesus." Lennox sat down aghast. "Me?"</p> + +<p>"Wake up, writer! Villains are for books. Only a Square thinks you find +them in real life."</p> + +<p>"But the letters...."</p> + +<p>"Somebody sick in the head is writing them. You're in a nasty hassle +right now. Admitted. But you're the villain who's making it worse. +You're the one who's building it into a crisis."</p> + +<p>"I can't help myself, Sam. You said it's nasty. And I'm scared."</p> + +<p>"Like friend Fink said, it's smart to be scared. But don't turn Square. +Squares think there are Good Guys and Bad Guys. But we know we're +all Good Guys and Bad Guys inside ourselves. Half the time we build +ourselves up, and the other half we're knocking ourselves down. When a +Square knocks himself down he starts looking for a Bad Guy to blame. +That's what you've been doing. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."</p> + +<p>After a long pause, Lennox said: "You're right. You're always right, +damn you. I'm a noodnick."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!"</p> + +<p>"But I'm going to reform."</p> + +<p>"Don't start any reform routine. Every time you make up your mind to do +something, we have to take to the hills. Just sit tight and behave."</p> + +<p>"I can't sit tight, Sam. I've got problems to buck and I know how to do +it. I'm going to do it."</p> + +<p>"Oh God! Is there no mercy?"</p> + +<p>"Now don't worry. I'm going to keep on fighting, but like a goddamned +Galahad."</p> + +<p>"Are we friends?" Cooper shouted.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Lennox was startled.</p> + +<p>"Will you listen to a friend?"</p> + +<p>"I'm listening."</p> + +<p>"Leave it alone. Will you do that for me?"</p> + +<p>"I can't."</p> + +<p>"Here's my last warning. If you go through with this ... if you attack +it and fight it, no matter how ... you'll regret it for the rest of +your life. Now, for the last time: Will you quit?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then you're dead, Lennox. You're dead."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>When I was a kid on the Rock, one of my friends turned racketeer and +went into the bicycle-stealing business. He put the heist on six bikes +which he hid in the Indian Caves in Isham Park where the Hessian +deserters holed up during the Revolutionary War. We used to dig for +musket balls and flint arrow heads up there, just a few blocks from the +spot where they found a dead-type dinosaur.</p> + +<p>Anyway, my thief friend was too dumb or too honest to sell the bikes, +and the first time he tried to ride one around our neighborhood he +got caught with the stolen goods. He made his getaway and hid in the +caves until dark. Then he sneaked out to make amends and return the +rest of the loot to the rightful owners. This was up at the north end +of The Rock where there were still private homes. Nobody could sleep +that night for the crash of stolen bikes being thrown over fences into +backyards.</p> + +<p>Likewise, for the next few days nobody in the business could sleep for +the crash of Lennox switching from the Bad Guys to the Good Guys. He +had a formidable list of antagonists to pacify. He had his Poison Pen +Test to spring without creating any additional hostility. Lennox made +an exuberant try. If he was villainous at times, as Cooper suggested, +he could be heroic when he tried to combat his own villainy. Here are +the highlights of his fight.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He phoned Rox Records, the offices of Suidi, <i>Le Jazz Hot</i>, prepared to +do battle with the aid of a French dictionary. He was saved by a Bronx +speaking secretary.</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to promote Sam Cooper's hit," Lennox explained. "My +idea is a professional party for Sam. A big name party on Wednesday +or Thursday. You invite your big wheels. I'll invite ours. I've got +a gimmick in mind that might be a natural for publicity. Say you're +celebrating the history of song hits ... starting with someone as far +back as Handy and bringing it down to Cooper. If you could get enough +names there it ought to be worth a double-truck in any magazine."</p> + +<p>Rox Records admitted that it certainly ought.</p> + +<p>"I want to finance this myself, but don't let Sam know."</p> + +<p>They kicked it around enthusiastically and agreed that Lennox would be +permitted to finance a cocktail party for Cooper at the studios of Rox +Records on West 50th Street Thursday next.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lennox hired a network photographer and took him up to Mason's +apartment on the west side, which is the unfashionable side of The Rock.</p> + +<p>The apartment was in a building that had never had a celebrated +tenant from the entertainment business. As a result, the staff was +stage-struck and dying to get into the act. The doorman cultivated a +Low Dutch dialect. His eager expression informed Lennox that he was +ready for Discovery. The elevator man had worked up a comedy monologue +in Irish, Cockney and Chinese. He also was ready. At the top floor, +Lennox rang Mason's doorbell, opened the door and entered with the +photographer. The apartment was never locked.</p> + +<p>They came into a bare foyer, the size of a boxing ring. It was ankle +deep in wall-to-wall blue carpeting. Lennox called: "Mig? It's Jake +Lennox." No answer. They went through an archway into a bare living +room the size of a tennis court. It was naked except for wall-to-wall +grey carpeting. "Mig!" Lennox called again. No answer. They peeked into +the dining room and two of the bedrooms, all empty and bare except for +wall-to-wall carpeting.</p> + +<p>"Must be out buying furniture," the photographer said.</p> + +<p>Lennox shouted again, then listened. He heard the faint sound of music. +They followed it and found Mason in the study. It was the size of a +study with wall-to-wall green carpeting. It was empty except for a +giant TV set with a thirty inch screen in the corner. A silver plate on +it proclaimed that it was the gift of the network to their well-beloved +Mig Mason & Diggy Dixon. Before the set was a bridge table at which +Mason and his wife were seated, silently eating canned hamburgers and +watching the screen.</p> + +<p>Mason glanced up. "The Thinker," he said morosely and turned back to +the screen.</p> + +<p>"The Thinker," Irma said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bon appetit.</i> French for it smells good," Lennox answered cheerfully. +"Mig, I haven't had a chance to congratulate you. You were great +Christmas night. Sensational. It was a great show. Sensational. Your +timing was great. Your gags were sensational. It's great working with +you, Mig. You make any writer look sensational."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Jake." Mason looked modest.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Irma said,</p> + +<p>"Was it St. Nicholas?" Mason asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was St. Nicholas."</p> + +<p>"Then I was right. It was that phone girl that loused me."</p> + +<p>"Of course you were right."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you say so?" Mason demanded. "You're all trying to louse +me."</p> + +<p>"Did I say you were wrong?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't say I was right."</p> + +<p>"Because I work for Grabinett. Have a heart, Mig. You're a great star. +You can tell anybody off. But I haven't got your sensational talent. I +have to work for a living. Be kind to the hired help."</p> + +<p>The scowl disappeared from Mason's face. It also disappeared from +Irma's face.</p> + +<p>"I've brought a photographer for some pictures," Lennox continued +briskly. "We're nominating you for Comedian of The Year, and by God +you're going to be elected."</p> + +<p>Mason brightened.</p> + +<p>"Not in those clothes," Irma said. "He's got to get dressed up."</p> + +<p>"Never mind the clothes," Mason complained. "What about the background? +There's no furniture in the house."</p> + +<p>"There's no furniture in the house," Irma told Lennox. A moment later +she added: "It's all being custom built."</p> + +<p>"To hell with the furniture," Lennox said. "We don't want formal +pictures. We want behind the scenes shots. What makes a talent great. +Mig in his workshop with the dummy. How he builds Diggy.... How he +paints him.... The tricks he invented.... All that sensational stuff +you showed me, Mig."</p> + +<p>"Great! Sensational!" Mason leaped up, delighted. He was prouder +of his mechanical ability than anything else. He led the way into +another enormous room, carpeted from wall to wall, containing a long +carpenter's bench cluttered with tools. Various portions of Diggy +Dixon were scattered on the bench; heads, legs, arms, bodies, eyes. +An open closet was hung with the dummy's wardrobe. Mason's three gag +writers were seated on camp chairs in a tight circle bitching their +competitors.</p> + +<p>Lennox greeted them perfunctorily. He had long ago given up all +attempts to communicate with them. Gag writers are alien creatures and +even a casual "Hello" can lead to complications. Their entire lives +boil down to a single-minded search for jokes and it's impossible +to conduct a coherent conversation with them. In thirty-nine weeks +Lennox had never been introduced to the gagmen by Mason, and although +he finally discovered their names, he still identified them as the +Sourball, the Post-Nasal Drip and the Monk. Incidentally, it was the +Sourball who later turned spy.</p> + +<p>"Got a sweetheart of a gag, Mig baby," the Monk beamed.</p> + +<p>"It stinks," Sourball snapped.</p> + +<p>"Try it on him, just for size." The Drip began snuffling in +anticipation: "Hnkhhh...."</p> + +<p>"It's a sweetheart, baby. Diggy says to you: 'How's your wife, Mig?'"</p> + +<p>"I'll have you know my wife's an angel," Sourball snapped.</p> + +<p>"You're lucky! Hnkhhh.... My wife's still living."</p> + +<p>Mason looked at them nervously. The truth was, he didn't know a good +gag from a bad one, and was always apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid of it, fellas," he said. "Diggy's a wholesome American boy. +He wouldn't make fun of marriage."</p> + +<p>He dragged the photographer to the bench. There he demonstrated the +inner workings of his genius ... the dummy's weighted eyes, the +carefully fitted mouth and jaw, the regular body with right-hand +controls for the head, and an extra body with left-hand controls; for +dummies, like baseball gloves, must be fitted to the hand. Mason would +have been in great difficulties last September, he explained, when he +had rheumatism in his working hand, if he hadn't had a left-hand dummy +to switch to.</p> + +<p>"Not rheumatism. Neuritis." Sourball said.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. Room. Attic. Hnkhhh.... Diggy's a poet working in an +attic. Mig's the landlord. He asks Diggy where he could work better, +in a room or attic, and Diggy says: 'That's why I'm bent over my desk. +Rheumatics.'"</p> + +<p>"Switch it to neuritis," Sourball snapped. "Diggy's an editor. Mig's +the poet. Mig's sore because Diggy says his poem is old fashioned."</p> + +<p>"Right. Right. Hnkhhh.... Mig says: 'Which is better, the old writers +or the new writers?'"</p> + +<p>"That's it, sweetheart." The Monk took up the running. "So Diggy +answers: My brother's got that."</p> + +<p>"Got what?"</p> + +<p>"Hnkhhh.... Neuritis!"</p> + +<p>They beamed at their employer.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, fellas," Mason said dubiously. "Diggy's a wholesome +American boy. He wouldn't make fun of disease."</p> + +<p>Lennox ignored all this and concentrated on the photography business. +There is nothing so sunny as the twinkle of flash bulbs, and by the +time the photographer departed, Mason was suffering from 3rd degree +burns and smiling happily. Lennox felt the time was right for the +attack. He asked for a private conference and Mason sent his writers +into the study. Then he began tinkering with a new head on the bench +and told Lennox to go ahead. Lennox took the photostats out of his +pocket. "Hit him hard," he thought. "Knock him off balance."</p> + +<p>"Read these letters," he said in an ominous voice.</p> + +<p>Mason took the photostats and read them one by one. Lennox watched him +intently, searching for a give-away expression, a gesture, a sign. +Mason handed the photostats back indifferently and picked up the dummy +head.</p> + +<p>"Crazy," he said. "They write like that in subway johns. What do you +think, Jake? Does Diggy's new face look wholesome?"</p> + +<p>"Mig! Don't you understand? These are threatening letters. I think +they're written to you. You're in danger."</p> + +<p>"Me?" Mason was fascinated. "Me? I never...." He put the dummy down and +stared at Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. Did you read that last one? There's going to be dynamite +Sunday. I'm here to help you. I want to do all I can. Who's writing +them to you, Mig? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Sure they're to me. Sure. I should of realized." Mason nodded +with growing conviction. "Stars always get anonymous letters. Like +presidents." He began to get excited. "It hits the fan on the Sunday +show, huh? This is sensational, Jake. Can we have a couple of reporters +there?"</p> + +<p>"Reporters!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Mason grabbed the photostats and ran +through them again. "I just thought of something. Yeah. Here. You +better not let the reporters see this one, Jake. Number three."</p> + +<p>"Don't let the reporters see...." Lennox echoed faintly.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Keep it back. They'll know I'm not getting the letters if they +see this one, but I ought to be getting them. That Spanish faker was +getting blackmailed every night when he worked The Chert Room and I got +twice his billing."</p> + +<p>"You're not getting the letters?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I'm getting the letters. Except Number three. Here's the line. +'You east-side so-and-so.' See? This one can't be to me. I live on the +west side. But the reporters don't have to know. Hold that one out on +them." Mason clapped Lennox on the shoulder appreciatively. "If I ever +made a crack about you thinking, Jake, it was only for laughs. You got +a head on you I admire. We'll get a spread out of this if we get any +action Sunday. I tell you what. Let's be smart. Hire a guy. I bet you +thought of that already, huh, Thinker?"</p> + +<p>"Hire a guy? For what?"</p> + +<p>"In case this one don't show up. Write a little script for him and +we'll have him stand by in the house. If we don't get any action by the +final comedy spot you can cue him in and he'll give us a production." +Mason began to laugh. "I just thought of a great ad lib for Diggy when +this guy starts the fuss. Diggy says—"</p> + +<p>"Mig! For God's sake! This is serious. The letters are legitimate. The +threat's legitimate too. Don't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Great, Sensational. Then we won't have to use the stand-in. But have +him there anyway. Jake, I love ya!"</p> + +<p>Lennox made his escape. He was thunderstruck by Mason's reaction, then +indignant, finally amused.</p> + +<p>"One down. Five to go," he muttered and continued the campaign.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He phoned Tooky Ween and made peace.</p> + +<p>"Tooky? Jake Lennox. I've got a promotion in mind for your property +that I'd like to discuss."</p> + +<p>"Which property?" Ween rumbled in a hostile voice.</p> + +<p>"Far as I'm concerned you've only got one hot property. The great man. +Mig."</p> + +<p>"What's the promotion, Lennox?" Ween asked, a little more affably.</p> + +<p>"Sam Cooper's got a hit tune just breaking. That duet he wrote for Mig +and the dummy."</p> + +<p>"What duet?"</p> + +<p>"'We're The Most.'"</p> + +<p>"That's a hit?"</p> + +<p>"On the way. Here's my idea. Mason & Dixon brought the tune out. +How about using their picture on the sheet music? Might be a nice +promotion."</p> + +<p>"That ain't bad, Jake. Ain't a sour note in the whole notion." Ween was +back to first names again and definitely friendly.</p> + +<p>"It's only a suggestion. I've got nothing to do with it, but I can ask +Sam for you."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Jake. It could do Cooper a lot of good. My boy could double +his sales. So 'We're The Most' is socko, huh? Who's handling Cooper?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody."</p> + +<p>"A boy like that needs handling, Jake."</p> + +<p>Lennox laughed. "That's between you and Cooper. They're giving him a +promotion party at Rox Studios Thursday. Come on over. There'll be +names and photographers, so bring your properties too. You can talk it +up with Sam between flashes."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Kay Hill received him in her east side Early American apartment, +conducted him through a Colonial hall to a Federal parlor where she +seated him on a Duncan Phyfe couch. Her dark green dressing gown +clashed with the background, but set off her acid eyes and acid red +hair.</p> + +<p>"Men," she spat in her strange clipped accent. "Bloody lice! They only +come when they're hungry. What are you after, Lennox?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>"We'll pickle it first. What's your brew?" Before he could answer she +made a couple of drinks, handed him one and finished hers.</p> + +<p>"When was the last time you were here, Lennox?"</p> + +<p>"This is the first."</p> + +<p>"They keep passing through. I lose count." She opened a window, then +closed the drapes with a savage flick. She blew dust off pewter +tankards and opened and slammed drawers. "I've been asked for plenty +in my life but they never called it trouble." She shuffled a deck of +cards once. "They've had it but never asked for it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not asking, Kay."</p> + +<p>"No? You're here, aren't you?" She cupped his chin in her hand, smiled +contemptuously, then slapped him. "We'll pickle it."</p> + +<p>She went to the bar. "Christ, it's bloody hot. D'you want ice?"</p> + +<p>"No thanks."</p> + +<p>"There isn't any anyway." She pulled irritably at the dressing gown +until it opened, displaying a black bra and black panties. She fretted +around the room, the green gown trailing behind her.</p> + +<p>"Are you English?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"Are you starting something?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know."</p> + +<p>"I'm English. Now you know."</p> + +<p>"The dialect bothers me."</p> + +<p>"Not dialect, Lennox." Her speech became more clipped and more English. +"It's called an accent, darling. I have most unfortunately acquired a +dreadful American accent. Mummy and Daddy will be terribly amused when +I come home from the States." She dropped the English. "We'll pickle +it."</p> + +<p>She made another pair of drinks.</p> + +<p>"Jesus, Kay!" Lennox protested. She finished both, came to him and +sat on his lap. Lennox was startled when he noticed her eyes were +terrified. She was desperate.</p> + +<p>"Make a pass, Lennox," she said.</p> + +<p>"Are you putting me on?"</p> + +<p>"No. You're putting me off."</p> + +<p>She got up. Lennox caught her wrist and pulled her down alongside him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know why I'm here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't give a bloody bug why you're here."</p> + +<p>"What's eating you out?"</p> + +<p>"You don't give a bloody bug what's eating me out. We'll pickle it."</p> + +<p>"Not now, we won't. There's something else first."</p> + +<p>"I've changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"I haven't." Lennox drew out the photostats and handed them to her. +"Read these."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Read them."</p> + +<p>She began to shriek with laughter. "Read these, he says." She rocked +around the room, neighing hysterically. Lennox went after her, took her +by the shoulders and slammed her into a chair.</p> + +<p>"You're petrified," he growled, "and I think I know why. Read those +letters, damn you, and we'll find out."</p> + +<p>She wiped her eyes with the hem of the dressing gown and read the +photostats. Lennox watched her closely. Her face reflected every word +she was reading. Her body reflected her face. She was savage, sick, +vicious, threatening. For the length of all six letters she was the +writer of those letters. She was completely identified. When she came +to the end she looked at Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Who's writing them, Kay?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know?"</p> + +<p>"They're to you, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Don't lie, damn you. You're halfway into a strait jacket and this is +what's doing it to you."</p> + +<p>She smiled wearily. "Clever Jordan Lennox. Mummy's favorite bright +boy." She got up and kissed his brow chastely. "We'll pickle it."</p> + +<p>Lennox followed her to the bar. "They're written to you, Kay. I came up +here to help you out, but you've got to level with me. Who's writing +them? Who's threatening you?"</p> + +<p>"I told you. I don't know."</p> + +<p>"This isn't anything to fool with, Kay. It's loaded with dynamite and +it's set to go off Sunday."</p> + +<p>"What the hell do I care what happens Sunday," she blazed. "The whole +damned show can bloody off Sunday. Give me the damned letters." She +snatched the photostats from him. "They're not to me. Look at this line +in Number four. 'You black-headed lying etcetera.' Is that me?" She +jabbed at her red hair angrily. "That's red. It's always been red. If +you don't believe me I can show you the convincer. Go look for somebody +else, Lennox."</p> + +<p>Lennox examined the line silently, then put the photostats away. When +he looked at Kay again, she was smiling crookedly, her eyes still +terrified.</p> + +<p>"What d'you say, Lennox?"</p> + +<p>"On my way."</p> + +<p>"I've changed my mind again."</p> + +<p>"No you haven't."</p> + +<p>"One for the road?"</p> + +<p>"No thanks."</p> + +<p>"Christ, you're a bloody Square, Lennox."</p> + +<p>"I guess everybody is, one way or another."</p> + +<p>"Mummy's favorite model boy. That's the way out." She waved her arm +indifferently. "My love to your model roommate, Sam Stacy."</p> + +<p>"Stacy! Is that it, Kay? Oliver Stacy?" Lennox stepped to her and took +her shoulders. "Is he what's eating you out?"</p> + +<p>"It was a slip. I meant Cooper. Sam Cooper, of course. I always get his +name mixed up with Oliver's. Let go of me, Lennox. Damn you, let go of +me."</p> + +<p>"Is it Stacy?"</p> + +<p>"To hell with Stacy. It was a slip, I tell you. Slip of the tongue...." +She began to shake and clung to him. "My God, Lennox. My God! I haven't +seen him in two weeks, outside rehearsal. 'Good morning. Good night. +Take it from the top. Cue, please. Take your cross after I say the +line. Oh Jesus, Lennox, what's he doing to me?"</p> + +<p>"Running up a score, Kay. Face it."</p> + +<p>"You son of a bitch!" Kay wrenched herself out of his arms. "You're +gloating too, aren't you? All of you. Counting up your scores. Get +lost, Lennox. Get lost fast!"</p> + +<p>Lennox got lost fast. Down on the street he murmured: "But she's the +one who's lost. Lost in the tunnels. At least I gave her a half hour's +entertainment. Balance! Two down and four to go."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It so happened that my wife was in Raeburn Sachs' office when Lennox +dropped in. She had been called down unexpectedly. Sachs' wife, a +discouraged creature with a sagging figure, led Robin down a twisting +corridor in Grabinett's offices to the brain room where Sachs operated. +He directed all Grabinett's shows.</p> + +<p>Sachs was thin, dry-blond, with bulging blue eyes and a mid-western +twang. He liked to be overworked and fatigued, and the first impression +he gave was of a bone-weary man calling on genius to surmount +exhaustion. Later, you imagined you had received the wrong impression, +but you really hadn't. It was Sachs who changed. His thyroid began +popping and everything else in addition to his eyes bulged.</p> + +<p>He was slumped in a chair wearing a crushed pin-stripe suit and +drinking chicken soup out of a carton when Robin entered. He lifted his +head wearily, smiled, then called to his wife.</p> + +<p>"The song is out. I've just remembered it isn't in the P.D."</p> + +<p>"The legal department said it is," Mrs. Sachs answered in a discouraged +voice.</p> + +<p>"They're wrong. Oh yes. Make a note. We'll need three extra costumes +and a magician. No Mind Acts. They're not televisionwise. I want a +different Sawing A Woman In Half. Something fresh."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sachs made notes.</p> + +<p>"Also a dog act. Call the music department and see if we can get a +small band arrangement of Piston's 'Incredible Flautist.'"</p> + +<p>"Why?" Mrs. Sachs asked.</p> + +<p>"Because it's scored for dog barks," Sachs answered as though that +explained everything. Apparently it did. His wife moused out and closed +the door. Sachs smiled at Robin.</p> + +<p>"Always rushed," he said wearily. "This is last night's dinner." +He finished the soup, got up and slouched around Robin, examining +her sleepily. "Yes. Yes, I see. The Hedda Gabler type." Suddenly +he crouched at the desk, yanked out a bottom drawer and threw his +handkerchief in. "'<i>Now I'm burning your child, Thea! Burning it, +curly-locks!</i>' Manuscript into the stove business." He threw in +his small change and a pack of cigarettes. "'<i>Your child and Eilet +Lövborg's. I am burning—I am burning your child!</i>' Slow curtain."</p> + +<p>Robin gaped at him.</p> + +<p>Sachs smiled and stood up. "Or Marguerite," he said, stroking her +blonde hair. "'<i>Ich gäb was drum, wenn ich nur wüsst'. Wer heut' der +Herr gewesen ist!</i>' Comb business at the mirror. Which show are you +here for?"</p> + +<p>"You called me down," Robin said. "Don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"I'm directing four shows." Sachs smiled patiently. "Which are you?"</p> + +<p>"Who He?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Yes. I see. You're ... Robin. Lennox gave you the call. It's +about the costumes." Sachs hitched a hip onto the corner of the desk, +smiled cheerfully, and began flicking the hem of Robin's skirt with his +toe. "They were smaller in the early nineteenth century. Much smaller. +Have you seen the models in the Dress Museum? We're having trouble with +those Philip Nolan costumes. I think we're going to have trouble with +you."</p> + +<p>"With me? How?"</p> + +<p>Sachs reached back and picked up a printed card. It was the +conventional file card actresses send to all offices with pictures, +measurements and credits printed on it. This one happened to be Robin's.</p> + +<p>"I checked your card," Sachs said. "It's the bust that worries me. +Thirty-six. I see you weren't exaggerating. Are you married?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Any children?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Too bad."</p> + +<p>"Why too bad? What's it have to do with—"</p> + +<p>"Children make the bust sag. You're probably too firm to get into our +costumes. Take 'em out."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Take 'em out. Let me see them. If they're not too high we won't have +any problems."</p> + +<p>"Are you kidding?"</p> + +<p>"Come on, come on, Robin. Take 'em out."</p> + +<p>"You're crazy."</p> + +<p>"This is a pictorial medium," Sachs explained patiently. "You've got +to audition three-dimensionally. Now don't waste my time, Robin. We've +pulled the Nolan costumes already and I've got to find the women to fit +them."</p> + +<p>The phone rang. Sachs picked it up, meanwhile snapping his fingers +impatiently at Robin's bust. "Yes? Not now. I'm busy." He flipped the +phone and caught it neatly on the cradle. "Took three lessons from W. +C. Fields," he smiled, then brayed: "'<i>Master Copperfield, under the +impression that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not as yet +been extensive, and that you might have some difficulty in penetrating +the arcana of the Modern Babylon....</i>' Come on, Robin. Come on. Get 'em +out."</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door.</p> + +<p>"Go away," Sachs called.</p> + +<p>The knocking was repeated.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Here's a knocking indeed!</i>'" Sachs intoned in Shakespearean +diapason. He snatched up the desk lamp and began to hobble. "Lantern +business. '<i>If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old +turning the key. Knock, knock, knock! Who's there i'th' name of +Belzebub?</i>'"</p> + +<p>"Jake Lennox. I've got to see you. Won't take a minute."</p> + +<p>"Wait," Sachs told Robin. He put down the lamp and called: "Come in. +I'm starting the clock."</p> + +<p>Lennox entered the brain room and was surprised to see Robin. He +greeted her and Sachs, then said: "This won't take long, but I'm afraid +it'll have to be in private. Do you mind, Robin?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's a pleasure," Robin said through her teeth. She stalked out of +the office and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>"Something?" Lennox asked Sachs.</p> + +<p>"Temperament," Sachs answered wearily. He picked up the phone. "Tell +the actress to wait in the reception room." He hung up.</p> + +<p>Lennox took out the photostats and thrust them at Sachs. "Read these," +he said sharply.</p> + +<p>Sachs glanced at the photostats casually, five seconds to each letter, +then slouched to his desk chair and slumped into it, regarding Lennox +with tired eyes.</p> + +<p>"I said read them," Lennox snapped.</p> + +<p>"I've read them," Sachs answered. "I have a photographic memory." +He quoted random lines from the letters, then smiled patiently. +"Satisfied?"</p> + +<p>It occurred to Lennox that Sachs must have examined the letters in +Blinky's safe at another time. That killed the shock value and there +was no point in calling his bluff.</p> + +<p>"They're written to you, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like your Sunday drama spot, Jake. The Philip Nolan. It's +weak."</p> + +<p>"Stay with the threats, will you? They're no drama spots."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Damn the United States. I wish that I would never hear the name +again.</i>' Dolly in to close-up. Yes. Your scene's out of focus. There's +a value missing."</p> + +<p>"Focus on the letters. Who's threatening you?"</p> + +<p>"What?" Recalled from his visions, Sachs gazed at Lennox with faraway +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're faking," Lennox said savagely. "And you're not kidding me +with the act. These letters were written to you. You're the one who's +putting the show on a spot."</p> + +<p>"They're not written to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it obvious?" Sachs said wearily. "What's that line from Number +Two? Yes. 'You fancy college cess-pool....' And so on. I'm no college +man. That's why I've still got my talent. '<i>A set o' dull conceited +hashes confuse their brains in college classes!</i>' What are we going to +do about Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Lennox said in disgust, returning the photostats to his +pocket. "I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. Amateur. I should +have stayed out of the act. Maybe the police can do better."</p> + +<p>"If I could whip you into coming up with something fresh, I'd throw out +the Nolan. A different 'Monkey's Paw' or—That's an idea! Instead of +three wishes, make it three New Year's resolutions."</p> + +<p>"Lay off, will you. There's nothing wrong with the Philip Nolan."</p> + +<p>"It isn't televisionwise, Jake."</p> + +<p>"It's as televisionwise as any book can be when you compress it into +five minutes."</p> + +<p>"Don't argue with me, Jake." Sachs spoke in deadly earnest. "I have one +talent in this business, and that's all. It terrifies me because it's +subconscious and I can't control it. It's a quality that nobody else +has.... I'm never wrong."</p> + +<p>Lennox was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it and fled from the +brain room. Robin was waiting for him in the outer reception office +where she told him her experience with Sachs in an indignant whisper. +Lennox took Robin out of the office.</p> + +<p>"Don't go back," he told her. "And don't worry. You've got the job. +If Sachs gives you a hard time just call me. I'll take care of it." +Suddenly he grinned and pinched her bottom. "This is a new role for me, +Robin. I've been thinking of chasing you into bed for a year and here I +am protecting you. Turns me into a pimp for virtue, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you chase me a little," Robin said wickedly. "I'm curious +about you."</p> + +<p>"I'll take a rain check."</p> + +<p>"I've got a rival?"</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded.</p> + +<p>"Who she?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"How're your chances?"</p> + +<p>"It's all reversed," Lennox said in a confused voice. "We started where +most chases end and now we're working our way to the beginning."</p> + +<p>"Like running a movie backwards?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I used to wonder what happened to those people who had to +marry each other before they met. Now I know. It's exciting, Robin. +It's wonderful, but it scares hell out of you. Christ, love is mixed up +on The Rock."</p> + +<p>"You got that from Kit. His favorite theme: Life and Death on The Rock."</p> + +<p>"Death," Lennox repeated. He took a breath. "No. Three down. Three to +go."</p> + +<p>He departed.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He talked treason with Ned Bacon and made peace.</p> + +<p>"I'll back you for director, of course," Lennox said. "And I think +I've got the lever you can use to pry Sachs loose." He told him about +Robin's adventure. "All she has to do is report that to her union and +Sachs is through. It's your ace in the hole. My contribution to the +conspiracy, but don't expect anything more. I've got these letters and +threats hanging over me."</p> + +<p>"You're not alone," Bacon said. "Why didn't you holler down the +rainbarrel? I know the gimpster score. Let's hear all about it."</p> + +<p>He heard about it, then drawled with a cynical expression: "Yep. Yep. +We did it last year on 'The People Against—' I know every angle. This +is how we broke the case." He instructed Lennox and Jake listened +patiently to little known facts about blood sugar that could turn a +normal man into a sex maniac, or perhaps it was the other way around.</p> + +<p>"I got that from a police toxicologist," Bacon confided. "We went to +the theater together and he sat there and diagnosed everybody on the +stage. Just called the shots. Diabetic. Cancer prone. Tubercular. +Multiple Sclerotic...."</p> + +<p>"Just by looking at them from his seat? I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"Jake," Bacon said kindly. "Come back from the Reichenbach Falls. +There's a new thing they invented called medicine. Dr. Watson'll tell +you all about it."</p> + +<p>Again Lennox submitted patiently. He permitted Bacon to instruct him on +the iniquities of The Marketplace and to educate him from the bonded +warehouse of Bacon's profound experience. At the end of an hour, little +Bacon felt two inches taller than Lennox and their cordial relationship +was once more restored.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Between twelve and twenty, most boys have a fantasy of the kind of life +they would like to lead when they become independent. It's composed +of equal parts of Alexander Dumas, Richard Harding Davis and Mickey +Spillane. Some of us outgrow this romantic vision. The ones that don't +come roving to The Rock to turn the fantasy into reality. That's why +life here is half crystallized adolescence.</p> + +<p>Oliver Stacy had a penthouse in a converted brownstone in the east +sixties. He was waiting for Lennox at the top of the stairs, dark, +hollow-cheeked, romantic in black slacks, black silk shirt and black +cummerbund. He looked like an illustration from a historical novel. +He gave Lennox the strong, silent hand-clasp and took him into his +apartment.</p> + +<p>Lennox looked around wistfully. He was transported back to the +daydreams of his own boyhood. The floor was polished oak, the walls +creamy, the ceiling beamed and lost in shadows. There was a half +finished canvas on an easel before the bay window, a self-portrait of +Stacy as an officer in the French Foreign Legion. Alongside it was a +lay figure on which was draped a uniform cape and a kepi. Stacy thrust +a finger through a hole in the shoulder of the cape.</p> + +<p>"Nine millimeter Mauser," he murmured. "The toughest thing we had to +buck in the desert."</p> + +<p>Two Italian epees were crossed over a blood-stained plastron with +masks and gloves under them. A Luger and a Colt revolver lay on the +mantlepiece. There was a cannel coal fire burning in the grate. A +coffee table before the fire bore a bucket of ice in which reclined a +bottle of champagne. On a couch behind the table reclined an exquisite +little ingénue wearing a blue velvet dinner gown trimmed with miniver. +The fire and candles were the only illumination. A phonograph was +playing the "Rosenkavalier" waltzes.</p> + +<p>"Drink?" Stacy inquired lazily. He uncorked the champagne bottle deftly +and filled glasses.</p> + +<p>"No thanks."</p> + +<p>Stacy and the girl drank, gazing into each other's eyes over the +glasses.</p> + +<p>Lennox said: "If you'll just give me a minute, Oliver. Alone?"</p> + +<p>Stacy brushed the girl's palm with his lips, then took Lennox into a +fitted dressing room hung with a dozen framed water-colors. They were +nudes; all signed O.S. One of them bore a faint resemblance to Kay +Hill. It was convincingly red-headed.</p> + +<p>"It's about blackmail, Oliver."</p> + +<p>"Pay with a gun."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The barrel of a gun across the bridge of a nose," Stacy spread his +shoulders lazily. "I learned that lesson in Morocco."</p> + +<p>"You've had experience before?"</p> + +<p>"I've had every experience."</p> + +<p>"Then read these." Lennox whipped out the photostats and handed them +to Stacy who read them carefully, a lazy smile curling his mouth. His +expression never changed.</p> + +<p>"Threats," he said at last. "The ones that mean business never write."</p> + +<p>"They don't scare you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing scares me."</p> + +<p>"Who's writing them, Oliver?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I thought you came to borrow a gun."</p> + +<p>"Were they written to you?"</p> + +<p>"To me?" Stacy shook his head slightly. "I've got enemies. A man's +enemies. We know each other. We don't have to be anonymous." Stacy +spread his shoulders. "I'll pack a gun to the theater Sunday. I'll back +your play, Jake. I can break a nose."</p> + +<p>"I think they're to you, Oliver."</p> + +<p>"What difference does it make? I'm making it my fight."</p> + +<p>"I don't want a fight. We've got enough trouble as it is. I want to +avoid a fight."</p> + +<p>"You never can, Jake. As soon as you realize that you'll grow up." +Stacy smiled lazily. "You go around the world and you learn one thing. +It's all a fight, and the only way to keep from losing is to win."</p> + +<p>"Oliver, if you're so hot for breaking noses, will you for God's sake +find him and break it before Sunday."</p> + +<p>"No trouble at all, Jake. Tell me where he is."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. You do."</p> + +<p>"Not me."</p> + +<p>"These letters are to you. You fit the description.... Dark man. +Elegant. Live on the east side. Went to college...."</p> + +<p>"But not a vestal virgin."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was obvious. Didn't you notice it in the letter? Right +here. He's written: 'You vomit virgin with your Judas morals....' Is +that me, Jake?" Stacy pointed to the nudes on the wall. "Would anybody +who knows me call me virginal ... moralistic?"</p> + +<p>"Jesus Christ!" Lennox exclaimed furiously. "If it's not you, then who? +Who the hell is getting these letters?"</p> + +<p>"Look for a coward."</p> + +<p>"Why a coward?"</p> + +<p>"Because a coward's writing them. You go around the world, Jake, and +you learn another thing. There's class distinction in everything. You +love your own kind and you hate your own kind. The jackals hate the +jackals. They don't dare hate a lion."</p> + +<p>Lennox waved the photostats impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Why worry?" Stacy smiled. "Let him come to the show Sunday. We'll be +waiting. It might be interesting."</p> + +<p>"Interesting!" Lennox snorted. "God knows what's going to happen to +who. It could be anything from a gun to a bomb. Is that your idea of +interesting?"</p> + +<p>"It's the only idea, unless you play poker for matchsticks."</p> + +<p>"I don't play poker," Lennox said, and left.</p> + +<p>Going down the brownstone stairs, he growled: "Four down. Two to go. +It's either Plummer or Hansel. The advantage of statistics. Poker for +matchsticks! Are they all crazy?"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>I met Lennox in a network studio where he took advantage of an +unexpected opportunity to make peace with Roy Audibon. The veep had +gathered the leading script writers for one of his annual exhortations +on the aims, needs and ideals of the network and the position of +television in the Expanding Universe. Audibon's theme that afternoon +was the fact that we writers were the bottle-neck in the flow of +progress because we refused to think galactically.</p> + +<p>I won't try to reproduce Audibon's lecture. He has to be seen and heard +to be appreciated. He's charming and attractive and successful. He is +also a unique product of American culture ... the erudite ignoramus. +He discourses entertainingly in a jargon of advertising slang, science +fiction clichés and pocket book philosophy. He can mix phrases like +"cross-ruff client expediency" "fourth dimensional cybernetics" and +"the Hegelian dialectics of The Thirty Years War" in one sentence and +hypnotize you into believing that he's making sense. It isn't until you +listen that you realize he's just talking out loud.</p> + +<p>We all sat and kept our faces straight while Audibon drew a picture +of the soaring, searching minds of the top network brass seeking +the uppermost cultural levels for television only to be blocked and +thwarted by the conservatism and lack of imagination of the writers.</p> + +<p>"There are new techniques, new philosophies, new infinities to +explore," Audibon told us. "Reach out to the stars. Don't be afraid to +experiment in your garret. We may loathe what you do. We'll probably +reject nine out of every ten scripts you send us, but that doesn't mean +we're opposed to new ideas. We want new ideas. We need them. It's up +to you to produce them in acceptable form for the network and clients."</p> + +<p>When he finished we gave him a friendly hand and prepared to go about +our business. Unfortunately a non-professional element had slipped into +the meeting and they were either too ignorant or too indignant to go +along with the joke. They got up and began filing beefs. They attacked +Audibon politically, philosophically, and most of all financially. What +it all boiled down to was: How dast he make a speech like that when the +network kept rejecting all the wonderful scripts they sent in, and took +six months to reject each script?</p> + +<p>We squirmed in embarrassment. Audibon got red in the face and his +replies to the hecklers became shorter and more cutting. Then an +astonishing thing happened. Jake Lennox got to his feet, turned on the +hecklers and blasted them. He was sardonic and icy; he took them apart, +politically, philosophically and financially. They were so stunned it +broke up the meeting. I saw Audibon step down from the studio stage, +go over to Lennox, smile and shake his hand emphatically, Lennox +grinned back. They spoke for a moment, laughed, shook hands again and +were separated by the low network brass who surrounded Audibon. Lennox +caught my eye, made a drink motion, and I nodded.</p> + +<p>In Sabatini's we belted down a couple of Gibsons before I had the +courage to bring up Jake's defense of Audibon.</p> + +<p>"We won't discuss it," he said. "I turned whore to square that lunch +hassle the other day. Which reminds me. I owe you money." He forced me +to take two tens.</p> + +<p>He brooded. His expression was contemptuous.</p> + +<p>"Don't let it eat you out, Jake," I said. "We all whore. What were we +doing listening to Audibon but whoring?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," Lennox answered. "It's the Poison Pen test. That was a +bomb. You were right, Kitten. I'm an amateur. I should have stayed out +of the act."</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"I showed the photostats to all of them, looking for a sign ... a +give-away. You remember what I told you about Fink?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. So?"</p> + +<p>"You think those letters knocked them off balance? Hell, they loved +them. They ate 'em up. It's like those arsenic eaters of yours."</p> + +<p>"Poison eaters?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Poison eaters. They're mixed up. Sick in the head. But +trouble doesn't bother them. They live on trouble. They feed on it. +Can't do without it. They've got to have a diet that would kill a +normal man."</p> + +<p>"All of them?"</p> + +<p>"All of them."</p> + +<p>"Not one knocked off balance?"</p> + +<p>"Not one out of six. And just to show you what an amateur I am, each +one found something in the letters I hadn't noticed.... Something that +proved they couldn't be getting them."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Oh.... Like ... Charlie Hansel found a line that showed the letters +are being written to someone who's big. Charlie's a midget, you know +that. Plummer noticed something about a loudmouth. And you know how +quiet Johnny stammers. He's always whispering the latest from the +Kremlin."</p> + +<p>"Kay Hill's loud."</p> + +<p>"But she isn't dark."</p> + +<p>"Stacy's dark."</p> + +<p>"But he isn't moralistic. They've all got outs. I don't know who +the hell's getting the threats. I'm no better off than I was when I +started." He shrugged. "It shows you, Kitten. Everybody imagines they +can do anybody else's job much better. It isn't until you try that you +find out. Damn it! I'm licked. All I can do is hope Fink'll pull us out +of this jam before Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Tell me what everybody said when you pulled the letters on them."</p> + +<p>"To hell with it."</p> + +<p>"Let's write down how each one eliminated himself. Maybe we can add +them up and find something."</p> + +<p>After some persuasion and another drink he gave me the facts. I wrote +them down in a column:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Big</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dark</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Loud</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Moralistic</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Went to college</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fancy and elegant</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lives on the East side</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Look at this," I said.</p> + +<p>Lennox looked.</p> + +<p>"Who does it add up to?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"I've got news for you," I said. "You may be an amateur, and it may not +be as easy as we think to do another man's job, but you've done the +job. You've found out who's getting the letters. The only trouble is, +you're worse off than when you started."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"You."</p> + +<p>"What about me?"</p> + +<p>"You're the guy who's getting the letters."</p> + +<p>He stared at me, looked at the list, then looked up again.</p> + +<p>"This adds up to me?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Loud?"</p> + +<p>"They can hear you from the Bronx to the Battery."</p> + +<p>"Fancy? Elegant?"</p> + +<p>"As Mike Romanoff."</p> + +<p>"Moralistic?"</p> + +<p>"As a Puritan."</p> + +<p>"This is me? This is the way you see me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He got up without another word and walked out. I don't know what +staggered him most ... the realization that he was the man being +threatened, or the picture of himself as other people saw him. But I +was right about one thing. He was a lot worse off than when he started.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It took Lennox eleven hours to struggle through the script for the +January 15th "Who He?" show. He consumed one ream of paper, half a +pound of coffee, two quarts of ice cream, and answered the phone a +dozen times. All of the calls were for Cooper. They were from unknowns +who appeared to be phoning from the vicinity of juke boxes and spoke in +hoarse underground voices. They used a jargon that was incomprehensible +to Lennox and they seemed to be torturing Cooper.</p> + +<p>"They want material," he groaned.</p> + +<p>"You've got a trunkful stashed away. Submit it."</p> + +<p>"I can't. My old stuff stinks."</p> + +<p>"Then write new material."</p> + +<p>"I can't."</p> + +<p>"The hell you can't. You've arrived, son. Cash in."</p> + +<p>"Arrived? Sure, at the wrong station. I'm a fluke." Cooper was +miserable. "You heard about the party Suidi's throwing for me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming. You'll hear me cheering in your corner."</p> + +<p>"Cheering. My God! They'll all be there.... Looking me over. Sizing me +up. Me. A nothing. Making a fool of myself."</p> + +<p>"Stop that, Sam. You're loaded with talent."</p> + +<p>"Not me."</p> + +<p>"They'll size you up and their eyes'll pop. What the hell is the matter +with you? You deserve success. You've earned it. Don't you want it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want it. I just want to be left alone," Cooper shouted. +"Leave me alone, for God's sake. I wish to Christ this'd never +happened." He flung out of the house.</p> + +<p>Hot and uncomfortable, Lennox stacked his manuscript neatly, placed it +in a manila envelope and went out for a walk to worry about Cooper's +misery and his own.</p> + +<p>The Rock has an emotional as well as physical geography, and Lennox +was unconsciously drawn to the neighborhoods that reflected his moods. +On this morning he went through his customary cycle from despair to +exhilaration never once remembering that he had been through the +identical cycle and the identical walk countless times before.</p> + +<p>He started at low ebb. He was confused and frightened and automatically +began to wander back and forth through the cross-town side streets +that always reflect the slack tide in men's souls. What was happening +to Sam? Why wasn't Sam happy? What was happening to himself? Could +he really be receiving the threats? Was he scheduled for violence on +Sunday? The side streets were a dismal prelude to disaster.</p> + +<p>Lennox searched his memory for guilt and enemies. He went all the way +back to his small town boyhood and was drawn to Lexington Avenue, the +great prototype of every Main Street in America. He could remember +nothing and was overcome with sorrow for himself. He was alone ... +crucified ... and he was driven south and east to the Bowery, the +boulevard of self-pity. There he trudged despondently, identifying +himself with the tattered vagrants, with poverty and failure.</p> + +<p>From sorrow, his mood changed to anger. He was outraged with himself +for whining. He was furious with the world for attacking him unfairly. +Hostile and contemptuous, he found himself walking up Broadway, glaring +at the crowds, declaring war on a world that revealed itself so +squalidly from Times Square to Columbus Circle. In his anger he flatly +rejected any possibility that he could be the person described in the +letters. The ferment within him increased until he was recharged with +hope, and the cycle ended in elation.</p> + +<p>He had nothing to fear. Nothing was falling apart. He would hold +everything together ... his delicious, wonderful world. He turned +east to Madison Avenue to savor his world. He admired the women, the +handsomest of all time; the men, the most successful; the shops, the +richest. Fifth Avenue is as rich and beautiful as Madison, but Fifth +Avenue is for dreaming. Madison is the bustling culmination of Now. It +has no past or future, only the immediate Present.</p> + +<p>"Existentialist," Lennox said to himself.</p> + +<p>To climax this explosive surge from despair to assurance which was his +main strength and weakness, he turned north and walked to a particular +spot that he loved in lower Central Park. It was on a slight hill +overlooking the pond and the Plaza. It was his own Exhilaration Point. +There were thousands like it ... private mastheads where the pirates +stood alone and exulted over the plunder before them. As Lennox walked +up the path, he was annoyed to see that his very own lookout was +already occupied. He resented the intruder until he looked closer and +saw that it was Gabby Valentine.</p> + +<p>When he finally let her go, he bent down to pick up her hat and purse +and his script. "Have you got a jack-knife?" he asked. "I want to carve +something appropriate on a tree."</p> + +<p>"I can just see you cutting lovers' knots," Gabby laughed.</p> + +<p>Lennox winced.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"It was the idea of lovers' knots. Mawkish. I was thinking of something +really impressive, like: D. Boon cilled a Bar on this tree year 1760."</p> + +<p>"You're the bear," Gabby said, feeling herself tenderly. "Don't come +near me again. I've got a gun."</p> + +<p>"But what were you doing here, darling?"</p> + +<p>"You told me about your favorite spot. I had to see it."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead and shoot," Lennox said, but this time he was gentler.</p> + +<p>He was right when he told Robin that this love affair was backwards. +Most people meet, get friendly, turn serious and become intimate. +Lennox and Gabby had started intimately and were working their way +back. They'd already been serious enough for a violent quarrel. Now +they were getting friendly. They spent an hour together in that +blissful past tense of all couples who are exploring each other.... +"Did you?" and "Were you?" and "Had you?" They agreed, they compared, +they disagreed. They matched experiences, tastes, habits, friends.</p> + +<p>Gabby asked about Cooper and Lennox tried to describe what the +friendship meant to him. "Sam's a whole man," he said. "Most men are +only part men ... like sections of a tangerine. All split up. You have +to put a lot together to get a whole."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean F. Scott Fitzgerald's ideal? The entire man in the +Goethe-Byron-Shaw tradition?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Fitzgerald was obsessed with the idea that a man +had to explore all his potential for good and for evil. I think he was +trying to justify his own evil. I won't buy that. There's never any +excuse for being bad."</p> + +<p>"There's being human."</p> + +<p>"That's an explanation, not an excuse."</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about Sam."</p> + +<p>"Well ... most men are overspecialized, only interested in one thing. +The friend you like to fish with is a nuisance on a date. The friend +you double-date with is a noodnick about ball games. The friend you go +to ball games with can't understand books. And so on and so on. You +have to make a dozen one-twelfth friends."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you demand too much."</p> + +<p>"No. I've got a legitimate beef. Art and music, for instance. +Butch-type guys stay away from them like the plague. What happens? The +fags have inherited, and that puts me in a hell of a spot. If I want to +go to the ballet or the opera or an exhibit, it has to be with a fag or +alone. And I hate fags worse than Squares."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you go with girls?"</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart, I love ladies, but I like men too. Men and women think +differently, and sometimes I like to be with a man's point of view."</p> + +<p>"I'll punish you for that," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"What I do?"</p> + +<p>"Not now. Sam isn't a one-twelfth friend, is he?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's twelve-twelfths. Whole."</p> + +<p>"How did you meet him?"</p> + +<p>"At Princeton. We went down for a fencing meet and Sam was host for the +visiting team. You should have seen him ... the fencer's dream. All in +white except for black stockings."</p> + +<p>"Did you really work your way through college?"</p> + +<p>"Yes Ma'am. I was a telegrapher. I was a telegrapher my last year in +high school too."</p> + +<p>"Were you friendly with Sam right from the beginning?"</p> + +<p>"No. Not until much later." Lennox frowned. "I was jealous at first. +Princeton was elegant. Society. And I was trying to climb up from a +clam-shack. I hated Sam."</p> + +<p>"That's not nice," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"I was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. That's an explanation, +not an excuse. Then I met him again in the business, and we got close."</p> + +<p>"Had he changed?"</p> + +<p>"No. I changed. There's nothing like making money to discharge the +venom in you. Sam was always the same. A whole man." Lennox smiled +gently.</p> + +<p>"I like the way you look when you talk about him," Gabby said. "It +shows how much you love him."</p> + +<p>"Love him?" Lennox was startled. "My God! Don't say that. Men aren't +allowed to talk like that nowadays."</p> + +<p>"But you do, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. "You know how I feel about you. If you were turned into +a man.... That's how I feel about Sam." He stopped suddenly and faced +Gabby. "I've got you both, Gabby. Help me hold on to both."</p> + +<p>"I'm not jealous," she said honestly.</p> + +<p>"I know that, but don't do one thing. If he's got faults that I can't +see, don't point them out to me. You and Sam can sit in a corner and +make fun of me all you like. God knows, I'm a prize noodnick. You can +take my noodnickery apart and I won't care. Just let me love both of +you."</p> + +<p>"Why did you flinch when I said lovers' knots?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>He looked at her in awe. "Gabrielle, you're a great woman. I thought I +covered perfectly."</p> + +<p>She shook her head and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Talking to you's like turning a corner in March. You never know what's +going to blow into your face."</p> + +<p>"What were you remembering?"</p> + +<p>"A Quaker, a blonde, and a knot."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"I did a bad thing Christmas Eve. I got dirty drunk. I imagined I was +somebody else.... A Quaker from Philadelphia named Fox."</p> + +<p>"Why Fox?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I picked up a blonde named Aimee Driscoll. A-I-M-E-E."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear about her."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk about her."</p> + +<p>"And the knot?"</p> + +<p>"That's the part I still can't remember. I lost the night from +Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. The knot must be part of it. I don't +know what or how. All I know is that it terrifies me every time I think +of it."</p> + +<p>"Is Lennox an English name?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. From way back. What's that have to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Puritans," Gabby explained. "You're so moralistic. Always feeling +guilty ... like something out of 'The Scarlet Letter.'"</p> + +<p>"Moralistic," Lennox repeated slowly. "Am I loud?"</p> + +<p>"Deafening."</p> + +<p>"And fancy ... elegant?"</p> + +<p>"Not the phony way you say it; but you have style, Jordan. Yes, you're +definitely Edwardian."</p> + +<p>"Jesus," he muttered and was silent.</p> + +<p>"Stop feeling guilty. I like big loud men. And elegance is charming. +I'm going to make you brocade waistcoats with silver buttons."</p> + +<p>After a long pause, he said: "Audibon isn't loud."</p> + +<p>"Oh Jordan...."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't bring it up, but I've got to know. What's between you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"What was?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. There never was anything."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you—?"</p> + +<p>"Is that kind?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's jealous. Forgive me. And I do understand. He's strictly the +network dazzler."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't dazzled. I was sorry for him. That's why I thought I loved +him."</p> + +<p>"Sorry for him? Audibon? He's got everything."</p> + +<p>"He has nothing ... nothing inside. He's lost."</p> + +<p>"Is that why he won't let you go?"</p> + +<p>"One of the reasons. Another is that he hates to lose."</p> + +<p>"How is he stopping you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm active ... politically. If I try to get a divorce he says he'll +ruin me."</p> + +<p>"That Communist routine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Christ, what a club that's become for dirty fighters. Are you a Party +Member?"</p> + +<p>"No, Jordan."</p> + +<p>"Tell the truth, sweetheart. If you're lying you'll give yourself away +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I said yes. Would it make a difference?"</p> + +<p>"It would."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because most of them are the dedicated type. Lunatic fringe. They're +one-sided, and I told you I like whole people. Are you a Party Member?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not."</p> + +<p>Lennox searched her face, then nodded. He was beginning to learn how +transparently honest she was. "All the same, I wish you'd quit the +politics, Gabby. There must be other things for you to do."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed angrily. "What other things?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Lady things. Take the long view. We've got a whole life +to plan together. Go vote at the polls like an honest citizen and let +it go at that. You and I are more important than—"</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea how offensive you're being?" Gabby interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Offensive?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you want me to quit working too, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"You won't have to work."</p> + +<p>"I see. You've got it all planned, haven't you? Doesn't it occur to you +that I like my work? Doesn't it occur to you that I've got political +beliefs? There must be other things for me to do. Lady things. Men and +women think differently. You male chauvinist!"</p> + +<p>"Listen. I want my wife home with me because writing's the loneliest +work in the world. What the hell's chauvinistic about that?"</p> + +<p>"You not only look Edwardian, you think it. A woman's place is in the +home. Cross-stitched on a sampler by loving hands at home."</p> + +<p>"All right, Susan B. Anthony, where else is it?"</p> + +<p>"Where she wants it to be, not where it's convenient for you!" An angry +outburst trembled on Gabby's lips. She controlled herself. "We're +fighting again. I don't know what it is you do to me, but we're always +tearing at each other."</p> + +<p>"What I do to you!"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Jordan."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Gabby—"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet."</p> + +<p>They walked in uneasy silence for a few minutes. Then Gabby stopped and +faced him. Her dark eyes were severe, and her body, usually so relaxed +and easy, was very straight. "You're destructive," she said. "You like +to destroy people."</p> + +<p>"The hell I do."</p> + +<p>"Yes. It didn't just happen that time at Princeton. You haven't +changed. You're still that boy from the wrong side of the tracks, +jealous and envious of everybody. You can't feel equal to anyone unless +you've torn him down first."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong. I'm fighting to hold everything together."</p> + +<p>"It's what you think, but it isn't true. You tear everything apart. You +attack. You destroy. You may not realize it, but you do. You must have +many enemies."</p> + +<p>A chill numbed Lennox. He fought it off. "I can't bring any to mind +off-hand."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. You don't realize what you're doing. But you're +not going to do it to me, Jordan. I won't let you." The look of +consternation on his face made her relent. She took his arm again and +hugged it affectionately. "Don't be frightened. It's just a part of you +that we've got to heal. Don't you see, darling? The danger isn't for +other people; it's for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Myself?"</p> + +<p>"Because if you attack and destroy others, you end up destroying +yourself."</p> + +<p>He was silent until they left the park. As they parted, Gabby to return +to her office, Lennox to go down to the rehearsal of "Who He?" on +Broadway, he said: "I have something serious I want to ask you. There's +an outside chance one of those invisible enemies is catching up with +me. I want your opinion."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? What's happened?" Gabby was concerned.</p> + +<p>"Later. I'll pick you up at five for Sam's party. If we can find +a corner in the Rox Studios we'll talk it over. I'm hoping you'll +exonerate me. I know you will, but I'd like to make sure."</p> + +<p>"Exonerate you from what?"</p> + +<p>"From a lunatic on Sunday. More later. Can I have a kiss now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you can. Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I might be in disgrace."</p> + +<p>"Disgrace or no disgrace," Gabby said firmly. "Always kiss a man when +he asks. That's one of my basic political beliefs."</p> + +<p>Lennox went down Broadway to the Joydream Ballroom where "Who He?" +rehearsed. No longer a taxi-dance joint, the ballroom had been +struggling along since the war as headquarters of a lonely hearts club +giving dances three nights a week for its discriminating clientele (all +religious faiths). Now, television's frantic search for rehearsal space +had restored Joydream to solvency.</p> + +<p>In the Women's Lounge, the dancers in black rehearsal leotards were +lined up before a wall of mirrors, headed by Charlie Hansel who was +short, ebullient and graceful. They were watching their reflections +intently as they memorized Charlie's new routines, and complaining +chronically as only dancers can complain. Cooper was at the piano with +Johnny Plummer's score, working out the beats for Hansel.</p> + +<p>"You're taking it in four bar sections," Cooper was saying. "And that's +throwing your rhythm off."</p> + +<p>"Lambkin, it's written in fours. That Johnny Plummer! He's a +four-cornered one, he is." Hansel spoke without taking his eyes off his +reflection. None of the other dancers did either. This is not vanity. +Like the complaining, it's an occupational disease.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," Cooper explained. "The music's in phrases, +not bars. Johnny's written two longs, a short and a medium. Count ten +twice, then four and then eight. You'll come out right."</p> + +<p>"Samkin, there's no arguing with the composer of 'We're The Most.' He's +a genius one, he is. Ready, kidkins? And!—"</p> + +<p>They went into the routine, counting and complaining. Cooper scowled at +the compliment and began playing. Lennox backed out of the lounge.</p> + +<p>On the main ballroom floor, the sets for the show had been chalked and +Raeburn Sachs was directing Mig Mason and the rest of the cast in the +"Man Without A Country." Sol Eggleston, the network camera director, +was prowling around the scene, framing it in his hands and making +notes on his camera plot. This is a minute by minute schedule of the +placement and occupation of all three cameras for the duration of the +show, including lens settings and time allowance for changes of setting +and position.</p> + +<p>When Eggleston saw Lennox, he motioned sharply and brought him over to +a table covered with blueprints and light plots. Eggleston was fat, +efficient and asthmatic. Lennox liked him. He liked all the technical +men. They knew their business and never wasted time promoting delusions +of genius.</p> + +<p>"We're in trouble," Eggleston wheezed. "Camera trouble."</p> + +<p>"Oh God! Don't tell me I've asked for crossed cameras again."</p> + +<p>"No. It's Sachs. He's got an idea for a trick shot on the Nolan."</p> + +<p>"Something fresh and different, no doubt. What?"</p> + +<p>"He wants to fly the 3. Hang it from the grid over the stage and shoot +straight down on the courtroom scene."</p> + +<p>"Damn him! It isn't a bad idea."</p> + +<p>"Sure, but can we shoot the rest of the show with two cameras?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It'll take an hour to fly the 3. It'll take another hour to get it +down."</p> + +<p>"Why so long?"</p> + +<p>"The grid is practically inaccessible at the Venice. You have to go up +a ladder from the fly-gallery, and there's no catwalk on the grid bars."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"So do you want to immobilize the 3 for one shot? You want to shoot the +rest of the show with two?"</p> + +<p>"We can't do it."</p> + +<p>"Tell Sachs."</p> + +<p>"Can we get an extra camera for the shot?"</p> + +<p>Eggleston shook his head. "The network hasn't enough to go round as it +is. Talk Sachs out of it."</p> + +<p>"We've got the meeting for the January 22nd show this afternoon. I'll +do my best, but there's no arguing with Sachs. He's got a talent nobody +else has. He's never wrong."</p> + +<p>Eggleston wheezed cryptically.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, Sol. Here's a gimmick. If the network did give us an +extra camera, how much would it cost the budget?"</p> + +<p>"About a yard and a half."</p> + +<p>"Then don't worry. Blinky'll talk Sachs out of it. Still, I have to +hand it to him. It's a nice idea."</p> + +<p>Avery Borden of Borden, Olson and Mardine (nicknamed Borden's +Oleomargarine by the business) arrived with disastrous news. The client +had decided to go institutional for the New Year's day broadcast and +eliminate the product commercials. Mode Shoes would content itself with +wishing a Happy New Year to the American Way of Life in a single middle +break, which now threw the entire show out of kilter. It added an extra +three minutes to entertainment time, necessitating the insertion of a +new number, and worse, it threw out the first and last commercials. +Shows are carefully framed around the commercials in terms of tempo and +climax, and the break is as essential as punctuation in a sentence.</p> + +<p>It was for emergencies of this sort that the weekly show conference +was held on Thursdays. The staff was able to cope with immediate +problems as well as post-mortem the previous week's show and plan the +one coming up in four weeks' time. They all met in the brain room of +Grabinett's office. Presiding was Raeburn Sachs, taking notes was Mrs. +Sachs. Present were: The Star, his agent, the producer, his budget, the +writer, his partner, the dance director and the music director.</p> + +<p>They post-mortemed the Christmas show. The client, Grabinett reported, +was pleased but with two reservations. First: When Oliver Stacy handed +each contestant his or her lovely pair of Mode Shoes as a gift for +appearing on the show, it was requested that he use a French accent +in naming the shoe style. The client felt that Stacy's accent was not +sufficiently Parisian.</p> + +<p>Second, Grabinett continued, the matter of prizes. The difficulty over +the Grand Prize on the Christmas show made the client wonder if the +questions weren't too difficult.</p> + +<p>"Too difficult!" Lennox protested. "For God's sake! We're setting those +questions at the kindergarten level now. How dumb do you have to be to +win a prize?"</p> + +<p>"It's not as if we're giving away big prizes," Grabinett blinked +apologetically. "Aeroplanes and trips to Europe and islands in Canada. +For big prizes you got the right to ask tough questions."</p> + +<p>"How small is five hundred dollars?" Lennox demanded. "That's what our +prizes average. And it's a lot of money. We don't have to give it by +forced feeding, do we?"</p> + +<p>"A man in public is fifty percent dumber than the same man in private," +Ned Bacon drawled cynically. "We did a story about that on 'The People +Against—'. We—"</p> + +<p>"What about the prize hassle from last Sunday?" Tooky Ween rumbled.</p> + +<p>"We took the heat off," Lennox told him. "It's all over except for one +little thing. Mig'll have to say something about it next Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Say what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a little apology for the mistake."</p> + +<p>"Not me! I'm not going to apologize for anything," Mason cried. "I +didn't make any mistake. Don't turn me into the fall-guy."</p> + +<p>"You want to ruin my property's fan relations?" Ween asked.</p> + +<p>"It was the operator who loused it," Mason said. "That girl on the +phone. She got me all mixed up."</p> + +<p>"All right," Lennox said in exasperation. "So blame it on Patsy. Next +Sunday announce that the contestant gave the right answer, but the girl +made a mistake. Will you buy that?"</p> + +<p>"She's been lousing the phone call every week," Mason yelled. "Every +week she's got me worried when I should be thinking about myself. The +girl has got to go."</p> + +<p>"Leave her alone, Mig. Will you make the announcement?"</p> + +<p>"If the girl goes."</p> + +<p>"She goes," Grabinett broke in. "She's fired."</p> + +<p>"The hell she is!" Lennox exploded. "That's a damned dirty trick."</p> + +<p>"She goes." Grabinett glared at Lennox. "You want a law suit?"</p> + +<p>"Contestants can make a lot of trouble," Bacon drawled. "We had a Case +on 'The People Against—' when—"</p> + +<p>"Listen," Ween interrupted. "My boy makes the announcement if he can +say that the girl loused the prize and she's been fired. That's the +conditions. We got to keep faith with the public trust."</p> + +<p>"Then let's do it another way," Lennox pleaded. "Leave the girl out of +it. I'll take the rap. The writer pulled the boner. Damn it, I'll get +on camera and apologize myself."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, representing her?" Ween rumbled. "No. It's got to +be the girl."</p> + +<p>"Be reasonable, Tooky. Patsy's a—"</p> + +<p>"Will you shut up!" Grabinett blinked angrily. "Jesus Almighty Galahad! +What do you care about a lousy telephone girl?"</p> + +<p>"I want a fair shake for everybody. That's all."</p> + +<p>"Then go join the boy scouts. The girl's fired. Make the announcement, +Mig. We're out of the law suit. Next?"</p> + +<p>They discussed the extra three minutes' entertainment time. Mason +wanted to add it to his comedy spot. He was supported by Ween. The +staff pointed out that it would overbalance the show. Furthermore, the +client had expressed a desire to have Mason's spot kept to six minutes +maximum. The problem was how to fake a quick novelty without disrupting +the existing show. The entire cast was tightly fitted into the program +with barely enough time for costume changes. It would be impossible to +hire a good outside specialty act on such short notice.</p> + +<p>"I could let you have our two leads from 'The People Against—'," Bacon +suggested. No one was interested.</p> + +<p>"We need something fresh," Sachs murmured wearily. "A different Weber & +Fields."</p> + +<p>"Here's a gimmick," Lennox said. "Sam Cooper's tune is turning into a +hit. Mig brought it out on the show two months ago."</p> + +<p>"Great! Sensational!" Mason said. "Diggy and I'll do a reprise."</p> + +<p>"You're already doing a duet," Lennox answered. "You can't do two. +Besides, you need that three minutes to change. Here's my gimmick. Let +Sam do the duet with one of the dancers. We'll introduce Sam as the +rehearsal pianist on the show who wrote the tune that Mig made famous. +Then let 'em guess Sam's name for a hundred bucks."</p> + +<p>"That stinks!" Mason snarled.</p> + +<p>"Why? It's cute. It's in the family, and it's great promotion for +everybody. What do you think, Tooky?"</p> + +<p>"We'll take it under advisement," Ween answered.</p> + +<p>Which was tantamount to an okay. Lennox nodded to Ween, then turned to +Grabinett. "Mel, can you budget us for fifteen hundred extra Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"A yard and a half extra!" Grabinett blinked in horror.</p> + +<p>"Ray's got a sensational idea for the Nolan. Tell him about flying the +3."</p> + +<p>Sachs told Grabinett, first demonstrating the shot from the overhead +grid and then from the stage underneath. His genius was defeated by the +budget and the overhead camera disposed of.</p> + +<p>"If that finishes next Sunday, let's get on to the twenty-second," +Grabinett said.</p> + +<p>"One more thing about Sunday," Lennox said. "The most important.... The +letters."</p> + +<p>"Jesus Almighty!"</p> + +<p>"I want to make a last appeal. You all know about the threats for the +New Year's show. I've been around to see each of you and shown you the +threats."</p> + +<p>"Y-Your police f-friend's been around t-too," Johnny Plummer stammered +softly.</p> + +<p>"Fink? The detective? What'd he ask?"</p> + +<p>"Lambkin, it was about the stage hands and camera crews mostly," +Charlie Hansel said, "Fink's a deep one, he is."</p> + +<p>"He's the smartest shamus in plainclothes," Bacon told them. "We did +his biography on 'The People Against—'."</p> + +<p>"Well that proves this isn't for laughs," Lennox said. "I think we're +in for trouble. Bad trouble. I want to appeal to all of you for the +last time. If you know anything about this ... anything at all that can +help us out ... please don't cover up. We'll be discreet. We'll keep +it quiet. But at least give us a fair shake. Help us protect you and +protect the show."</p> + +<p>"Discreet will we!" Grabinett shouted. "I'll fire the lousy crook. I'll +kick the Judas out so fast he won't feel it on his Almighty pants. And +I can do it. I got moral conduct clauses in every contract."</p> + +<p>"Mel! Please!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't gonna have the name of Melvin Grabinett associated with +the louse who's let us in for this trouble. And I'll sue. I got +indemnifying clauses in every contract."</p> + +<p>"That's lovely. Lovely. That's the sure way to make a man admit he's in +trouble and needs help."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to help him. I'm warning him. This goes for anybody. If +you're gonna make trouble for the show, out you go." Grabinett blinked +passionately and then continued in the same hysterical voice. "Now +let's get going on the 22nd. Just remember what I tell you every week. +The client wants a family show. A sweet show that makes a family feel +better after they've seen it."</p> + +<p>Out came the portfolios, the briefcases, the pads and notes. Lennox +took out his gimmick book and began turning the pages looking for the +ideas underlined in red pencil, which were those earmarked for "Who +He?." He had production numbers, drama spots, song spots, novelty +questions and various related gimmicks neatly listed in his meticulous +handwriting. At a distance one of his pages looked like a leaf from a +Gothic bible.</p> + +<p>"I've got a tentative program worked out for the 22nd," Lennox said. +"It's in the envelope with the finished script for the 15th, Ray. On +your desk."</p> + +<p>Sachs handed the envelope to his wife who opened it and handed him +Jake's program. Sachs read it, frowned, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "No. It's all off-trail, Jake."</p> + +<p>"I was expecting that," Lennox growled. "And I'm just nervous enough +about next Sunday to throw it in your teeth."</p> + +<p>The others looked up, startled at Jake's anger.</p> + +<p>"I've kept a record of our show discussions for the past thirteen +weeks," he went on, flipping the pages of his gimmick book. "Ten out of +those thirteen you started out rejecting every one of my suggestions +and ended up suggesting them as your own idea. Why don't you relax, +mastermind? Who are you auditioning for? Or do you want to think you're +the only man on the show who can—"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Lennox stopped and stared at his gimmick book. His face turned +white and the deep lines on it showed up grey. He swallowed once or +twice, then closed the book and returned it to his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Excuse it, please. I've got to take five," he muttered. "I'll be in +the john."</p> + +<p>He left the brain room and locked himself in the office john. He took +out the gimmick book and with trembling fingers opened it and turned +the pages until he found what he had seen at the meeting. In a large +space between two neat paragraphs, a stranger had written a message to +him in a familiar hysterical hand. The line was:</p> + +<p>"Be killing you New Year's. Knott."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>A head-shrinker once explained to me that people confronted with a +crisis act exactly like a J-walker about to be run down by a car. They +do one of three things. Either they dodge back to the curb, or stand +helpless, or turn on full steam and sprint ahead. Lennox was the third +type. When the evidence in his gimmick book finally convinced him that +he was next Sunday's victim, he refused to retreat or submit. He turned +on full steam and sprinted toward disaster.</p> + +<p>He returned to the show conference and forced himself to participate +until it was over. He issued blanket invitations for the party at Rox +Studios, left Grabinett's office and called Sergeant Fink from a phone +booth. Fink was not at the precinct. Lennox said he would call again, +went out and consulted the phone directory. There were a dozen Knotts +in the Manhattan book. There were many more in Brooklyn, Queens and the +Bronx. None of the names looked even faintly familiar. Lennox got back +into the booth and called one at random. A man answered the phone.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Knott there, please?"</p> + +<p>"This is Knott. Who's calling?"</p> + +<p>"Jordan Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Jordan Lennox."</p> + +<p>"What number are you calling?"</p> + +<p>Lennox gave the number.</p> + +<p>"You got the right number, Mister, but I think you got the wrong party."</p> + +<p>"You don't know me?"</p> + +<p>"No. Should I?"</p> + +<p>"If you've been writing me letters, you should. You—" Lennox stopped. +The man had hung up. Lennox started to dial another Knott and then +quit. "Am I crazy?" he asked himself. "I can't get anywhere this way."</p> + +<p>He left the phone booth, went out into the street and realized +that he felt steady and solid as rocks. The uncertainty was ended. +Lennox walked a few blocks while he examined himself in his new role +of victim, then went over to Houseways, Inc. and picked up Gabby +Valentine. He chattered exuberantly during the cab ride to Rox, +concealing the discovery he had just made and the driving resolution +it had brought about in him. He was not ready to reveal the crisis to +Gabby until he had lived with it a little longer.</p> + +<p>Rox Studios on West 50th Street occupied the top floor of an ancient +loft building. It was decorated in Industrial Modern with aerial +photomurals, phallic light fixtures, and blond functional furniture. +There were offices, recording studios, stock rooms, and an impressive +reception room which had been taken over by a catering company. Over +the bar and hors-d'oeuvre tables were hung giant blow-ups of the great +hit records of the past. "We're The Most" was also prominent. Cameramen +were arranging celebrities in groups. Flash bulbs were flaring.</p> + +<p>On the surface, all cocktail parties are alike. You find the +conventional percentages of pretty girls, pretty boys, big wheels, +nobodys, name-droppers, and the ubiquitous scrawny woman who drinks too +much, insults too much, throws up too much and has to be taken home. +It's the lower levels that distinguish one party from another, but on +The Rock the lower levels are exposed, and consequently the percentages +turn into the deludeds, the hostiles, the compulsives, the persecuteds, +the insecures and the harassed.</p> + +<p>If your eye is trained you can see their frantic gyrations as they +jostle and balance on their tightropes over their chasms. If your ear +is sharp you can hear their bedevilments through the brittle glitter of +the talk ... whispering with ghost voices like a badly tuned radio.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this, Cooper, who was usually so casual and +carefree, stood rigid with terror. He was learning the bitter lesson +that is taught on The Rock ... that ambition besets us with many +dangers to be fought and survived, and one of the greatest dangers +is success. It's dangerous because it focuses attention, and the +successful man becomes a new target for the attacking pirates.</p> + +<p>As a nobody on The Rock, Cooper had been living in happy obscurity, +ignored by the poison eaters. Now he was spotlighted and they declared +open season on him. The Ned Bacons cut him down to their size. The Mig +Masons resented his claim on their exclusively owned limelight. The +pretty girls took hold to climb over him to fresh heights. The pretty +boys saw in him another celebrated name to drop and to bitch. The +property owners marked him for future possession. And all this took +place under the surface of the congratulations and compliments, like a +poison ring inside a Borgia hand-clasp.</p> + +<p>The first opportunity he had after the formal congratulations, Lennox +whispered: "Sam, I'd never bring it up at this time, but I've got to +work fast. I've found out the letters were written to me."</p> + +<p>"Letters?" Cooper was bewildered.</p> + +<p>"The threats. You recognized the writing. Have you remembered who it is +yet?"</p> + +<p>Cooper passed his hands over his face. "No, Jake. No. I.... No."</p> + +<p>"Listen. I know who's writing them. Knott. The Quaker, the blonde and +the knot. Remember? Knott's the name of the writer. Does that ring a +bell?"</p> + +<p>Cooper shook his head. He didn't appear to be understanding Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Between the name and the writing we ought to be able to find him, Sam. +Not now, of course, but maybe...."</p> + +<p>"Jake. Leave me alone, will you. I can't help you. I'm in a bad way."</p> + +<p>"Sure. I'm sorry. Enjoy yourself, boy. I'm cheering in your corner."</p> + +<p>Cooper laughed pointlessly and a trifle hysterically. He was so +completely unstrung that his first conversation with Gabby hardly made +any sense at all. She had waited for a break in the ring around him and +then came up to him with outstretched hand. Cooper at once took her to +a corner and stared at her distractedly.</p> + +<p>"Do you trust me?" he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Gabby answered. "I like to trust people."</p> + +<p>He looked into her dark eyes. "Yes. You're one of the honest ones, +aren't you. Inside-outside girls."</p> + +<p>"I think you've been drinking too much, Sam."</p> + +<p>"I like the way you say Sam. No, I'm not drunk. I'm possessed. I meant +your inside and outside match. Both beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Oh. Yes, my plumbing is the envy of all the doctors."</p> + +<p>"Are you in love with Jake?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. It's too violent yet."</p> + +<p>"He's violent." Cooper nodded emphatically. "Dangerous. Do you think +it'll be love after the frenzy?"</p> + +<p>"I want it to be. Very much."</p> + +<p>"Can I call you Gabby?"</p> + +<p>"Please."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Gabby. Go away. Get out of Jake's life. Run like hell."</p> + +<p>She looked at him steadily without answering.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can come back another time, but now, keep away from him."</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better say more, Sam."</p> + +<p>"I can't."</p> + +<p>"Then you should have said less."</p> + +<p>"Are you offended?"</p> + +<p>"A little. You don't approve of me."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better explain what you mean."</p> + +<p>"How can I? This is something that has to be between Jake and me."</p> + +<p>"You don't like me," Gabby said with conviction. "Are you jealous? +Aren't you willing to share him with me?"</p> + +<p>"Will you share him with himself?"</p> + +<p>"I really think you've been drinking too much, Sam. You aren't making +sense."</p> + +<p>"How can I make sense? Look at me. Somebody threw me into the water. +I'm trying to learn how to swim before I drown. I've got just enough +breath left to shout a warning to you. I'm shouting, Gabby."</p> + +<p>Suidi, <i>Le Jazz Hot</i>, came up to get Cooper. As he led him away to be +photographed again, Cooper called over his shoulder: "I'm shouting, +Gabby. Listen to me."</p> + +<p>"What's he shouting?" Lennox asked, appearing out of the crush with +canapes.</p> + +<p>"A long locomotive for Lennox. He admires you, Jordan."</p> + +<p>"You talked him into it. He's just the tool of a beautiful dame."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am rather fatal. It's a dreadful responsibility. Who's the +little man who told me he married eighteen feet of wives?"</p> + +<p>"Ned Bacon, my partner."</p> + +<p>"Did he really?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. Three six foot show girls, one after the other."</p> + +<p>"What an extensive married life. Who's the dark quiet man who stammers?"</p> + +<p>"Johnny Plummer."</p> + +<p>"And the bald man who sounds like a subway train? The one who's been +pestering Sam."</p> + +<p>"Tooky Ween, Mason's agent. He wants Sam to sign with him."</p> + +<p>"They're all very nice," Gabby said. "But they all seem self-conscious. +Like Roy. They live in the third person."</p> + +<p>"Live in the third person?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't you noticed? It was never 'I'm doing this' or 'I'd like that' +with Roy. It was always 'Roy Audibon is getting an idea' or 'Roy +Audibon would like a drink.' He was his own audience. What was the +matter with you in the taxi, Jordan?"</p> + +<p>She took the wind out of him. He could never accustom himself to the +sudden corners in her conversation. Each time he imagined he had +concealed something from her, she waited patiently and then came around +a corner unexpectedly into the heart of the concealment.</p> + +<p>"Was it anything to do with the enemies you were talking about?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "That's it exactly."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to talk about it now?"</p> + +<p>"Let's find a place."</p> + +<p>They pushed through the crowd. The party was getting high and many +men laid loving hands on Gabby. When she gently disengaged herself, +they persisted in following her, offering drinks, cigarettes, canapes, +conversation, or any other service she required. Lennox was annoyed and +reminded of the three men at the McVeagh party who had offered to take +the drunken professor home for her. Gabby couldn't help acquiring a +coterie of men anxious to make themselves useful.</p> + +<p>Suidi's private office was jammed. <i>Le Jazz Hot</i> goggled at Lennox and +waved to him, excitedly trying to thank him. Lennox shook his head in +warning and left. He and Gabby tried the stock rooms. They were all +occupied. In a wrapping room stacked with acetate blanks were Cooper +and Tooky Ween. Cooper was flustered and almost incoherent. Ween was +aggressive.</p> + +<p>As Lennox was about to withdraw, he heard Ween say: "Then we got to +work up some other kind of financial arrangement on our tune." Jake +stopped and squeezed Gabby's elbow in warning.</p> + +<p>"What was that line.... 'Our tune'?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I just been talking sense to your friend," Ween rumbled. "Only he +can't count the fingers in front of his eyes."</p> + +<p>"I'm in no condition to sign with anybody," Cooper pleaded. "Don't be +mad, Tooky. Let it go at that."</p> + +<p>"I ain't mad, boy, but you need handling. It's handling that makes the +difference between a property and a non-property."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be property. I don't want any part of this crazy +hassle. Now leave me alone, will you Tooky? I'm wrung out."</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to do this so nobody hollers for a lawyer letter," Ween +said. "If your friend—"</p> + +<p>"His name is Cooper. Sam Cooper."</p> + +<p>"If your friend'll let me do some good for him, then it's all in the +family and no hard feelings."</p> + +<p>"What's in the family?"</p> + +<p>"Our tune."</p> + +<p>"What means 'Our tune'?"</p> + +<p>"He says Mason collaborated with me," Cooper burst out.</p> + +<p>"Oh. I see. You want a piece of the hit, is that it, Tooky?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't what I want. It's what's right. My boy helped your friend +write the tune. We're entitled to a piece. Now if your friend wants to +come into the family, then everything's cozy."</p> + +<p>"Sure. You cut in for your fifteen percent. What makes you think Mason +collaborated on the tune?"</p> + +<p>"I asked him about it."</p> + +<p>"When you smelled money."</p> + +<p>"He told me it was his idea from the start and he made at least a dozen +contributions when they was working it up in the rehearsal. Out of a +total hundred percent, at least thirty nine and a half percent was my +boy's ideas."</p> + +<p>"Your boy suffers from starmania. He thinks everything is his idea. Ask +him sometime. You'll find out he thinks he invented you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, for God's sake! Let him have his piece of the tune," Cooper +exclaimed in disgust. "We did do it in rehearsal. I admit Mig made +suggestions. Maybe he did contribute as much as Tooky says. I want to +be honest about this and I'm sick of—"</p> + +<p>"Shut your mouth!" Lennox interrupted violently. "Do you want to give +it away to the chiselers?"</p> + +<p>"Keep out of this, Jake. Let me handle it."</p> + +<p>"You're not fit to handle anything. You'll sell yourself out."</p> + +<p>"Maybe that's the best thing for me. Leave me alone."</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to do, escape? I will like hell leave you alone." +Lennox turned on Ween. "Listen to me, you shyster. 'We're The Most' +is Sam's tune. One hundred out of one hundred percent. How do I know? +Because I heard him compose it in our house one month before your boy +rehearsed it for the show."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie!" Ween roared. "You heard what Cooper just now admitted. +That's a dirty, unethical lie, Lennox!"</p> + +<p>"And you're stuck with it. Take us into court and see what happens."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go into court!" Cooper looked around frantically. +"You're right, Jake. All I want is out. Give him his piece of the hit. +Give him the whole damned tune. I'm not cut out for this rat race. For +God's sake, let me out before I turn into a twitch like Blinky."</p> + +<p>Lennox shut Cooper up with a wave of his hand. He scowled murderously +at Ween. "Look what you're doing to him, you lousy leech. You sit on +the sidelines waiting for someone to hit, and then you're right in +there bloodsucking. Agents! The pimps of the business! This is my boy, +understand? He worked for this. He sweated for it. He waited for it, +and you're taking nothing from him. Now get the hell out of here and go +shove yourself up your property."</p> + +<p>Ween left the wrapping room like a thundercloud. Lennox ignored +him and stepped to Cooper's side. "You stood by me," he growled. +"Now I'm standing by you. If you sign anything away.... If you give +anything away.... If you so much as open your mouth, I'll kill you. +Stop whining. D'you think this is another varsity show? You're doing +business with professional cut-throats. Get the hell out there and face +them."</p> + +<p>He pounded Cooper's slack shoulders with his fists, propelled him to +the door and thrust him out. He motioned to Gabby to follow and walked +behind Cooper, forcing him back into the crush. Lennox kept muttering: +"Smile. Grin. Shove it down their throats. They hate your guts. They +hate anybody who gets a break. Well, hate 'em back. Show 'em!"</p> + +<p>Lennox patrolled Cooper for a few minutes, showing his teeth in the +icy, cutting smile called The Agency Knife. Then he took Gabby to the +bar for a drink. He was sardonic, hostile, unyielding. Gabby had never +seen him look more dangerous. Once again she was repelled by that +frozen exterior that the business knew so well, but now she knew that +this was only a part of Lennox. She took his arm with both hands and +tugged gently.</p> + +<p>"You're frightening me," she whispered. "Stop looking like that, +Jordan. You're like you were in the taxi Christmas night."</p> + +<p>"Thieves," Lennox growled. "Killers. Poison eaters! All of them. Trying +to cut Sam's throat. Mine too. I won't let 'em. We'll hold on to our +sanity. All of us. Won't we?" He glared at Gabby.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, Captain Hook, sir," she quavered.</p> + +<p>"And we'll give 'em nothing. Nothing! You hear me, Gabby Valentine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"That's my girl. Now let's go find a place and talk."</p> + +<p>There were only three people in the smaller sound studio, clustered +around a piano flanked by microphones on stands. A bass fiddle and two +copper-bottomed kettle drums stood in a corner. Still raging, Lennox +stalked in with Gabby and flashed The Agency Knife on the strangers.</p> + +<p>"I'd like a word in private with my mother," he said. "Would you mind? +Thanks very much."</p> + +<p>The strangers scuttled out and left them alone. Lennox looked through +the glass panel into the control booth where a group of people +soundlessly shouted and gesticulated. He rapped the microphones with +his knuckles.</p> + +<p>"Are these live?" he asked. "Control, can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>There was no response. He took Gabby by the waist and lifted her onto +the piano, then leaned against her knees and, halfway between fury and +confusion, blurted out the story of the letters. He opened his gimmick +book and showed her the message scrawled in by a person named Knott.</p> + +<p>"The Quaker, the blonde and the knot," Lennox said. "It's filled in +now. The knot is a person. Mr. Knott ... a murderous lunatic who knows +me. Maybe it's like you said this morning in the park ... an enemy for +something I don't even remember doing. But he's an enemy all the same. +And I was with him the night before Christmas."</p> + +<p>"You don't remember being with him?"</p> + +<p>"No. But we must have been together. He left a line for me in the +gimmick book ... a little love note to let me know who to expect +Sunday."</p> + +<p>Gabby nodded.</p> + +<p>"It's a charming situation, isn't it?" Lennox said. "There's a man +named Knott. I don't know him, but he knows me. First he writes me. +Then he sidles up to me Saturday night and leaves a personal message +where he knows I'll find it sooner or later. He hates me. He wants my +guts cut out. I don't know why, but I don't have to know. He's got his +own crazy reasons. All right, I'm going to find him before Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Find him? How?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to backtrack on my trail. I'm going to start at the bar +where I got plastered with Avery Borden Saturday night. I'm going to +start remembering and keep going until I find friend Knott. After I've +had a few words with him, you can come and bail me out."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you should. It's Sergeant Fink's job."</p> + +<p>"I'll do it myself," Lennox said stubbornly. "If I louse it, I can +always go crying to Fink, but I'm not crying yet. I've got Fink to fall +back on, and Sam, if he can only remember where he saw that writing. +But that comes later. Right now will you let me out of our date +tonight? I want to call Borden and start backtracking now."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," Gabby said. "I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>Lennox shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you," Gabby insisted. "I can help."</p> + +<p>"Not in this."</p> + +<p>"You'd be surprised the way ladies can help. Anyway I don't want to +bail you out of jail. You need a keeper."</p> + +<p>"Listen," Lennox said. "I was dirty drunk that night. God knows what I +did. God knows where I went. I don't want you finding out things about +me. This Knott could turn out to be something so filthy that I—"</p> + +<p>The control booth door burst open and banged against the wall. +Grabinett stood in the doorway, blinking hideously. Lennox stared at +him and then into the booth. The group inside was watching the scene +with intense interest. One man was bent over the control panel fiddling +with the Gain knobs.</p> + +<p>"So it was you," Grabinett sputtered. "It was you all the time, you +Jesus Almighty hypocrite!"</p> + +<p>"Turn off those mikes," Lennox roared at the controls.</p> + +<p>"Leave 'em on," Grabinett shouted. "I want witnesses. I got a moral +conduct clause in your contract, Lennox. Remember? I warned you. I +warned you at the office less'n two hours ago. All right. Here it is. +You're fired. You're off the show."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear everything I told her?"</p> + +<p>"I heard every Almighty thing you told her and you're off the show."</p> + +<p>"You heard me say I don't know who's doing this to me and I don't know +why. All I want is a fair shake. Will you stand by me, Mel?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care who's doing what to who or for why. I got a client to +consider. I got myself to consider. And I got news for you. If anything +happens Sunday ... anything at all, I'll take it out of you. If the +network or the client cancels, if I suffer any damages of any kind, +I'll take it out of your hide."</p> + +<p>"The hell you will."</p> + +<p>"The hell I won't. Go home and read your contract, Lennox. Clause +eight. Then you'll make goddam sure nothing happens Sunday." Grabinett +blinked triumphantly. "After you read it you can tear it up, because +right now in front of witnesses I'm telling you ... you're off the show +and that's final!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Like most agencies, Borden's Oleomargarine was born of treason. In +1940, Borden, Olson and Mardine, the three top account men of Riley & +Reeves, mutinied and set up their own agency, taking R&R's best clients +with them. The fact that Riley & Reeves had done the same thing to +Ansel, Bates & Crown in 1922 in no way mitigated their outraged charges +of piracy, sabotage and unfair practice.</p> + +<p>By the fifties, Borden's Oleomargarine owned five floors on the top +of a Madison Avenue tower in which all the elevator operators were +red-headed women. It handled thirty million dollars worth of billing +a year at fifteen percent off the top, and as representative of six +of the most powerful American industries (among other clients) was +a monolith of agencies. It had offices in Chicago, St. Louis, New +Orleans, Hollywood and San Francisco. It employed over five hundred +people, among whom were the bright young bandits who would eventually +mutiny in their own turn.</p> + +<p>Success did not prevent Avery Borden from having a drink with Jake +Lennox and Gabby Valentine in the saloon across the street from the +Venice Theater, or from worrying about his train back to Westport where +he owned one hundred acres and a twenty-room house. Our business may +be cut-throat, but it's democratic. We have the highest percentage of +inter-denominational ulcers anywhere.</p> + +<p>"I've got a train to catch," Avery Borden said, "But leave us bleed the +lizard again." He caught the bartender's eye. "The same all around and +extra special for the lady, please. Extra special."</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, Mr. Borden," the bartender said. "I know just how Miss V. +likes it."</p> + +<p>Lennox glanced at Gabby. "They know you here?"</p> + +<p>"I get around," Gabby smiled. "Now, Mr. Borden...."</p> + +<p>"Call me Avery," Borden cooed. "Call me Avery and I'll miss my train." +Mr. Agency was turning all his powerful charm on Gabby. He was a +remarkably young fifty, tall and slender, and looked so much like Roy +Audibon that Lennox glared at him.</p> + +<p>"Please don't," Gabby said in alarm. "I get train fever. My heart's +beginning to thump now."</p> + +<p>"Show me."</p> + +<p>"You can feel my pulse."</p> + +<p>"With your permission, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"I could shoot you both and no jury would convict."</p> + +<p>"I'm pleading the unwritten law too." Borden took Gabby's wrist and +held it delicately.</p> + +<p>"What law is that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Open season on chicks like you."</p> + +<p>"You see?" Gabby said to Lennox. "I'm fatal. Have I got him hypnotized?"</p> + +<p>"He's under your thrall all right. Thrall?"</p> + +<p>"Thpell," Borden said.</p> + +<p>"We want a favor from you," Gabby said, "Will you help us?"</p> + +<p>"Anything short of missing my train."</p> + +<p>"What did Jordan do when he was here with you Saturday evening?"</p> + +<p>"He drank."</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded gloomily. "She knows that, Avery. We're looking for +something else."</p> + +<p>"Checking up on him?" Borden asked Gabby.</p> + +<p>"For the parole board."</p> + +<p>"He raped the cashier, murdered the boss, kidnapped their child and +sold it to Procter & Gamble," Borden said promptly. "Obviously not the +man for you. But I'm noble."</p> + +<p>"I can see the blood royal in your eyes. Did Jordan talk to anybody +except you?"</p> + +<p>"Are you kids serious?"</p> + +<p>Gabby nodded and melted Borden with her dark, candid gaze.</p> + +<p>"We're looking for a man named Knott," Lennox explained. "I met him +somewhere Saturday night and he's been giving me a hard time with +threatening letters. I've got to find him and square it off."</p> + +<p>"Did Jordan talk to anybody except you?" Gabby repeated.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss V. He didn't," the bartender put in. "It wasn't crowded that +night. I remember."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. You're very kind. Does anybody named Knott ever come in +here?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of, Miss V."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any characters named Knott?" Lennox asked Borden.</p> + +<p>Borden was confused. "I thought you knew him."</p> + +<p>"I don't. I'm trying to trace him."</p> + +<p>"Try the phone book."</p> + +<p>"I already. There's twelve Knotts on The Rock alone. None of the names +look familiar. God knows how many more there are outside."</p> + +<p>"Maybe this Knott don't have a phone, Miss V.," the bartender +suggested. "Lots of people don't."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Gabby smiled. "Can I buy you a drink?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Miss V." The bartender looked at her fondly.</p> + +<p>Lennox glared at him and then asked Borden: "Did I mention the name +after I got plastered?"</p> + +<p>"Man, you started plastered. No, you didn't mention the name."</p> + +<p>"What happened Saturday? Take it from the top."</p> + +<p>"Well.... We left rehearsal around five. Came over here. Cut up the +show. Had a few drinks to celebrate. Cut up the business. Had a few +more. Cut up Christmas...."</p> + +<p>"I deny that."</p> + +<p>"Who's remembering this?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a wholesome American boy. I never said a word against Santa Claus."</p> + +<p>"Cut up Christmas," Borden continued firmly. "Had a few more to +celebrate.... And then I caught my train."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I ask you to have dinner with me? I've got a fuzzy recollection +of that foolish, headstrong invitation. Did I mention where?"</p> + +<p>"Have a heart, Jake. I was celebrating myself."</p> + +<p>"Please help us, Avery," Gabby pleaded.</p> + +<p>Borden looked at her affectionately. "What do you do, love? Come and +work for me."</p> + +<p>"First show me you're worth an office pinch."</p> + +<p>"I will now display my giant intellect." Borden considered earnestly. +"Let's see.... We were in the cab."</p> + +<p>"What cab?"</p> + +<p>"To the station. I gave you a lift."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. Hold the phone. To the library?"</p> + +<p>"That was your story."</p> + +<p>"I think I remember. I wanted to check Americana scores for a +production number. John Brown's ever-lovin' Body or something. Did I +say where I was going to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Some ungodly place like Chinatown."</p> + +<p>"At The Yellow Sea?"</p> + +<p>"It rings a bell."</p> + +<p>"So...." Lennox nodded slowly. "First the library and then The Yellow +Sea. Elementary, my dear Watson. No you don't, Avery. I'll take the +check, please."</p> + +<p>"I'll take my reward," Borden said, reaching for Gabby.</p> + +<p>"And I'll pay it," Gabby said. "This time I'll give you the lift to the +station."</p> + +<p>After they dropped Borden at Grand Central, Gabby turned to Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Am I helping?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't be doing it without you."</p> + +<p>"Are you still afraid of what you're going to find out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it doesn't make any difference any more. I'm so damned mad at +Grabinett and myself that—Were you ever at a <i>corrida</i>?"</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"A bullfight."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! No!"</p> + +<p>"I used to wonder how the bull felt. Now I know."</p> + +<p>They entered the library from the 42nd Street side, and as they passed +through the turnstile the guard nodded fondly to Gabby who smiled back.</p> + +<p>"What the hell.... Do they know you here too?" Lennox asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I told you. I get around. He's a nice man but a terrible reactionary."</p> + +<p>"Looks like the hedonistic type to me."</p> + +<p>"No, he's too eclectic."</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart, sometimes you talk just like a pamphlet."</p> + +<p>"I know. Isn't it awful? My father used to make me study the +dictionary. But I practice slang whenever I remember."</p> + +<p>They turned right through a short corridor lined with illuminated +display cases and went into the music room. It was nearly closing time +for this department. The bookboys were slamming volumes back into the +shelves. There were half a dozen readers at the tables. One librarian +minded the desk.</p> + +<p>"Put him under your thpell," Lennox whispered.</p> + +<p>Gabby at once walked up to the librarian and gazed candidly into his +eyes. "Please.... Do you have any music about John Brown's ever-lovin' +Body?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your—" The librarian was startled, then he recovered. "I'll +look, Miss. Please sign the register."</p> + +<p>Gabby signed the desk register, then followed the librarian to the file +cabinets, moving with her lazy, square-shouldered carriage. Lennox +turned the pages of the desk register back to December 24th. He went +through the signatures and addresses one by one. He found his own, +third from the end, written in his heavy Gothic hand. There was no +Knott. There was no name vaguely resembling Knott. To the best of his +knowledge there was no handwriting resembling the hysterical scrawl in +the letters.</p> + +<p>He motioned to Gabby who returned to the desk.</p> + +<p>"Nothing here," Lennox murmured. "Leave us take a powder."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that wouldn't be kind. Let's wait a moment."</p> + +<p>The librarian came scurrying up with a list of references which he +presented to Gabby gallantly. She thanked him, folded the list and +handed it to Lennox.</p> + +<p>"What for?" he asked as they left.</p> + +<p>"You wanted a production number, didn't you? Here it is."</p> + +<p>"That was last week. I'm off the show now. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"You'll be on it again," Gabby said confidently.</p> + +<p>"Who taught you to say the right thing at the right time?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody. I just tell the truth and shame the devil—Don't you dare +touch me. Ouch! Oh quick! There's a taxi."</p> + +<p>The Yellow Sea was packed with the early dinner crowd. The waiters +ran and shouted. The managers darted from table to table, scribbling +orders. The swinging doors of the kitchen banged open and shut giving +flashing glimpses of a giant smoky room from which came the crackle of +hot oil and excited chefs.</p> + +<p>"This is impossible," Lennox grunted. "I'll never get a chance to ask +anything in this mad-house."</p> + +<p>"Will it always be crowded?"</p> + +<p>"No. They'll clear out in an hour or so."</p> + +<p>"Then let's have dinner first. I want to show off. I know how to use +chop-sticks."</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at her. "Taught to you by an eclectic Chinaman?"</p> + +<p>"No, by a Hawaiian. He was very nice, but terribly hasty."</p> + +<p>"Gabrielle, I swear you're a great woman. We'll have to wait for a +table. Let's go to the bar."</p> + +<p>The Yellow Sea had expanded twice in its rise to prosperity. In the +forties it had added a tourist-type dining room to the original +teakwood and silk-screen restaurant which now catered exclusively to +the Chinese locals. In the fifties it added a chrome and neon bar. +Lennox and Gabby went up a flight of stairs, down another, and entered +the bar where they were unexpectedly greeted by a stranger.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he cried. He spoke with the explosive Chinatown diction. "Missa +Hu-li Lennox. Dissa g'eat pleasuh an' honauh." He came forward, shook +Jake's hand, and said: "Lon' time no see. Yes? Ha-ha."</p> + +<p>He was short, very stout, and either an old young man or a young old +man, as is so often the confusing appearance of the Chinese. His round, +boyish face was perpetually wreathed in a sunny smile to which a +wall-eye lent a distracting quality. You never could be sure whether he +was beaming at you or at some faraway recollection.</p> + +<p>"You 'membuh me, Missa Lennox? Stanley Fu, the Sh'off?"</p> + +<p>"The Shoff?"</p> + +<p>"No. Ha-ha. Sh'off. S.H.O.Ah.F.F. Sh'off."</p> + +<p>"Shroff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes. Whiskey?" The Shroff led them to the bar, snapped his +fingers at the bartender, then rapidly undid his immaculate tie +and collar and opened his shirt. He displayed a livid bruise on his +shoulder. "Las' Satuhday night," he beamed. "Me'y Kissmus p'esent f'om +Hu-li."</p> + +<p>Lennox stared at the stout gentleman in amazement. "Hu-li?" he +repeated. "Who he?"</p> + +<p>"You," the Shroff beamed.</p> + +<p>"Did he do that to you Saturday night?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Yes. Ha-ha."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Jordan," Gabby said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I swear I don't remember. I—Gabby, this, apparently, is my good +friend, Mr. Stanley Fu, the Shroff. Mr. Fu, this, positively, is Miss +Gabrielle Valentine."</p> + +<p>"G'eat pleasuh an' honnuh," the Shroff beamed. He shook hands with +Gabby, then redid his shirt.</p> + +<p>"What's a Shroff, please?" Gabby asked. "Is it something I should know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. No, Issa Chinese p'ofesshun. Bankuh. Yes? Money changuh."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Silvuh into dolluh. 'Me'ican dolluh into Chinese dolluh. Papuh +dolluh into silvuh." The Shroff transferred his attention to Lennox. +"You put it all down. Inna liddy ole book when I te'l you Satuhday."</p> + +<p>"In this?" Lennox took out his gimmick book.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," Lennox said. "To tell the truth, Mr. Fu, I hardly +remember Saturday night at all. That's why I'm here. It's a wonderful +break meeting you again. Can you help me remember?"</p> + +<p>"Oh-ho?" The Shroff made a drinking gesture. "Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Please tell us what happened Saturday night," Gabby said. "I'm worried +about your bruise."</p> + +<p>The Shroff beamed at her. "Oh yes. Happen like this. My f'iend, Hu-li, +come. Stan' next to me heah." The Shroff made the drinking gesture +three times. "Mahtini." He made the gesture three times again and +pointed to himself. "Scotch an' soda."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you both," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>The Shroff patted her arm fondly.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Lennox said. "Some of it's coming back. Wasn't there a +calendar up over the bar? Last year's with a fencing girl on it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes." The Shroff nodded quickly. "We talk about pictuh of liddy +young lady with fff...." He looked helplessly at Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Foil?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You te'l me you ah 'Me'ican fencuh." The Shroff pointed a finger +and waggled it. "I te'l you I am Chinese fencuh." The Shroff suddenly +crouched and lifted both arms as though poising a baseball bat. "We go +togethuh an' fence."</p> + +<p>"We did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Like Chinese." The Shroff executed a lightning swipe with both +hands, then chopped at his shoulder with the side of his palm. "You +give me this. Ha-ha. You 'membuh?"</p> + +<p>Lennox shook his head. "Did I talk to anybody else at the bar before we +left? A man named Knott?"</p> + +<p>"No. No othuh man."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anybody write in this notebook when I wasn't looking? Did +I leave it around on the bar?"</p> + +<p>"Ah? Excuse me?"</p> + +<p>"We're trying to find someone who wrote something bad in that book, Mr. +Fu," Gabby explained. "It happened last Saturday."</p> + +<p>"So?" The Shroff's eyes became shrewd. "Man named Knott, yes? That why +you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"You ah only one who use book, Missa Lennox. I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's that," Lennox muttered.</p> + +<p>"Could it have happened where you fenced?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh no. No. Owuh 'Sociashun foh Chinese people only. I show you if you +like." Suddenly the Shroff beamed again. "Owuh 'Sociashun ve'y happy to +see Hu-li again."</p> + +<p>"Why do you call me Hu-li?"</p> + +<p>"Ah? Because how you fence. Ha-ha. Ve'y quick. Ve'y clevuh. Hu-li in +Chinese issa liddy ole animal.... Issa fox."</p> + +<p>"Fox!" Lennox exclaimed. "So that's where the Quaker's name came from."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Mr. Fu. Just the pieces crashing into place with a dull +sickening thud. Show us where we fenced, please."</p> + +<p>The Shroff led them down Mott Street, around a corner, up an alley and +into a crumbling brick building from which an incredible uproar came. +It sounded as though a giant were methodically beating an iron water +tank to pieces. They mounted the stairs to a wooden door on which +Chinese characters were painted and the Shroff ushered them into a +large room.</p> + +<p>"Dissowuh 'Sociashun," he shouted. "Foh Chinese people only. No Knott +heah Satuhday night."</p> + +<p>"What plays?" Lennox roared. "What's going on?"</p> + +<p>"We p'epauh foh Chinese New Yeah next month."</p> + +<p>Three saturnine Chinese in black overcoats and pearl grey hats were +seated in a corner, calmly hammering a drum, a brass gong and a wooden +duck. In the center of the room, an athletic young Chinese in jeans and +leather jacket wielded a bamboo staff in the fantastic attitudes of +the medieval Chinese warrior. Three small boys with broomsticks were +following his instructions.</p> + +<p>At the far end of the room was the giant head of a Chinese dragon to +which a long accordion-pleated tail was attached. A young man in a +sweat suit was doing calisthenics before the head. Then he got inside +and the head came to life, jerking and swaying to the deafening +percussion. The head spoke. Two boys ducked under the tail, and the +entire dragon began moving across the floor.</p> + +<p>Gabby had a small pad and pencil out of her purse and was sketching +quickly, moistening her finger to smear the lines into broad patches of +shadow. The Shroff opened a closet and took out two bamboo staves, two +quilted masks and two quilted cotton aprons. He offered a brass-bound +staff to Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he beamed.</p> + +<p>"No thanks, Mr. Fu. I don't feel like a fox tonight. You're sure there +was nobody named Knott here last Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes." The Shroff examined Jake's face for a moment. "Ve'y impohtant +to find thissa Knott, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Very. Where did I go from here, Mr. Fu? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. You ve'y intox'ated. I took you. I take you now."</p> + +<p>The Shroff returned the fencing equipment to the closet, waited +politely for Gabby to finish her sketching, and then conducted them +downstairs. He led them to Chatham Square where three cabs were parked +behind a hack sign.</p> + +<p>"I take you to taxi," he beamed. "You ve'y intox'ated."</p> + +<p>"My God! I can't remember that. Where the hell did I go? Hey fellas!" +Lennox called. "Any of you parked here last Saturday night?"</p> + +<p>The hack drivers poked their heads out.</p> + +<p>"Off and on, Mac," said one.</p> + +<p>"Hi, doll," said another.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hello," Gabby smiled.</p> + +<p>"Is he hedonistic or hasty?" Lennox demanded.</p> + +<p>"Behave yourself, Jordan. I told you I get around. Did any of you +gentlemen pick up my friend last Saturday night? He was drunk and +disorderly."</p> + +<p>"No Ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Could it have been another hack?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"Could of been a dozen others, Mac."</p> + +<p>"Happen to know a hack-driver named Knott who uses this stand?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"Then this looks like the dead-end," Lennox grunted.</p> + +<p>"Missa Lennox," the Shroff said. "I heah you te'l taxi man wheah to go."</p> + +<p>"You did! Can you remember?"</p> + +<p>The Shroff beamed in faraway recollection.</p> + +<p>"Oh please remember, Mr. Fu," Gabby said. "It's terribly important."</p> + +<p>The Shroff patted her arm, still immersed in memory. Finally he said: +"Wassa ve'y funny place. Like a fiah."</p> + +<p>"A fire?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Like ... Hudson fiah."</p> + +<p>"Hudson fire?" Gabby repeated, gazing at the Shroff perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"Hold it!" Lennox said. "Could it have been the Hudson School of +Firearms?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"A shooting range over near the river. Oliver Stacy told me about it +last week. I must have gone there Saturday night. Let's go."</p> + +<p>Lennox opened the door of the lead cab. Gabby ripped a page out of her +sketch book and handed it to the Shroff. It was his portrait.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, Mr. Fu," she said. "You've been so helpful."</p> + +<p>The Shroff gazed at his portrait with admiration and then at Gabby with +more. "I go with you," he offered suddenly. "Be ve'y happy to help you +and Missa Lennox find Missa Knott. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I do like you, Mr. Fu," Gabby said. "You're not inscrutable at all. +Please come. We can use all the help we can get."</p> + +<p>The Shroff entered the cab with them and they drove across town to the +waterfront where a sign on a doorway between a chandler's store and a +window filled with broken microscopes read: Hudson School of Firearms, +Dn. 2 Flights.</p> + +<p>As the three of them trotted down the steps into the sub-cellar, they +could hear the bark of guns. They came into a broad low-ceilinged +vault. There was a glass cigar counter and a cash register on the +right. The cigar counter was filled with revolvers and boxes of +ammunition. Behind it was a high display case with heavy glass doors. +Inside were more guns and six silver trophies.</p> + +<p>On the left, from wall to wall, was a line of open booths with +waist-high shelves dimly lit by green shaded lamps. Through the +booths was the vista of a sixty foot stretch of cellar, brilliantly +illuminated. The far wall was the shooting butt, heavily pocked with +bullet holes. Steel trolley wires led from each booth to the butt, and +along several of these, cardboard targets were sailing out to the far +wall. An intermittent barrage of shots came from the booths where men +were silhouetted against the light, standing with guns raised in their +right hands, their left hands resting jauntily on their hips.</p> + +<p>A square-jawed gladiator in blue serge came around from behind the +cigar counter and welcomed them. He was delighted to see Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Hey," he said in a soft, sweet voice. "It's the Philadelphia Fox +again." He shook hands. "I thought you had to go home to the wife for +the holidays. She come here instead, huh?"</p> + +<p>Lennox flushed and stammered. Suddenly he burst out: "You're the +Killer. I remember now. The Killer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's not nice," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"It's just his joke," the Killer grinned shyly. "He kept calling me +that Saturday. My name's Hamburger, Mrs. Fox."</p> + +<p>"Jordan," Gabby began. "You'd better explain that—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. No," the Shroff interrupted, beaming madly. "Ah nothing to +explain, Missuhs Fox. Ah nothing."</p> + +<p>There was an awkward pause, then Gabby turned to the gladiator. "Why +did my—Why did he call you a killer, Mr. Hamburger?"</p> + +<p>The Killer motioned to the silver trophies and turned red. "I won them +in the Nationals, Mrs. Fox." He hung his head.</p> + +<p>"You're modest," Gabby laughed. "I like you, Mr. Hamburger. I always +thought men who used guns were savage. Do you know, I've never fired a +gun in my life?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show you," the Killer offered, without daring to look at Gabby. +"Fill out a card."</p> + +<p>"Card?" Lennox asked. "What card?"</p> + +<p>"You know," the Killer said, leading them to the counter. "You got to +register. Police regulations."</p> + +<p>"P'lice watch gun place ve'y close," the Shroff whispered to Gabby. +"Doan te'l him Missa Lennox use othuh name. Be af'aid to help him."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came with us," Gabby murmured.</p> + +<p>She filled out a police registration card and accompanied the Killer +to an empty booth where he ran out a target and began instructing her +on the uses and abuses of the lady-like .22 revolver he placed in her +hand. Gabby waited patiently until he lost his shyness and was able to +meet her eyes. Then she came around a corner abruptly and asked: "Mr. +Hamburger, will you help us, please?"</p> + +<p>The Killer looked at her uncertainly. "I don't know, Mrs. Fox. We got +to be pretty careful here. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"We'd like to go through the cards that were filled out last Saturday. +We're looking for a certain name."</p> + +<p>"The police cards! Oh no, Ma'am. I couldn't."</p> + +<p>"It's terribly important, Mr. Hamburger."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't do it, Ma'am. I—" He flinched in alarm as Gabby gestured +with the loaded gun. "Look out, Ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"Let me shoot this thing and get it out of the way," Gabby said. +"Then I'll explain." She raised the gun, pulled back the hammer and +squinted along the sights at the target. "I've got to impress him," +she thought, "or he'll never listen to me." She took a deep breath, +steadied the gun, and let off five shots in slow, stately succession.</p> + +<p>A two hundred watt bulb at the side of the range was shattered. One +of the trolley wires went down with a shuddering whine. A large chunk +of plaster was knocked out of the ceiling. Ten inches of the wooden +partition was ripped into splinters, and from the adjoining booth came +an angry yell: "Get the hell off my target!"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>The Killer choked. "Bring her in, Whitey," he said in a voice that +shook. The target in the adjoining alley was run in and handed over by +the indignant Whitey. The Killer glanced at it and then showed it to +Gabby.</p> + +<p>"Dead center in the black," he said. He lifted his eyes and gazed +around at the destruction she had wrought and then gave her a look in +which awe was mixed with dog-like devotion. "I'll do anything I can to +help you, Ma'am. Just name it."</p> + +<p>After five minutes of earnest conversation, they returned to the +counter. The Killer unlocked a drawer and took out a stack of registry +cards while Gabby explained to Lennox.</p> + +<p>"You came here Saturday night. You registered but you were so drunk Mr. +Hamburger wouldn't let you hire a gun. You hung around telling the best +dirty jokes they ever—"</p> + +<p>"I deny that."</p> + +<p>"They ever heard. Mr. Hamburger invited you to go bear hunting with +him in the Adirondacks. A man called The Chief wanted to take you +skeet-shooting. There was a rifle club here and they asked you to join. +A bank guard wanted to introduce you to his sister but you told him you +were married."</p> + +<p>"Ve'y populah man, Missa Lenn—Missa Fox," the Shroff beamed.</p> + +<p>"I sound like the Life of the Smoker," Lennox groaned. "Was there +anybody here named Knott?"</p> + +<p>"Nope," the Killer called from the counter. "Nobody named Knott. But +here's the guy you left with."</p> + +<p>"I left with somebody? That's a break. I was afraid this would be the +dead-end."</p> + +<p>"Fella named Norman. Eugene K. Norman up on 126th Street. Says here: +Care of The Midnight Sun."</p> + +<p>"The Midnight Sun ... whatever that is. Looks like I put in a busy +Christmas Eve. God rest ye merry gentlemen. Leave us hit the road."</p> + +<p>"You going up there now?" the Killer inquired.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to."</p> + +<p>"The missus?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," Gabby said. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute." The Killer disappeared into a back room and emerged +wearing a hat and coat. "Hey Whitey!" he called. "Lock up for me. All +right, folks. Let's be on our way."</p> + +<p>"You're going with us, Mr. Hamburger?" Gabby asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ma'am." The Killer placed himself alongside her like a bodyguard. +"It's pretty late and it gets kinda rough in Harlem. I'll drive you up. +I live around there anyway."</p> + +<p>As they left the range, the raucous voice of Whitey followed them: +"Yeah. Just around the corner ... in Brooklyn."</p> + +<p>The Midnight Sun turned out to be a giant barn which nightly conducted +a giant miscegenous barn-dance. It was on the top floor of a theater +building and was apparently used for basketball games during the day. +It was the sort of place to which no white woman in her right mind +would ever go with her date because the competition was too strong. +There is nothing more exotically beautiful than the mixtures of black, +brown, white and yellow races you find on The Rock. The elite of these +mixtures was on the dance floor of The Midnight Sun ... exquisite +creatures with startling faces and exciting bodies.</p> + +<p>"Jesus Christ on filter!" Lennox marvelled. "Don't tell me I forgot +this!"</p> + +<p>It was beautiful, chic, queasy. There was a wild orchestra competing +with its echo. There were tourists at the side tables in evening +clothes and ermine. Lennox noticed a sprinkling of celebrities. There +were dozens of white men prowling the edge of the dance floor like +wolves, stopping dark girls, dancing with them for a moment, entering +their names in address books. It had the horrid atmosphere of a black +auction, and over all hung the tension of race hatred.</p> + +<p>The manager of The Midnight Sun was making difficulties. He had +a nervous, sprightly air, and his smile was almost hysterical. +Admission was two dollars and a half, but The Midnight Sun dances were +semi-private. The party must be guests of someone.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you manage the old Downtown Club?" Gabby asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember me? You used to send out for Italian cassata for +me."</p> + +<p>The manager smote his brow. "The ice cream lady! All your guests, +of course. Please sign the members book." He produced an ancient +double-entry ledger which Gabby signed in pencil. Lennox turned the +pages back to December 24th and looked for the name Knott. It was not +there. Neither was his own name. It was difficult to decipher anything +from the smudged entries hastily scrawled in the dark.</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Knott come here very often?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>The manager smiled hysterically and knew no one named Knott.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Norman here tonight? Mr. Eugene K. Norman?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhere on the floor," the manager told Lennox. He led the party to +a small table surrounded by cases of empty beer and coke bottles, and +disappeared before Lennox could ask any more questions. The waiter who +descended on them for their orders was no help. At the table on their +left were two magnificent blonde women with upswept hair and sequined +evening gowns. On their right was an alcove filled with brooms, mops, +and two sullen girls in angry conversation. Lennox got to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Mind the store," he told the Shroff and the Killer. "I'm going to case +the joint for Norman."</p> + +<p>He went around the floor, politely inquiring after Mr. Eugene Norman. +No one could help. The first girl he questioned, a Congo Venus with +a bosom like pears, froze him so regally and yet with such exciting +challenge that he didn't dare speak to another woman. Just alongside +the dance band he came face to face with Roy Audibon.</p> + +<p>Audibon slid his address book into his pocket and shook hands. He was +a little drunk. "What? The Thinker in the fleshpots? No hunting here, +Jake. This is my private jungle."</p> + +<p>"You can have it, Roy."</p> + +<p>"I already got it, son. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like it here."</p> + +<p>"Don't like it? Look around. Enjoy. What can't you like?"</p> + +<p>"Myself. We're intruding. Doesn't it make you feel cheap?"</p> + +<p>"Makes me feel one thing, son, and that doesn't come cheap. You alone? +Let's bleed the lizard."</p> + +<p>Lennox hesitated. "I'm looking for a man named Norman."</p> + +<p>"Looking for a man? Here? Man, your loins need regrinding." Audibon +left him abruptly and tapped a dark brown girl on the nape of the neck. +She turned and revealed a classic Egyptian face with high cheekbones +and wide deep-set eyes. Audibon spoke a few words and then swept her +out onto the dance floor.</p> + +<p>Lennox went out to the foyer to enlist the manager in his search. He +was informed that the manager was in the john. He investigated, but the +john was empty. As Lennox was about to leave, the door opened and one +of the upswept blondes entered.</p> + +<p>"Excuse m-me—" Lennox stammered. "You're in the—"</p> + +<p>"Hello Beulah," she said in a shrill fag's falsetto.</p> + +<p>"My God!" Lennox was appalled. "You're in drag? I never—"</p> + +<p>The fag blocked the door and regarded him seductively.</p> + +<p>"You're such a fast one," he said. "Miss Track Meet making her +appointed rounds. Who were you looking for? Pretty me?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," Lennox said, trying to be patient. "You're cruising the wrong +number, girl. Would you mind getting out of the way?"</p> + +<p>"Mary! She's in such a hurry," the fag giggled without moving. Lennox +took his elbow and shoved politely. Suddenly he lost control and +slammed the blonde violently against the wall. He let out a piercing, +falsetto shriek. Lennox yanked open the door and ran.</p> + +<p>As he crossed the dance floor to his table, a large ebony hand reached +out and stopped him. He turned and there was Gabby dancing with a +powerful bald-headed gentleman whose skin was stretched so tightly +across the big bones of his head that his face looked skeletal.</p> + +<p>"Cool, Clarence," he said in a foggy voice. "Here's yuh chick. +No, honey, yuh haven't got it right. It's a one and a tuh and a +zig-zag-zig!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Norman?"</p> + +<p>"Eugene K. hisself."</p> + +<p>"He's a dance teacher," Gabby said. "I'm getting a free introductory +lesson."</p> + +<p>"Got tuh educate Mrs. Clarence's rhythm," Norman said.</p> + +<p>"He says I dance Square."</p> + +<p>"Livin' is elation and elation's syncopation. We'll turn yuh cool, +Cabbage." Still moving gently against the beat of the band, with his +arm around Gabby's waist, Norman grinned at Lennox. "Where's that bull +fiddle, man? Yuh welchin' on the bet? No, honey. Yuh zaggin' when you +should be ziggin'."</p> + +<p>"A one and a two and a zig-zag-zig." Gabby frowned and moved her feet.</p> + +<p>"What bet?"</p> + +<p>"You came up here with Mr. Norman," Gabby explained, "And you bet him +you could get a bass violin into a taxi on the first try."</p> + +<p>"I did? Not for even money!" Lennox protested. "You didn't sucker a +drunk and disorderly man, did you?"</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't let you use the one in the orchestra so you went out to +rent a bass violin. That's the last anybody saw of you."</p> + +<p>"So it's a dead-end, is it? What about Knott?"</p> + +<p>Norman shook his head. "Uh-uh. The Chick asked already, Clarence. Yuh +gettin it now, honey. We didn't rub up against any Knotts while we was +togethuh. That's it! Cool, Cabbage! Livin' is elation and elation's +syncopation."</p> + +<p>He swung Gabby around deftly, chanting in off-beats. A hand pinched +Jake's ear, and a falsetto voice whispered: "Want to dance, Beulah?"</p> + +<p>"Will you leave me alone," Lennox growled at the blonde. "Get lost, for +Christ's sake!"</p> + +<p>"Oh come on girl, get gay."</p> + +<p>The blonde entwined himself around Lennox who struggled angrily, and +then stopped aghast as he saw Gabby and Norman whirl in a circle and +collide with Roy Audibon and the Egyptian girl. Audibon stared at Gabby +and his face turned red. He let go of his girl so sharply that she at +once disappeared into the crowd.</p> + +<p>"What the hell is this?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Roy. This is Mr. Norman. He says that living is elation and +elation's syncopation."</p> + +<p>"Cool, pal," Norman said genially and extended his hand. Audibon +ignored it.</p> + +<p>"I'm cutting in," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," Gabby laughed. "Not until I've got the zig-zag-zig."</p> + +<p>"I'm cutting in," Audibon repeated. Without looking at Norman he said: +"Get lost."</p> + +<p>Gabby turned pale. "Are you trying to insult my friend?"</p> + +<p>"He heard me," Audibon snapped. "Let him dance with his own kind."</p> + +<p>Lennox blew. "Look out!" he roared. "Here it comes." He shook off the +blonde and belted him across the jaw. He took two steps, shouldered +Norman aside and belted Audibon across the jaw. The blond shrieked and +clawed at the nearest man who swung on him and knocked his wig off. +Audibon got to his feet and came boring in on Lennox. Eugene Norman +dropped him again with a solid chop behind the ear. The Egyptian girl +appeared and kicked Audibon. The blond's friend appeared and swung on +Gabby. Lennox knocked him down. In five seconds that spark of violence +ignited all the violent hostilities in The Midnight Sun.</p> + +<p>"Get her outa here!" Norman bellowed in Jake's ear. He thrust Gabby +into Jake's arms, threw three vicious punches, caught a blow in the +throat and reeled back. Lennox steadied him and dragged Gabby and +Norman toward their table, bulling through the fighting crowd with his +chin on his chest. The band began riffing the National Anthem. Nobody +who could hear it paid any attention. A series of crashes commenced +and the wall lights began going out. There was a wild Chinese yell and +the Shroff appeared, crouched low, beating his way through the mob +with a mop he wielded like a bamboo staff. Behind him Lennox saw the +Killer teetering on a chair as he hurled empty coke bottles with deadly +accuracy. He was methodically smashing all the lights.</p> + +<p>"Out! Out!" Lennox roared. "Come on.... Out!"</p> + +<p>As they snatched their coats off their chairs, two very large men +charged out of nowhere and laid violent hands on Gabby. Lennox turned +with a snarl and clubbed one across the back of the neck. As he dropped +to his knees, the second was felled alongside him by the Killer. Gabby +bent over them.</p> + +<p>"This is not the way to do it," she said intensely. "You must organize. +Organize!"</p> + +<p>Lennox yanked Gabby up. He wanted to kiss her and spank her. The four +men formed a circle around Gabby and beat their way out to the foyer. +Gabby was hurling pacifist denunciations at the riot but no one could +hear her. As they started down the stairs, Norman, who was fighting a +rear-guard action, whistled shrilly and stopped them.</p> + +<p>"Cool, Clarence," he croaked. "Not that way, man. The police'll be +coming."</p> + +<p>He beckoned, slammed an anonymous assailant in the belly, and dashed +around the corner to the rest rooms. As the others followed, the +anonymous swung on Lennox who stiff-armed him back. The Shroff kicked +him and spun him around in time for the Killer to finish him.</p> + +<p>Norman led them into the ladies' john. Three girls were standing +there, unaware of the battle outside, trying to cope with a crisis of +their own. They were holding on to a fourth girl who was screaming +hysterically as she trampled on her dress. She wore a string of white +pearls, white satin slippers, and nothing else. The black and white +contrast was beautiful and worth closer inspection, but no one had time.</p> + +<p>"She main-linin' again?" Norman inquired. He flung open a door +revealing narrow stairs leading up and squeezed himself in. The three +girls began screaming too.</p> + +<p>"Her slip's showing," Lennox said. He propelled Gabby up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"She'll catch cold," the Killer said and followed.</p> + +<p>"Ve'y Happy New Yeah," the Shroff beamed and slammed the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>They climbed through a skylight and emerged into the chill night air. +The riot below them sounded distant and detached. Norman guided them +across roofs to the dim stairs of a respectable apartment house. They +descended and emerged on the street, around the corner and half a block +down from The Midnight Sun. There they took stock.</p> + +<p>Norman grinned at the Shroff and the Killer. They grinned back and +spontaneously shook hands. "Man!" he chuckled. "That bottle-bit and +that mop-mop-massacre. We're a goddam Foreign Legion. Damn if we +ain't!" All the men felt better after the scrap, but Gabby was very +angry.</p> + +<p>"Shame on you," she said. "Fighting like that. Hurting people. Making +fun of that poor sick girl. You're supposed to be civilized. You're +worse than animals."</p> + +<p>"Honey," Norman said reasonably. "It was self-defense."</p> + +<p>"No it wasn't, Mr. Norman. It was bad boys on a spree."</p> + +<p>"We were protecting you, Ma'am," the Killer said.</p> + +<p>"No you weren't, Mr. Hamburger. You were enjoying yourselves. I thought +you were all such nice men. Now I'm ashamed of you. I hate fighting. +There's no excuse for fighting ... ever!"</p> + +<p>"Gabby," Lennox said gently. "Get off the soap-box."</p> + +<p>She turned on him. "And you started it all, Jordan. Why did you hit +that poor blond man?"</p> + +<p>"He was a fag and he was bothering me."</p> + +<p>"That's no excuse. He's as sick as that poor naked girl. You've got to +feel sorry for homosexuals. You shouldn't hate them. But you do. You +like to hate and hurt."</p> + +<p>"Ah don't blame'm," Norman muttered. "Queens is poison. Make any man +want to punch 'em."</p> + +<p>"You be quiet, Mr. Norman."</p> + +<p>Norman shut up.</p> + +<p>"And what about Roy?" Gabby stormed. "I know why you hit him. You hate +him. You're jealous and—"</p> + +<p>"No. I slugged him because he passed a crack at Norman I didn't like."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know any better. You have to reason with prejudice, not—"</p> + +<p>"Well he damn well ought to know better."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you taught him anything?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe," the Shroff said unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"How?" Gabby demanded.</p> + +<p>"Chinese people ve'y ole-fashun. We have ve'y ole wise saying...." He +paused as though making a translation from the original.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Lennox asked after a moment. "You've left us hanging, Mr. Fu."</p> + +<p>The Shroff beamed around. "I fohget," he said.</p> + +<p>They burst out laughing. They hooted and groaned with laughter as +they lurched down the street to the Killer's car. There they parted +affectionately from Norman who presented each of them with an engraved +card that read: Eugene K. Norman, The Midnight Sun, Technique of the +Terpischore, Living is Elation and Elation's Syncopation.</p> + +<p>"Come to the show Sunday," Lennox called after him. "The Venice Theater +at nine o'clock. Ask for Jordan Lennox." He issued the same invitation +to the Shroff and the Killer.</p> + +<p>"What show?" the Shroff asked.</p> + +<p>"A television show called 'Who He?'"</p> + +<p>"Who's Jordan Lennox?" the Killer inquired.</p> + +<p>"Him," Gabby said. "His pen name. A one and a two and a zig-zag-zig." +They piled into the car. "Are we through, Jordan? Have we failed?"</p> + +<p>"You seem pretty cheerful," Lennox laughed.</p> + +<p>"I am. So are you."</p> + +<p>"Must be hysteria. I'm so loused up now that I don't give a damn any +more."</p> + +<p>"That's a relief."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>"You get so oppressive when you're filled with resolve."</p> + +<p>"You sound like Sam. Well.... There's one last chance. I'll give it a +play after I take you home."</p> + +<p>"The blonde?"</p> + +<p>"Keep out of this part, Gabby."</p> + +<p>"Aimee Driscoll with two E's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you really live in Brooklyn, Mr. Hamburger?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Could you drop Mr. Fu at Chatham Square before you go across the +bridge?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Ma'am."</p> + +<p>"And could you drop us on Third Avenue at.... What's the name of the +place, Jordan?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want you in on this."</p> + +<p>"Where did you pick her up?"</p> + +<p>"I think it was Ye Baroque Saloon."</p> + +<p>"At ... you should excuse the expression ... Ye Baroque Saloon, please, +Mr. Hamburger. It isn't a dead-end yet."</p> + +<p>The inside laugh on Ye Baroque Saloon is that it's named after the +proprietor, Chris Barokotrones, who came to The Rock and shortened his +name to Baroque before he understood enough French or English to know +what he was doing. By the time he found out, he had enough money to +buy a building on Third Avenue and build a saloon. He had it decorated +in American Baroque ... the exaggerated theatrical style that was the +vogue in saloons before the turn of the century.</p> + +<p>Everybody in the business goes to the Baroque for a nightcap. The joint +was jumping when Gabby and Lennox entered. It was a piratic crowd, very +young and very handsome. Crop-haired boys with hornshell glasses who +would become the Audibons and Bordens of the next decade.... Striking +young girls who would become their wives and mistresses.... A leavening +of the older men and women whom success and good living had kept young.</p> + +<p>Gabby and Lennox went down the bar, past the booths and into the back +room. Lennox saw Aimee Driscoll sitting alone at a table behind the +telephone booth. Her high fat bosom pushed out over the table. Her +wide fat bottom spread over the chair. Through the smoke and haze she +looked, at first glance, like a lusty Swede farm girl from Minnesota; +but the second glance shamed Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Nope," he said to Gabby. "She's not here. We'll go out the side door."</p> + +<p>They threaded their way between tables and went out the side door. +Lennox took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around for a cab. +A small man in a derby, pea-jacket and white duck trousers came around +the corner. He spoke to them in a bright voice. "Hi, Joe. H'ar ya? Hi, +Sally?" He continued down the street, addressing empty doorways in +friendly tones.</p> + +<p>"Ah," Gabby said compassionately. "He's lonesome, poor soul. He wants +friends. Do you think he's afraid of people, Jordan?" She came around a +corner abruptly. "As afraid as you are of Aimee Driscoll?"</p> + +<p>"W-What?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me." Gabby backed him against the wall and pointed a finger +at him. "I know she's in there. At the table behind the phone booth. +You should have seen your face when you saw her. Are you afraid to +speak to her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'm ashamed. Revolted."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Gabby, don't be naive. Suppose you picked up a strange man and—Would +you want to see him again?"</p> + +<p>"I did," Gabby said. "Last Sunday night."</p> + +<p>"No. No, darling. It's different with us. We.... Did you see her? What +she looks like? I could kill her."</p> + +<p>"Have I seen you? What do you really look like? Maybe there'll come a +day when I'll really see you and want to kill you."</p> + +<p>"Gabby!"</p> + +<p>"Don't do that to me. Don't shame me now."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry and hateful. I want you to be honest and kind to +everybody. I want you to go in there and speak to her like Jordan +Lennox.... Not like Roy Audibon."</p> + +<p>"Gabrielle," he said, "You're a great woman ... but I'm not a great +man."</p> + +<p>He kissed her, then turned and re-entered the back room of the Baroque. +Gabby followed him. He walked directly to Aimee's table and smiled down +at her as pleasantly as he could fake.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Aimee," he said. "Mind if we join you?"</p> + +<p>"Hi, Clarence," Aimee said. "Your friend deliver that coat and book?"</p> + +<p>"That's why I'm here. Have you got a minute?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>Lennox and Gabby sat down. As Lennox held Gabby's chair for her, Aimee +darted her a look of hostility. "Taking it from the top," Lennox said. +"My name isn't Clarence Fox. It's Lennox. Jordan Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Naughty, naughty!" Aimee said coyly. "Say, are you really the guy +which writes that TV show like you said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How about me? Popular with the big-shots. I should've asked for your +autograph." Aimee glanced at Gabby.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Gabrielle Valentine ... Aimee Driscoll."</p> + +<p>"Miss Aimee Driscoll," Aimee snapped.</p> + +<p>"Of course. I'm sorry." Lennox hesitated and finally forced himself to +meet Aimee's eyes. He saw in them an anger that startled him. He'd been +too drunk to notice that photograph of Aimee's father in her apartment, +and even if he had noticed it, he wouldn't have seen the connection.</p> + +<p>No one knows what happened between Aimee Driscoll and her father. +Anyone can guess, but it doesn't matter. The important result was +that the particular chasm over which she walked her tight rope was an +inescapable physical attraction for any man who resembled her father +plus an uncontrollable hatred for him. Lennox hadn't gone to bed with +Aimee that Saturday night. She was relieved, professionally, and +infuriated, emotionally. She looked at him now with hatred and at Gabby +with venom, completely unaware of what she was feeling or how she was +showing it.</p> + +<p>"Sweet guy you are," she said archly. "Sweet guy ... making a sucker +out of a poor working girl from the lower classes. You owe me ten +bucks."</p> + +<p>"I do? What for?" Lennox was terrified of what the answer would be.</p> + +<p>"The doctor. I had to see him Monday on account of what you done to me. +You practical jokers don't know your own strength." Aimee winked at +Gabby. "Your boy friend's a funny guy with a Christmas tree, Gabrielle. +We had a million laughs. He tell you?"</p> + +<p>"No," Gabby said quietly.</p> + +<p>"I guess he wouldn't at that."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to tell me, Aimee?"</p> + +<p>"Me? No." She laughed, concealing her teeth with her hand. "I'm a good +kid. I can take a joke. Anyway your boyfriend don't owe me a cent, not +after the gorgeous Christmas present he give me."</p> + +<p>Lennox swallowed painfully. "It was a television set, wasn't it, Aimee?"</p> + +<p>"Modest, ain't he? What a sweet guy. What did he give you, Gabrielle?"</p> + +<p>"Something I've always wanted, Aimee."</p> + +<p>"Jesus! Mink?"</p> + +<p>Gabby shook her head and smiled.</p> + +<p>Aimee examined the smile and tried to answer it. "Look at you. Up there +on Cloud Nine, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, fall easy."</p> + +<p>"Were you hurt when you fell?"</p> + +<p>"Me? I never was up." Aimee laughed and covered her mouth. "Strictly +the subway type."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Aimee," Lennox smiled painfully. "I'd like to sit here yakking +it up, but I'm in a jam and I need help."</p> + +<p>"You're our last hope," Gabby added.</p> + +<p>"Me? No." Aimee looked from one to the other and the archness peeled +away from her malice. "Don't tell me a big-shot which can afford two +names and two girls needs help."</p> + +<p>"I do," Lennox said. "Look, we met here Saturday night. What time was +it?"</p> + +<p>"What are you checking up on?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't have been too late because a store must have been open. We +were able to buy you that set."</p> + +<p>"Strictly your idea, Clarence. You kept on running off at the mouth +about bull fiddles."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I found out. So we went to a music store and ended up buying you +a television set. Where?"</p> + +<p>"Who can remember?" Aimee answered, enjoying Jake's misery.</p> + +<p>"Please, Aimee," Gabby said. "This is very important."</p> + +<p>"Why is it important? I had enough trouble with your boy friend +Saturday night. I don't want no more."</p> + +<p>"He's been getting threatening letters from a man he met some time +Saturday night.... A man named Knott. Dreadful letters. We're trying to +find Knott."</p> + +<p>"Did you go to the cops?" Aimee asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did."</p> + +<p>"You mention me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm working this out on my own. Let's see if we can't put it +together, Aimee. I left Harlem and wandered down here. We met and went +to a music store and bought the set. Right?"</p> + +<p>"It was around half past one," Aimee said grudgingly. "That place on +Forty-second and Third. They was closed and doing up their accounts. +You banged on the door until they let us in."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Then what happened? We took the set up to your place?"</p> + +<p>"You got a hack and put it in. We must of hit a dozen joints on the +way. Then we ate. We didn't get home until light."</p> + +<p>"Did we meet anybody named Knott? Did I talk to anybody named Knott? +Did you see anybody write anything in this notebook of mine?" Lennox +pulled the book out of his pocket and displayed it.</p> + +<p>"You're really leveling with this, huh?" Aimee said slowly. "You're +really suffering, huh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"This Knott wrote something in your book?"</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"And you got to locate him or else?"</p> + +<p>"I do. Before Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Why before Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Because that's the day he lowers the boom."</p> + +<p>"So you're going to have a tough couple of days sweating it out, ain't +you, Clarence?" Aimee stared at him with delight. "Ain't it a shame +I can't help you out? Tsk-Tsk! No. We never come across nobody named +Knott."</p> + +<p>"In this place?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"In the music store?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"Afterwards? In the bars? Where we ate?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>Lennox opened his mouth to ask another question, then faltered. Gabby +asked it for him. "And in your apartment, Aimee?"</p> + +<p>"He couldn't talk to nobody," Aimee snapped. "He passed out soon as +we come in. Big shot! And when he come to he ran right out." She +intercepted the look of salvation and relief that passed between Lennox +and Gabby and began to shake with rage.</p> + +<p>"And afterwards?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"What about afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"The notebook was there for twelve hours after Jordan left. Did anybody +named Knott have a chance to leave a message in it?"</p> + +<p>"The only body in that apartment is named Driscoll."</p> + +<p>"Your friends?" Gabby persisted.</p> + +<p>"I got no friends."</p> + +<p>"Your ... clients?"</p> + +<p>"What's that crack supposed to mean?"</p> + +<p>"Look, Aimee—" Lennox began.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, big shot. I asked her. Leave her answer."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a crack," Gabby said composedly. "I wouldn't dream of +insulting you, Aimee. I simply meant—"</p> + +<p>"Not now!" Lennox interrupted in alarm. "Don't be honest now, dear."</p> + +<p>"I meant that we know you're a prostitute," Gabby continued candidly, +"And one of your clients might have been Knott."</p> + +<p>"Suffering Jesus on echo!" Lennox groaned. "Listen, Aimee, she's just +kidding. She—"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. She's a sweet little kidder. And what price does she put on her +sweet little ass that makes her so high and mighty?"</p> + +<p>"What are you ashamed of, Aimee?" Gabby asked quietly. "I'm not ashamed +of you."</p> + +<p>Aimee turned on her in fury. "The come-on's your racket, huh? The +tickle and tease. You save your ass for the big price and after you're +married it turns out nothing. But nothing!"</p> + +<p>"You're old-fashioned," Gabby smiled. "We aren't amateurs any more."</p> + +<p>"And they come crying to me and taking it out on me, like Clarence.... +Because you save it so hard you don't know what to do with it but lay +on it."</p> + +<p>"Shut up," Lennox growled.</p> + +<p>"You must of got him plenty hot Saturday night, sister. You're so God +damned glad he never touched me. You want to see how he touched me? +I'll show you." Aimee stood up so violently that her chair toppled. +She yanked up her skirt and displayed her naked behind, criss-crossed +with black and blue welts. Then she dropped her skirt and burst into +hysterical laughter, covering her teeth with her hand. "It was like old +times when my old man took a strap to me after he.... I felt like a kid +again. We had a million laughs."</p> + +<p>Lennox grunted in anguish. Gabby looked at him, then stood up +impulsively and took Aimee's hands. "He did a dreadful thing, Aimee. +He's ashamed and so am I. Please let us make it up to you. We'll do +anything."</p> + +<p>"You can suffer," Aimee spat, jerking away from Gabby's touch. "You can +sweat. You can fry in hell until Sunday. Because I know who Knott is. +This guy you're looking for. I know him. Sure he left a message in your +book. I saw him."</p> + +<p>"Aimee! For God's sake, who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to tell you. Suffer, you son of a bitch! God knows you +made me suffer with your God damned morals and your God damned strap. +Suffer!"</p> + +<p>"What strap? Make sense. Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Go on. Ask a little. Beg a little."</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" Lennox demanded roughly. "Money? How much?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to suffer, big shot with your comical Christmas tree. We +had a million laughs. Now sweat it out, Mr. Lennox." She pushed past +Lennox and Gabby and waddled across the back room of the Baroque, +honking with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. The crowd +gaped at her.</p> + +<p>At the side door she turned and screamed: "I know him and I ain't going +to tell. Never. But I'll be up to the show Sunday, watching. And when +Knott catches up with you ... remember my ass!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Nine o'clock the next morning, Roy Audibon left Gracie Hospital and +took a cab down to the network. His ribs were taped, his face was +bruised, his teeth were clenched in a dazzling smile that was sure to +hurt someone else worse than it hurt him.</p> + +<p>He rode the exclusive executives' elevator up to the twentieth floor, +strode through the three anterooms guarding the holy of holies, and +entered his office. It was rather ascetic compared to the conventional +top-level decor. It contained a very large English desk paneled with +gold-tooled leather, three Queen Anne armchairs covered with brocade, +two red leather library chairs, a walnut breakfront displaying +Dresden China and a brass microscope, a French stick barometer, a +framed illuminated transparency of M-31, the Andromeda Nebula, and a +constrained water color of Fire Island Beach signed: Valentine.</p> + +<p>Audibon examined the picture for a moment, then went to his desk, +thrust aside the mountain of predigested mail, and picked up the phone. +To his secretary he said: "Get me Grabinett and Bleutcher."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Audibon. What Bleutcher is that, please?"</p> + +<p>"Tom Bleutcher of Mode Shoes. Brockton, Mass. Check the 'Who He?' +file." Audibon licked his lips. "Everybody on my team is expected to +know the name and number of every player. This advice will be of value +to you in your next job which will start at the end of this week."</p> + +<p>The secretary gasped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Audibon. I—"</p> + +<p>"Accounting will arrange your severance pay," Audibon interrupted and +hung up. He examined the water color again, remembering a dark girl in +striped clam-diggers and an old shirt knotted under her bosom, sitting +cross-legged on a blazing dune ... a drawing board before her, tilted +on the bleached remains of a driftwood chair ... the tinkle of a brush +washed in a jar of water.</p> + +<p>"Never," Audibon said.</p> + +<p>The phone rang. He picked it up. "Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Grabinett cannot be reached in his office," the secretary reported +in a suppressed voice that soothed Audibon. "Mr. Bleutcher cannot be +contacted in Brockton. I left word that you called."</p> + +<p>"Word is too little and too late. Keep trying for both."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Audibon. John Macro is waiting to see you."</p> + +<p>"Macro? By appointment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Audibon. You told me to—"</p> + +<p>"Send him in."</p> + +<p>For a man who was not in the business, John Macro was the most hated +man in the business. He was a Maryland manufacturer who had taken it +upon himself to cleanse radio and television of subversive artists. +To this he devoted his patriotic heart and ample bank account. Once +a month Mr. Macro came to The Rock and purged. He was in no way +equipped for the job, intellectually or otherwise. In normal times his +impertinent intrusions would have been brushed as contemptuously as Mr. +Macro himself would have brushed any unqualified intruder attempting +to tell him how to do his own thinking; but these were not normal times.</p> + +<p>Honest John came to The Rock and studied the reports of his researchers +who were mostly free-lance trade journal writers playing detective. +He learned that so-and-so had once signed a petition. He ferreted out +the fact that a certain man was known to have supported a particular +drive; that this woman had lent her name to such-and-such a cause. Mr. +Macro judged and accused, and such was the hysteria of the times that +mere accusation was enough to make the world draw aside the hem of its +garment in terror and hound the victim out of the business.</p> + +<p>Mr. Macro was a good man and a sincere man. Unfortunately he was also +a Square. He believed he was doing his duty as a citizen. Actually, he +was a child playing with a gun. He entered Audibon's office with the +air of a Roman Tribune. He was very bald, very handsome, with a leaden +complexion and kindly features. He carried an alligator portfolio +which he unlocked ceremoniously after he shook hands with Audibon. He +withdrew a short list of names.</p> + +<p>"For these," he said melodiously, "I have proof positive." He produced +a dossier of stapled sheets, handed it to Audibon and then seated +himself in a Queen Anne chair and waited majestically.</p> + +<p>Audibon read the list of names and then the proof positive. He smiled +at Macro without liking.</p> + +<p>"This isn't proof," he said, "and it isn't positive."</p> + +<p>"Every organization cited there has been listed by the Attorney +General's office, Mr. Audibon."</p> + +<p>Audibon shook his head. "But it's not <i>prima facie</i>-type evidence."</p> + +<p>"Straws show how the wind blows."</p> + +<p>"God help us if we're judged by straws like this."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! I'm not judging, Mr. Audibon. Far be it from me to +judge my fellow citizens. Let the evidence speak for itself. If I'm +wrong, as I sincerely hope I am, these persons can easily clear +themselves."</p> + +<p>"Your frame of reference is unrealistic, Mr. Macro. It's impossible +for any man to clear himself today. These things are chain-reactive." +Audibon flung down the dossier and began to pace energetically. "Touch +the American pulse and what do you find? The systole and diastole +of paranoia. Do you know cybernetics ... the science of minds and +machines? There's a cybernetic feed-back in the American nervous system +today. The average American is synaptically inhibited. He can't believe +in the innocence of a man once he's been accused. He can't believe in +guiltlessness even after acquittal."</p> + +<p>Macro stared at Audibon.</p> + +<p>"Apart from the issue of freedom of conscience," Audibon went on +passionately, "there's the quanta of Popular Villainism. Literature +went through an Industrial Revolution in this country and was +transformed from an art-form into a story business. The political +thinking was metamorphised the same way. You don't find people weighing +political factors and extrapolating for valued judgements. Savanarola +died in vain. No, our people turn every political issue into Cops And +Robbers ... Boy Meets Girl ... Peter And The Wolf, you should excuse +the expression."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Mr. Audibon."</p> + +<p>"Peter And The Wolf. Written by a Russian composer named Tchaikovsky," +Audibon explained patiently. "A musico-political joke."</p> + +<p>"But this isn't a question of Russian aliens, Mr. Audibon. It's +simply—"</p> + +<p>"It's a question of the write-in habit," Audibon interrupted. "The +basic mistake radio made. Radio tried to bring entertainment into +the home. Then the problem of audience response arose and we had to +encourage the write-in habit for purposes of analysis on a broad +consumer basis. From writing in about products, the public has taken +to writing in about politics. This is one mistake television will not +make. We're not going to bring the show into the home. We're going to +bring the home to the show."</p> + +<p>"About these people, Mr. Audibon...."</p> + +<p>"I know them all, Mr. Macro. They're artists, all of them; not +necessarily talentwise, but because they have magic. Talent died +with Goethe. These people have theatricality and mesmerization, not +intelligence. Three quarters of them probably did what they did out of +<i>Gestalt</i> ... out of emotions. How can we judge them on the cybernetic +level?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Audibon," Macro said in exasperation. "I'm a business man. Let's +get down to cases. Is your network prepared to suspend the employment +of these subversives, or must I call the attention of our sponsors' +organization to your—"</p> + +<p>"This network has never approved of a blacklist, Mr. Macro, and it +never will. If you've come here looking for an official blacklist, you +don't know the temper of our organization. However ... I see no reason +why the artists investigated by you shouldn't be given plenty of free +time to prepare their defense."</p> + +<p>Macro looked hard at Audibon. "Then you're prepared to—"</p> + +<p>"As good citizens, Mr. Macro, we're not prepared to endorse an official +blacklist. That's final. However, I suggest you monitor our network +shows. If, in the future, you see any of the people on this list +associated in any capacity with any of our shows, you can start a +rhubarb. But until then, as good citizens, we very politely tell you to +go to hell."</p> + +<p>Macro flushed and stared at Audibon. Then, as abruptly, he smiled and +nodded. "I think I understand. You have no official blacklist, of +course."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>Macro stood up. As he closed his portfolio and was about to lock it, +he hesitated. Then he withdrew a small slip of paper and consulted it.</p> + +<p>"Is there a person named Valentine connected with your network?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Valentine?" Audibon stiffened. "What Valentine?"</p> + +<p>"A Miss Gabrielle Valentine. A note here says she might be working in +your art department."</p> + +<p>"What about Gabrielle Valentine?"</p> + +<p>"My researchers have come across the name quite often. A suspiciously +active person. If she's connected with your organization I should +advise you to have her—"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't work for us," Audibon said emphatically. "But we'd hire +her at any time. I happen to know the young woman rather well."</p> + +<p>"Oh?"</p> + +<p>"I know for a fact that she has clean hands."</p> + +<p>"There seems to be evidence to the contrary, Mr. Audibon." Macro +waggled the slip of paper.</p> + +<p>"You know I don't spitball off the cuff, Mr. Macro. Take my word for +it. You'll be making a great mistake if you mother-hen any ideas about +Gabrielle Valentine."</p> + +<p>Macro looked dubious.</p> + +<p>Audibon smiled dazzlingly. "The lady is my wife," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, Mr. Audibon! I never—The idea is ridiculous, of +course." Macro crumpled the slip and tossed it into a gilt wastepaper +basket.</p> + +<p>Audibon took a breath. "But here's a replacement for the name," he +said. "I suggest you touch a piece of litmus paper to a writer named +Lennox, Jordan Lennox. My hunch is it'll turn a bright red."</p> + +<p>"Jordan Lennox," Macro repeated, carefully printing the name on a small +pad. He locked the portfolio, shook hands and departed. Audibon picked +the crumpled wad of paper out of the basket, smoothed it and tried to +decipher the symbols and abbreviations following Gabby's name. Then he +placed it inside his wallet. His day was made. He picked up his phone.</p> + +<p>"You're back on the payroll, love," he told his secretary. "Keep +trying for Grabinett and Bleutcher. Call Program and notify them we're +cancelling 'Who He?' as of the first of the year."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On the way home from Gabby's studio, Lennox took a wide detour and +stopped off at the Precinct where he found Fink in a small office +that smelled of disinfectant. Fink was doing paper work at a scarred +desk and looked more like a bank clerk than ever. Lennox sat down and +told his story from Cooper's recognition of the handwriting to Aimee +Driscoll's last words the night before. He handed over the page from +his gimmick book that contained the hysterical scrawled message. Fink +was neither impressed nor unimpressed. He listened carefully, smiling +at the wrong times, then bobbed his head.</p> + +<p>"I was pretty sure it was you getting the letters," he said.</p> + +<p>"How?" Lennox blinked. "I didn't know myself."</p> + +<p>"You make the big fuss. You must have known somewhere inside your head."</p> + +<p>"You're quite a psychologist."</p> + +<p>"No. Strictly statistics. I wish I had a nickel for every guy in a +jam who won't admit it. They make the big fuss and claim they're +worried about somebody else. Turns out they're really stewing about +theirselves."</p> + +<p>"I hate like hell to be a statistic, Bob."</p> + +<p>"We all are. There's hundreds of laws in the statute books, but cops +depend on one law most of all. The law of averages."</p> + +<p>"Is this an average case?"</p> + +<p>"It's tough."</p> + +<p>"Does any of this stuff I gave you help?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe. We'll check. I like what this Cooper said best."</p> + +<p>"About having seen the writing before?"</p> + +<p>Fink nodded and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty sure someone on your program is writing the letters. That's +why I like what this Cooper said best."</p> + +<p>"Someone on the show?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Ninety-nine out of a hundred it turns out like that. Someone in +the office. Someone in the factory. Someone in the department store. +We've been going over payroll vouchers and check endorsements on your +program."</p> + +<p>"Law of averages again. And?"</p> + +<p>"We'll see." Fink smiled. "This Cooper is a good friend of yours, huh?"</p> + +<p>"We share an apartment. Why?"</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"About a year."</p> + +<p>"How long's he been on your program?"</p> + +<p>"He's worked the show since it started. Over nine months. What is all +this?"</p> + +<p>"You and this Cooper ever fight?"</p> + +<p>"Now wait a minute, Bob. I'm no fool. If you're headed in that +direction, I don't buy any of it. Not Sam."</p> + +<p>"Funny, this Cooper not remembering where he saw the writing."</p> + +<p>"He's got troubles of his own to remember."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes a grudge lasts a long time."</p> + +<p>"What grudge?"</p> + +<p>"You tell me."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to tell. The whole idea's for laughs."</p> + +<p>"Tough," Fink murmured.</p> + +<p>"Forget Sam, will you! If it has to be someone on the show, maybe it's +a stagehand or a cameraman named Knott. Do we have a Knott on the +payroll?"</p> + +<p>"No," Fink said. "That's what makes it tough."</p> + +<p>"Can you get me off the hook by Sunday?"</p> + +<p>The office door opened and a swarthy man entered briskly. Lennox saw +at once that he was carrying the blue sheets and envelopes of the +threatening letters from "Guess Who." They were stained and discolored +and had been sprayed with a fixative that made them shine. As Lennox +straightened in excitement, Fink spoke.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salerno," he said, "this is Mr. Lennox. He just figured out he's +getting these letters."</p> + +<p>Salerno grinned. Lennox was about to speak when suddenly he heard what +Fink had just said. "<i>Mister</i> Salerno," he repeated. "<i>Mister</i> Lennox. +That's the code, isn't it? You're warning him to be careful."</p> + +<p>"You see?" Fink said. "It doesn't make any difference if you know. +We're protecting ourselves."</p> + +<p>"From me?"</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily." Fink stood up. "Now don't worry. We'll try to get +you off the hook by Sunday." He took Lennox to the door and politely +closed it in his face.</p> + +<p>Lennox departed, not at all comfortable in his mind, and went home to +change. Cooper was there, in slacks and T-shirt, working feverishly at +the piano. He had a pencil in his mouth, a sheet of manuscript paper +on the music rack, and dozens more scattered around the piano bench. +He was working his way painfully through a chord progression while he +hummed to himself in the high composer's keen that only dogs can hear.</p> + +<p>"Fink's crazy," Lennox thought, and resolutely buried the suspicion in +the deepest crevice of his mind.</p> + +<p>He tip-toed around the apartment. After he changed, he locked the +Siamese upstairs in his office where they couldn't distract Cooper. He +made fresh coffee and slid a cup against the left side of the music +rack so as not to interfere with Cooper's writing hand. He intercepted +the cleaning woman (this day was vacuum cleaner day for the living +room) and told her to work upstairs first. Exiled from his own office, +he got tools from the kitchen and settled down at the table before the +garden windows to repair his gimmick book.</p> + +<p>In some primitive cultures it is believed that a man's soul can be +contained in an object ... an amulet, a bit of stone or wood, a +fetish ... which is carefully concealed by the owner and earnestly +sought after by his enemies. Destruction of the object means +destruction of the man. Lennox would never admit it, but he felt +exactly that way about his gimmick book. That was why he had become so +panicky when it was lost and quarreled so unreasonably with Cooper. +He spent hours at a time sewing it, mending it with scraps of leather +and metal, until it was a patchwork quilt of the original. It never +occurred to him that his soul might also be a patchwork of makeshift +repairs.</p> + +<p>From tinkering with the notebook, he got to reading it, and presently a +forgotten idea caught his attention. He thought about it and the idea +took shape. Lennox got a yellow legal pad and soft pencils and began to +block out a script, grunting and mumbling softly to himself in the low +writer's grumble that only seismographs can record. Working away like +that, Cooper and Lennox sounded like a duet between a peanut whistle +and a cement mixer.</p> + +<p>For the rest of the morning there was peace in the room, the old kind +of peace they hadn't known in the past week. Once Cooper murmured: +"Virgil, which sounds better?" He played two indistinguishable phrases +and Lennox rumbled appropriately. Once Lennox grunted: "Wolfgang, which +sounds better?" He read two indistinguishable phrases and Cooper keened +appropriately. This was the secret of their friendship and their deep +need for each other.</p> + +<p>Creation is the loneliest work in the world, which is why most artists +go stir-crazy. By some miracle of human chemistry, Cooper and Lennox +were able to work together. Not only did they have companionship, +a rare thing for working artists, but each was able to draw on the +other's creative drive and enlarge his own. They never worked so well +as when they worked together in the same room.</p> + +<p>At 11:15, Lennox grunted and mumbled his way to the kitchen for more +coffee, only to meet Cooper coming out with two cups in his hand. +Lennox took one and then forgot why. With his pencil he absently shaded +a moustache on Cooper's lip while Sam stood with eyes shut and hummed, +unaware of his disfigurement.</p> + +<p>"No!" Lennox exclaimed suddenly. "The whole point of the scene is that +the ingénue pivots. More kissed against than kissing."</p> + +<p>Cooper nodded to this gibberish, handed the second cup to Lennox and +went back to the piano still nodding like a porcelain mandarin. Lennox +returned to his yellow pad. The duet continued.</p> + +<p>At 11:45 they met in the bathroom where Lennox added a goatee to the +moustache.</p> + +<p>At 12:30 they met in the storage closet alongside Sam's room where the +cigarette cartons and stationery were stashed.</p> + +<p>At 12:55, without a word or a sign to each other, they quit work +simultaneously and became aware of themselves and the world around +them. They were in the manic mood that always follows intense creative +concentration.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," Cooper said. "You're new in this ward, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I was here before you," Lennox said in hot tones.</p> + +<p>"My good man, I was here before it was built. My name is Cornerstone."</p> + +<p>"The name is familiar," Lennox mused. "But I can't remember the face."</p> + +<p>"Ach! So. Und vhen did dis antikinetic facial phobia virst manifesdt +idself, Mr. Lennox?"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember, Doctor," Lennox answered in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"You can't remember? Tausend Teufel! Vas it at your mutter's breast?"</p> + +<p>"I ... I don't remember."</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Mr. Lennox, or I send you back to dat freud, Dr. +Quack."</p> + +<p>"Will you try that line again, please."</p> + +<p>"Oh. Sorry.... To dat quack, Dr. Freud."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't 'kvack' be more authentic?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe, but I can't feel it, Mr. Sachs. There's a value missing."</p> + +<p>"That's because you've got your dialects mixed. I know Dr. Livingston +wouldn't speak low Dutch. I have a talent for never being wrong."</p> + +<p>"Livingston? I thought we were doing Pasteur. Cue, please."</p> + +<p>"You see, Dr. Livingston, bosoms are my problem."</p> + +<p>"Proceed, Mr. Stanley."</p> + +<p>"They ... I know this sounds silly ... but they all look alike. And +there's always two. Two! Two! Two! Why can't there ever be an odd +number? Sometimes I think I'll go mad, do you hear? Mad! Mad! Mad!"</p> + +<p>"Steady on, old man.... (Pipe business).... Pity you haven't read +my monograph on Trichinopoly ashes and busts. I can distinguish +twenty-four varieties by their action."</p> + +<p>"Amazing!"</p> + +<p>"Elementary. There's the plainbeat bust, the backfall bust, the double +backfall, the springer, the shaked elevation, the turn, the battery, +the double relish...."</p> + +<p>"Sam!" Lennox interrupted in delight. "Where did you find those +ever-lovin' words?"</p> + +<p>"It's musical ornamentation," Cooper grinned. "Didn't I ever tell you? +They're the old names for trills and grace notes and such, but they +kind of fit the front ornamentation of ladies too, don't they?"</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded as he jotted down the words in his gimmick book.</p> + +<p>"Kay Hill, for instance. She's the close shake. Irma Mason's the +battery. All directions. The dancers are strictly the plainbeat. One +bounce to a step. Robin's the shaked elevation. Your girl's the double +relish."</p> + +<p>"Who? Gabby?" Lennox blushed.</p> + +<p>"I noticed at the party. One of the few things I did notice, outside of +that hassle with Tooky Ween...."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry about that, Sam, but I had to protect you. You would +have...."</p> + +<p>"And something Suidi let slip."</p> + +<p>"Oh? What he let slip?"</p> + +<p>"It was your party."</p> + +<p>"It may have been my idea, but—"</p> + +<p>"It was your bankroll."</p> + +<p>"Oh. He blew it. In French or English?"</p> + +<p>Cooper hoisted himself up on the piano and sat swinging his legs. Then +he began to speak, choosing his words carefully.</p> + +<p>"I appreciate what you tried to do, Jake.... But let me tell you how. +Last year a kid cousin of mine bought me a birthday present. He saved +up his allowance and bought the best present he could think of ... a +bag of marbles."</p> + +<p>"Immies," Lennox corrected absently.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"They call them immies on The Rock."</p> + +<p>"All right, immies. I appreciated that present, Jake. I was really +touched. I appreciated your present the same way. It touched me the +same way. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"The kid didn't give me anything I could use. He gave me what he loved."</p> + +<p>"You mean I'm a kid?"</p> + +<p>"No, Jake. You gave me the thing you love most. And when you found out +I didn't want any part of it, you tried to make me want it. You don't +understand anybody not wanting to be a big wheel in the business, do +you? That's your bag of immies."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are we working for?"</p> + +<p>"Fun."</p> + +<p>"Fun's not the answer. We've got to have something to show."</p> + +<p>"Fun's enough for me."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you grow up, Sam!" Lennox said impatiently. "You talk +about immies. You're the kid. Playing games with cap pistols. Soon as +somebody pulls a real gun on you, you turn chicken."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'm a kid playing games. Leave me alone. Don't protect me. +Don't sponsor me. Don't try to shove a loaded gun into my hand." Cooper +jumped down off the piano. "What's that line you use on the agency +kibitzers when they try to make you rewrite a script their way? What do +you always say? Go ahead ... tell me."</p> + +<p>"If you have to hang, hang on your own rope."</p> + +<p>"Q.E.D.," Cooper said. "You want to keep things going the way they +always have?"</p> + +<p>"You know that."</p> + +<p>"Then lay off. Let me go to hell my own way."</p> + +<p>Lennox turned away angrily. The hidden crevice in his mind opened and +Fink's dreadful hint shot up to the surface and burst like a bubble in +acid.</p> + +<p>"Who wrote those letters?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What? What letters?"</p> + +<p>"You know damned well what letters. I told you yesterday I found out +they're written to me. They're written by somebody named Knott. That's +the writing you recognized. Who's Knott?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody I know."</p> + +<p>"But you know the writing?"</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Changed your mind recently?"</p> + +<p>"What's eating you out all of a sudden?"</p> + +<p>"I don't play games. Neither does Blinky. He found out I'm getting the +letters and I'm off the show. If there's any kind of trouble, he'll +murder me with a lawsuit. So it's coming up to the clutch. Two days to +Sunday. I'm in so deep, if anybody makes waves I'm dead. This is fun. +Yak it up."</p> + +<p>"I'm not laughing."</p> + +<p>"If you've got anything besides immies to contribute, now's the time. +Who wrote the letters?"</p> + +<p>"Lay off, Jake. Don't badger me."</p> + +<p>"You can't tell or you won't tell. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I can't remember."</p> + +<p>"I think you're lying."</p> + +<p>"That's a hell of a thing to say."</p> + +<p>"It hurts to say it. I think you're lying."</p> + +<p>"Why lying all of a sudden?"</p> + +<p>"Not all of a sudden. It's a slow take. You recognize the writing, but +you don't know whose. When I tell you the name, it doesn't ring a bell. +Who the hell are you kidding, Judas?"</p> + +<p>"Jake!"</p> + +<p>"I'm fighting to hold on to what's between us, too. I don't think it +can live through a lie. Not now. Not when I'm on the cross yelling for +help. Is it a lie?"</p> + +<p>Cooper shook his head.</p> + +<p>"All of a sudden it's sour between us. Nothing I do is right. I try to +plug your tune. No good. I try to hold the chiselers off. I stink. I +try to fight my way out of a jam. You object. I suppose when I tell you +I've set it up for you and one of the dancers to do a duet of 'We're +The Most' in next Sunday's show you'll—"</p> + +<p>"Damn you, Jake!" Cooper gestured angrily.</p> + +<p>"I stink again. But by God you'll do it. What's got into you? What are +you trying to do ... slug me when I come around the corner? I don't +think you're trying to pull out of the rat-race. I think you're trying +to pull me down into the grave!"</p> + +<p>Cooper attempted to speak, then gave it up and stormed into his room. +He slammed the door so hard that half a dozen books bounced off the +shelves. Lennox made no move to pick them up. The phone rang. Lennox +made no move to answer it. After five peals, it stopped, and a moment +later the P-lady called downstairs. Lennox picked up the living room +extension.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Jake, this is Melvin Grabinett."</p> + +<p>"How are your associates?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"It's a question I've been wanting to ask you for years. Who the hell +are your associates anyway? Helter and Skelter?"</p> + +<p>"Are you drunk?"</p> + +<p>"No. Unemployed."</p> + +<p>"Listen, I'm in Tom Bleutcher's suite at The Brompton House. Been here +the whole Almighty morning. Olga wants you to have lunch with us."</p> + +<p>"Olga? Who she?"</p> + +<p>"His daughter. You made a big hit with her last time they was in town. +Come on down."</p> + +<p>"Get the new writer."</p> + +<p>"I got no new writer. Anyway she yens for you. Come on down."</p> + +<p>"Why should I help entertain the client? I'm off the show. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"You still got a piece of the royalties. You want to keep on +collecting? Help keep it on the air. Come on down."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Grabinett's relations with his client were shaky because they were +based on marriage. Grabinett's wife was the daughter of Pan-American +Export. Grabinett's father-in-law was the biggest single purchaser of +Mode Shoes, exporting thousands of pairs each year to South American +dealers. So long as Mode Shoes remained on Pan-American's catalogue, +Tom Bleutcher would remain Blinky's client. But he didn't have to like +it.</p> + +<p>He was a heavy man with a red face and thick iron-grey hair; a third +generation German, and the Germans are the best shoe manufacturers +in the world. They are also the most pig-headed manufacturers in the +world. Bleutcher had formed his opinions in Chicago during the years +1900-1910. Nothing that had taken place subsequently had served to +alter them. He did not believe in advertising. He did not believe in +television. He was convinced that if a man builds a better mousetrap, +the world will beat a path to his door. He ran his million dollar firm +like a mousetrap maker and was the despair of his advertising staff.</p> + +<p>His daughter, Olga, youngest of a family of seven, was the Intellectual +Bleutcher. She had just graduated from college, had had her year at the +Sorbonne, and was the soul of the Brockton Literary, Marching & Chowder +Society. She was plain, verging on ugly, with a broad saddle nose and +wide clown mouth; but she had good teeth and magnificent cat's eyes. +Her figure was so arresting that it had to be thought of as a body, and +after sufficient contemplation of that body, most men raised their eyes +above the neck and even found the face attractive.</p> + +<p>In the grill room of The Brompton House, a tiered oval around a dance +floor on which visiting Firemen shuffled to the music of a lymphatic +band, the quartette drank Manhattans, ate shrimp cocktails, lobster +bisque, fried oysters, French fried potatoes, French fried onions, +French fried eggplant, Waldorf salad, strawberry shortcake and coffee. +Mr. Bleutcher insisted on fish on Friday. He saved his beef for labor +unions, manufacturing costs and the iniquities of the open-toe craze.</p> + +<p>In addition, he disapproved of smoking for women, high wages for +labor, modern dress and all modern medicine outside of chiropractic +correction. Although he never once looked at Grabinett or Lennox, he +demanded their complete attention. Grabinett blinked his all. Lennox +gave as much as he could spare from the daughter.</p> + +<p>Olga was very young and very intense. She put her hand on Jake's arm +and discussed Sartre, Kafka and Henry James. Since she was seated +on his right, this made eating difficult for Jake. She was plainly +excited with him as a professional writer. "Christ in close-up," Lennox +thought. "She wants to be a writer too. I'm dead." She attempted +an arresting originality of conversation that was exhausting. In +self-preservation, Lennox asked her to dance. This was a mistake.</p> + +<p>Olga Bleutcher was a lovely dancer, but she didn't melt into Jake's +arms. She projected her body against him and operated with alarming +suggestiveness. There was no escaping the pressures of her bosom, her +torso and thighs. It was obvious that Olga too was aware of her big +selling point. It was also obvious that she had been under restraint +while she was with her father.</p> + +<p>"My God!" she whispered in Jake's ear. "Isn't he a reactionary old +fart?"</p> + +<p>Lennox tried to turn his grunt of amazement into a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Do you think they'd let us sneak a smoke on the floor?" Olga asked. +"I'm dying for a cigarette."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. We can try."</p> + +<p>"You keep dancing," she murmured. "I'll find them."</p> + +<p>Her hands began exploring his pockets. Lennox had to explain that he +didn't carry cigarettes because he didn't smoke. "What have I got +myself into?" he wondered. "Is she a nympho?"</p> + +<p>Miss Bleutcher pressed herself against him. "It's so comforting dancing +with a big man," she said. "You can spread out on him. There was a +private beach north of Cannes where I used to strip and sunbathe. You +feel just like the sand."</p> + +<p>"Careful of the shells," Lennox muttered. He glanced down at her. All +he could see was the cat's eyes. He was alarmed to discover that she +was getting better looking.</p> + +<p>"Where can a <i>soi-disant</i> virgin get plastered New Year's Eve?" Miss +Bleutcher inquired.</p> + +<p>"You're going to be in town over New Year's?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to be on the town New Year's ... after Four-Buckle Arctics +corks off."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>Olga Bleutcher motioned with her head toward her father. "I'm going +to pour myself into a strapless and come to no good. Have you got any +suggestions?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a basic suggestion, but I also have a show to worry about +tomorrow night," Lennox stalled. "I'll phone. What's the password? +Metatarsal?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Bunions. No, leave a message for me at the switchboard. +Just say it's for Olga. They understand a gal's problems."</p> + +<p>After five minutes more of New Year's preview, Lennox managed to +detach her from his anatomy and return to the table. As they sat down, +a waiter appeared and presented a telephone message to Bleutcher who +read it carefully, then excused himself and lumbered toward the hotel +phones. Olga at once took a cigarette from Grabinett's pack, picked up +her handbag and departed for the woman's lounge. Lennox and Grabinett +were left alone.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause. Finally Grabinett lifted his eyes and blinked +into Jake's hard, level gaze.</p> + +<p>"If you don't want any trouble, don't say anything," Lennox warned.</p> + +<p>Grabinett's mouth opened and his face twitched. Lennox poured cold +coffee into his cup and went through the motions of drinking it.</p> + +<p>"Borden wants you and me down to his office for a conference with +Bacon," Grabinett blinked suddenly. "Two thirty."</p> + +<p>Lennox didn't answer.</p> + +<p>"What's Bacon after?"</p> + +<p>"Sachs' job," Lennox answered curtly.</p> + +<p>"The hell he is! He ain't going to get away with it."</p> + +<p>"He is, and I'm going to help him."</p> + +<p>"How do you think you're going to swing it? Who's running this Almighty +show anyway?"</p> + +<p>"The three of us are going to vote Sachs out. And if you give us any +trouble, I've got an ace in the hole."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Give Ned a hard time and find out."</p> + +<p>Grabinett blinked uncertainly. At last he blurted: "All I'm trying to +do is keep a show on the air. You're giving me the hard time. That +letter scandal, and now Bacon. What are you? In business or in war? +Listen. I got a contract with Sachs. He gets a flat weekly retainer +and it's a gut-buster. If I keep him working all my shows I just about +break even. But if I got to pay out an extra seven and a half bills to +Bacon for direction—Will you guys be reasonable! Have a heart!"</p> + +<p>Lennox stared at Grabinett incredulously. "Are you human?"</p> + +<p>"I'm asking you to be human."</p> + +<p>"You knifed me less than twenty-four hours ago. The moment when I +needed every check I could get and all the help I could get, you kicked +me off the show. And now you have the gall to ask me to have a heart! +Lay there and bleed!"</p> + +<p>"You're crazy!" Grabinett explained. "A crazy writer. What are you +cuddling a grudge for? You get yourself into a jam and then you blame +me for protecting the show. Didn't you tell me Monday I had to keep my +nose clean? So I took your advice. What do you want from me?"</p> + +<p>"I want the same thing from you that I want from the rest of the +world!" Lennox shouted. "I want a fair shake."</p> + +<p>"Jake! Quiet! Keep it quiet!" Grabinett blinked around in +embarrassment, then focussed his twitch on Lennox. He lowered his +voice. "All right. Here's a deal. I'll stick with you if you'll stick +with me. Yes? You're back on the show."</p> + +<p>"How do I stick with you?"</p> + +<p>"No Bacon on the payroll. Sachs stays. If Bacon wants to direct TV +leave him do it at somebody else's expense. Not on my budget. Okay?"</p> + +<p>Lennox swallowed.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up, Jake. Here comes Bleutcher. Is it a deal? For the good of +the show you vote with me. We're satisfied with how the show's going. +We want to keep everything exactly the way it always was. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, by God!" Lennox said. "Yes."</p> + +<p>Bleutcher lumbered up to the table and sat down. "Mr. Audibon has been +trying to reach me at the Brockton office," he explained.</p> + +<p>Grabinett started. "What for?"</p> + +<p>"I have not been advised as yet. His office called four times."</p> + +<p>"Did you call him back, Mr. Bleutcher?"</p> + +<p>"He's been out to lunch for two hours." Bleutcher compressed his lips. +"It is most inadvisable for a business man to clog his digestive +system with heavy foods during the working day. My staff has standing +orders to restrict the midday meal to greens and roughage. Our plant +cafeteria...."</p> + +<p>Bleutcher lectured on fats, proteins and carbohydrates until Olga +returned to the table. Grabinett paid the check with nervous haste and +the luncheon party broke up.</p> + +<p>"We'll see you at the show Sunday, Mr. Bleutcher?" he blinked.</p> + +<p>Bleutcher nodded ponderously.</p> + +<p>"Just leave word for Olga," Miss Bleutcher whispered.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded absently.</p> + +<p>In the lobby of The Brompton House, Grabinett darted to a phone booth +and called the network. Audibon had not yet returned from lunch. +Grabinett came out of the booth, blinking anxiously.</p> + +<p>"He's been trying to get me all morning too. What the Almighty mischief +is he up to? What a business! Come on, Jake. Let's take care of Bacon +first."</p> + +<p>Avery Borden's office had the quality of a court room. His high-backed +desk chair looked like a judge's bench. Against one wall was a line +of mahogany armchairs that looked like a jury box. When they entered, +Bacon was sprawled on two of the chairs, confiding a thief-type +revelation to Borden who was leaning against a window, glasses in hand, +fascinated. Lennox and Grabinett sat down quietly and waited. No matter +how savage warfare may be on The Rock, there is one sacred law that is +never broken. No man ever kills the point of another man's story.</p> + +<p>When it was over and Borden had reacted satisfactorily, Bacon stood up +and began to swagger back and forth across the office. He preferred +to sit when other men were standing, and to stand when other men were +sitting. Borden obligingly seated himself behind the desk.</p> + +<p>"Now we're all here to read the up-state returns," Bacon drawled. "The +show isn't sick yet, but when you pull out the thermometer any interne +can read the temperature. It hasn't broken a hundred, but it will if we +don't yank the substitutes and send in the regulars."</p> + +<p>Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized.</p> + +<p>"You can't run a variety show like a girl's weeny roast," Bacon +continued. "Sooner or later some eager beaver is going to get a fork in +her eye and drop the marshmallows into the fire."</p> + +<p>Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm the last man to blow the whistle on another man's act," Bacon +went on. "But we were in the fire last Sunday and if Jake hadn't cut +the heart of the plate from left field, they'd still be running the +bases. What we need is organization and direction. The show's got to be +handled like a military operation, and Sachs isn't the man to set up +the cadre."</p> + +<p>"It isn't a question of talent," Borden said tactfully. "Nobody's +attacking Sachs on the genius level. But Ned feels the show needs a man +more experienced in—"</p> + +<p>Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and apologized.</p> + +<p>"More experienced in the aspects of handling talent rather than +providing talent," he went on. He charmed Bacon with a tactful smile. +"Editor's note: This in no way implies that you can't or won't provide +talent when required."</p> + +<p>Bacon swaggered up to Grabinett and stood over him. "Here it is, +wrapped for delivery. Sachs had his turn at bat. He couldn't get on +base. Now it's time for the clutch hitter to come up. Are you with me +or are you going to throw the game?"</p> + +<p>Grabinett squirmed in his chair. "God damn it! This is my Almighty +show. I'm satisfied with Sachs."</p> + +<p>"Your show?" Bacon laughed. "I'll read the fine print for you. Jake and +I worked this up together. It was a smart panel show with demonstrated +questions that had sell. You had Tom Bleutcher in your pocket and no +show for him. Of all the crap Bleutcher saw, he liked our package best. +But the network wouldn't sell the time unless they could put Mason to +work in a musical. So we all joined the team and pooled the bats and +gloves. Bleutcher let you shove a variety show down his throat. You let +the network hang Mason onto your budget. And we let you chisel fifty +percent of the package out of us. But what the hell did you contribute, +talentwise, that makes you the Captain?"</p> + +<p>"I'm satisfied with Sachs!" Grabinett shouted.</p> + +<p>"The rest of us aren't, so Sachs goes."</p> + +<p>"And I'm not the only Almighty one satisfied with Sachs, so he stays."</p> + +<p>"I've got my boys with me. Who've you got?"</p> + +<p>"I got Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Enlighten him, Jake," Bacon drawled.</p> + +<p>Lennox took a deep breath. "Ned, I'm sorry. I have to vote with Mel."</p> + +<p>Bacon's face froze.</p> + +<p>"I know what your problem is, Ned, and you know I sympathize. But I've +got problems too. I've got to go along with Mel."</p> + +<p>"You yellow scab! You're selling me out? What was the price? Don't I +even get a chance to bid against his thirty pieces of silver?"</p> + +<p>"If I'd known in time I'd have warned you."</p> + +<p>"You didn't have the guts, you cheap—"</p> + +<p>"I know you're burning and I don't blame you, but I want to tell you +something. I'm having a rough time myself this week and I'll take just +so much from you and no more. You're not the only man in this office +with a boom over his head. Remember that."</p> + +<p>Bacon turned on Grabinett. "All right, shyster, you got to one juror in +the box, but the fix isn't in yet. I've got another ace to play." He +gave Lennox a sour smile. "Your card, Benedict."</p> + +<p>"Don't play it," Lennox growled. "It's a deuce."</p> + +<p>"I can have Sachs thrown off the show for unethical conduct," Bacon +persisted. "That corn-ball tried the casting couch routine with an +actress named—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Ned," Lennox cut in. "It isn't going to do you any good. I +won't back the story and neither will she if I tell her not to. Leave +her name out of it."</p> + +<p>"Damn you!" Bacon yelled. "What are you doing to me? Cutting my heart +out with a dull knife?"</p> + +<p>"He's protecting the Almighty show, that's what he's doing!" Grabinett +blurted. "Why don't you let me keep it on the air? What do you want +from me? I provided the client. Ain't that enough? Maybe I got no +talent, but you don't see me dragging scandal into the studio. Dirty +letters and dirty cracks about my director. For Christ's sake, let's +all make a buck and live in peace."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to direct my own show," Bacon answered. "And I'm starting +the first of the year whether you or my former partner like it or not. +You want to make a buck, do you? Then make it on another sucker's +brains; because if I don't direct my own show, I want it back. I'm +taking it off the air. I'm picking up my marbles and going home."</p> + +<p>"Talk sense, Ned!" Lennox cried.</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" Bacon looked at him with loathing. "If you ever talk to me +again I'll cut your guts out. You knew what this meant to me. You know +the spot I'm in. 'The People Against—' is cancelled. The old man is +through. They've retired his number. This is the one hold I've got on +the future and you're stamping on my fingers. For why? What've you got +to lose giving me a break?"</p> + +<p>Borden's phone buzzed. He picked it up, murmured for a minute, put it +down and said: "The show's cancelled."</p> + +<p>They all turned incredulously.</p> + +<p>"That was Roy Audibon. The network isn't renewing our Sunday night +time. I think we'd better table this hassle and get over there right +away."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Tookey Ween was in one of the red leather library chairs and Audibon +stood before the illuminated nebula when the three men entered the +office. Before the door was closed, a five-way battle was joined, +and the melee continued for fifteen minutes. The only way to describe +that brawl is to name the records from the network sound library that +a soundman would have to use to duplicate it. Spinning two turntables, +he would blend 261B—APPLAUSE: 5th CUT; BOOS AND SLIGHT HISSES, with +259A—RIOT CROWD EFFECTS: FRENCH CROWD, LARGE GROUP OF MEN, INCITED TO +RIOT BY FRENCH COMMANDS. He might also hammer on the studio walls to +get the desk-pounding effect.</p> + +<p>Through all the fury, Audibon remained adamant. The network was not +renewing the time. After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, he looked at +his watch and took control of the situation.</p> + +<p>"We're discussing a half hour show," he said sharply. "I can't allocate +more than the show's time to the discussion time. I have another +appointment coming up. Now ... if you've been listening to me with your +inner ear, you know the network's position. The nine to nine-thirty +Sunday night slot is rated at ten points better than 'Who He?' is +doing."</p> + +<p>"Roy...." Borden began.</p> + +<p>Audibon held up his hand. "We're not an entertainment business. We're +an institution. We have prestige to maintain. We have our honor to +polish. One of my responsibilities is to see to it that every one of +our shows reaches and maintains its ultimate rating. Entertainment +isn't our goal...." Audibon reached up and rapped the nebula with his +knuckles. "<i>This</i> is our goal."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, Roy," Borden exploded. "Level with me. You and I know what's +behind this decision. It's the old network-agency feud. You people +can't forget that you sold out your radio time to the agencies and lost +control of your own business. You're so damned scared of that happening +with television that you're cancelling our show ... not because the +rating isn't high enough, but because the network doesn't own the +package. You want nothing but network packages filling network time."</p> + +<p>Audibon smiled.</p> + +<p>"It's a seller's market today," Borden shouted. "You've got a dozen +clients begging for every slot across the board. You can play snotty +and get away with it. But the market'll turn. If costs don't kick you +out of the saddle, then boredom will. And when that happens you'll come +begging to us. You'll come begging and we'll spit in your eye."</p> + +<p>"Incidentally," Audibon murmured. "I'm having this discussion +recorded ... for legal purposes." He pointed to a small microphone on +the upper shelves of the breakfront.</p> + +<p>"It's a sick show," Ween rumbled suddenly. He got up. "For the record +I want my property out of that show and out of that spot. It's a sick +show on account of him!" He pointed to Lennox dramatically. "He's the +one who's made all the trouble. Him and his poison pen letters. He's +been writing the whole show with a poison pen ... and now he's put my +property in danger of physical violence. If anything happens to Mig on +Sunday, I'll sue!"</p> + +<p>Ween waddled to the door and yanked it open. He glared at Lennox. +"Protect your property, will you? You got nothing to protect. Nothing. +Now go shove yourself up it." He exited and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>Borden looked at Lennox. "Are you behind this?" he asked icily. "That +Knott business you pestered me with yesterday. Is that what he means?"</p> + +<p>"He's getting threats for something Almighty dirty he pulled off," +Grabinett shouted.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to say that's one of the important reasons for cancelling," +Audibon said smoothly. "The rating was only one factor; but when +Tooky told me about the difficulties that Jake's been creating ... +embarrassing the star, embarrassing the show.... We decided that we +couldn't let him embarrass the network."</p> + +<p>Borden arose, gave Lennox one deadly cut-throat stare and marched +out, followed by Bacon who was too furious even to look at Lennox. +Grabinett sputtered and blinked for a moment, helpless before Audibon's +smile and Jake's impassivity.</p> + +<p>"It was that sock in the jaw last night, wasn't it, Roy?" Lennox asked +quietly. "You're fighting like Tooky, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>Audibon gazed at the water color and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Tooky ran off at the mouth because I wouldn't let him chisel a piece +out of a hit tune. That was his knife in my back. You're cancelling +because you were a louse last night and I called you on it. It isn't +the seller's market or the rating or the galaxy or my personal mess. +It isn't anything but revenge because I pasted you in the jaw. This is +your knife in my back."</p> + +<p>"You Almighty sabotoor!" Grabinett cried. "The deal is off. You hear +me? It's off."</p> + +<p>"The show's off, Mel."</p> + +<p>"And I'm taking it out of your hide. If it's the last thing I do, I'm +taking it out of your hide, you Christ Almighty Vandal!"</p> + +<p>Grabinett flung out of the office without bothering to slam the door. +Audibon sauntered over, closed it gently, then smiled at Lennox.</p> + +<p>"So here you are, Jake."</p> + +<p>"I'll be on my way. Perish the thought that I should hold up your next +appointment."</p> + +<p>"You're my next appointment. Sit down. Enjoy." Audibon drifted to the +breakfront, opened the lower drawers and revealed a silver-lined bar. +"Drink?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Brandy, please."</p> + +<p>"Soda?"</p> + +<p>"Straight."</p> + +<p>Audibon filled two large shot-glasses and carried them to Lennox. As +he extended one glass, his control slipped, and in a blaze of fury he +slashed two ounces of dark brandy into Jake's face. Lennox laughed and +stood up.</p> + +<p>"That's all I want, Roy. Thanks for the confession."</p> + +<p>"Look at you," Audibon said in a voice that shook. "Take a panoramic +of yourself. Where are you? You've got no show. You've got no partner. +Your agency's ready to blacklist you. This network's blacklisting you. +You're got no friends. You've got no business. You've got nothing. +Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"But I've got something you haven't got, Roy."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>Lennox tapped the water color. "I've got the original of this."</p> + +<p>"Never!"</p> + +<p>Lennox smiled.</p> + +<p>"So you're chasing," Audibon snorted. "Go ahead and chase. You'll never +catch up. Not while she remembers me...."</p> + +<p>"Who's chasing?"</p> + +<p>"Then you're bluffing, you—"</p> + +<p>"Who's bluffing?"</p> + +<p>Audibon went white, then red. He turned, walked to the desk and put +down the shot-glasses so violently that they clattered.</p> + +<p>"I'm waiting for your offer," Lennox said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Get out," Audibon said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Tooky offered to trade. Blinky offered to trade. Why not you? Let's +hear how contemptible you can get."</p> + +<p>Audibon swung around. "I'll see you in hell first!" He came at Lennox +so fast that Lennox only had time enough to grasp his arms above the +elbow. They strained at each other for half a minute.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you dead and rotting first," Audibon panted. "I'll run you +out of the business. I'll run you off The Rock. If she stays with you, +I'll run her off too. I'll see both of you dead first."</p> + +<p>"Do you love her?"</p> + +<p>"I'll kill her!"</p> + +<p>Lennox looked deep into Audibon's drawn face. "I'm seeing you for the +first time," he said. "And for the first time I'm beginning to like +you."</p> + +<p>Audibon broke out of Jake's grasp and staggered back against the desk. +His hand fumbled behind him, and an instant later the office door +opened and his secretary entered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Audibon?"</p> + +<p>"Lennox is leaving."</p> + +<p>"It's funny what The Rock does," Lennox said. "We ought to be friends." +He turned and left.</p> + +<p>"Get me Miss Valentine at Houseways, Inc." Audibon told his secretary. +She closed the door behind her. He went to the bar and had a shot. Then +he opened his wallet and took out the slip of paper Macro had thrown +into his waste basket. The phone buzzed.</p> + +<p>"Gabby? Roy. I want to see you tonight. It's important. No, I can't +tell you on the phone. I said it was important. Yes. When? All right, +I'll pick you up."</p> + +<p>He dropped the phone, went to the bar and had another shot. Then he +wandered to the water color and examined the picture while his fingers +mechanically smoothed Macro's slip of paper. Suddenly the dazzling +smile reappeared on his lips.</p> + +<p>"Never," he said. "Never."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Audibon took Gabby's hand and pressed it gallantly. Then he led her +across the sidewalk to the waiting cab. He helped her in, followed, and +gave the network address to the driver.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he explained. "My baby's in rehearsal tonight. 'Operation +Universe.' I've got to look into the studio. You don't mind?"</p> + +<p>Gabby was examining his bruised face with concern. "That happened last +night, Roy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"That's awful.... Awful."</p> + +<p>"You ought to see my ribs," he laughed. "I'll let you autograph them."</p> + +<p>"You mean you're in a cast."</p> + +<p>"No, just tape."</p> + +<p>"Let me see."</p> + +<p>"Sightseeing on odd Mondays only."</p> + +<p>"Let me see, Roy," Gabby repeated firmly. She reached out, unbuttoned +Audibon's shirt and opened it. His entire left side was bound with +white adhesive tape from spine to chest. She was so shocked and upset +that Audibon's hopes began to kindle. He let her rebutton the shirt and +adjust his tie.</p> + +<p>"Artistic, isn't it?" he said. "They're poets of the intercostals up at +Gracie Hospital."</p> + +<p>"I want to pay," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"Pay? What?"</p> + +<p>"The hospital bill."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It was partly my fault. Maybe it was all my fault."</p> + +<p>"No," Audibon said. "Not your fault. Never."</p> + +<p>"I think I should make it up to you somehow."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" Audibon's hopes rose even higher. "We'll discuss it."</p> + +<p>The cab dropped them at the network and they took the elevator up to +the big studio. It was an enormous room, half the size of an armory, +blazing with flesh-colored lights hanging in thick clusters fifty +feet overhead. On the studio floor were set up a country schoolroom +with a blackboard on which the solar system was chalked, a miniature +space-station, the interior of a rocket ship, half an observatory +including a six-inch telescope, half a laboratory with an electronic +microscope. The telescope and microscope were practical.</p> + +<p>Before a fifty-foot moonscape cyclorama, a symphony orchestra was +rehearsing "The Music Of The Spheres" from Gustave Holst's "The +Planets." Alongside the orchestra, a technician was sprinkling glitter +on the show title HOW TO KNOW THE UNIVERSE. There were six cameras on +the floor. Six hundred yards of cable coiled around the sets.</p> + +<p>The door from the dressing rooms opened and Galileo entered the studio. +He was followed by Albert Einstein in violent dispute with Jules Verne. +They were joined by Sir Isaac Newton and a striking red-headed girl who +looked incongruous in a Victorian dress and pince nez. Six children +from the Professional Children's School clustered around a piano on +which a man in a spacesuit and fishbowl helmet played softly.</p> + +<p>"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" a voice blasted on a loud-speaker. There were +muffled commands from the control talk-back and the voice tried it +again with different inflections: "THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!"</p> + +<p>Audibon rejoined Gabby after a lightning tour of the studio and took +her to a dark corner behind stacked flats, inhabited by a soda fountain +and a potbellied stove. It was illuminated by the twelve-inch screen +of a small monitor which cut dizzily from camera to camera, picking +up a fag director, a fag assistant, a fag floor-manager, a fag camera +director, a fag makeup artist, and finally following the red-headed +girl's interesting bottom as she strolled around the studio.</p> + +<p>"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE, EXPANDING WITH THE SPEED OF LIGHT INTO NEW +INFINITIES!"</p> + +<p>"Hello, pet," Audibon said softly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Roy."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry about last night too."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you're sorry. I hope it's for the right reasons."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I wasn't with you."</p> + +<p>"That's not the right reason." Gabby lifted a finger to lecture. +Audibon caught it and held it.</p> + +<p>"You're a schoolmarm, pet," he said, motioning to the monitor which now +showed the schoolroom. "You belong on that set." He kissed the finger +gallantly. Gabby reclaimed it.</p> + +<p>"I was looking at that water color you did out at Fire Island. You know +I've got it hung in my shop?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you didn't," Gabby said slowly. "It isn't a happy picture."</p> + +<p>"We were happy when you painted it."</p> + +<p>"No. Not inside, Roy. That's why it turned out so badly." She looked +away.</p> + +<p>"It's a happy picture. We were happy." Audibon smiled. "Do you +remember ... I had an idea for a show? Following the summer around the +world. I didn't want that summer to end. I wanted it to go on and +on ... with you getting darker and darker, and that old shirt of mine +you wore getting tattier and bleached.... What made us imagine it +ended?"</p> + +<p>"You're frightening me, Roy."</p> + +<p>"Why, pet?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid to say."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're afraid to remember. No. Listen to me. Looking at that +water color and remembering how you looked high up on that dune, I +did a take. The summer never ended. There's been a little winter-type +weather, but it's only a station break. I don't think our summer will +ever end."</p> + +<p>"What do you want, Roy?" Gabby asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"I'm propositioning you," Audibon smiled. He took her arms and pulled +her close. "I'm asking you to make a dishonest woman of yourself +and have a fling with me. It's summer in North Africa. I'm spending +February in Egypt. Fly over with me, pet. Let's spend the month +together. I'll bring an old shirt. You bring your brushes. We'll live +in sin and improve our minds."</p> + +<p>"And afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"Why worry about afterwards? Maybe it'll be cold weather when we get +back; on the other hand, maybe not. Let's enjoy our summer again and +see how long it lasts this time."</p> + +<p>Gabby came around a corner abruptly. "What does this have to do with +last night, Roy?"</p> + +<p>"Last night?" Audibon was taken aback. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"This is the first time you've been romantic since we separated. +Something special must have happened." Gabby examined him candidly. "It +was last night, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"No, pet."</p> + +<p>"I was with Jordan Lennox and he hit you."</p> + +<p>Audibon's fists clenched. He recovered himself and abandoned the +tenderness. "All right," he said crisply. "If you insist on being +cerebral ... I'm worried about you. I hate the idea of you free-lancing +around from job to job, never knowing where the next check is coming +from. I want to offer a contract."</p> + +<p>Gabby looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>"I want to offer security and success. Not materialistically, but +Rennaissancewise. Don't waste time and talent on subsistence-type jobs +to keep bread in the house. Do the creative work you're equipped to +do ... and you know how stratospheric my opinion of your talent is. It +needs an oxygen mask."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Roy."</p> + +<p>"Stop slumming, pet. Come back to me. You and I are top-level talent. +You've got to work where the work counts. Architectural design? The +network's dreaming up a new office building in Cuba. Take a dive at it +from the twenty-foot board. Stage design? Come into our set department +and rub up our imagination."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind, Roy."</p> + +<p>"Not kind. Practical. New talent is our priority headache. We know +it's around, but we can't tap it. The slobs outside the network think +there's a cabal to keep new talent out. There isn't. We just can't mock +up an efficient screening operation to locate it. But once we bark our +shins on new talent, we burn incense and work overtime building it up. +Let me build you up, pet. Don't waste yourself on the outside."</p> + +<p>"This is quite a change," Gabby murmured. "When last heard from, the +picture you painted of me was a Gibson girl in mink doing public +relations for you."</p> + +<p>"I've graduated since last year," Audibon smiled. "I took a +post-graduate in Women's Rights. I'll even go along with your +politics.... And think for a minute how much more you can do as the +wife of the network veep."</p> + +<p>"You really are a wonderful salesman," Gabby said with admiration. She +came around a corner again. "Why are you so angry with me, Roy?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Angry?"</p> + +<p>She nodded and blurted out the truth. "You're furious. That's why I'm +frightened. I.... It's a secret I don't have to keep any more. You only +called me 'pet' when you hated me. You're hating me now."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You are." Gabby faced him squarely. "Don't you think I remember all +your tricks? You smile. You flatter. You call me pet.... And then you +pounce. I want to know why. Why are you hunting me now?"</p> + +<p>"I'm asking you to come back to me," Audibon said in a fury.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"To save your neck." Audibon whipped out his wallet, opened it and +removed Macro's slip of paper. "This was left in my office by a man +named Macro. Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"I know all about John Macro." She looked at the slip of paper, holding +it up to the greenish light of the monitor. "So he's got around to me +at last. Did you send him?"</p> + +<p>"No. I talked him out of it. That's why he left this slip. I saved you, +pet. I told Macro you were my wife and he dropped you. I'd like to keep +on saving you ... as long as you're my wife."</p> + +<p>"So you are hunting me."</p> + +<p>"Listen!" Audibon grabbed her wrist and wrenched her toward him. "Macro +can hound you out of work. I can run you off The Rock. How would you +like that? Network veep sues for divorce. Communism and adultery. +Think how the papers would play it up. Gabby Valentine, the party +girl, recruiting new members in her bed. The latest volunteer ... +script-writer Jordan Lennox. Oh yes, I know all about your roll in the +hay with Lennox. We had a long talk about what a lovely piece you are."</p> + +<p>"Roy!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you've done to me?" He thrust her violently against +the monitor and trapped her with his body. "Do you know why I was up at +the Midnight Sun last night? Why I'm up there every week? I'm looking +for substitutes. I'm tying to find a replacement for you. I've tried +all kinds. They don't work. Nothing works."</p> + +<p>Gabby caught her breath.</p> + +<p>"You know that's always been my problem. Even when we were living +together, I—You said you'd take nothing from me when you walked +out, but you took my last chance. You took the one thing a man can't +lose. Why shouldn't I hate you? Do you understand? Do I have to spell +impotence for you?"</p> + +<p>"No," Gabby whispered.</p> + +<p>"I'm fighting for my self-respect. You're the only woman who can give +it to me. For God's sake, come back!"</p> + +<p>"But why me? Why only me?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to God they could tell me. Maybe they will some day, but I'm +desperate now. I'm begging. The nights I've thought of cutting my +throat.... You've got to come back. On your terms. On any terms. You +can't lose. I've put the whip in your hand."</p> + +<p>"No, Roy. No."</p> + +<p>"Some of those bitches I tried are talking," Audibon went on savagely. +"The word's getting around. You know you can't keep a secret on The +Rock. You've got to come back. The talk's got to stop. It's the one +thing no man can stand. You can lose an arm or a leg and they're sorry +for you ... but when you lose that, they laugh."</p> + +<p>"Please, Roy...." Gabby tried to escape the trap. Audibon held her.</p> + +<p>"I'm being honest now, pet. No romantic pitch from me. I'm not asking +for old-fashioned marriage and virtue and chastity. Understand? I said +on your own terms. You'll be free. Completely ... so long as you're +discreet." Audibon's face twisted. "I'll give everything. All I want is +you in my house."</p> + +<p>"So I'm back to public relations again."</p> + +<p>"And you in my bed ... once in a while, to give me a fighting chance. +Just once in a while. Take time out from whoever it is and give me a +break. For God's sake, is that unreasonable?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's generous and horrible." Gabby stopped struggling and looked +at him with disgust. "If you don't let me go, I'm going to scream."</p> + +<p>He flung her from him. She stumbled against the soda fountain and one +of the stools toppled with a crash.</p> + +<p>"So help me God," Audibon said, "I'll ruin you. I'll tear you +apart ... you and Lennox. I'll run you off The Rock. I'll run you out +of the country. You'll lay for him in a two-bit flea-bag remembering +this. Now get out!"</p> + +<p>He turned, stalked around the monitor and walked back onto the sets, +the dazzling smile corroding his face. Gabby began to cry. She opened +her purse, groping blindly in it for a handkerchief, scattering the +contents of her purse over the soda fountain and the floor.</p> + +<p>"THIS IS YOUR UNIVERSE!" the voice roared suddenly. "AN INVITATION +TO EVERYMAN TO ABANDON SELFISH THOUGHT AND JOIN THE GREAT GALAXY ... +CONCEIVED AND PRODUCED BY LEROY W. AUDIBON!"</p> + +<p>When Gabby regained control of herself, she gathered her possessions +and returned them to her purse. The last thing she picked up was +Macro's slip of paper. She examined it again, then followed Audibon out +onto the sets. She walked with her lazy carriage, shoulders square, +arms relaxed, followed by wolf-whistles from the technicians. Audibon +was in the schoolroom, one foot on a bench, lashing the director and +assistants with his smile and his words. Gabby went to him, apologized +for interrupting and handed him the slip of paper.</p> + +<p>"You forgot this, Roy," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Oh? Will I need it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. That's why I returned it." She held out her hand. "Goodbye, +Roy."</p> + +<p>He ignored her hand and turned away. Gabby smiled and left the studio. +Downstairs, she went to a telephone booth and called Jake's apartment. +Cooper answered the phone and sounded cold when Gabby asked for Lennox.</p> + +<p>"He's not home, Gabby."</p> + +<p>"Do you expect him? I'd like to leave a message."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not expecting him, I'm happy to say."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not discuss Jake with you, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"You still don't like me, Sam."</p> + +<p>"What's your message, please?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him I can't see him tonight."</p> + +<p>"I can't guarantee he'll get it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Gabby said. "That's bad. I don't want to stand him up without +warning."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you try the theater? They'll still be rehearsing. He may be +there."</p> + +<p>Gabby called the Venice Theater. The stage doorman was the deaf, quaint +type ... wonderful for anecdote, impossible for messages. After two +minutes of patient shouting, Gabby got Tooky Ween on the phone.</p> + +<p>"Tooky Ween speaking," he rumbled. "Make it fast. We got headaches."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Ween. That man made a mistake. I want Jordan Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Lennox!" Ween roared. "That lousy, chiseling son of a—He wouldn't +have the crust to show his crust here. If he did he'd be dead and +couldn't answer the phone anyway."</p> + +<p>Ween hung up. Gabby considered, then called the Grabinett office. It +was after hours and only the line to Grabinett's desk was open. Blinky +took the call himself.</p> + +<p>"Is Jordan Lennox there?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"No," Grabinett snarled. "I only wish he was. I'd kill him with my +naked hand. I'd kill him dead and do a repeat for the west coast, +that—" Grabinett caught himself. "Excuse me. Are you a relative?"</p> + +<p>"No," Gabby said. "I wanted to leave a message."</p> + +<p>"Not here!" Grabinett shouted. "Not with this office. I wouldn't do +that Almighty vandal a favor if I was to get paid for it."</p> + +<p>Blinky hung up. Gabby made one last try and called me. When I answered +the phone, Ned Bacon was in our living room, murdering our Bourbon and +Lennox. Gabby could hear him cutting Jake to pieces while she gave me +the message. I wanted to ask her up. I'd seen enough of her at the Rox +Record party to be interested, and I had about twenty-seven questions +to ask her, but there was no way of getting Bacon out of the house +and we couldn't have the two of them there together. So I promised to +deliver the message, if possible, and let her hang up.</p> + +<p>That was about seven o'clock. She wandered east to the 59th Street +Bridge, cutting through some of the toughest sidestreets on The Rock. +She went through those streets unmolested. Gabby had a miraculous +quality of escaping the common dangers that make every woman think +twice. Perhaps it was because she never thought of them once. Perhaps +it was her candid, virginal manner that forced the world to give her +extra special treatment ... the way men are reluctant to swear before +a child, unwilling to be the first to teach it what they know it must +inevitably learn.</p> + +<p>She went to a gloomy candle-lit restaurant under the bridge. It had +<i>avant-garde</i> murals on the walls, Puccini records on a phonograph, +and hectographed menus. Half the waiters were enrolled with the Art +Students League and were friends of Gabby's. Half the patrons knew her +too. Nevertheless, she sat alone, consumed half a plate of pasta and +half a bottle of California wine. She began to cry again, and had to +snuff out the candle on her table. She was so upset that she wandered +out of the restaurant without paying. No one made a fuss. They tucked +her check in the cash register for another day.</p> + +<p>It was half past nine when she got home. She took the elevator up, +trembling, aching, yearning for a hot bath and ten hours of sleep. As +she stepped out of the elevator and glanced down the corridor, she +stopped short. A man was squatting on the mat before her apartment door +with crossed ankles, knees high, forearms draped on his knees. It was +Lennox. He arose as she approached.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you get my message?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "From Sam."</p> + +<p>"Please go away, Jordan. I can't see you now."</p> + +<p>"I've got to see you, Gabby."</p> + +<p>She was so weak she dropped her key. Lennox picked it up, unlocked the +door and opened it for her. He followed her into the apartment, shut +the door and switched on the lights with a practiced hand. Then he +pulled up the giant shade that covered the studio window. Gabby sank +down on a low, quilted bench before the cold fireplace and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't parked here because I was jealous," Lennox said anxiously. +"Please don't think that. I mean ... I am jealous, yes; but I trust +you."</p> + +<p>Gabby didn't look at him.</p> + +<p>"I've loused myself beautifully today. I've been tramping around the +Village waiting to see you."</p> + +<p>"I can't talk, Jordan."</p> + +<p>"Could you listen a little?" He smiled appealingly. "Comes a time in +every man's life when he knows he's done bad things and feels guilty. +That's when he needs a friend to reassure him. Everybody has to have +somebody who believes he's never wrong."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I haven't got the strength."</p> + +<p>"Then could I just be near you a little? Maybe we can help each other +without words."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "Please go."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, darling? You're in trouble too."</p> + +<p>"I can't talk about it now."</p> + +<p>"Something's happened?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You loused me beautifully, too."</p> + +<p>"I did?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"With Roy."</p> + +<p>Lennox went cold. He waited for her to continue.</p> + +<p>"Roy delivered an ultimatum. Either I go back to him, or—"</p> + +<p>"That Communist routine?"</p> + +<p>"And adultery."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Adultery," Gabby repeated. "You let something slip this afternoon.... +Or did you boast?"</p> + +<p>"This afternoon! I—Oh my God!" Lennox sat down heavily.</p> + +<p>"Don't sit down, Jordan. Please go."</p> + +<p>"Sit down? I'm groveling. I'm on my knees. How in Christ's name could I +have...."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet. Just go."</p> + +<p>"We've got to discuss it. We can't let him pull off a filthy trick like +that. We've got to fight him."</p> + +<p>"No!" Gabby wailed. "No! No more fighting. I can't stand it any more. I +feel filthy. You're like starving dogs, all snarling and fighting and +eating each other. I won't be a part of it any more."</p> + +<p>"You're just scared, darling. Don't...."</p> + +<p>"You can't drag me into it again. Never again. Go away, Jordan. Go +away. Don't come back."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You don't just mean tonight? You mean +for good?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I do."</p> + +<p>"What the hell's got into you?" he demanded roughly.</p> + +<p>"And now you're fighting with me again." Gabby pounded her fists on +her knees in desperation. "Get away from me. Leave me in peace, for +pity's sake!"</p> + +<p>"That's a hell of a way to talk. Hello. Goodbye. I thought we were in +love."</p> + +<p>"No," she said bitterly. "It was a roll in the hay with a stranger."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Gabby...."</p> + +<p>"That's what you're turning it into. You're not the man I met. You're +somebody else. I'm really meeting you for the first time, and I'm +ashamed. I ... If you love me ... whatever your idea of love is ... for +pity's sake go away!"</p> + +<p>"My idea of love isn't running away," he answered. He put his hand on +her shoulder. "It's sticking together right down the line and fighting +it out together."</p> + +<p>"Please don't touch me," Gabby said, shrugging her shoulder out of his +grasp. "And stop using that horrible childish word over and over again. +Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. That's all you know."</p> + +<p>"What else is there?" Lennox glared at her. "Will you grow up! Somebody +mentions fight and you start screaming. Do you know what you're +screaming about? Have you ever been in a scrap?"</p> + +<p>"Don't argue like a child."</p> + +<p>"I'm asking a question. I want an answer. Have you ever been in a +fight?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I thought not. You're so damned pretty and so damned sweet-tempered +you've never had to fight for anything. Life's handed you everything in +your lap."</p> + +<p>"I haven't had everything."</p> + +<p>"Only because you haven't wanted everything. Sweet God, why don't you +find out what it's all about before you pass sentence on slobs like +me who've had to fight every inch of the way." Lennox pounded a fist +into his palm. "You're blind. You've had it too easy. A writer-type +guy once made up a circle. Life is Character, he said. Character is +Conflict. Conflict is Life. That's the vicious circle we're all trapped +in. You too."</p> + +<p>"No! I won't be trapped in the dirt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you too! And it isn't dirt. You're like the prudes who think sex +is dirty. What the hell are you afraid of? Try a fight. Maybe you'll +get to like it. Maybe you'll get to grow up a little and come out of +your dream world."</p> + +<p>"You're impossible!" she cried. "You're hateful!"</p> + +<p>"You make a big pitch for peace," he growled, his face darkening. "You +talk it up about feeling filthy because the dogs are fighting; but +that's just cover-up, girl. That isn't the truth of what's in you."</p> + +<p>"No?" Gabby answered steadily. "What is?"</p> + +<p>"Jealousy. Envy."</p> + +<p>"Of what?"</p> + +<p>"What every man has and no woman has. You love to castrate us. That's +the one burning drive in you with your career and women's rights and +politics. You can't forgive us for that. You try to cut every man down +to your size, your sex, your weakness. I don't know what you did to +Audibon with your knife, but you're not doing it to me!"</p> + +<p>She turned white. "You're horrible," she whispered. "You're worse than +Roy. Worse! I don't want to see you again ... ever! Go away. Don't come +back ... ever!"</p> + +<p>"So you can go back to Audibon?"</p> + +<p>"Is that what you think I'll do?"</p> + +<p>"What else can I think if you won't fight and won't let me fight? How +else am I supposed to take this?"</p> + +<p>She leaped up, ran to the front door and opened it. She held it open, +her dark eyes flashing furiously at Lennox. He picked up his burberry +and went to the door. There he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he began. "We can't do this. We've got to help each oth—"</p> + +<p>"Go away!" she cried. "Go away and fight. Find your Aimee Driscoll and +beat her up again. Or would you rather stay and beat me? That would +make you feel manly, wouldn't it? Then I could go to Aimee and show her +my bruises. Would you enjoy that ... you big, virile beast?"</p> + +<p>"Go to hell, you God damned bitch!" he shouted and blundered out into +the hall. Gabby slammed the door and locked it. She began to sob and +gag painfully. She ran to the bathroom and was violently ill. One +thought persisted through the sobbing and the sickness, Lennox had +destroyed everything and finished with her ruin.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>By five o'clock Saturday morning, Lennox had walked himself to +exhaustion. He slipped into the apartment in 33 Knickerbocker Square +and went to bed. At nine o'clock he was shot out of bed as by a cannon. +He dressed, went downstairs, picked up his mail and left the house. Two +envelopes were from the Grabinett office. They contained his script fee +and his royalty for the "Who He?" show of December 18th, a total of +seven hundred and fifty dollars.</p> + +<p>The banks were closed on Saturday. Lennox went to a bookie he knew +on 14th Street who also operated a check cashing office. There, he +converted his checks into fifties and twenties.</p> + +<p>"Getting set for a big New Year's Eve, hey?" the bookie laughed.</p> + +<p>"No," Lennox told him. "I'm going to be murdered tomorrow."</p> + +<p>He stepped into the nearest saloon and had two brandy Alexanders.</p> + +<p>"Startin' early, hey?" the bartender laughed.</p> + +<p>"No," Lennox said. "I'm having my last fling. I'm going to be murdered +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>On the way uptown he had a couple of more Alexanders and then breakfast +at Androuet's on Persian melon, coffee, and Croque Monsieur Roquefort, +which is a blend of Roquefort, Brie and cream, broiled on Virginia ham. +It is usually taken with wine. Lennox finished a bottle of Muscadet +and ordered another pot of coffee and a telephone. When the phone was +plugged in at his table, he called the East River Airport and chartered +a plane.</p> + +<p>"You are celebrating the New Year en l'air, M'sieur Lennox?" his waiter +inquired in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"No," Lennox answered. "I'm taking a last trip home."</p> + +<p>It was cold and still on the East River. A heavy grey ceiling hung low +in the sky. As Lennox climbed from the dock to the pontoon of the tiny +Cub and then into the cabin, the pilot looked dubious.</p> + +<p>"There's fog coming in at Montauk," he said. "I hope we can beat it."</p> + +<p>He swung the Cub out into the river and taxied frantically toward the +59th Street bridge. Lennox wondered whether they were going under or +over the bridge when suddenly the buffeting of the chop ceased and they +shuddered their way sky-ward. Instantly The Rock was transformed into a +make-believe city ... a toy on a table.</p> + +<p>They flew east over Long Island City and Jamaica and then northeast +from Freeport up Great South Bay, past Amityville and Babylon to the +Bay Shore Harbor where the Cub landed in Great Cove and taxied in.</p> + +<p>"I won't be an hour," Lennox told the pilot.</p> + +<p>He went to a white clapboard fish-house on the dock, phoned for a cab +and waited in the bar. There was an enormous coal fire glowing in the +fireplace grate and an enormous jolly proprietor glowing behind the +bar. He looked like a benevolent wrestler.</p> + +<p>"If you were drinking your last bottle on earth," Lennox asked him, +"what would it be?"</p> + +<p>"Irish," the wrestler answered promptly.</p> + +<p>Lennox sampled the Irish until the taxi honked its horn outside the +fish-house. He got into the car and they drove through Bay Shore to +Islip and then down a bleak road to the Champlin Marshes.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing down to the end of this road," the cab driver said, +"It's a dead-end."</p> + +<p>"So am I," Lennox grunted.</p> + +<p>The road ended in a small circle of pits and ruts. Around it was half a +mile of dry brown marsh reeds rustling listlessly in the light breeze. +Beyond the marsh was the steel grey of Great South Bay. A rotting +boardwalk led from the circle to a large shack built at the edge of a +narrow creek that wound out through the marsh to the bay. The house +was weathered silver, the windows had long since been burst in, the +shutters had been blown away.</p> + +<p>Lennox got out of the cab and walked down the boardwalk to the shack. +When he reached the door, his hand automatically lifted high to grasp +the doorknob. His lips twisted at this memory of the childhood flesh. +He lowered his hand, pushed the door open and entered. For a paralyzing +moment he thought his dead father was standing inside the house. Then +he looked closer and saw that it was a stranger, a tall, thin man with +white hair, fussing with a camera on a tripod.</p> + +<p>"God has answered my prayers!" the photographer exclaimed. "Can I +trouble you for just a moment, sir? Look here...." He pointed. The +seaward wall of the house had collapsed. The marsh, the sea and the sky +were framed in broken, silvery timber ends.</p> + +<p>"A perfect L composition. Verticals on the left; horizontals below. The +eye is led in to the middle distance from any corner. Quintessential +desolation. But there's a fundamental weakness on the right. You see +it?" The photographer darted to a heavy square stud and rapped it +sharply at the precise spot where Jake's slicker used to hang. "This +must be broken. What I need is a shoulder. Someone outside, leaning +against this post, staring out to sea. We don't see him, of course. +Just the part of the back and the shoulder carrying the eye back to the +center. You don't mind?"</p> + +<p>The photographer led Lennox to the stud, positioned him, and rushed +back to the camera, chuckling and twittering. Lennox stood there, +staring at the marsh, the creek, the remnants of the dock where his +father's clam boat had been moored. He was filled with hatred and shame.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much," the photographer called. "If you +only knew how many weeks I've been waiting for this light. And then to +have you come along just in time.... What brought you, h'mm? Are you an +angel or a photographer?"</p> + +<p>"I was born and raised here," Lennox answered. "As a matter of fact, I +think I own this place."</p> + +<p>"My dear sir! Am I trespassing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Lennox said. "We both are."</p> + +<p>He returned to the cab and drove back to the Bay Shore docks. There he +sampled the Irish again until the pilot hurried him into the plane. He +had been phoning up and down Long Island and the fog was closing in +rapidly. By twelve-thirty when they were over The Rock again, it had +covered the river.</p> + +<p>"We can't get in here," the pilot muttered.</p> + +<p>"What do we do? Head for Spain?"</p> + +<p>"I'll settle for the Coney Island station," the pilot said. "How about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Lennox said. Suddenly he began to laugh. "Do you know, I've +never been to Coney Island in all my life? Why not now?"</p> + +<p>"It's dead now."</p> + +<p>"I'll be dead tomorrow. Why not catch up on everything I've missed? +What the hell am I so damned gloomy for? I'm going to enjoy."</p> + +<p>The Cub circled and soared over the Upper Bay and sneaked down through +breaks in the heavy nacreous blanket. There was no chop on the water +off Coney Island, but there was a swinging groundswell as they taxied +in to the small station. It made the brandy and Irish fume pleasantly +inside Lennox.</p> + +<p>He paid off the pilot, parted from him genially, found a saloon, and +requested to be served with "Dog's Nose," a drink he recollected from +Dickens. He was now in the first, or literary stage of drunkenness. +The bartender consulted his blue book and regretfully reported that +no such drink was listed. Lennox settled for a pair of Boilermakers +and wandered out to the desolate amusement park, empty, canvassed and +boarded up.</p> + +<p>Lennox beamed. He took out his gimmick book and silver pencil, turned +to a clean page and wrote: "Blessed be the man who sells joy. He is +humanity's benefactor." He tore the page out, folded it and slipped it +under the shutter of a dormant shooting gallery. He strolled to the +ticket office of the roller coaster, wrote: "Better to be happy than +wise," and tucked it under the window.</p> + +<p>To the Half Man Half Woman booth he donated "Pleasure is virtue's gayer +name." To the 25 CANNIBAL BEAUTIES 25 he contributed "Life is not life +at all without delight." And for the Giant Swing he wrote: "Pleasure +is the sovereign bliss of humankind." As he was tucking this fond +salutation under the door of the box-office, a thought struck him. He +opened the slip, considerately wrote "Alexander Pope 1688-1744" under +the quotation and replaced the message.</p> + +<p>He left the amusement park, bought a pack of cigarettes and hailed a +cab. He told the driver to take him back to The Rock, and as they sped +along the Belt Parkway, he opened the pack and lit up.</p> + +<p>"Look at me smoking. I'm intox'ated," he told himself, and laughed +immoderately, thinking of the dear Shroff.</p> + +<p>The fog slowed the traffic and there was a slight jam as they +approached the tunnel to Manhattan Island. The car behind them lost its +temper and began an exasperating horn honking.</p> + +<p>"That's rude," Lennox muttered. He called: "Stop, driver!"</p> + +<p>The cab stopped its forward crawl, Lennox got out, went to the car +behind them, bowed politely, opened the engine hood and pulled the +wires off the horn. He marched back to the cab, got in, and with a +grand air ordered: "Drive on, coachman. Drive on!"</p> + +<p>At Sabatini's he had three very dry Gibsons and entered the dining room +where he ordered oysters, turtle soup, Shrimps Livornese, marinated +asparagus, escarole and coffee. The dining room was half empty; very +few of the people in the business are around on Saturdays, and fewer +still on the afternoon before New Year's Eve. Lennox consumed his +oysters and soup and allowed his gaze to relax on a couple at the next +table. He didn't know the man, but the young lady was familiar.</p> + +<p>She was a blonde, with enormous blue eyes and an exquisite pouting +mouth. She wore a black siren-type dress that exposed her neck, +shoulders and altogether too much cleavage.</p> + +<p>"That's a Theda Bara dress," Lennox muttered in annoyance. "No ingénue +ought to be wearing it."</p> + +<p>What annoyed him even more was the fact that the ingénue was behaving +like a road-company Theda Bara. She pouted, she hooded her eyes, she +undulated her shoulders and heaved her poitrine like the High Priestess +of the Python.</p> + +<p>"Now where have I seen that corn-ball playing that routine before?" +Lennox asked himself. Suddenly he remembered. An ingénue in a velvet +gown trimmed with miniver, batting her eyes at Oliver Stacy over a +champagne glass. He began to laugh. The girl looked up, caught his +eye, and gave him a slinky undulation. Lennox arose and bowed. Then +he reached into his water glass, took out a lump of ice and dropped it +into her cleavage.</p> + +<p>He didn't have to pick himself up off the sidewalk, but there was no +doubt he'd been thrown out of Sabatini's.</p> + +<p>"Live dangerously," he chuckled and was afflicted with thirst. He +quenched it with a bottle of stout at the saloon in the network +building and then wandered upstairs to visit the studios.</p> + +<p>He poked his head into rehearsals and waved affectionately to friends +and strangers. The last studio down the corridor was on the air with +some kind of radio mystery. Lennox tip-toed in, waved, and placed +himself alongside the sound table where the soundman stood with a gun +poised in his hand while a couple of gangster-type actors snarled at +each other on mike. Lennox watched the script over the soundman's +shoulder, and as the gunshot cue came up, on sudden impulse he snatched +the gun out of the soundman's hand.</p> + +<p>The director behind the glass waved frantically. The actors shook their +scripts at him. The soundman struggled to get hold of the gun.</p> + +<p>"Bang!" Lennox shouted. He beamed, put the gun down quietly and +tip-toed out.</p> + +<p>"My girl doesn't approve of violence. Guns and such," he confided to +the bartender in the Greek's.</p> + +<p>"The peaceful teep, huh, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"A veritable dove of peace." He considered. "Chris.... What's the +difference between doves and pigeons?"</p> + +<p>"There ain't no difference, Jake."</p> + +<p>"There has to be. Otherwise wouldn't have two different names," Lennox +said. "That's relentless logic."</p> + +<p>"No," Chris said. "I keep 'em. I ought to know. Doves is white pigeons. +You sure you want all this garbage in your old fashioned, Jake?"</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. "My system needs ascorbic acid. Where could I buy some +doves, Chris?"</p> + +<p>"Down to the poultry market. Just ask for white pigeons," Chris added +stubbornly.</p> + +<p>Lennox took a cab down to the poultry market which adjoined the +Chambers Street Food Market. In the former he purchased twelve doves +(white pigeons). In the latter he consumed six banana fritters and a +quart of a dangerous brew called Still Ale. The doves in their cage +refused the fritters and the ale, but they partook of breadcrumbs with +joy.</p> + +<p>He carried them up to Greenwich Village, found Gabby's apartment house +and rang the downstairs bell. There was no answer. He located the +superintendent, bribed him, and was escorted up to Gabby's apartment by +that careful man to leave the cage within. Lennox was not permitted to +enter more than three steps where he was directed to put the cage down. +He did so, but opened the door. He was gratified to see the studio +living room fill with doves.</p> + +<p>"Make her happy," he chuckled. "Make em all happy, huh? How?"</p> + +<p>He thought it over in a basement bar where he drank Moscow Mules not, +he explained to the bartender, because he was sympathetic to the Soviet +cause, but because he admired the copper mugs. How to spread joy? Three +Mules led him to the light.</p> + +<p>He went back to Sixth Avenue and entered the premises of a sign +painter. To him he entrusted four sheets of notebook paper on which he +had printed carefully.</p> + +<p>"Want four signs in an hour," Lennox beamed. "Make 'em six feet by +three feet in black and red. Just do 'em freehand. Yes? Rush job for +very special friend of mine. Back in one hour."</p> + +<p>He crossed Sixth Avenue to a large photographer's supply store and +bought one hundred flash bulbs which were packed in a large carton for +him. He took a cab up to Mason's apartment house. He phoned from the +corner. Irma answered.</p> + +<p>"Irma," Lennox said urgently. "Mig wants you down at the theater right +away. He wants everybody. Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>He waited. Ten minutes later Irma, her brother and his wife emerged +from the building and hurried off. This was not the first time they had +been summoned to attend Mig, but it was the first time that Mig hadn't +done the summoning.</p> + +<p>"Chances are he'll be grateful I remembered for him," Lennox murmured. +"That is, if he remembers he didn't call 'em himself."</p> + +<p>He went up to the Mason apartment and entered. There was no one there. +Carrying the carton with him, Lennox kindly removed all the light bulbs +and jammed a flash bulb into every socket in the apartment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it'll be a sunny New Year for Mig all right all right," Lennox +laughed. He returned to Sixth Avenue, poked his head into the sign +painter's to urge him on, then went to a large hardware store where he +purchased one hundred pounds of moth balls.</p> + +<p>"What the hell do you want with so much?" the hardware man asked in +amazement.</p> + +<p>"Not for me," Lennox explained patiently. "For a friend who's all the +time worrying about his property. Can't protect it enough. I'm afraid +he's forgot about moths."</p> + +<p>"Crazy! Where you want this shipped?"</p> + +<p>"Want to take it myself. Can I hire your assistant? Pay five dollars +for five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I guess so. Alfred!"</p> + +<p>Alfred shambled out of the back of the store and helped Lennox carry +the mothballs to the building where Tooky Ween had his office. They +went up on the freight elevator but were dismayed to discover that +Ween's office was closed for the day and locked.</p> + +<p>"What we gone do now?" Alfred asked.</p> + +<p>"Never admit defeat," Lennox said. "Go back to freight elevator. Was a +big piece cardboard there. Bring it."</p> + +<p>Alfred brought the sheet of corrugated board. Lennox twisted it into a +funnel and inserted the narrow end into the mail slot in Ween's office +door.</p> + +<p>"Now open the boxes," Lennox beamed.</p> + +<p>Carefully and kindly, they funneled one hundred pounds of mothballs +into Ween's office.</p> + +<p>"Won't have to worry about his property again," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>He accompanied Alfred back to the hardware store where he purchased +a stapling gun. Then he paid for his four signs, rolled them up and +carried them to Grabinett's office. He nodded to the receptionist, +breezed past her and entered the twisting halls of the rat-nest. There +was no traffic. Lennox stopped, measured with his eye, and stapled the +first six by three sign to the wall. In garish red and black letters it +read:</p> + +<p class="ph2">40 FEET 40<br> +TO THE OFFICE OF<br> +<i>MELVIN GRABINETT</i><br> +The Man<br> +of<br> +V*i*s*i*o*n*!</p> + + +<p>Lennox went ten feet down the hall and stapled the next sign to the +wall:</p> + +<p class="ph2">ONLY 30 FEET MORE<br> +TO THE OFFICE OF<br> +<i>MELVIN GRABINETT</i><br> +The Showman's<br> +S*h*o*w*m*a*n</p> + + +<p>At the corner of the hall he stapled:</p> + +<p class="ph2">NEXT RIGHT TURN<br> +TO THE OFFICE OF</p> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdc">M</td><td class="tdc">G</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">E</td><td class="tdc">R</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">L</td><td class="tdc">A</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">V</td><td class="tdc">B</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">I</td><td class="tdc">I</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">N</td><td class="tdc">N</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc"> </td><td class="tdc">E</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc"> </td><td class="tdc">T</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc"> </td><td class="tdc">T</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Alongside Grabinett's door he affixed the last sign:</p> + +<p class="ph2">O*F*F*I*C*E<br> +O*F<br> +MELVIN (BLINKY) GRABINETT</p> + +<p>"Secret acts of kindness performed by stealth," Lennox murmured and +returned to the hardware store. "I need Alfred again," he said.</p> + +<p>"What! More mothballs?"</p> + +<p>"No. Got a hungry friend needs taking care of. Give me Alfred."</p> + +<p>"He ain't gonna eat me, is he?" Alfred inquired.</p> + +<p>Lennox beamed, patted Alfred and gave him another five dollars. He also +gave him the stapling gun, warning him that it was loaded. Then he +took him to a grocers and bought every package of Jello in the store. +They were packed into a carton which Alfred carried behind Lennox who +conducted him to the network building and up to the twentieth floor. It +was empty. They went into Audibon's office and put the carton down.</p> + +<p>"They sure let you in easy," Alfred said.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded complacently and opened the door to Audibon's private +bath. He ran the hot water in the wash basin until it came out +scalding.</p> + +<p>"What flavor would my hungry friend like in his toilet, Alfred?" he +asked genially.</p> + +<p>"Strawberry?" Alfred ventured.</p> + +<p>"And strawberry it shall be."</p> + +<p>They plugged Audibon's toilet and filled it with strawberry gelatine. +They filled the floor of his enclosed shower with lime gelatine. "The +only specific for athlete's foot," Lennox insisted. They mixed a +potpourri of gelatine and filled his ink-stands, his Dresden china, the +glasses in the bar, the hollow globe of his ceiling light, and last of +all, the wash basin.</p> + +<p>"I'm not given to boasting, Alfred," Lennox pronounced, reeling +slightly, "but I will venture to predict that my very good friend will +never be hungry again."</p> + +<p>He offered to buy Alfred a malted, but Alfred had a New Year's date and +was anxious to get back to the store to finish work.</p> + +<p>"So have I got a date," Lennox said, and parted wistfully from his +friend.</p> + +<p>He walked home without incident except for a car which stopped for a +traffic light directly in the path of the pedestrians' crossing. Lennox +would have none of that. Refusing to detour around the car, he opened +the rear door, climbed through the back, opened the opposite door and +continued on his way.</p> + +<p>He entered the apartment prepared to greet Cooper with brotherly +affection, but Cooper was not home. Lennox gave the Siamese and the +mink-dyed skunk a holiday meal of canned crabmeat, then bathed, changed +to dinner clothes and demolished the Canadian whiskey in the bar. He +stole a pack of cigarettes from Sam's cache in the storage closet, put +on his burberry and decided to have dinner in The Crystal Key.</p> + +<p>The Crystal Key is a private house in the West Fifties which caters +both to Hipsters and Squares. It has a butler who looks like a magazine +advertisement. It has footmen in knee-breeches, waiters, French +chefs, a wine steward and even a cellar to go with the steward. It +has a resident book-maker. It employs a slightly known chanteuse who +entertains on the second, or dining floor. It provides a dozen young +hostesses who will drink, chat and dance intimately on the third or +supper room floor. It has a fourth and fifth floor for personalized +entertainment.</p> + +<p>Lennox entered with his mind intent on dinner. He permitted an +attendant to take his coat, went into the bar on the street floor, +nodded to the bookie and the neighborhood cop drinking beer in a +corner, and ordered sherry. He began to laugh at himself. He recalled +that no matter what he wanted to drink when he entered The Crystal Key, +he always ended up ordering sherry. He gave the matter some thought, +blamed the knee-breeches, and went upstairs to dine.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate there were no menus. Lennox could not have read a menu +even if there had been enough light. He was served hors-d'oeuvres, +mussel soup, saddle of lamb, pommes soufflés, a still burgundy, salade +fatigué, and something in a covered dish which he was too hazy to +investigate. His faculties were restored by the blinding discovery that +the gentleman seated two table down from him was Mr. Thomas Bleutcher +of Brockton, Mass. The young lady with him was not his daughter.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel!" Lennox muttered. "The lecherous dog. He richly +deserves a lesson."</p> + +<p>He perceived that there was a brandy inhaler before him with a half +inch of cognac in the bottom. Quite defiantly, he drank the cognac off +without ceremony and devoted himself to the problem of disciplining Mr. +Bleutcher's morals.</p> + +<p>"How to chastise the heart of old Four-Buckle Arctics?" he asked +himself. "Hit him in his carbohydrates? No. Where is his heart? In his +boots. Very funny, Mr. Lennox. Oh, very funny indeed." He shook with +laughter, slid under the table and began crawling on the floor toward +Bleutcher. The maitre d'hotel rushed toward him in dismay. Before he +could speak, Lennox lifted a finger to his lips and gave him an urgent +look. The maitre d'hotel hesitated for a moment in perplexity. Lennox +reached under Bleutcher's table and seized that unsuspecting man's +feet. With a violent yank, he tried to pull Bleutcher's shoes off.</p> + +<p>Bleutcher disappeared under the table as if dropped through a trap +door. The table went over with a crash, and the hostess toppled with +it. Lennox arose triumphantly from the screaming and shouting with one +black kid chiropractic oxford in his hand. He still had it, concealed +under his coat, when he was deposited on the street outside The Crystal +Key one minute later. It was fortunate for Lennox that the policeman +had returned to his beat; otherwise he might have been seriously hurt.</p> + +<p>He weaved downtown, searching for a phone. In the forties he passed a +theater, entered the lobby and politely requested to be directed to a +booth. He was informed that the telephones were inside the theater. He +puzzled this out and with a flash of logic that delighted him, reasoned +that he needed a ticket to make the phone call. There were no tickets +left but he was sold standing room admission. Lennox tip-toed into the +theater, went down to the men's lounge and called The Brompton House. +After some hanky-panky, Olga answered the phone.</p> + +<p>"Your father," Lennox said, "is a rogue."</p> + +<p>"My father," Olga replied, "is a pain in the ass."</p> + +<p>"No longer. You are revenged." Lennox described his triumph. Olga began +to scream with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Does he know it was you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't say. What are you doing up in the hotel?"</p> + +<p>"Having dinner in the suite. I got so fed up with him I played sick. +What are you going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Lennox hesitated and then thought: "Oh, what the hell!" He said: "I was +thinking of bringing his shoe back."</p> + +<p>"Lovely. Wait for me downstairs in the bar."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be able to sneak out an hour after he gets back."</p> + +<p>"He'll be back any minute.... Unless he's going to hop into New Year. +Bunion and Over."</p> + +<p>"Metatarsal," she said and hung up.</p> + +<p>Lennox shook his head in disgust with himself. Then he brightened and +went upstairs. There was a good broad arm-rest for standees in the back +of the house. He leaned against it and tried to focus on the stage. +Some kind of mood piece was in progress, filled with long, poetic +pauses. Lennox napped comfortably until the applause at the end of the +act woke him up.</p> + +<p>He was thirsty. He had two stingers in the saloon alongside the +theater, one with green mint and one with white to determine whether +his palate had lost its famed sensitivity.</p> + +<p>"I am happy to announce," he announced to the bartender, "that my +palate has lost none of its famed sensitivity." He pointed to the +glasses. "That is Spearmint '34. A very good year. That is Wintergreen +'26. Its pert bouquet is unmistakable to a palate of famed sensitivity."</p> + +<p>Lennox walked east to The Brompton House. New Year's horns were +beginning to blare in the streets with the sound that boys make when +they blow through blades of grass pressed between their thumbs. Lennox +paced massively. He had reached the Gibraltar stage of drunkenness, a +mixture of Johnsonian gravity and pathological lying.</p> + +<p>In the bar of The Brompton House, jammed by the overflow of +respectables from the grill room, he ordered a pitcher of French 75s +and two glasses. Olga was nowhere in sight, but Lennox knew better than +to trust to his sight. He tapped a handsome bald gentleman with leaden +complexion and kindly features who was seated alongside him.</p> + +<p>"Would you be good enough to lend me your stool, sir? Just for a +moment."</p> + +<p>The gentleman got off the stool. Lennox mounted it and teetered on +top, four feet above the crowd. He whistled shrilly with two fingers, +waited for Olga to notice him if she were present, and then climbed +down again.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, sir."</p> + +<p>"May I ask why you did that?" the gentleman inquired. He looked exactly +like a Roman Tribune and had a melodious southern drawl.</p> + +<p>"One if by land, two if by sea," Lennox answered significantly. "Our +identification code. You wouldn't expect us to sing the Internationale +for a signal, would you? Not here."</p> + +<p>The leaden-faced gentleman stared. Lennox nodded darkly, +drank a 75 and offered a glass to his companion. "To the +<i>counter</i>-counter-revolution," he said. "This year is yours. Next year +is ours."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"This country's been living in a dream," Lennox sneered. +"Communists.... Tcha! They're our decoys. We use them for red herrings +to conceal us. The real us. We are the danger."</p> + +<p>"Who are the danger?" the man asked intently.</p> + +<p>"Us. We.... Us."</p> + +<p>"Can you name names?"</p> + +<p>"Can I not? Lennox. Mason and Dixon. Mason and Slidell. Lewis. Clark. +But above all, Lennox. Lennox is the man. He pulls the strings. He +controls the Eastern Cell."</p> + +<p>"Cell!" the gentleman exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Indeed yes. The movement is beautifully organized ... from here +through Washington, London, Paris, Rome ... straight up to our central +headquarters—"</p> + +<p>A pair of hands blindfolded him. "Guess who," Olga said.</p> + +<p>"Goody Twoshoes," Lennox answered. He removed her hands from his eyes +and continued. "Our headquarters on Mars. We're all Martians. We're +going to—"</p> + +<p>He stopped. The strange gentleman had already removed himself, Lennox +searched dazedly and saw him in a corner, unaccountably scribbling in +a notebook. He shrugged, flexed his right arm to feel for his own +gimmick book, then contemplated Olga. She had, in truth, poured herself +into an evening gown; or better still, someone had painted it on her +body and only given it one coat. Lennox handed her a 75.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Paint remover," he said.</p> + +<p>She drank it cautiously, finished it with appreciation and held out her +glass for more. They emptied the pitcher and went over to Beekman Place +to look in on a party thrown by one of Olga's friends. It was in a +square apartment house, in a square apartment, and it turned out to be +a Square party ... the men in one room telling dirty jokes, the women +in another room shrieking with laughter and pulling up their skirts as +they loaded up on martinis.</p> + +<p>"This is from hunger," Lennox muttered to Olga. "Leave us blow."</p> + +<p>"We'd better," she giggled. "It's the wrong apartment."</p> + +<p>So it was. They went downstairs to the right apartment which was +identically square. The party was also identically Square.</p> + +<p>"I liked the first one better," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>They left and went uptown to the West side where Johnny Plummer owned +a house opposite the Museum of Natural History. His party was more +party-line than anything else. They were required to pay five dollars +each as they entered ... in aid of some nebulous cause. No scotch was +served in order to boycott Great Britain. Everyone sat around in tweeds +and dirndls and sang the songs of the People to the accompaniment of an +accordion and a mandolin. Lennox tried to drink up his five dollars in +straight gin, but Olga gave him the out sign within half an hour.</p> + +<p>"My turn now," she said and took him to the East side and a +cosmopolitan-type party conducted in French, Dutch, Italian, Flemish +and Swedish. This one, Lennox loved. He ate lobster stewed in absinthe, +drank aquavit, learned Swedish massage, how to cut diamonds, when to +hear an opera entitled "Teresa's Teats," where Kafka was buried, who +was whose mistress at the party, and the particular sexual foibles +of each of the guests. But Olga was party-hopping and impatient. She +dragged him out.</p> + +<p>"I liked it there," he complained.</p> + +<p>"Too respectable. Where next?"</p> + +<p>They went to Charlie Hansel's place in the Village. It was filled with +ballet dancers; fag boys doing petit point in corners, sway-backed +girls waddling with duck feet like pregnant women. They all talked shop +to each other. They talked to nobody else.</p> + +<p>"Out," said Lennox, yanking open the door and marching into a closet. +Olga rescued him and guided him to fresh air. He was properly grateful +and offered to kiss her in the taxi. She permitted this token of +gratitude and startled him with her lips and tongue. He was relieved +when the cab deposited them at the front door of a red brick converted +stable, now a photographer's studio.</p> + +<p>"Do I know him or do you?" Lennox inquired as he lurched in. He +stared around the giant studio and rubbed his eyes. "Must be getting +bloodshot," he mumbled.</p> + +<p>It was the reddest damned party he had ever seen. Everyone wore fireman +red costumes, from Santa Claus down to a snake-like woman with tangled +black hair who wore fireman red Dr. Dentons with a drop seat. She +turned out to be the hostess. A small man with a guilty face whom +Lennox surprised searching the pockets of the guests' coats was the +host. There was an insidious brew called Fish-House Punch, composed +of sugar, Jamaica rum and peach brandy in an enormous crystal bowl. +Lennox had three glasses and was returning for a fourth when he saw the +hostess unbutton her drop seat and bathe her bottom in the punch bowl.</p> + +<p>"Out!" he said to Olga.</p> + +<p>"It is out," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'm r'sponsible for your moral health. <i>In colo parentis.</i> Feel +strongly this's no place for you."</p> + +<p>"No. I like it here. It's not too respectable."</p> + +<p>"Oh?" Lennox said. "You want disrespectable party? Come on. Got +jus'place fyou."</p> + +<p>He took her to Kay Hill's apartment. Olga entertained him in the cab, +and when he was able to focus on her he perceived that she was a damned +beautiful girl. They took the elevator up and rang Kay's doorbell. +There was so much noise inside that they had to ring three times.</p> + +<p>The door opened. Kay stood there wearing a fringed green stole and +nothing else.</p> + +<p>"Come on in!" she screamed in honest Canarsie accents.</p> + +<p>She pulled them in, slammed the door, turned to the foyer table on +which a dozen scotch bottles stood, and picked up a black grease +pencil. She wrote JAKE across one white label and handed the bottle to +Lennox. She wrote OLGA on another and handed it to Olga. They both had +swigs. Kay led them down an endless Early American hall, past various +doors, and into a Colonial bedroom. A naked girl was seated at the +dressing table feebly trying to hook on her brassiere.</p> + +<p>"Coats there," Kay said, pointing to a black mound of clothes on the +four-poster bed. She turned and left.</p> + +<p>Lennox reeled and looked at Olga. "Out?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She took off her coat and threw it on the bed. Lennox had no intention +of losing his coat in that grab-bag. He lurched into the bathroom and +carefully hung his burberry in the shower. As an afterthought, he +turned the water on. When he came back to the bedroom, both girls were +gone.</p> + +<p>He had a solid drink from his private bottle and wandered down the +hall, caroming from wall to wall. He peeped into rooms. A seven-man +poker game was in progress in various stages of undress. Three +partially draped girls were decorating an oil painting with their +lipsticks. Two couples in underwear and aprons were cooking something +in the kitchen. Lennox investigated the pot. It contained onions, +potatoes and a cookbook.</p> + +<p>The living room was insane. Some guests were dressed, some were naked, +the rest were any stage between. Everyone carried an individual scotch +bottle. Lennox searched for his charge. He spoke to three different +women before he finally realized he was speaking to Olga. Then he +realized he was having difficulty speaking. He was pleased to see that +she had not undressed. He was relieved to see that her companion also +was dressed.</p> + +<p>"What?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"I said," Oliver Stacy repeated, "You're holding that bottle +upsidedown."</p> + +<p>"Am I? Scout's Honor?" Lennox peered. "It's empty," he said with +delight. He flung the bottle from him. "Who's that talking to Olga +Bunion?"</p> + +<p>"I'm right here," Olga said.</p> + +<p>"I'm talking to her," Stacy said.</p> + +<p>"Could you excusr minute? Most say something utmust p'ortance. Utmust!" +Lennox took Olga's arm and tacked up the corridor. She stopped him in a +corner and pressed the body against him.</p> + +<p>"What did you want to say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Wanted warn you."</p> + +<p>"You wanted to warn me?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Men'll temptyr chastity t'night. Mustnt succumb whilem your +chaperone. Your honors my honor. See?"</p> + +<p>She laughed and explored his mouth with her mouth. "You big old bear +you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said. "Listen. I'm rsponsible fyou but you maket pretty +tough fme...."</p> + +<p>Lennox staggered around a door-jamb and fell backwards into a room, +carrying Olga with him. They landed on a soft hooked rug. It was some +kind of sewing room with a dress form, blanket chest and cutting table. +It was empty. Lennox tried to get up.</p> + +<p>"Why do you keep running?" Olga asked. "Are you afraid of me?" She +kissed him again. For the first time he returned the kiss. His hands +got busy with the tight sheath of the dress, trying to expose the body.</p> + +<p>"Stop it," Olga said.</p> + +<p>Lennox grinned and continued his attempt to extract her body from the +dress. She pulled his hands away.</p> + +<p>"I said stop it," Olga repeated. "Don't spoil it."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. Won't hurt th'dress. Zit'zip or hook?"</p> + +<p>"You're making everything nasty. Stop!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. Make everything lovely."</p> + +<p>"Stop pawing me like that. What do you think you're going to do?"</p> + +<p>"What comes natal to a fella." He kissed her again and slid his hands +along her legs. She struggled violently, bruising his lips against his +teeth. She was breathing heavily. Lennox pinned her arms back with +his left arm while he gently slid her dress bodice down to her waist. +She screamed and bit his hand savagely. He let her go and sat up in +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Why allv sudden?" he asked faintly.</p> + +<p>She scrambled to her feet and backed away, hastily pulling the +dress bodice up into place. He squinted at her. She was shocked and +terrified, and gooseflesh showed on her arms. Suddenly he realized what +she was and the mistake he'd made.</p> + +<p>"Oh. My. God." Lennox whispered. "You're justa baby. A tease. Virgin +tease, yes? Noodnick, not nympho. Throw your body 'round. Don' know +whatyr doing. Use dirty words. Don' know what they mean. A baby +makin'like a woman. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You're disgusting!" she spat.</p> + +<p>"No. Decoyed. Mowss-trapped. Shoulda known. You smell like babies."</p> + +<p>"Let me out of here!" she hissed. She edged past him. He burst out +laughing and flipped his hands up under her skirt. She screamed again +and ran, slamming the door behind her. Lennox sat on the floor and +laughed. Then he wept. He climbed to the edge of the blanket chest and +sat with his arm around the dress form.</p> + +<p>"Love on'y you, Gabby. On'y wantbe with you. On'y you, sweetheart."</p> + +<p>The door of the sewing room burst open. A nude woman in a green stole +berated him blurrily. Something about a bitch girl pulling a crying jag +on some anonymous named Stacy and sneaking out to alley cat with him. +The woman in the stole considered herself robbed. She blamed Lennox. He +arose with dignity.</p> + +<p>"Bringum backal ive," he said. He tottered to the foyer, picked up +a bottle of scotch and wondered about his coat. He went back up the +Early American hall to the Colonial bedroom and peered into the mound +of clothes on the four-poster. He pulled coats, hats and trousers off +the top. A left hand was revealed, thrusting up stiffly out of the +coke-black mass. Lennox let out a hoarse cry and backed away. He turned +and ran blindly out of the apartment, trying to erase the memory of +maggots.</p> + +<p>Yorkville was blazing with holiday lights. Festoons of red, white and +green bulbs arched over the streets. Lennox blinked and blundered +into a Hofbrau on Third Avenue which was aswarm with <i>gemütlich</i>-type +celebration. A sign of burnt leather hung over the bar between +moose antlers. It read: <i>Wein-Weib-Gesang!</i> Underneath it hung its +translation: Whiskey. Women. Swing.</p> + +<p>"No. No. No." Lennox said indignantly. "Should be wine-women'n song. +Yes?" He gazed up and down the bar trying to count the customers. "Want +t'buy set-ups f'the house."</p> + +<p>"Drinks?" the bartender inquired in a genuine low Dutch dialect.</p> + +<p>"Set-ups." Lennox displayed his bottle. He lurched playfully up and +down the bar, pouring drinks for his friends into their beer, their +rye, their cognacs, their wine glasses. He was quelled with difficulty. +Accord was restored when he planked fifty dollars down on the bar and +requested demon rum for his playmates.</p> + +<p>"What happened to your hand?" someone inquired.</p> + +<p>Lennox lifted both hands. The left was encrusted with blood. "My +pitching hand!" he wailed. "My bread'n'butter hand. Don't anybody +rec'nize me? Lefty Jordan, the Big Train?"</p> + +<p>Nobody recognized him. He left the Hofbrau in a state of high dudgeon +and staggered down Third Avenue until he reached the Irish bars in the +sixties. He entered The Poplin crying: "Hoch Der Kaiser!" The clients +of The Poplin were equally exuberant and traded drinks with Lennox +generously.</p> + +<p>"Lissen," he kept repeating. "Lissen. Lissen. Lissen."</p> + +<p>Nobody listened and he was content. Somebody asked him his name.</p> + +<p>"Lefty," he said. "Jus' call me Lefty. Om inna shoe business. Make +shoes f'left foot only."</p> + +<p>He vacated The Poplin and continued down Third Avenue until he reached +the fag bars in the fifties. He entered The Fantasy and elbowed his +way through the buzzing and the hissing and the sibilation to the bar +where he fell into easy conversation with the languid boys around him. +He informed them that he was Leftwich, a wealthy shoe manufacturer from +Brockton, Mass. They were not impressed. They went on gossiping and +name-dropping and Lennox fancied he heard something familiar.</p> + +<p>"Anybody here jus' mention 'Who He?'" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh <i>that</i> thing," a voice drawled. "The original Rigor Mortis, from +the picture of the same name."</p> + +<p>"You're so right so right so right," Lennox agreed. "I watch it up in +Brockton. Come'ome fr'm hard day inna factry. See nothin' but puke. +That show's vomit. That show's.... Alla fault of a lousy stinkin' louse +who writes it. Lousy phoney. Name of Lennox. Anybody here know'm?"</p> + +<p>Somebody said they knew him intimately and he was a big queen.</p> + +<p>"No-no-no," Lennox said. "He'sa whore. Thinksee writes clever with his +fancy filth from's stinkin' sewer mind. People like me don't think +hesso clever. Plain people like Lefty Leftwich witha feet onna ground. +Want heart and soul and meaning. Y'unnastan? Heart. And. Soul. And. +Meaning ... not garbage outa fancy barrel. Faker sells hisself out f'ra +buck and sells us out too, Y'unnastan?"</p> + +<p>No one was paying any attention. Lennox went on raging to the bored +backs. "I know'm. Me. Plain old Lefty Leftwich from Brockton, Mass. +Know allabout'm from way back. He could write from's guts ifee wasn't +so busy pimpin' f'pennies." Lennox began to shake his fists in fury. +"Lousy sewer Lennox! Fancy filthy fraud! Sells hisself downa river soee +can live fancy'n'elegant like a duke or a marquiss. Betrayal. Why don't +somebody honest tell'at corpse where to get off? Why don't someone +kill'm an' make room frhonest writers?"</p> + +<p>He elbowed his way from the bar, left The Fantasy and continued down +Third Avenue. Below 42nd Street he made up his mind and turned east. He +came to a dim stationery and candy store with K N O T T spread across +the window in an arc of brass letters. He entered and staggered against +the marble soda fountain, peering blearily at the faded woman who was +just closing up.</p> + +<p>"Wanna write a letter," he said. "Spehshul d'liv'ry letter. Wanna best +paper'n'envelope inna house. Pen too. Teach'm a lesson."</p> + +<p>The faded woman looked at Lennox, recognized him, and without a word +produced a sheet of blue paper, a blue envelope and a cheap fountain +pen which she filled. She took a three cent stamp and a special +delivery stamp out of a cash box and affixed them to the envelope. +Lennox picked up the pen, paper and envelope, placed five dollars on +the counter and staggered out.</p> + +<p>He entered the Baroque through the side door, stared around wildly and +located an empty chair at the table behind the telephone booth. He +swam to the chair through the smoke and the noise and sat down. With +his breast pocket handkerchief he mopped the table dry. He looked up. +Seated across the table from him was a blonde who appeared to be a +Swede farm girl. She was looking at him.</p> + +<p>"Hiya Goldilocks," he said.</p> + +<p>"Hiya," she said. "Long time no see."</p> + +<p>"Jus' got in from Brockton."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Brockton, Mass."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>"Since always," he said. "Live'air all my life. Inna shoe business. +Permit me innaduce myself. Lefty Leftwich."</p> + +<p>"What the hell!" she exclaimed. "You got three names?"</p> + +<p>"Lefty. Leftwich." Lennox counted on his fingers. "Is on'y two."</p> + +<p>"Skip it, Lefty." She laughed and covered her teeth with her hand.</p> + +<p>"Scuse me, Goldilocks. Gotta 'portant letter to write."</p> + +<p>She watched with increasing interest as he placed the paper and +envelope on the table, unscrewed the pen, took it in his left hand and +began to write in a sick, hysterical scrawl: Dear Who He.... This is +your last warning. I'm going to kill you, you fancy filth, you penny +pimp, you garbage from a fancy barrel....</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Gabby had gone to bed early Saturday night. The work of catching twelve +white pigeons and cleaning up their droppings had exasperated and +exhausted her. By five o'clock Sunday morning she was half awake and +positive that she heard thumpings at her door. She got up, put on a +pyjama top and padded out to the studio room. The pigeons rustled and +cooed in their cage. The thumpings continued. She put the chain on the +door, opened it an inch and peeped out into the corridor. A large man +was squirming restlessly on her door mat trying to get comfortable. It +was Lennox.</p> + +<p>She bit her lip, debated with herself, and finally unchained the +door and pulled him in. He was semi-conscious, incoherent, rank with +alcohol, sweat and vomit. Gabby locked the door and tried to get Lennox +on his feet. He got to his hands and knees and no further.</p> + +<p>"Make a bes'damn oxfords inna worl'," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"On your feet," she said.</p> + +<p>"Name's Lefty Leftwich an' Icn lick any man inna—" He expired.</p> + +<p>She pushed and prodded him down the foyer, through the living room and +into the bath. He crawled on hands and knees, whimpering dolorously. In +the bathroom, she tugged and tussled until she got his clothes off. She +threw the clothes into a corner and worried the hulk until it climbed +into the tub. Gabby turned the shower on hot. Lennox lay under the +deluge, crooning. She took off her pyjama top, got a wash rag and soap +and cleansed him thoroughly. Then she turned off the water, placed a +giant bath towel on the floor and got him out of the tub and sprawling +on the towel. She dried his back, kicked him over and dried his front. +Then Gabby harried him to her bed where he lay, prone and catercorner, +snoring raucously.</p> + +<p>She took Jake's clothes to the kitchen and placed them in a carton for +the cleaners, first emptying out the pockets. On the table she placed +his pocket watch, chain, keys, gimmick book, silver pencil, three +dollars in change, one hundred and five dollars in bills, and last of +all, a blue envelope stamped special delivery and addressed to "Who +He?" in a familiar hysterical handwriting. She stared at that envelope +for five ghastly minutes.</p> + +<p>It was half-past seven. Gabby made coffee, drank it, put on a dressing +gown and wandered fearfully around the living room for two hours. At +last she went back to the bedroom. Lennox hadn't moved. She picked up +the phone and dialed the number of Jake's apartment. She let the phone +ring until Cooper answered in an inhuman voice.</p> + +<p>"Sam," she whispered. "This is Gabby. I've got to see you right away. +Can I come up, please?"</p> + +<p>"Now?" Cooper croaked.</p> + +<p>"It's very important, Sam. Please. Can I come up?"</p> + +<p>"What time is it?"</p> + +<p>"Nine-thirty."</p> + +<p>"Oh God!" There was a pause. "Got to be at rehearsal by eleven anyway. +Come up."</p> + +<p>Gabby dressed, left a note for Lennox, and went downstairs. On this +New Year's Sunday morning The Rock was dead. She found a taxi, still +littered with confetti, and was driven north to Knickerbocker Square. +Cooper was dressed in slacks and jacket, waiting for her. He offered +coffee which she refused and they sat down in the wing chairs in the +living room eyeing each other. Gabby was frightened. Cooper looked +drawn and twitchy.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Jordan keeps the photostats of those letters?"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I want to compare them."</p> + +<p>"With what?"</p> + +<p>Gabby took the blue envelope out of her purse and showed it to Cooper.</p> + +<p>"Another one!" he exclaimed. "Where did you find it?"</p> + +<p>"In his pocket. It hasn't been mailed yet."</p> + +<p>"But how did he...? Oh. He must have run up against that Knott again. +Last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"He gave it to Jake personally."</p> + +<p>"Stamped? Marked special delivery?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe he wanted him to mail it for him. Irony." Cooper stood up and +crossed to the piano where he fidgeted with manuscript paper.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's any Knott, Sam. Neither do you."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that?"</p> + +<p>"The way you're behaving now."</p> + +<p>Cooper turned around. The corner of his mouth was ticking. "Hell!" +he burst out. "What's the sense of pussy-footing? He's writing those +letters, Gabby. I know that."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known?"</p> + +<p>"Since last week when he showed me the photostats." Cooper loped into +his bedroom and came out a moment later with three paper slips from a +telephone pad. He handed them to Gabby. They were covered with the +same hysterical scrawl, matching the writing on the latest letter.</p> + +<p>"He has an unconscious habit," Cooper explained. "He scribbles with his +left hand when he's extra nervous. While he's talking on the phone. +When he's reading. It's almost like automatic writing. He doesn't do it +all the time ... just occasionally, but you can't miss it. The minute I +saw those photostats, I knew."</p> + +<p>"Does he know?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"No. That's what makes it hell."</p> + +<p>"We can't let him find out, Sam."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Maybe later, but not now. It would be disastrous for him. We've got to +protect him."</p> + +<p>Cooper jammed the phone slips into his jacket pocket and fretted around +the room. "I tried to warn you. At that crazy cocktail party Thursday. +If I hadn't been so paralyzed myself I might have—Christ! What a mess!"</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He had to call in the police, yet."</p> + +<p>"Will they find out?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"What would they do if they did?"</p> + +<p>"Send him down to City Hospital for observation. Maybe worse. I—Jesus! +What a mess!"</p> + +<p>"You mean an asylum?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have to keep it from the police too. We'd better destroy +this letter."</p> + +<p>"It's against the law. That letter's evidence."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll be accessories?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Burn it," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>She spoke with such decision that Cooper took the envelope, placed it +in the practical fireplace and touched a match to the corner. The +flame ran along the edge and then curled slowly across the face. The +letter crackled and gaped.</p> + +<p>"Put it out!" Gabby cried so abruptly that Cooper started. She ran past +him and beat the flame out with her hands and purse. Then she picked up +the charred envelope and opened it. It was empty.</p> + +<p>"What happened to the letter?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>Cooper made a feeble gesture. "I can't keep up with this. I—Maybe +he didn't write the letter. Just the envelope. Maybe he—Was it last +night? He was probably plastered. For God's sake, who can figure +anything Jake does sober, let alone drunk? I tell you, I'm lost in +this. I'm nowhere."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there anything we can do?"</p> + +<p>"Get him off The Rock. Send him somewhere. Get him out of here."</p> + +<p>"Is that the only answer?"</p> + +<p>"It's the only one I can come up with."</p> + +<p>"Did you try?"</p> + +<p>"Try? What?"</p> + +<p>"To make him go away last week? You tried to make me go away."</p> + +<p>"No, I couldn't. I—"</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Quit hounding me, Gabby. I've got troubles of my own."</p> + +<p>Gabby's face darkened. "He's your friend, Sam."</p> + +<p>"I can't do anything for Jake."</p> + +<p>"That's a shocking thing to say."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I enjoy saying it? For God's sake, don't you be angry +with me too. I tell you, I've got my own problems to handle."</p> + +<p>Gabby watched Cooper while he prowled around the room as if pursued by +demons. Finally she made up her mind to be frank. "I think I know what +they are, Sam."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" He laughed without humor. "That's more than I can say for +myself."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't necessary for Jordan's sake," Gabby +said gravely. She came around a corner. "You don't want to be Jordan's +friend. You want to be his wife."</p> + +<p>Cooper turned white.</p> + +<p>"You've been acting like a woman," Gabby blurted. "Jealous, possessive, +hysterical. That's why you made such a fuss when he tried to protect +you at the party. It was like a man protecting a woman. You enjoyed it +so much you felt guilty."</p> + +<p>"You're kidding, of course."</p> + +<p>"No," Gabby said honestly. "I'm trying to help you so you'll help +Jordan. It isn't wrong to be a homosexual, Sam. You mustn't feel +ashamed. You have to face it. You haven't been able to face it and +that's why you made so much trouble for Jordan."</p> + +<p>"Are you calling me a fag?"</p> + +<p>Gabby nodded. "You knew about the letters a week ago, and you did +nothing. You let it come to a crisis when you could have stopped it. +And I think I know why. You've been living on his strength and you feel +guilty deep down inside because you know it's the way a woman lives on +a man's strength."</p> + +<p>"This has gone just about far enough, Gabby! I think—"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't admit that to yourself," Gabby went on firmly. "But you +had to do something to wipe out the guilt. So you let Jordan destroy +his own strength. That's the way you're going to prove to yourself that +you're not dependent on him ... that you don't love him like a +woman ... that you're as much of a man as he is."</p> + +<p>"This is insane!" Cooper shouted.</p> + +<p>"You keep house for him. You wait on him. You watch over him like a ... +like a jealous woman. Because deep down inside you want to go to bed +with him. That's why you resent me. Isn't it the truth?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And that's what makes you dangerous," Gabby said. "If you could see +the truth, you wouldn't be helping Jordan destroy himself."</p> + +<p>"I told you!" Cooper cried, shaking so hard he could barely speak. "I +told you! I had problems of my own. I—"</p> + +<p>"They're just your excuse for standing by and watching him fall." Gabby +leaned forward intensely. "I can't let you do that, Sam. It isn't fair +to yourself and it isn't fair to Jordan. You'll be horribly ashamed of +yourself. We've got to come to an understanding and work together."</p> + +<p>"Understanding!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He wants you for a friend. I promised him I'd keep you +friends.... And I'm going to keep that promise," Gabby added grimly. +"But not until you understand that you're going to be his friend, not +his wife."</p> + +<p>There was an agonizing pause. The phone rang. Cooper looked around in +bewilderment, then jumped up and took the call.</p> + +<p>"What? No. He's not in. I don't know where you can get in touch with +him...."</p> + +<p>"He's at my place," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. I do know where he is. He—"</p> + +<p>"Who's calling?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>"Who is this? What? Driscoll? Aimee Driscoll?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take it," Gabby said with determination. She seized the phone. +"This is Gabby Valentine, Aimee. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to your boyfriend, sister."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"A man named Knott."</p> + +<p>"You're wasting your time. That was a lie you told us Thursday +night ... a cruel malicious lie."</p> + +<p>"Sure." Aimee laughed and Gabby could picture the hand covering the +teeth. "Only now it happens I know what plays. I know who this Knott +really is."</p> + +<p>"That's another lie."</p> + +<p>"Not this time, doll. I seen him write the letter. In front of my eyes. +And what's more, I got the letter. So if Mr. Three-names wants to get +it squared off, tell him he better come down and see me this morning. +And tell him I ain't settlin' for no lousy TV set neither!"</p> + +<p>Gabby hung up and looked at Sam. "She's got the letter."</p> + +<p>Cooper shook his head. He was dazed.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get it from her, Sam."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I—" He looked at his watch. "I have to go to the theater."</p> + +<p>"Sam!" She took his arm and shook him. "We've got to get that letter."</p> + +<p>He stood perplexed, the corner of his mouth twitching, then without +another word, he walked out of the apartment. Gabby ran after him. From +the door she saw him cross the square and disappear around the corner.</p> + +<p>Gabby went up to Jake's room, found an overnight bag and packed it with +Jake's clothes. She came downstairs with the bag, took an overcoat from +the closet and let herself out of the apartment. At Third Avenue she +got a cab.</p> + +<p>"Nine hundred East Thirty-third, please," she told the driver.</p> + +<p>The cab dropped her before a brownstone apartment house. She rang Aimee +Driscoll's bell and the door-release buzzed promptly. Gabby entered the +house and climbed two flights with the bag and overcoat. To Aimee, who +was standing at the door of her apartment wearing the green and scarlet +petuniaed dressing gown, she said: "Good morning, Aimee. I dropped in +on my way home."</p> + +<p>"Spent the night out, huh?" Aimee answered, looking at the bag. +"Naughty-naughty. Come in."</p> + +<p>She closed the door behind Gabby who put the bag and coat in a corner +and waited.</p> + +<p>"Too high class to take a load off in my dump, huh?"</p> + +<p>"I was waiting to be asked," Gabby said quietly.</p> + +<p>"So I'm asking. Park your high-priced ass."</p> + +<p>Gabby sat down on the sofa and looked around. She saw the television +set with the framed photograph on top, and her eyes widened at the +resemblance of the picture to Lennox. Then she noticed that Aimee was +watching her closely.</p> + +<p>"Pretty crappy, huh?" Aimee asked. "Not what your kind is used to."</p> + +<p>"The trouble with you is you're old-fashioned," Gabby said directly.</p> + +<p>"That chair's brand new modernistic. And what about the TV set? Nothing +old-fashioned about that."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean your furniture. I mean your attitude toward people ... +talking about my kind and your kind. It's Victorian." Gabby smiled. +"We're both of us people. Don't let's quarrel."</p> + +<p>"No? I thought you come up here looking for a fight."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in fighting. What is there to fight about?"</p> + +<p>"Your boy friend's letter." Aimee lit a cigarette. "I won't kid you, +doll. I seen him write it last night. He was so dirty drunk he forget +to put it in the envelope when he sealed it. I got it right here."</p> + +<p>"May I see it, please?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like to?" Aimee smiled without parting her lips. "Old +three-names is in a bad jam, ain't he? I ought to take that letter to +the cops. It's against the law writing dirty letters like that and +sending 'em through the mail."</p> + +<p>"You misunderstand, Aimee. It was a joke."</p> + +<p>"Yeah? Ha. Ha. A gag got you up here so fast, did it? Try something +else, doll."</p> + +<p>"I came up because I'm afraid other people will misunderstand ... like +you."</p> + +<p>"Don't hand me that. I seen the fuss you and him made Thursday. I +figured it out. That guy's off his rocker. He ought to be put away. He +ain't fit to hang out with sane people. He's dangerous." Aimee crushed +out the cigarette violently. "No wonder he beat hell outa me last week. +I'm lucky I didn't get killed."</p> + +<p>"Then are you going to the police?"</p> + +<p>"So help me, I ought to. But I'm willing to be a right guy if he'll +keep away from me ... and make it worth while. He can afford it, being +a big-shot writer."</p> + +<p>"How much?" Gabby asked.</p> + +<p>Aimee gave her a poker face. "Ten grand."</p> + +<p>Gabby mustered herself and began her first lie. She burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"What's so funny?" Aimee demanded.</p> + +<p>"Your price. You'll have to be a little more realistic."</p> + +<p>"He ain't got ten grand to keep outa trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not." Gabby blushed, being unused to the sensation of +flagrant lying. She inched her way further into falsehood. "How much do +you think he gets for writing that show?"</p> + +<p>"At least three-four hundred bucks a week."</p> + +<p>"Half that."</p> + +<p>"You're crazy."</p> + +<p>"Half that," Gabby repeated. "One hundred and fifty dollars a week."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it.</p> + +<p>"It's the truth."</p> + +<p>"He had a couple hundred bucks on him last Saturday."</p> + +<p>"It took him two months to save two hundred dollars." Gabby was +discovering it was no problem at all to lie. She pointed to the +television set. "It took him two months to save up enough to buy that +present for you, Aimee. The money was supposed to be for me. I think +you owe me a favor."</p> + +<p>"All right. Here's your favor. Five grand."</p> + +<p>Gabby shrugged. "He can't do it."</p> + +<p>"One grand. He's got to have a thousand bucks stashed somewhere. +Everybody's got a thousand bucks."</p> + +<p>"I don't. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"I will if three-names don't want his letter to go to the cops."</p> + +<p>"All right," Gabby said. She held out her hand. "Now may I have the +letter, please?"</p> + +<p>"Are you kidding, sister?"</p> + +<p>"I can't pay you until tomorrow. Won't you trust me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"But you want me to trust you."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to."</p> + +<p>"All right. I will." Gabby arose. "I'll bring the money tomorrow +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Not you. Him."</p> + +<p>"He may not be able to come. I'll bring the money. That won't make any +difference, will it?"</p> + +<p>"Either he brings it himself or it's no deal." Aimee insisted. She +looked at Gabby malevolently.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind why. He brings it himself. He hands it to me like a +gentleman, and he asks me extra polite like a gentleman to do him a +favor and give him back the letter. Extra polite or it's no deal."</p> + +<p>"Then I can't trust you."</p> + +<p>"You can trust me if he behaves himself."</p> + +<p>Gabby hesitated. At last she said: "He can't do that, Aimee. We can't +let him find out he's been writing those letters ... not now. Please +understand."</p> + +<p>Aimee's eyes lit up. "So it'll hurt him a little. It's time he found +out how it feels to get hurt."</p> + +<p>"What are you trying to do? Punish him?"</p> + +<p>"That's between me and him."</p> + +<p>"No. I think it's between you and somebody else." Gabby examined Aimee. +"You're using him to punish somebody else."</p> + +<p>"It's between him and my ass!" Aimee shouted.</p> + +<p>"Don't show me your bruise again," Gabby said. "Please listen to me. +He's in trouble. Don't make it worse for him. You must have been in +trouble yourself. You must know what it means to need help."</p> + +<p>"And who got me in trouble?" Aimee spat. "The nice respectable safe +ones like you."</p> + +<p>"Why are you so hostile to me? You think I look down on you, don't you. +Why are you so class conscious?"</p> + +<p>"Class my ass! What the hell do I care about class? They all gimme a +lousy time ... all of them. So now it's my turn to hand out a little +grief."</p> + +<p>"Stop whining, Aimee. You're just feeling sorry for yourself. I'm doing +the same thing you are, but I'm not whining. Half the women in the +world are too, and they don't whine either."</p> + +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Sleep with men the law doesn't approve of." Gabby tried to smile. +"Let's be honest, Aimee. As far as the law's concerned we're both +whores. Let's stick together and help each other."</p> + +<p>"Get outa here," Aimee raged.</p> + +<p>"Not without the letter."</p> + +<p>"I already told you. Let him bring the dough and beg, and he'll get the +letter. Now beat it."</p> + +<p>Gabby shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's a dreadful thing to say, but +you're not even an honest whore, Aimee. You'll have to trust me for the +money. Give me the letter."</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a kick in your high-class ass," Aimee cried. She darted +at Gabby, seized her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the door. +"You get the hell outa my house."</p> + +<p>Gabby tore her hands away. "How dare you!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Now it comes! The high-tone how dare you!" Aimee screeched. "How +dare anybody like me touch somebody like you, you goddam high-assed +duchess!" She leaped at Gabby in a burst of fury, kicking and clutching +at her hair. Gabby staggered, then swung her purse and knocked Aimee +back against the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'll bring you down," Aimee spat.</p> + +<p>"You aren't bad," Gabby answered grimly. "You're spoiled. You're a +spoiled, selfish, lazy slut."</p> + +<p>As Aimee advanced, she backed away, kicking off her shoes and stripping +off her jacket to clear for action. Aimee clawed like an alley cat. +Gabby threw up her left arm to defend herself from the tearing nails +and cracked Aimee across the face with her right.</p> + +<p>Aimee began to scream. She clinched, biting and kicking, and they +staggered against the window. Gabby's blouse was torn off. Both women +lost their balance and clutched at the drapes. The curtains came down +on top of Aimee, pole and all. When she struggled free, she had lost +the dressing gown.</p> + +<p>She ran into the kitchen. There was a crash and she came charging +back, left arm shielding her bosom, the neck of a broken beer bottle +in her right fist. Gabby gave ground in terror, dodged a vicious +swipe and stumbled back against the window where Aimee cornered her. +In desperation she snatched up the five foot curtain pole that had +fallen. She delivered a frantic chop that caught Aimee between neck and +shoulder and dropped her to her knees. The beer bottle slipped out of +her hand and clattered across the floor.</p> + +<p>Aimee clawed at Gabby's legs, ripped off her skirt and brought her down +to the floor. They rolled across the room, pummeling each other with +knees, elbows and hands. When they jammed against the television set, +Gabby twisted on top of Aimee, took her blonde hair in both hands and +hammered her head against the cabinet. After three punishing blows, she +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Where's the letter?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>Aimee screeched and swore. Gabby pounded her head three times again, +and Aimee went limp.</p> + +<p>"Where's the letter?"</p> + +<p>"Bedroom," Aimee answered faintly.</p> + +<p>"Show me."</p> + +<p>She got up and pulled Aimee up by the hair. Never releasing her hold, +she dragged Aimee into the bedroom. Both women were gasping and +gleaming with perspiration. In the bedroom Aimee fumbled at a dresser +drawer. Gabby opened it for her. Under a pile of black net nylons was a +sheet of blue writing paper.</p> + +<p>Gabby glanced at it and then released Aimee who dropped on the bed. +Gabby went back to the living room, folded the sheet twice and placed +it in an ash tray. She lit a match and burned the letter. She crushed +the ashes with her fingers until they were dust. Suddenly she shivered.</p> + +<p>She took off the shreds of her stockings and put on her shoes. The +blouse was hopeless. She opened Jake's bag, took out his clean shirt +and put it on. Over that she put her jacket and skirt. The zipper of +the skirt was wrecked. She went to the bedroom and searched the dresser +until she found a couple of safety pins. While she pinned her skirt she +watched Aimee who hadn't moved.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for you," Gabby said at last. "You should have had this +lesson when you were a child. Maybe it isn't too late now."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to the cops anyway," Aimee moaned. "I'll have him put away. +I'll fix both of you for this."</p> + +<p>"If you make any more trouble," Gabby answered in a hard voice, "I +promise you'll regret it for the rest of your life."</p> + +<p>She went back to the living room, hoping that her threat would +silence Aimee for good. She picked up Jake's coat and bag and left +the apartment. Her knees gave as she went down the stairs and she was +trembling; but her eyes sparkled and her face wore a triumphant smile. +And when, on the street, she tasted blood from a cut inside her mouth, +she spat into the gutter with the cocky assurance of a kid who has won +his first fight.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lennox awoke in the role of Mr. Lefty Leftwich from Brockton, Mass. +He turned over in bed like a ship launched sideways and immediately +began bellowing the ballad about feet, feet, marching up and down +again, with which he had annoyed the patrons of the Baroque until Chris +Barakatrones had been forced to throw him out.</p> + +<p>Gabby heard the racket and ran into the bedroom and turned on the +lights. Lennox winced, closed his eyes, and sneezed three times in +stately waltz tempo. "Less light," he muttered. "A switch on Goethe. I +am excessively educated. Need more crud in my blood." He began to roar +again.</p> + +<p>"Stop that noise, Lefty," Gabby called from the door. She came to +the bed and sat down beside Lennox. She was wearing a grey skirt and +a slate blue sweater. Lennox immediately reached up and seized her +breasts with his heavy hands.</p> + +<p>"The All-Mother," he laughed.</p> + +<p>He hurt her. She eased his hands and said: "Yes, that's how they're +tattooed, Lefty."</p> + +<p>He began to wrestle with her, trying to tear off the sweater.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy," she said. "Or do you want to hurt me?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, lady," Lennox apologized. "Act of homage. 'Pillow'd upon +my fair love's ripening breast. To feel forever its soft fall and +swell....' Etcetera. Etcetera. Sonnet by J. Keats. Theme song of L. +Leftwich." He hauled her down on the bed. She kissed him once and then +bit his ear until he roared with pain.</p> + +<p>"Jesus!" he complained.</p> + +<p>"Did I hurt you?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Christ, yes!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Lefty." She kissed the injured ear and bit the other until +he roared again.</p> + +<p>"Listen, lady," he said, half annoyed, half ecstatic, "No fair. You +play Boys' Rules. I'm the fella. You're supposed to be the girl."</p> + +<p>"Male Supremacy," Gabby said. "I am so the girl. Feel your fair love's +ripening breast." She pulled his face down into her bosom and banged +the back of his head with her fists. She rolled him over in bed and bit +his mouth. He struggled up, protesting. She caught him and huffed and +puffed against his bulk until he collapsed again.</p> + +<p>"Fins," he said.</p> + +<p>"You give up?"</p> + +<p>"I give up. Fins."</p> + +<p>She braced herself on her arms and looked down at him. He looked up and +grinned. "You're the first one that played Boy's Rules with me. Why +aren't there more like you, lady?"</p> + +<p>"All girls want to, Lefty."</p> + +<p>"Why don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Because men won't let them."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"They want girls to be girly-girly."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it makes them feel manly."</p> + +<p>"Crazy." He tapped the tips of her breasts. "Double-relish," he said.</p> + +<p>"What's that mean, Lefty?"</p> + +<p>"It's musical ornamentation," he explained after a moment's earnest +concentration. "Friend of mine, Sam Cooper, said—" He collapsed and +stared at her with his mouth open.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lefty? What did Sam Cooper say?"</p> + +<p>"Gabby?" he faltered.</p> + +<p>"Right here."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you—I thought I—"</p> + +<p>Lefty Leftwich fled back to Brockton.</p> + +<p>"W-Where've I been?"</p> + +<p>"Right here."</p> + +<p>"Gabby...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling?"</p> + +<p>"I think I'm going to be sick."</p> + +<p>She smacked her palm against his nose and thrust back determinedly. He +grunted in pain.</p> + +<p>"Still want to be sick?" she asked after a minute.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered in patient agony.</p> + +<p>She released his nose. "Hello, Jake," she said.</p> + +<p>He began to cry. She soothed him. "It's all right, baby. Don't cry. +What's the matter, darling? You don't have to cry."</p> + +<p>"It's the first time you ever called me Jake," he said in a muffled +voice.</p> + +<p>"Is that why you're crying, sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"It's like we're finally meeting for the first time.... No ... I—I'm +mixed up again. Like last week. What's today?"</p> + +<p>"Sunday. New Year's day."</p> + +<p>"What time is it?"</p> + +<p>"Six o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Morning?"</p> + +<p>"Evening."</p> + +<p>He digested that information, thought intensely and groaned. "I've +lost the whole damned New Year's Eve. I'm blacked out again from ten +o'clock last night. What filth am I going to start remembering now?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened," Gabby said briskly. "I was with you from +midnight on."</p> + +<p>"You were?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Did I do anything bad?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Where did we meet?"</p> + +<p>"You called for me here."</p> + +<p>"And you went out with me? After that fight? After the lousy things I +said to—"</p> + +<p>She put her hand over his mouth. "Don't talk about that. We both +apologized and made up."</p> + +<p>"Honest?"</p> + +<p>"You know I never lie."</p> + +<p>"Did.... Did we run into Knott?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I could swear something about Knott is flitting around in the +blackout. I—"</p> + +<p>"Your imagination," Gabby said. "On your feet, Jake. Time to get +dressed and have something to eat. We've got to catch the nine o'clock +plane."</p> + +<p>"What plane?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember anything from last night? We made up our minds to +fly down to Mexico today."</p> + +<p>"Mexico? What for?"</p> + +<p>"My divorce. Your wedding." Gabby looked at him sternly. "If you're +pretending amnesia to get out of it, Jake, it won't work. I've got +witnesses."</p> + +<p>"I think," he said feebly, "I'd better have some coffee."</p> + +<p>He stood up, still dizzy and blurry. Gabby tossed him clean shorts. +He put them on and followed her to the kitchen where he drank coffee +humbly and in a hushed voice reported what he remembered of his New +Year's Eve ... the trip to Islip, his insane practical jokes ... he +even blurted out all he remembered of his date with Olga Bleutcher, the +body incarnate. Gabby was annoyed, the more so because his memory died +at the point where the date with Olga began. She covered her chagrin +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"The pigeons were a nuisance," she said, "But after the mothballs and +the gelatine I got off lucky. You're a Monte Cristo, Jake."</p> + +<p>"No," he insisted. "It wasn't revenge. I swear I was trying to spread +sweetness and light." He looked at her for the first time with +something like focus. "What happened to your right eye? It's all red."</p> + +<p>"Caught cold in it last night," Gabby said briefly. "How did you manage +to get rid of fatal Olga Bleutcher?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. We must have gone to parties. Probably I lost her +somewhere."</p> + +<p>"And before you lost her did you—" Gabby stopped.</p> + +<p>"Did I what?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>After a moment Lennox asked: "What time did I pick you up here?"</p> + +<p>"Around midnight."</p> + +<p>"That's two hours not accounted for."</p> + +<p>"We won't try to account for them. We won't even ask Olga."</p> + +<p>"No. I mean, do you think I ran into Knott while I—"</p> + +<p>"Forget Knott," Gabby said. "You never ran into him and I don't think +you ever will. The whole thing will blow over while we're in Mexico."</p> + +<p>"What'll Roy do to you if you divorce him?"</p> + +<p>"To hell with Roy. Now come on, Lefty. It's time to get dressed."</p> + +<p>"Who's Lefty?"</p> + +<p>"You."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>"Since last night. All of a sudden you turned to me and announced you +were Lefty Leftwich from Brockton."</p> + +<p>Lennox grunted. "A comic, that's what I am. A New Year's comic. If you +tell me I put on women's hats, I'll hang myself."</p> + +<p>"You didn't while you were with me. You can check with Olga some other +time."</p> + +<p>"You aren't jealous about Olga?" Lennox asked timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gabby said. "I am. I could knock her block off."</p> + +<p>"But we had that fight, and she pestered me until—"</p> + +<p>"You listen to me, Jordan Lennox. We'll probably have a lot of fights +in the future, but never for a minute imagine they'll give you any +excuse to chase other women." She rapped him under the chin with her +knuckles. "If I ever catch you, I'll knock your block off too."</p> + +<p>"All of a sudden you're such a fighter, all of a sudden," he said in +awe. "What happened?"</p> + +<p>"Something."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I don't fight and tell. Now get dressed."</p> + +<p>He dressed and admired her for bringing him his clothes. He admired her +most for preserving his sacred gimmick book from loss, theft and other +catastrophe. As he placed it in his inside pocket and flexed his right +arm, Gabby handed him a long white envelope.</p> + +<p>"This is our expense money," she said. "You had a hundred and eight +dollars left from last night. I borrowed another two hundred. We can +make bank arrangements in Mexico. Somebody I know at the airport—"</p> + +<p>"An eclectic Chinaman?"</p> + +<p>"No." She laughed.</p> + +<p>"Hasty Hawaiian?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's a woman I met at a WVL meeting. She got me the tickets on +some kind of credit. We can settle up when we get back."</p> + +<p>"You're leveling about Mexico?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Now, it's seven o'clock. We have two hours to pick up +our tickets and get weighed in. I packed your fortnighter and brought +it down. It's out in the foyer...."</p> + +<p>"By God, you were busy today."</p> + +<p>"By God, you don't know how busy. All I have to do is finish packing +myself. Then we'll start. Wash the dishes, Jake. Oh, and give those +pigeons their freedom or something."</p> + +<p>He swallowed. "I can't do it, Gabby."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly. Just take the cage to the window and open it. +Nature'll do the rest."</p> + +<p>"I mean I can't go to Mexico tonight."</p> + +<p>"Don't be obstinate, darling. Just clean up the kitchen and keep out of +my way."</p> + +<p>"I can't go tonight, Gabby." He took her shoulders and held her. "And +don't think I'm playing noble on account of Roy. I love you so much +I'll marry you even if it ruins us. I'll marry you any time or any +place you say ... but I can't go tonight."</p> + +<p>"I want to go tonight, Jordan."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. I can't. I can't run out on the show."</p> + +<p>"You can so run out on the show. They fired you."</p> + +<p>"That isn't what I mean. I can't run out on those threats. I've got to +stay and face Knott."</p> + +<p>"Jordan, believe me, there isn't any Knott."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I just know it."</p> + +<p>"You mean you just hope it. Who's writing the letters? Who's +threatening me?"</p> + +<p>"No one. It's some kind of silly joke."</p> + +<p>"A joke! That filth?"</p> + +<p>"So it's a filthy joke; but we can't take it seriously."</p> + +<p>"I'm taking it seriously. I want to meet the joker who's picked me out +for his filthy humor. I'm going to meet him tonight."</p> + +<p>"Jordan, please! I want to go to Mexico tonight."</p> + +<p>"If he doesn't show up," Lennox continued grimly, "I'll drag Aimee +Driscoll down to the precinct and we'll beat the truth out of her. +We'll pry it out of Sam, too. There's got to be a pay-off tonight."</p> + +<p>"Jordan!" Gabby shook his arms frantically. "I want to leave tonight. I +want it more than anything else. Will you do this for me?"</p> + +<p>"I can't, sweetheart. I've got too much to settle up first."</p> + +<p>"And you'll find another excuse tomorrow and the day after and the day +after that...."</p> + +<p>"You know that's not true."</p> + +<p>"Remember what you said about politics? To hell with politics because +we're more important. I agree, Jordan. That's the truth. And to hell +with Knott and his letters too."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why are you so stubborn?"</p> + +<p>"I have to do what has to be done," Lennox said patiently. "You go +ahead and finish packing. We'll leave as soon as I've called the +lunatic who's been crucifying me. I'm going up to the theater now. I'll +phone you when we're off the air."</p> + +<p>"No," Gabby said quietly. "The packing can wait. I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>It was seven-thirty when they arrived at the Venice Theater. More +than a hundred ticket-holders were already queued up before the main +lobby, waiting for the nine o'clock show. When the doors opened at +eight-thirty, there would be at least five hundred more. As Lennox took +Gabby around to the stage door he passed down the length of that line, +staring into each strange face, searching for his hidden enemy.</p> + +<p>To the deaf doorman he spoke in a low flat drone that was more +effective than any shouting. He was expecting a Mr. Fu, a Mr. +Hamburger, and a Mr. Eugene K. Norman. If they came to the stage door +they were to be admitted and given seats. If anyone else asked for +him ... A Mr. Knott, say ... Lennox was to be called at once. He +repeated these instructions three times. Gabby bit her lip.</p> + +<p>The stage door opened into a small square foyer. To the left was the +narrow corridor which led down the left hand side of the theater to +the green room and thence to the right wings of the stage. There is no +paradox in this reversal of left and right. Since the actor faces the +audience, right and left are reversed as you cross from the theater to +the stage.</p> + +<p>A broad curtained arch led from the stage door foyer directly into the +theater orchestra, opening out into the left aisle. The curtain was not +drawn now. Through the arch, Lennox could see little islands of people +scattered through the orchestra ... a clump of dancers in costume, +four cameramen drinking coffee from cartons, Oliver Stacy with Olga +Bleutcher, Ween and Grabinett with Mason's gag writers, Avery Borden +and Ned Bacon en rapport with the client.</p> + +<p>Lennox took Gabby's arm and marched into the orchestra. He refused to +be inconspicuous. It was like running the gauntlet but he made a full +circuit of the house, meeting every hostile glance with an arrogant +smile. He threw the smile in their faces, daring them to accept the +challenge. Every hackle in the theater arose, but before the battle +could be joined, Raeburn Sachs started a muffled uproar on the P.A.:</p> + +<p>"Dress, please. Dress. Everybody on stage for dress."</p> + +<p>The dancers and Stacy returned to the stage. The cameramen returned to +their cameras. Johnny Plummer put on his ear-phones and stammered to +the orchestra on the low platform at the foot of the right aisle. The +gag writers assembled in the center aisle, just behind the dolly-track +of the No. 2 camera, to simulate contestants for the dress rehearsal. +Lennox seated Gabby and excused himself to go backstage. He did not +slip around through the green room. As the orchestra began its opening +fanfare, he went down to the edge of the old orchestra pit, climbed up +on the rail and leaped to the stage in full view.</p> + +<p>He turned and grinned into the lights. "Poison eaters!" he said +contemptuously and walked toward the prop table in the right wings. +Mason passed him on the way from his dressing room to open the dress.</p> + +<p>"You lousy burglar!" Mason shouted in a whisper. Even feuds must be +conducted sotto voce during rehearsal.</p> + +<p>Irma was a step behind Mason. "You lousy burglar," she whispered. +"We'll fix you for those lights."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Lennox inquired. "Didn't you have cameras?"</p> + +<p>From out front came the echo of Mason's voice, the cackle of the dummy, +the brassy punctuation of the orchestra. The empty house put every +sound on echo. Kay Hill, in a 1920 evening gown, passed Lennox on her +way to take her place on the Clara Bow "Charleston" set.</p> + +<p>"So you helped him add another one to his score," she hissed, her acid +eyes raking Lennox.</p> + +<p>"Who?" he asked, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"The Bleutcher."</p> + +<p>"Maybe she added him to her score."</p> + +<p>The ballet girls came down the stairs from their balcony dressing room +in geisha costumes, and clustered around the rosin box, shuffling their +feet. Across, in the left wings, the ballet boys assembled, dressed in +Lt. Pinkerton whites. Stacy ran off stage, stripping off his dinner +jacket to change for his second spot.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, pal!" he whispered bitterly.</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"For Typhoid Olga. Ask me a favor some time."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell Kay."</p> + +<p>Grabinett shot out from behind a drop, arguing furiously and +soundlessly with the uniformed theater fireman. He stopped long enough +to blink at Lennox.</p> + +<p>"And you'll pay for them Almighty signs too," he whispered. "Defacing +my office!"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell the painter."</p> + +<p>Bacon swaggered in from the green room with the client and the client's +daughter. He was explaining the workings of the theater like an old +showman from way back. As they drifted around behind the drops, he gave +Lennox one venomous glance that disemboweled him. Olga stopped long +enough to confront Jake.</p> + +<p>"You filthy pig!" she said in a clear voice.</p> + +<p>"Shhh! Rehearsal! All insults in a whisper, please."</p> + +<p>She slapped his face and followed her father.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell mother," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>Tooky Ween waddled across the temporary bridge from the orchestra to +the stage with the notes he had made for Mason's opening spot. He +shook his fist at Lennox. Lennox blew him kisses. The hatreds and +the hostilities were recharging him. He felt alert and stimulated. +He lounged against the prop table, looking sardonic and unyielding, +carrying his naked weapons ready for quick murder.</p> + +<p>Mason came off the stage, followed by Irma. Lennox applauded +soundlessly and asked for his autograph. Mason lifted the dummy to +hit him, thought better of it, and continued to his dressing room, +shrugging out of his tuxedo. The orchestra blared. Irma kicked Lennox +in the leg.</p> + +<p>"That's the wooden one," he smiled.</p> + +<p>Stacy rushed out in a scarlet Grenadier's uniform.</p> + +<p>"Olga went that way," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>Kay Hill came back from the Clara Bow.</p> + +<p>"Oliver went that way," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>The orchestra blared and segued into dance tempo. The geishas and Lt. +Pinkertons took position before the No. 2 camera. Raeburn Sachs tore +down the center aisle from the control booth and leaped up on stage. He +came back into the wings.</p> + +<p>"Wardrobe!" he hissed. "Where's the wardrobe mistress? I told her +Household Guards, not Grenadier."</p> + +<p>"Same thing," Lennox said.</p> + +<p>Sachs looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Don't argue with me," Lennox said mildly. "You have a talent that +terrifies me. It always puts me in the wrong."</p> + +<p>Sachs turned, leaped across the pit and ran back to the controls.</p> + +<p>The orchestra fanfared. The dancers came off and ran up to the balcony. +Mason charged out of his dressing room, buttoning up his Philip Nolan +uniform. Across the stage a group of actors were assembling on a +courtroom set before the No. 3 camera. Lennox waved to Robin, picked a +bunch of artificial flowers off the prop table and threw it to her. The +flowers were intercepted by Oliver Stacy's face.</p> + +<p>Stacy spread his shoulders and telegraphed the punch. Lennox stepped +inside and hooked his right to Stacy's heart. Then he caught him before +he could fall and disrupt the dress. They clinched.</p> + +<p>"Rehearsal! Rehearsal!" Lennox whispered.</p> + +<p>Stacy broke away and ran into his dressing room. Lennox massaged his +fist happily. The stage manager appeared and returned the flowers to +the prop table in a marked manner. Kay Hill came out in black lace +court dress, ruff and cap to take position before the No. 1 camera with +an Extra dressed in leather and carrying an axe. The wardrobe mistress +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Not Grenadier. Household," Lennox told her severely.</p> + +<p>"I'm having trouble with Cooper."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"He won't get into costume."</p> + +<p>"Where's he dressing?"</p> + +<p>"Up in Nine."</p> + +<p>Lennox ran up the iron steps to the balcony, three at a time. He +passed the dancers' dressing room and had a flashing glimpse of naked +flat-chested girls juggling into can-can costumes. He knocked once on +the door of Nine and burst in. It was the size of a privy. Cooper +sat on a stool before the bulb-ringed mirror staring at a red and +white blazer and a scarlet banded straw hat. His face bore a ghastly +expression.</p> + +<p>"What the hell, Sam?"</p> + +<p>Cooper looked at him without changing expression.</p> + +<p>"Your spot comes up in five minutes."</p> + +<p>Cooper shook his head.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? Speak."</p> + +<p>"I'm sick."</p> + +<p>"Stage-fright, hey? Don't worry, I'll see you through." Lennox picked +up the blazer. "Come on. Change."</p> + +<p>Cooper made no move. Lennox took his shoulder and shook him. "Wake up, +boy. You're on in five minutes. Take off your coat."</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone!" Cooper knocked Jake's hand away.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy, Wolfgang. Don't get panicky. I told you I'd see you +through."</p> + +<p>"See me through what? More hell?"</p> + +<p>"It may be hell, but it's worth it. We're promoting you, son."</p> + +<p>"Promoting me?" Cooper laughed hysterically. "You're an expert, aren't +you? You've promoted yourself to hell."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I have, but I'm not quitting on the way down. Don't you quit on +the way up." Lennox glared at him. "For Christ's sake, Sam! Do I have +to fight for both of us? Don't you have any strength of your own?"</p> + +<p>Cooper started to his feet in horror.</p> + +<p>"Get that coat off." Lennox jerked the coat off, spun Cooper around and +put him into the red and white blazer. He cocked the straw hat on his +head, tapped it into a rakish tilt and shoved him out of the dressing +room. Cooper trudged to the stairs like a sleepwalker. The stage +manager below beckoned frantically and he increased his pace going down +the stairs.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded and picked Cooper's jacket up to hang it away. Three +slips of paper had fallen out of the pocket in the tussle. He was +about to return them; then he stopped short as his eye caught the +familiar hysterical writing. He smoothed the slips out and examined +them fearfully. His heart began to pound. There were fragments, +phrases, names, numbers; all scrawled in that sick hand: SUIDI ... +$$$ ... MOST ... MERRY XMAS ... AMPMAMPM ... ROX ... §§§3 ... ¶7 ... MY +HEART & ... BLOOD. SWEAT. TEARS ... WHO WHO WHO WHO HE?</p> + +<p>Lennox went black with rage. He placed the slips in his pocket and +burst out of the dressing room. Down on the main floor he left the +stage, leaped down the short flight of steps to the empty green room +and called Sergeant Fink on the pay phone.</p> + +<p>"Bob? Jake Lennox."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Hello. We'll be over in time for the program."</p> + +<p>"Get over now. I've found out who's writing the letters."</p> + +<p>"You don't say?"</p> + +<p>"I do say. And I've got proof."</p> + +<p>Lennox hung up. He glanced at the green room monitor. Cooper and one of +the dancers had started their duet. Lennox turned up the speaker volume +and watched, his face drawn and savage. The spot started badly. Cooper +and the dancer missed their cue, the orchestra had to wait for them, +they came in off beat. Their singing was inaudible and ragged. Cooper +moved like a St. Vitus dancer. Even on the monitor his shaking was +obvious.</p> + +<p>"Varsity show talent," Lennox snarled.</p> + +<p>After two agonizing minutes, the voice of Avery Borden cut through the +orchestra and singing with the clarity of exasperation: "No! No! No! +This is impossible."</p> + +<p>Cooper and the dancer stopped and peered out into the theater.</p> + +<p>"Get them out of here!" Borden shouted. "What is this? Amateur Night?"</p> + +<p>"So they stink," Grabinett's voice came faintly from another part of +the theater. "What can we do? We got three Almighty minutes to fill."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather fill three minutes with dead air than that no-talent. Sweep +'em off the stage."</p> + +<p>"This is a dress rehearsal!" Sachs roared on the P.A.</p> + +<p>"This is a goddam trappisty!" Grabinett answered.</p> + +<p>The dancer began to weep. Cooper left her and staggered off camera. +Lennox ran up the steps from the green room to the stage and met him +as he came into the wings. There was a confused uproar in the theater +punctuated by Raeburn Sachs' repeated commands to the staff to stop +their clocks. Lennox took Cooper by the scruff of the neck and dragged +him back to the green room. He flung him into a chair and stood over +him. Cooper shook and gasped for air.</p> + +<p>"You son of a bitch!" Lennox shouted.</p> + +<p>"Stand by me, Jake. I'm in a bad way."</p> + +<p>"You're going to be in a worse way, you bastard."</p> + +<p>"Please, Jake...."</p> + +<p>Lennox pulled the telephone slips out of his pocket and shook them in +Cooper's face. "Look at these. Look at them, you filthy Judas."</p> + +<p>"Jake ... I need a drink. I'm in a bad way."</p> + +<p>Cooper tried to get out of the chair. Lennox backhanded him across the +jaw. Then, in his fury, he yanked him up and cuffed his face. When he +let him go, Cooper collapsed.</p> + +<p>"So it was you writing them," Lennox shouted. "What's inside you? What +in God's name did you have against me? Why couldn't you come out into +the open instead of sticking a knife in my back and twisting it?"</p> + +<p>"The ... letters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the letters. The threats. The filth." Lennox thrust the slips +before Cooper's face again. "I found these in your pocket. It's the +same writing. Your disguised hand, yes? What are they, practice +sheets?"</p> + +<p>"No," Cooper said faintly. "I ... Jake, I've got to tell you. You're +writing them. You're writing those letters yourself. Not me. You."</p> + +<p>Lennox burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"It's true, Jake. Those times when you get drunk and black out.... +That's when you write yourself those letters. So help me, Jake. I've +been trying to keep it from you, but—"</p> + +<p>"I thought we were friends," Lennox broke in fiercely. "I thought we +were working together ... standing by each other ... backing each other +up. I thought we were two sane men bucking the rat-race and beating +them at their own game. I believed in us. I'd have killed myself to +keep it from being destroyed. I should have killed you before you +destroyed it. You're not sane. You're like all the rest of them ... +sick, vicious, living on hate and poison."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Jake! Will you listen to me?" Cooper struggled up out +of the chair and put his arm around Jake's shoulders. "You're the sick +one. You're the one who's destroying everything. You—"</p> + +<p>Lennox twisted away from Cooper and looked at him with hatred. "You can +think of more vicious ways to knife a man in the back than a fag. Why +didn't you dress under the stage with the other queens? That's where +you belong!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lennox," the doorman called in his deaf voice. "Man here for you. +Mr. Fink or such."</p> + +<p>"Be right out," Lennox answered. He showed his teeth to Cooper. "Wait +here. I've got a surprise for you."</p> + +<p>He ran out to the stagedoor foyer. Fink was standing there with his +swarthy colleague, Salerno.</p> + +<p>"He's in the green room," Lennox said. "This way."</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," Fink smiled. "Who's in this green room?"</p> + +<p>"Guy who was writing the letters. You were right, Bob. It was Cooper. +Sam Cooper who lives with me. Look at this." Lennox waved the telephone +slips. "I found them in his pocket. It's the same writing. You see? +You see, Mr. Salerno? Come on."</p> + +<p>"Oh Jesus," Salerno grunted.</p> + +<p>"Come out to the car a minute," Fink said.</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"To talk."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Tell you when we get there. Come on."</p> + +<p>"What the hell is this?" Lennox looked from Fink to Salerno. "I tell +you who's writing the letters and you want to talk. Go talk to him."</p> + +<p>Salerno slipped behind Lennox and caught his arm in a paralyzing grasp. +"Come on out to the car," he said softly.</p> + +<p>"I will like hell come out to the car. What's the matter with you two?"</p> + +<p>"You want it tough?" Fink asked.</p> + +<p>Lennox was bewildered. In the background, the orchestra echoed +brilliantly.</p> + +<p>"Tell him," Salerno said.</p> + +<p>"Now don't blow your top." Fink smiled. "We want to drive you down to +City Hospital for a check-up."</p> + +<p>"Me? City Hospital?"</p> + +<p>"Just for a couple of days. Won't cost you a cent."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Come on, Lennox. Don't make it tough."</p> + +<p>"I asked you what the hell you're talking about. City Hospital! Is this +your idea of a funny?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him," Salerno repeated.</p> + +<p>"We know you're writing these letters," Fink said.</p> + +<p>"You know I'm writing—" Lennox was staggered. "You know I'm writing +the letters? To myself?"</p> + +<p>Fink nodded.</p> + +<p>"You always smile at the wrong time," Lennox said slowly. "This is a +joke-type joke at the wrong time. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"We'll talk it over down at the hospital."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think I'm writing the letters?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him," Salerno said impatiently. "Maybe he'll listen to reason."</p> + +<p>"Will you behave yourself if I show you?" Fink asked.</p> + +<p>Lennox nodded. There was a last fanfare off and then dead silence as +the dress ended. Fink took a manila envelope out of his pocket and +produced the poison pen letters. He unfolded one and pointed to the +hysterical scrawl.</p> + +<p>"See? Five words to a line. In every letter. Five words to a line, no +more, no less. That's an old telegrapher's habit, from counting ten +word messages. We checked this program. You're the only ex-telegrapher +working it. You're a professional telegrapher from twenty years back, +when you were a kid in this town on Long Island."</p> + +<p>"Islip," Lennox croaked. "Yes."</p> + +<p>"And we found your prints in the envelopes."</p> + +<p>"I handled the envelopes," Lennox said desperately. "When Grabinett +showed me the letters."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say on the envelopes. I said in the envelopes. We found your +prints inside, under the flap, but the envelopes were slit open at the +end. The only one who could leave prints inside there is the one that +put the letter in the envelope and sealed it. Now come on, Lennox. +Don't make it tough."</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Bob! How could I write them and not know about it? I +was scared. I was out of my mind trying to find who it was. How could +it be me?"</p> + +<p>"They'll tell you down at the hospital. Come on."</p> + +<p>"The lunatic ward?"</p> + +<p>"Don't get jumpy. You won't be in a strait jacket."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Salerno said. "Nice down there. Pretty nurses."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Come on," Fink said, and for the first time a terrifying hardness +manifested itself under the surface of his mildness.</p> + +<p>Lennox whirled and wrenched himself out of Salerno's grasp. He didn't +so much hit him as catapult him back into Fink with a bull thrust. He +ran through the arch into the orchestra, whipping the heavy curtain +across the arch behind him for cover. He squirmed through an empty row +of seats to the center aisle and yelled: "Gabby!"</p> + +<p>She turned. Everybody turned and stared through the gloom.</p> + +<p>"Out!" Lennox roared. "Out!"</p> + +<p>Behind him, Fink called sharply: "Lennox! You'll be sorry!"</p> + +<p>Lennox sprinted up the center aisle, knocking aside the vague figures +that blundered into his path. He cut around the glass corner of the +control booth and headed for the bronze doors that led out to the +theater lobby. At that moment, the doors opened and the studio audience +poured into the theater in a solid mass, fighting and elbowing for the +best seats.</p> + +<p>Lennox was slammed back against the control booth. He lowered his head +and tried to charge through that unyielding wave. He could hear Fink +and Salerno struggling near him and shouting orders to the network +pages, the house manager, the theater fireman. Lennox was carried +back again and shunted to the right where the broad stairs led up to +the balcony. He started up the stairs. The fireman appeared above him +and came down after him. Lennox turned and ran around the foot of the +stairs to the right aisle, searching for fire exits.</p> + +<p>He went down the steep slope of the aisle toward the stage. There +were no exits he could reach through the crowd. Fink and Salerno were +calling to each other. The studio audience was in an uproar. Lennox +leaped up on the orchestra platform at the foot of the aisle, battered +his way through musicians, stands and chairs, and vaulted onto the +stage. Gabby began screaming.</p> + +<p>Lennox started across the stage to the right wings. He tripped on the +No. 3 Camera cables, fell, rolled over and was on his feet again. +Salerno appeared in the right wings. Lennox stopped short and turned +downstage. Fink was coming at him up the No. 2 Camera dolly-track. +Lennox turned to the left wings. The fireman was advancing on him from +that side. He backed up, panting, trapped. As Fink came onto the stage, +the curtains swept in from either side, narrowly missing him.</p> + +<p>Lennox looked around wildly, searching the stage for a loop-hole ... +left, right, back, up. Suddenly he was transfixed. Still staring up +into the flies, he screamed: "Sam! Sam!"</p> + +<p>Every eye on the stage looked up. Fifty feet overhead, a figure in a +red and white blazer balanced precariously on the criss-cross bars of +the iron grid. Cooper teetered and sat down on a bar, his feet dangling +through the opening of the three foot square. Then he thrust himself +off and came plummeting down, feet first, arms outstretched. There +was a sharp crack and his body was jerked up in mid-flight. His shoes +flew off and clattered down. The arms flailed, the body shuddered once +as though the bones were trying to burst out of the skin; and then it +was still, swinging gently, the feet just a yard above the edge of the +teaser that masked the top of the stage from the audience.</p> + +<p>Lennox sank to his knees and began to sob. The appalled silence was +jarred by a fanfare from the orchestra on the other side of the +curtain. Oliver Stacy, in dinner jacket, paused long enough to vomit in +the wings, then slipped through the curtain, white-faced and smiling. +There was a burst of applause. His voice rang out in cheerful greeting, +and the warm-up for the New Year's Day "Who He?" show began.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED THE BODY CAME DOWN AND JERKED +THE BODY CAME down and jerked the body came down and jerked +thebodycamedownandjerkedthebodycamedown andjerked THE. BODY. CAME. +DOWN. AND. JERKED.</p> + +<p>Lennox rolled out of the bed and knelt on the floor. He leaned his +elbows against the iron bedstead, pressed his palms together and +pressed his lips against his hands.</p> + +<p>Alongside him, No. 17 slept open-mouthed and filled the ward with +the fetor of decay. No. 8 laughed in a baby voice, No. 20 scratched +methodically with a monotonous rasp. No. 5 chanted: "The Lord is my +hospital, I shall not want. He marries me to green Packards. He leadeth +me leadeth me leadeth me...."</p> + +<p>"No. No. No. Not a hospital. It's a jail, that's what it is," No. 9 +told him. "It's a jail run by the lousy Catholics and Masons where they +can pull off their crooked political deals. Nuns and Priests letting on +they're nurses and doctors. Spying me out. Reporting. Giving me blue +looks and electric sparks out of the walls. They know I won't let 'em +run the country. I'll tell the papers. I'll tell everybody!"</p> + +<p>"Did I ever tell you about paper?" No. 10 chattered with manic +brightness. "Did I ever tell you? A sheet of paper is an inclined +plane. A sheet of paper with lines on it is an ink-lined plane. An +inclined plane is a slope up and a slow pup is a lazy dog."</p> + +<p>There were steps behind Lennox, and a heavy voice said: "Jesus! Will +you look at him? He's prayin' again."</p> + +<p>Before the attendants could throw him back into bed, Lennox got up and +climbed in. They laughed ... two impervious men in identical white +uniforms wearing the identical expression of indifference. The only way +they could be distinguished was by their hair; one black, one red.</p> + +<p>"Got you trained, huh buster?" the red-head said. "Not this time, +though. Come on."</p> + +<p>Lennox put on the blue bathrobe and the straw slippers and meekly +followed the attendant down the ward.</p> + +<p>"What day is today?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Wednesday."</p> + +<p>The ward doors were unlocked and they passed out into a white corridor. +Barred windows looked west across The Rock and halfway into New Jersey +on this crisp, clear afternoon.</p> + +<p>"More tests?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"Nope. You're all finished, buster."</p> + +<p>"What now?"</p> + +<p>No answer. Lennox shuffled in silence and terror.</p> + +<p>"Are they going to lock me up for good?"</p> + +<p>The red-head thrust open a door and led him into a tiled bathroom. +Alongside the shower was a white table on which was neatly folded the +clothing Lennox had worn the previous Sunday.</p> + +<p>"Extra special for you," he said. "Why didn't you tell us you was a big +wheel, buster? Wash up and get dressed."</p> + +<p>In a daze, Lennox bathed and dressed. He looked at himself in the wash +mirror. He was completely unchanged ... except for the three-day beard +on his face.</p> + +<p>"Why should I be changed?" he thought. "Nothing's changed inside me. +I'm like all the rest. Sick. Feeding on what happened to Sam. Living on +poison. Loving the poison. It's only the innocents like Sam who suffer. +Our diet kills them."</p> + +<p>Outside in the corridor, the red-head was waiting for him, sneaking a +smoke like a convict. He pinched out the end of the cigarette, put it +in his pocket, and took Lennox downstairs. There was a blurry business +in an office of unlocking a file and restoring his possessions ... +money, watch, keys, and the gimmick book which he slid into his jacket. +He flexed his right arm against it repeatedly. It was his one hold on +his life.</p> + +<p>There was further confusion in other offices; papers to be signed +by a hand that could hardly bring itself to touch the pen, warnings +and official counsel to be heard, a brisk lawyer whom Lennox vaguely +recalled meeting before somewhere in the network. And most incredible +of all, there was Ned Bacon waiting for him in the hospital lobby, +leaning against a pillar like a Private Eye with his hat cocked over +his brow. Bacon shook hands warmly and took him out to his car. Lennox +was confused.</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Bacon said as he drove uptown, "We kicked it around and figured +the best thing would be to hand Cooper the rap. He was cooled anyway +and there was no percentage letting you sit in the penalty box."</p> + +<p>"You told them Sam wrote the letters?" Lennox faltered.</p> + +<p>"Sure. That's how we sprung you. That lawyer could be a Federal judge +if he was willing to lose money."</p> + +<p>"But Fink and Salerno...."</p> + +<p>"Bob's a buddy," Bacon drawled. "We gave him the sign and he listened +to reason."</p> + +<p>"So everybody thinks Sam...?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah."</p> + +<p>Lennox lay back in the seat, limp and helpless, too exhausted after +three days of horror and remorse even to ask questions. He flexed his +right arm against the gimmick book and let the arm drop into his lap. +Bacon glanced at him and smiled knowingly.</p> + +<p>"Been rubbing elbows in the marketplace, huh Jake?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of Sam."</p> + +<p>"Hell, he's dead. Think about the Quick."</p> + +<p>"I killed him, Ned."</p> + +<p>"A rope killed him, Jake."</p> + +<p>"I tied the rope for him."</p> + +<p>"He was an amateur," Bacon said. "He was out of his class. Nobody +killed him. He killed himself trying to mix with the pros."</p> + +<p>"Trying to mix with the poison eaters."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Did you write those damn fool letters, Jake?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess I did."</p> + +<p>"What the hell for?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know for sure yet. I think because I was sore."</p> + +<p>"What at?"</p> + +<p>"Myself."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Lennox said wearily. "It's like there were two of +me ... and one didn't like the other. You know how every man's got a +voice inside him that talks to him like a stranger. Mine didn't talk. +It wrote letters."</p> + +<p>"You aren't thinking about taking from a head-shrinker, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in them."</p> + +<p>"Stay away from those guys, Jake. I wouldn't trust a talent that wasn't +crazy a little. It's the crazy that makes you the writer. Stay with it +and enjoy."</p> + +<p>"Enjoy what? I've lost everything. God knows I made it a fight ... but +I've lost everything. I've got nothing left."</p> + +<p>Bacon laughed.</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in there doing word associations +and ink-blot tests and—This is a big favor, Ned, but why? I thought +you hated my guts after I sold you out to Blinky."</p> + +<p>"Just the Irish temper," Bacon said. "I'm directing 'Who He?' starting +February."</p> + +<p>"It's going off."</p> + +<p>"No it's not.</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Sachs is moving over to our new show."</p> + +<p>"Our new...?"</p> + +<p>"'The Couple from Missouri.'"</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Wake up, Jake. You remember that show we faked to cool the Kansas beef +last week."</p> + +<p>"The couple competing on give-away shows?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. The network bought it. We've had to change it around a little. +Blinky'll tell you while we're signing the contracts." Bacon parked the +car in the low Forties. As he got out he said: "And remember, this time +we split three ways. No fifty percent for Grabinett."</p> + +<p>They walked up Madison toward Grabinett's office. Lennox was even more +dazed. A moment ago his world had been in ruins. Now it was apparently +back in business and doing better than ever. He flexed his arm against +his gimmick book. Then he phoned Gabby from a drugstore. There was no +answer.</p> + +<p>As they passed Borden's office building, Avery came bouncing out and +saw them. Lennox flinched. Borden ran over and shook hands.</p> + +<p>"Only got a minute," he said, glancing at his watch. "Have to grab an +early train. What was it like in the hatch, Jake? They put you in a +strait jacket? Do they really have padded cells? I tell you, let's have +lunch tomorrow. I've got to hear all about it. Give me a call, not too +early." He waved buoyantly and darted into a cab.</p> + +<p>Lennox watched him go. His jaw hung. He looked at Bacon with so much +astonishment that Bacon laughed. "Wake up, Jake. You've got enough new +material to eat free for a month."</p> + +<p>"Material?" Lennox echoed.</p> + +<p>"What else? You're lucky."</p> + +<p>They continued up Madison Avenue. Everybody in the business was on the +street and everybody greeted Lennox as though nothing had happened. +Oliver Stacy hailed them and shook hands. "I'll give you a little +advice, Jake. Next time you have to handle three in a hassle, don't +fight high. Work low ... from the gut down. And use your knees. Forget +about fouls when the chips are down."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Oliver," Lennox said humbly.</p> + +<p>Stacy spread his shoulders and massaged his ribs. "I can't figure how +Cooper ever got up there. It took me twenty minutes to get across that +grid and cut him down ... and I know how to climb." He turned to Bacon. +"How'd you do with her?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going up to Brockton next week."</p> + +<p>"She can't be that good." Stacy tilted his fingers at them lazily and +departed.</p> + +<p>Bacon led Lennox up to Grabinett's office. The signs had been removed +from the corridor. Tooky Ween was in the main office with Grabinett and +both greeted Lennox warmly.</p> + +<p>"What a Christ Almighty thing!" Grabinett blinked. "That crazy Cooper +jeopardizing a show like that. Tsk. Tsk. You get any good ideas down +there, Jake? Ray was saying how we ought to do the mad scene from 'The +Count of Monte Cristo' on the 29th. Jesus, you need a shave." He picked +up the phone and ordered a barber.</p> + +<p>"He helped my boy write a great tune," Ween rumbled. "I don't care +what anybody says about him." He looked at Lennox. "Don't worry, Jake. +I'm takin' good care of that property. His sister's gettin' her fifty +percent regular, and it ain't a bad check."</p> + +<p>Lennox was too weary to argue. He phoned Gabby and there was still no +answer. The barber arrived and shaved him while Bacon swaggered up and +down the office with his hat tilted over one eye and organized the +cadre of the show. It was to be a panel format on the insult level. +Mr. and Mrs. Missouri would interview guest stars, challenge their +right to celebrity and stardom, and demand to be shown. The stars would +entertain to prove their merit. Ween would provide the stars from his +stable. Grabinett would provide production and direction, Lennox would +provide script.</p> + +<p>They argued budget for half an hour and then signed the agreement. +Jake's hand hardly trembled when he picked up the pen and signed +his name. He was beginning to feel solid again. The three days were +disappearing.</p> + +<p>As he left the office, Grabinett called after him: "Regular show +conference tomorrow at two. Don't forget. Have the script ready."</p> + +<p>"Mel! Have a heart. I've been in the hospital since Sunday."</p> + +<p>"So you had a nice rest. Get to work."</p> + +<p>Downstairs, he met Kay Hill, very slim and English in tweeds and a +fisher scarf, dashing into Sabatini's for a drink. She dragged him +with her. Lennox went back to the phone booth and tried for Gabby at +Houseways, Inc. She was not there either. He returned to Kay at the bar.</p> + +<p>"So they let you out of the hatch, darling," she said. "Happy, happy +day. We'll pickle it."</p> + +<p>"My God," Lennox said. "Nothing's changed."</p> + +<p>"Nothing ever does change. What's your brew?"</p> + +<p>"Soda."</p> + +<p>"Scotch and soda? Bourbon and soda? What and soda?"</p> + +<p>"Soda and soda."</p> + +<p>"Lent's a little early this year," she told the bartender. "Soda for +my father. Listen, darling, there's no earthly reason why—Hello +darling!" She waved to someone who kissed her cheek and clapped Lennox +genially on the back. "Why you have to hire a pair of bloody squares +from—Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back. "From +Missouri to expert your new show. I'm your girl for the job and—Hello +darling!—I'll sleep for it."</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said abruptly. "What happened at your place Saturday +night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh that? I was bloody plastered. You pulled in around midnight with +that Bleutcher bitch and—"</p> + +<p>"Midnight? You're sure?"</p> + +<p>"Of course—Hello darling!—and when Oliver ran out with her I thought +the usual had happened." She finished her drink and snapped her fingers +to the bartender. "Poor dear, he went out like something after a hot +bitch. He came back like something after a cold shower; and I wouldn't +turn my electric blanket on for him. What about that job? It's a +cozy—Hello darling!—blanket."</p> + +<p>Sabatini's was filling with the regular cocktail crowd, the men in the +same grey flannel suits with white oxford shirts and large expensive +ties, escorting the same pretty girls, exchanging the same dangerous +dialogue that flashed sparks like steel knives scraping together. It +was familiar and steadying. Sick, it might be, but it was the only life +that Lennox knew. He actually was able to grin at Kay.</p> + +<p>"I could use your body, love," he said, "but I wouldn't dare touch your +dialogue."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a bloody bug, Jake. You know I'm discreet on camera, I'd +never say—Hello darling!" Another kiss and another clap on the back +from somebody who paused to chat.</p> + +<p>"What's with Cooper?" he inquired. "I hear he got into some crazy jam +and hung himself in the middle of the first commercial."</p> + +<p>Lennox looked at him. "It was an accident," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Darling," Kay began. "Everybody knows poor Sam—"</p> + +<p>"It was an accident." He turned to Kay and for a searing moment his +eyes were more acid than hers. "Never forget that for a moment. Pass +the word around."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jake," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"He was a wonderful guy ... too good for this business. I wrote those +crazy letters. Not Sam. He died in an accident."</p> + +<p>Lennox left the bar and walked south on Madison, the highway of his +business, the highway of his life, the quintessence of Now. And the +Now was the same Now of last week, last month, last year. Nothing had +changed; nothing was lost, except Cooper. The life he had fought so +bitterly to hold together still stood firm, better than ever ... except +for Cooper.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you, Sam," he thought. "I +don't know what I'm going to do. I can make the business jump through +the hoop, but that's not enough of an answer."</p> + +<p>He turned east in the Twenties, threading through the dismal +sidestreets until he came at last to the little square with its +sycamore trees, its Greek cross of gravel paths, its black and brass +fence. He unlocked the street door of No. 33 and entered the kitchen. +His heart constricted. There were the Siamese making love to what +appeared to be Cooper kneeling on the kitchen floor filling their +dinner plate. The figure arose. It was Gabby in blue jeans and a shirt, +wearing dark glasses.</p> + +<p>The plate was empty by the time he forced himself to release her. He +looked at her, still without a word. He had knocked the glasses off in +the first fierce embrace. She had a lurid black eye.</p> + +<p>"Can you go inside?" Gabby asked. "Is it all right? We can go down to +my place."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, I think...."</p> + +<p>They went through the pantry hall into the living room. It was exactly +the same, even to the pile of manuscript paper on the piano.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't it be?" Lennox muttered.</p> + +<p>"I had to give the skunk away," Gabby said. "I didn't know what she +ate."</p> + +<p>"He," Lennox said mechanically. "Raw chicken."</p> + +<p>"Was it ... all right in the hospital? Did they hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'll tell you about it.... Some other time."</p> + +<p>With his arm around her waist, he paced up and down the long living +room slowly, letting his eyes wander, not daring to think. At last he +said: "A week's a long time on The Rock."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes it's a lifetime."</p> + +<p>"Usually it is. That's why we burn out so fast. Do you remember what +you said to me the Sunday we ended this affair?"</p> + +<p>"You mean began it."</p> + +<p>"No. That was the end. It's been backwards all along. Here we are at +the beginning. Let it be the real beginning."</p> + +<p>"All right, Jordan."</p> + +<p>He stopped pacing, took her hand and smiled artificially. "Good +afternoon. May I introduce myself? Jordan Lennox."</p> + +<p>"I'm Gabby Valentine."</p> + +<p>"What does Gabby stand for?"</p> + +<p>"Gabrielle."</p> + +<p>"Jordan stands for Junky. That's a hophead ... a lunatic."</p> + +<p>"Oh Jord—"</p> + +<p>"Shh! I'm introducing myself. I'm a crazy man, Miss Valentine. +Unbalanced. That's what makes me a successful writer, they say. Some +people don't believe talent is talent unless it's crazy. Do you think +so?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"Now while I'm introducing myself, Miss Valentine, I should tell you +what I write. You know the dirty words you see written on subway +station walls? I write them. That's my job. I also compose poems in +public toilets and do dirty drawings...."</p> + +<p>"Please, Jordan...."</p> + +<p>"Recently I was graduated to de luxe work ... dirty letters. But I was +so crazy I wrote them to—" He began to shake. "Remember what you +said? That I was poison. I am. I am. Be kind to me. Kill me."</p> + +<p>"You know the truth now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then don't waste it. Remember it. Don't throw it away. Use it."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known?"</p> + +<p>"Since Sunday."</p> + +<p>"And you're still around? Why aren't you running from me?"</p> + +<p>"I've known since Sunday morning, not Sunday night. I wasn't running +Sunday, was I?"</p> + +<p>"No. You were lying like an account man to save me." Lennox turned +away. "How long did Sam know?"</p> + +<p>"A week."</p> + +<p>"And he tried to save me, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jordan. He tried very hard. He tried to protect both of us."</p> + +<p>"Do you know why he did it, Gabby?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. She was about to blurt the truth of her last meeting +with Cooper when she caught herself. "But you'd better tell me."</p> + +<p>"I let him down," Lennox said bitterly. "He was a sweet guy, a whole +man, the only normal in the business. He had sense enough to want to +stay out of the rat-race and I shoved him into it. And then I let him +down."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like to remember."</p> + +<p>"It'll be best for you to remember. You won't be free of it until you +confess it. How did you let him down?"</p> + +<p>"When he loused the song spot. He was shaky with stagefright. You saw +him. Sure he loused it. Why shouldn't he? He wasn't a performer; he was +a composer. He came offstage licked. And instead of standing by him I +blew my crazy stack about the letters."</p> + +<p>"What did you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Christ! What lousy things didn't I say! I called him a fag and a Judas +and tried to get the cops to arrest him...." Lennox grunted in agony. +"How can a man do a thing like that to a friend? He was half my life."</p> + +<p>"He still is."</p> + +<p>"He's gone."</p> + +<p>"No, you still have him."</p> + +<p>"I destroyed him."</p> + +<p>"You can't destroy remembering him. Never. Always remember Sam Cooper, +the whole man, your friend."</p> + +<p>"It hurts," Lennox groaned.</p> + +<p>"You're lucky. You can punish yourself for what you did. It's the +people who can't confess who suffer."</p> + +<p>"Is that why you think he did it?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gabby answered steadily.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he hold on? Just a few more days. I licked 'em. I beat 'em +at their own game ... maybe because I'm their own kind ... but I came +out on top. I've still got the old show. I've got a new one. I've got +everything I was fighting for. Why couldn't he wait a little?"</p> + +<p>"I put you on top," Gabby said.</p> + +<p>"That goes without saying. I couldn't have done anything without you, +I—"</p> + +<p>"You didn't do anything. I did it for you. Roy did it for you."</p> + +<p>"Roy! Audibon?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I made a bargain with Roy. I told him I'd go back to him."</p> + +<p>"You told him you'd...." Lennox slumped on a chair. "So that's why the +show was renewed. That's why the network bought the new one. It was a +deal. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. So here it is," Gabby said. "The life you love ... the life +you've been fighting for so desperately ... the life you want more than +anything else in the world. Here it is wrapped in ribbon, and cheap at +the price."</p> + +<p>"Cheap!"</p> + +<p>"Cheap. You won't even have to give me up. That's part of the bargain +too. I can have a lover if I'll be discreet."</p> + +<p>"You're kidding," Lennox said faintly. "Please don't, darling."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm serious." Gabby watched him closely with solemn dark eyes. +"You're two people in one. Everybody is, more or less, and it doesn't +matter. But it does to me because I'm in love with one of you and not +the other. I hate the one who built this life for you. I love the one +who's trying to knock it down. He's the real Jake."</p> + +<p>"You've got it backwards, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"You've got it backwards. You admire the wrong one. You're trying to +protect the wrong one. I hate the one that's your favorite."</p> + +<p>"But the letters? The crazy filth...?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care. He's the one I love. He's filthy because he's never had +a chance, but he's the real Jake ... the honest Jake. He's a man to be +proud of; not the arrogant, hostile Jordan Lennox who hides him."</p> + +<p>Lennox shook his head in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes people fight to keep something alive when they should let it +be destroyed," Gabby said. "That's what you've been doing. You taught +me there are times when it's right to fight." She touched her eye. +"I'll tell you about this some day. Now I want to teach you that there +are times when it's right to surrender."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?" Lennox asked.</p> + +<p>"Make a choice. All this and me for a mistress, or none of this and me +for a wife." She backed against the piano, still watching him intently. +"I won't cheat. I'll love my Jake just as hard as I can ... as long as +I can find him in you. But the rest is up to you. You can have your +shows and your victories and your money, and take your chance of losing +the real Jake forever...."</p> + +<p>"And you too?"</p> + +<p>"And me too. Or you can let this life come down in ruins ... you know +what Roy can do to both of us ... and start building the real Jake out +of the rubble."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're wrong about the real Jake."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I am. That's a chance you'll have to take. But it's a fighting +chance, and you're a fighter, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I used to think so."</p> + +<p>"And there's one more thing. You know you're sick."</p> + +<p>"I said I was."</p> + +<p>"But you don't mean it. You're upset now, and ashamed. Later on you'll +forget. You've got to go to a doctor."</p> + +<p>"A talk-doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It won't be easy."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in analysts."</p> + +<p>"That's why it won't be easy. But you need one, badly. You'll have to +promise to start and go through with it." Gabby took a breath. "All +right, Jordan. There's your choice. Keep on fighting the old way, or +tear it down and start fighting for something new. Make up your mind +now."</p> + +<p>Lennox stood up slowly. He looked once around the room and then was +caught again by Gabby's intent gaze. For a long moment they stared at +each other while a voice within Lennox cried: "Run! Run! Run!" Suddenly +he reached into his jacket and pulled out the gimmick book. With one +powerful swing of his arm, he hurled it through the garden window into +oblivion. As the glass came tinkling down, he swung Gabby up in his +arms and carried her upstairs to his bed.</p> + +<p>"I cheated," she murmured honestly. "I dressed for the part."</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"Ned Bacon told me you'd be home today and I know you're sucker for +girls in pants."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>This Friday, Robin and I packed a bag, bought groceries and liquor, got +into the car and got off The Rock. We drove out toward Trenton, and ten +miles this side of Princeton Junction we turned off the express highway +onto Gun Hill Road, went through the fat Jersey farmland and finally +reached Stokewold, a village of one church, one supermarket, one bank, +one—Oh, one of each. You take the right fork out of Stokewold around +the pond and it's two miles to Gabby and Jake's house which they've +named Cooper Union.</p> + +<p>By the time we reached Stokewold we were halfway into a laughing jag. +We always start laughing on the way to visit the Lennoxes. You think +about their accidents and adventures building their house and you can't +stop.... The three second-hand cars Gabby bargained for and bought +which, one after the other, broke down as soon as she got them home, +turning the place into a Used Car lot. The time Jake got arrested for +trucking their nine-foot plate glass picture window on the express +highway. The big July Fourth party weekend when the water system went +haywire and Gabby tried to empty out a hundred gallon tank with a +teacup. Privately, Robin and I call the house Hysteria Cottage.</p> + +<p>Outside of Ned Bacon, Robin and I are the only people from the business +who like to see the Lennoxes. The Rock's turned its back on them. But +we love to come down to Cooper Union and help Gabby and Jake build +their house. We hammer and saw and paint while Gabby lectures to us +from Builder's Guides. Robin plants, mostly, and I'm the king of the +concrete, I have a touch with a trowel that astonishes people ... +including myself.</p> + +<p>The reason the house is still building is that they blew all their +money on the property. They have about a hundred acres of farmland, +meadow, timber, and whatever else they call rural-type land. The house +(what there is of it) is on a small hill shaded by elms. A hundred +yards behind the house is a tiny extinct quarry which was flooded out +by natural springs years ago. We swim there in summer and the water's +glacial.</p> + +<p>Gabby's pregnant. Gabby's the cute type. Her figure's exactly the same +except she looks like she swallowed the head of a torpedo. Ned Bacon, +who lets on to be a shingling expert, spends all his time finding out +if it's going to be a boy or a girl. He makes her lie down, borrows a +wedding ring (Gabby doesn't have one yet), and dangles it on a string +over her stomach. The theory is, if it swings in circles it'll be a +girl and if it swings back and forth in a straight line it'll be a boy. +So far the odds are seven to three on a boy.</p> + +<p>Gabby hasn't changed a bit. Robin and I were there in April when +they held a town meeting and we drove in with them. There were about +a hundred people sitting on camp chairs in the church basement, and +half of them were glowering at the Lennoxes because of the way the +unfinished house looks. They're all rich Squares who write stinging +letters to the Stokewold Star Times beefing about the gutter-bred +Lennoxes who are turning their township into a slum.</p> + +<p>This didn't make any difference to Gabby. She was on her feet a dozen +times, lecturing and admonishing the township on ethics, fair play and +civic corruption. Lennox sat solemnly alongside her and nodded his head +emphatically to her points. Once he caught my eye and winked, but the +laugh was on him because Gabby got him elected chairman of the Garbage +Committee.</p> + +<p>Jake does a few scripts now and then, most of them under a pen name +now that Macro and Audibon have had him blacklisted (not officially) +for Communism, which is a laugh. He sells a few stories. They struggle +along. It isn't easy with those two trips a week to the talk-doctor to +pay for, but they don't complain. Gabby tells me that Jake is having +a rough time getting straightened out, but he doesn't bleat. Both of +them are so grateful for their fighting chance that they act as though +they've won already. That's why we like to visit them.</p> + +<p>We never bring our troubles out to Gabby and Jake. You can always find +someone on The Rock who'll enjoy listening to your headaches. In fact +most people get sore at you if you don't complain a little. Happiness +is the problem. You have to share it with someone to get full enjoyment +out of it, but there's no one you can do this with on The Rock. If you +tell one of the tight rope walkers you've had a lucky break, he's so +jealous he's ready to kill you. So we save the good luck stories for +the Lennoxes.</p> + +<p>Gabby and Jake are glad if anyone else gets a break. They beam and +shake your hand and she delivers a ringing lecture on how creative you +are and how much you've deserved success. And they write you follow-up +letters to ask how your success is doing and they make you forget that +they've got problems too. The result is, you can't wait to be invited +down to break your back building their house.</p> + +<p>So we drove up the little hill this Friday afternoon and honked the +horn, Gabby and Jake came pouring out of the house followed by the +Siamese who looked like amateur tigers. Gabby kissed me. Jake kissed +Robin. I wasn't too jealous because I've got a kind of yen for Gabby.</p> + +<p>We yakked all that Friday night and didn't get to bed until three. +Eight o'clock Saturday morning we were awakened by Gabby who was +making weird noises in the unfinished study. When we investigated, she +explained that she was trying to hammer quietly. We began to laugh, got +into our work clothes, had breakfast with Jake and didn't stop laughing +all day.</p> + +<p>Sunday, the volunteer slaves started arriving to spend the day. Bacon +pulled in with Olga Bleutcher. Then came the friends of exile ... the +odd people who live on The Rock and never let it bother them. Eugene +K. Norman brought a man with a guitar. Two of the prettiest girls I +ever saw in my life drove up with a man wearing a red beard. In their +car was a wicker picnic basket the size of a steamer trunk. They were +artist friends of Gabby and spent the afternoon painting L*E*N*N*O*X on +the RFD mail box.</p> + +<p>After lunch, Lennox and I strolled down the hill, across the little +valley and up into the rise where his stand of timber was. I looked +back at the house and was suddenly struck by a resemblance.</p> + +<p>"Jake," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Kit?"</p> + +<p>"Look at the house from here, will you?"</p> + +<p>He looked.</p> + +<p>"What does it remind you of?"</p> + +<p>"Should it remind me of anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That place you showed me out in Islip. Where you were a kid."</p> + +<p>For a moment his face lost its calm and I had a glimpse of the +agonizing road he was climbing toward adjustment. It shocked me and I +was ashamed of my slip. I tried to change the subject. He stopped me.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Kitten," he smiled. "You haven't done anything wrong. +These things have to be faced. The house does look like the old place +in Islip."</p> + +<p>"You see it?"</p> + +<p>"I feel it." He was silent for a moment. "It's a funny thing. I spent +half my life running away from that clam-shack, and here I am right +back in it again."</p> + +<p>"Any idea when you'll get this place finished?" I asked, still trying +to change the subject. This time I succeeded.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" Jake said. "There's no rush."</p> + +<p>"Don't those letters in the paper bother you?"</p> + +<p>"Hell no!" He laughed. "You've seen Gabby's plans. You know how +beautiful the house'll be when we're finished. What's the hurry?"</p> + +<p>"Your neighbors'd like you to hurry."</p> + +<p>"Squares!" he grunted. "They're just like the noodnicks on The Rock, +Kitten. You find them everywhere. Rush. Rush. Rush. Nobody wants to +work for the work's sake. They want it done overnight so they can have +the result quick. But it's the work that's the fun. I finally found +that out. Nobody's going to hustle me into rushing through the best +part."</p> + +<p>"How long do you expect to take?"</p> + +<p>"There you go thinking like The Rock again. You mean three months or +six months or a year, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't take longer, could it?"</p> + +<p>"I hope it takes three generations," he said.</p> + +<p>I didn't have any answer.</p> + +<p>Sunday night we were the last to leave. It's a point of pride with +us to show that we're the Lennoxes' favorite friends. We kissed them +goodbye, drove down the hill and started back toward The Rock. We +looked up and saw them, silhouetted against the lights of the house, +arms around each other, waving madly. We started to laugh again.</p> + +<p>"Crazy kids," I said.</p> + +<p>"They're pure gypsy," Robin said.</p> + +<p>"When the baby comes he'll have to get to work again."</p> + +<p>"Gabby says they're going to name it Sam if it's a boy."</p> + +<p>"What if it's a girl?"</p> + +<p>"She says they'll name her Ned to teach Bacon a lesson."</p> + +<p>We chuckled and rehashed the weekend and the glow lasted all the way to +the George Washington bridge. There The Rock loomed up before us like a +vast purple volcano, lights flaring over it sulphurously, the sky above +reflecting the burning craters below. Robin began to cry.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Robin?"</p> + +<p>"Somehow I can't help feeling sorry for them."</p> + +<p>As we drove across the chasm of the river back to the private chasms +of our lives, we both knew she was lying. The weak never weep for the +strong; they weep only for themselves.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph2">[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphens left as printed.]</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75234 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75234-h/images/cover.jpg b/75234-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e93452 --- /dev/null +++ b/75234-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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