Better to Eat You (2 page)

“It happens to people around you,” said David thoughtfully. “Is that the sum?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “It isn't. After that—” now her story came tumbling out, glad of release, “I didn't dare take another job. Now you can see why. Grandfather is so sweet. I could have stayed with him for the rest of my … well, his life, anyhow. But he is a very old man and he's not very well and he lives … While it's a gorgeous place, he has to be pretty much of a recluse and there is just nothing to do there. Especially if I can't make friends. Another girl, my … my adopted cousin, runs the house and I'm not really needed. Finally it seemed that the only solution for me was to go to school. So here I am. But I have to be very careful, even so. I live by myself. I don't have a roommate. I shouldn't be talking to you.”

“Tell me,” said David, feeling very sorry for her, “are you sure this jinx or whatever it is still holds? You should experiment from time to time …”

“Oh, it holds,” she said sadly. “There was a boy in the drugstore, a nice kid—about seventeen, I suppose he was. I used to go in there a lot and he'd chat over the counter. It was just casual but I suppose I got too friendly. He was about the only person I ever did talk to.”

“Something happened?” David felt he was hearing a terrible story.

“After about two weeks, his dog died. The apple of his eye. So you see, male, female, even the young … I never went into that drugstore again.” Her head shook.

“Any more?” David felt his jaw setting in anger.

“Yes, more. My landlady. She was quite elderly and she saw me alone so much … She begged me to come with her to a family thing. It was just three old ladies. All we did was have tea and fruitcake. I … I enjoyed it.” The voice was ready to break again. “So she asked me again and I did go. We had tea and cheese biscuits and it was gossip about people I never heard of but it was people.…”

“What happened?”

“Just out of a clear sky they foreclosed her morgage. For no reason, she was dispossessed. She was just bewildered. But I knew. So now I live in a one-room apartment of my own.”

“There must have been a reason for that foreclosure,” said David.

“I couldn't find one out.” She shook her head. “Now do you see why I can't take your job?”

“I see why you think you can't.” David was frowning.

“It isn't unintelligent, is it, to notice a correlation, even if I don't know the cause?” She was watching him anxiously.

“No. You're right. That's too much to be chance.”

“I think so, too,” she said.

“I'm glad you told me, although it's the strangest thing I've ever heard. Nothing happens to your grandfather?” he asked shrewdly.

“No. I'm safe there.”

“I can't help wondering if there is anyone who wants you to be alone and friendless. Or
there,
at your grandfather's.”

“No. Nobody really wants me there. Even Grandfather wants me out in the world, for my own sake. He thinks I ought to go back to Japan. He's a little bit superstitious. Lots of stage people are. He says I picked up my ghosts there. I think I will have to go.”

“There is nobody who is in any way your enemy?” asked David uneasily.

“I can't imagine who,” she said forlornly. “Or why or even
what
it is. It's hard to do any searching for a reason because, of course, I have to do it alone. I just hope … I just guess I must wait it out.” Her eyes watched him for help.

“Will you work with me this summer?” said David sharply. “Because I very much want you to.”

“No,” she said, just as sharply.

“Will you go to the movies with me tonight?”

“No. Oh no …”

“Will you meet me for …”

“No. Please.
Not you,
” she said and his eyebrows went up and he grinned.

“Well, now, I kinda fancy myself as just the type to make a good jinx-breaker and besides, as I keep saying …”

A man's voice broke in. “Ah there, Sarah.”

David looked up. Over them stood a tall man, a big man, and on his heavy shoulders rode a head that was ridiculously too small. He was in his thirties, not very old. There was something about him that seemed watchful.

“Oh, Edgar,” said the girl with a sigh. “Professor Wakeley, this is Dr. Perrott. A kind of cousin of mine.”

“How do?” said Dr. Perrott, shifting a book to shake hands.

“A student here, Doctor?”

“I come up a couple of times a week, sit in on some lectures, keep an eye on Sarah.”

The small blonde had risen, too. “Edgar stays with Grandfather and keeps him well,” she said. “Goodbye, Mr. Wakeley.”

“I'm trying to persuade Miss Shepherd,” David plunged boldly, “to be my secretary this summer. I'm writing a book and I need someone just like her. Do you know any reason why she shouldn't take the job?”

The tall man's face was opposite David's own.

Sombre, it was also a closed face. It gave nothing away at all. “I should think that would be up to her,” said Dr. Perrott. “Want a lift, Sarah? Don't see your car.”

“Thanks, Edgar. Goodbye, Mr. Wakeley.” She was nervous and anxious to leave.

“Now just a minute …”

“But I told you I couldn't,” said Sarah Shepherd. David could see into her eyes, it seemed, a long long way. The message was, We might have been friends. I like you very much indeed. “I'm very pleased you think I'm qualified,” she was saying gracefully. “I've enjoyed your course. I liked your book.”

“I'll see you in class tomor …”

“Goodbye, Mr. Wakeley,” There was no doubt she meant it. Deep in the eyes, doors closed. “Goodbye.”

“Nice to have met you,” said Dr. Perrot and he turned and his big body hid from David's sight the little blonde's flight to the door and away.

David Wakeley sat down. A very hard stubborn look took possession of his normally amiable face.

Chapter 2

Late afternoon, alone, Dr. Perrott drove very fast. He ran quickly out of the smallish town, east of the big city, in which the college had its being. It was not far at all, and not long at his speed, to the sea.

He passed through an elaborate gateway, past a guard who might or might not stop and query a car entering this snobbish colony clustered about its own cove. Edgar Perrot wound through and entered upon an ascending private road that was more snobbish and more exclusive than all the rest. For there was a small headland, and on the land side of it the great main artery ran to the south. But on the sea side there was a shelf cut, and a house lay curled like a shining lizard, low, with much glass, on the lip of this shelf. The only access to the place was through the gates, through the colony, and up the winding road.

Edgar ran his car into a big garage which was nestled between the sea and the road's end. He opened a wrought-iron gate with a key, went up nine deep steps, and walked briskly on the brick pavement between flower beds, past a fountain, and entered the house by a glass door. To his right, the center portion of the house was one huge living room where at this hour, latish on a dull day, the curtains had all been drawn across the sea side. There was an inglenook on the land side. In the nook, on soft cushions, there sat a little gnome of a man and across the Camelot board, on a soft stool, sat a woman.

Edgar Perrott took his place on the opposite bench, the other side of the muttering fire. The woman turned gracefully to pour his cocktail.

“And how is Sarah?” inquired the little old man, cocking his head.

“Sarah's all right.” Dr. Perrott sounded gloomy and a trifle sarcastic.

“Your move, Malvina,” the old man said.

The woman was big boned and well rounded. She had dark hair drawn tight to a great bun on the back of her neck, a tanned but fresh-looking face and very fine teeth which she knew how to show in a wide smile. She knew how to make her eyes glisten.

“There's a professor, name of Wakeley,” said Edgar in his colorless voice. “He's after her to be his secretary, help him write a book this summer.”

“Did Sarah consent?” said the old man after a moment.

“Sarah did not consent.”

“It wouldn't be desirable,” said the old man, softly. There were traces in his voice of British vowels, British rhythms.

“He may persist,” said Edgar.

“If he does,” the old man sighed, “you will think of something?”

“I suppose so.” Edgar's small pale eyes watched the woman.

The old man leaned back. “It's obvious, Malvina, that I've won again,” he said petulantly.

“You always do, Grandfather,” she purred.

The old man said, “But Sarah is a problem, eh? A problem. Yes, a problem.”

Sunday evening David Wakeley went to see his mother's friend, Mrs. Consuelo McGhee.

“Davey!” She held out beringed hands to him. “How nice to see you! I was about to write and complain to your mama.”

He gave her a fond smack on the forehead. “I'm here with ulterior motives and don't intend to waste any time on flattery.”

“Oh well,” she seated herself comfortably, “when a woman gets to be forty, like me, she must take what crumbs fall.” She grinned at him. She was sixty-two.

“Blonde this week, hm?” David inspected her critically.

“I was in the mood,” said Consuelo airily. “And I think for summer, blonde is so practical.”

“Indubitably,” said David. He stretched his legs before him. “Just occurred to me that you, in the course of your wanderings among the international fleshpots, lived in England during the whole late lamentable war. Tell me, Consuelo darlin', did you ever hear of a Bertrand Fox?”

“Naturally. Fox and Lupino. What you'd call here a vaudeville team. A pair of beloved clowns, hah!”

“I want to know all about him,” said David, sliding down in the chair.

Consuelo settled her portly figure. Her shrewd eyes marked the tension and impatience that he thought he was concealing. “If you promise to let me feed you …”

“You may feed me,” said David graciously. “As if any schoolteacher ever scorned a free meal …”

“With a charming companion …” prompted Consuelo.

“With a charming and-so-forth.… What about Fox?”

“Before we get into that, how is the family?”

“Letter from Mother. She's fine. Dad's O.K., I guess. Life at Watch Hill, you know, as usual.”

“Those dear sane people.” Consuelo sighed. “Someday I'm going back to visit.”

“They'd love to have you,” said David mechanically, “if you could do with only one bathroom. Tell me about this Fox, Consuelo darlin'.”

“Have you run afoul of Br'er Fox, Davey?”

“Not yet,” he said, too curtly.

Consuelo frowned. “Anything in particular about him?”

“About his family.”

“Family! Don't tell me you've met Malvina!”

“Never heard of Malvina. Who is she?”

“All right. Begin at the beginning, as you always say. Let's see. Those two were going great guns in London before the war. Fox and Lupino. Americans, I believe, both of them. Never caught on here. So they became more British than the British. Oh yes, a pair of clowns, as I said. Much beloved by the public, so the public was told. Baggy pants, red nose … that's the type. Old-timers, and the second generation was supposed to love them for nostalgic reasons. God knows I saw no others.”

David stirred.

“But family, you say. Now, Davey, they weren't what you'd call family men. Let's see. Lupino managed to have a son, and something dreadful happened to him although I can't remember what it was, at this moment. And I believe Fox's solitary daughter had the good sense to run away with an American and fly to this continent. That's really about all I know about family. Of course there's Malvina. Malvina Lupino, she'd be the granddaughter of Tweedledum.
She's
holding forth down near Corona del Mar, in case you don't realize.”

“I realize Bertrand Fox lives down there.”

“Oh, you do? That's right, Davey. He's holed up in the darnedest most fabulous house. You see, as I get it from the neighbors, first the blitz came along and did away with Lupino, breaking up the act. So Fox took off, in sorrow, to Ireland for the duration. Taking Malvina along, I believe. I've heard she was a nasty little piece, even then. Now, after the war, lo if it didn't turn out that Fox, years ago, made American investments and guess what the old Fox had done. Bought California land! Of all things I So, he appears and collects, because you know as well as I do what happened to California land values. And now he is living in luxury and ease on the side of a hill. The Nest, he calls his place.”

“Do you know, Consuelo darlin', you don't sound as if you liked this Fox much.” David looked more pleased than not.

“I never did and I don't now.” Consuelo said indignantly. “The old potentate won't let me in.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's supposed to be in delicate health. He is to be seen by appointment only. They dole out five minutes of his precious company to deserving folks who bring their pedigrees. Well now, naturally, after having met him before, to the extent of having spent a week end at the same house once, I sprazzed myself up and went to call. Seems Mr. Bertrand Fox was so sorry. He couldn't see me. So there I am, down there for two months every summer and other townspeople get in, but not me. So I'm burned up, Davey, and that's the fact.”

“You sure are,” said David grinning. “And do I gather that you aren't crazy about Malvina either?”

“Her,” snorted Consuelo. “I've seen her about. Buxom lass, Malvina. Comes down from the heights and bows to the commoners. I can't stand her, Davey, any more than her grandfather, and that's the fact, too.”