Better to Eat You (20 page)

Below, the surf attacked and the rocks resisted in their eternal opposition.

The old man dusted his palms and ascended the path. He walked past the narrow flower border without glancing down. His mouth was wolfish, showing the teeth. Odd that Malvina was such a stupid girl, when Lupino had always been so clever.

Chapter 17

Phone to ear, David rolled his eyes. The Chinaman was standing in the corridor, down beside the old man's door. He stood irresolute, or so it seemed, which was odd because Moon was nothing if not spry, energetic, direct and impatient.

In his ear Dr. Price said, “Hello?”

“Wakeley, Doctor. Excuse my calling you at home. But I missed speaking to you after you had seen Mr. Fox.”

“You weren't around.”

“Sorry, sir. How did you find the old gentleman?”

“I want him to come to my office for further exploration.”

“But can you tell us,” David tried to wriggle around the professional caution, “what care he should have?”

“Superficially, the heart seems sound enough. Suggest taking it easy until we learn more.” The doctor was rather abrupt, almost antagonistic.

“Nothing alarming then?”

“Not so far as I find in a preliminary look. Like to make a more thorough check …”

“Did he agree, sir? Did he suggest a time?”

“Said in a day or two.” David could sense a certain resentment.

“Is that safe?” he demanded.

“I think so,” the doctor said, almost dryly.

“Thanks.” David hung up the phone. So, he thought triumphantly, Grandfather's wonky heart is a lie, too! Dr. Price hadn't said so and wouldn't say so, until his examinations had become exhaustive. Yet David could feel the man's annoyance. It would be annoying to be called to attend a man on the verge of disaster and find that the trouble was either not obvious or not there. Oh yes, Edgar had been useful in this house, David thought. The old man's frailty was a legend and an instrument. But an instrument to what? Could it have been this and only this that had made Malvina so startled to hear about a doctor? David wasn't satisfied. He thought of Consuelo. Consuelo could pump the doctor if anyone could.

He wanted to call Consuelo, but he hesitated, wondering if he dared from this phone. He was not unobserved. Mrs. Monteeth was in the dining room now. Gust came, carrying a tray into the big room. The Chinaman came trotting past on his way to the kitchen, head down, muttering to himself.

David moved away from the phone. He sat down uneasily in the inglenook. Malvina came out of Grandfather's door and rapped on Sarah's and spoke to the wood. Then she came in her swaying walk toward him.

She said with her frank smile, “Grandfather feels very much better. He is coming to dinner. You must dine with him, David, and so must Sarah. Excuse me if I speak to Mrs. Monteeth? Oh, I see Gust has already fetched the cocktails. Good. Grandfather will be with us in a moment. He wants everything to be as usual.”

David, with the feeling of dismay about Sarah, felt also rebellion against the pressure of the legend. He said flatly, “I spoke to Dr. Price. He found nothing alarming.”

“So Grandfather tells me,” Malvina said smoothly with nor the slightest sign of alarm. “We are so glad. That's why he feels so much encouraged.” She went on by.

David sat in the inglenook, ticking off in his mind the time remaining to be endured—here, where nobody told the truth and he did not even have the slightest idea why they did not. And Sarah was coming to dinner, obedient because Fox must be indulged—impressed by the legend. And Edgar had died of poison.

They were cozily gathered together and the draperies were drawn across the sea side to shut the wild dark world away. Grandfather sat on his cushions, his small feet just reaching the floor. Sarah, in aquamarine cotton, the white bandages on her arms looking quaintly like huge cuffs, sat beside David on the cushioned seat across from Fox. Malvina, in her pale flowing gown of some beige stuff, sat on her stool facing the fire.

Grandfather was talking about old times. He was telling about a Fox and Lupino skit involving a bicycle and a string of sausages. His head dipped and turned and his eyes were merry. His voice chirruped with mirthful memory.

David had to concede that, if you discounted the fact that all this was taking place in the evening of the day when a member of this household had been cruelly done to death by poison, this recounting
was
comical. The old man evoked the brisk slapstick of the past. Even the timing, essence of comedy, he conveyed to them by his slashing gestures.

Malvina was laughing. Even Sarah smiled. David himself had to concede a chuckle.

“Ah, yes,” said Grandfather, wiping an eye, “we were clever.”

“They were,” said Malvina reverently. “They were very great in those days.”

“Everyone says they were great artists,” said Sarah fondly. “I can't remember them too well. How I wish I could.”

“You've seen them on the stage, Sarah?” David asked.

Grandfather spoke, as Sarah nodded. “If it is an art to face an audience, to start its laughter, to hold it, balloon it, and set them all helplessly rocking … yes. Then we were artists.” Fox met David's stare. “But it is merely a clever trick, David,” he said surprisingly.

“I know very little about how it's done,” David said cautiously. “I would certainly call it an art, sir.”

“Clever,” said Grandfather, sighing. “And my dear old Lupino … ah, yes, he was the cleverer of us two.” The words fell. There was silence and Grandfather stirred restlessly. “How
he
could dazzle them! Eh, Malvina?”

“He used to be very clever,” Malvina said rather evasively.

“Now, then. A toast!” Grandfather raised his glass. His sharp eyes rallied them all. David watched Sarah's fingers move toward her glass. He reached over and took it. He handed her his own. He explained nothing. No one missed what he did. No one mentioned it. Malvina's face was serene and innocent. The old man's glass sailed upward. “To Arthur Lupino!” he cried and ducked a salute and drank the toast.

As David sipped tentatively, gingerly, barely at all, he knew Sarah was scarcely wetting her lips either. Her face was thoughtful. In a silence, only the fire muttered, eating the logs.

Then Sarah lifted her glass higher. “May I give us a toast?” she said. “To Bertrand Fox!” She put the glass to her mouth.

The old man did not drink. He had drained his already. He sank his chin on his breast. Perhaps he was lost in the past.

Malvina clicked her glass down. “I think,” she said rather acidly, “dinner is waiting.”

“Is it so?” said Grandfather dreamily. “Malvina, you ought not to rush us, my dear. You ought not to be impatient. However …” He began to wriggle off the cushions and Malvina helped him.

David slipped his hand under Sarah's arm. As she rose she slid her glass to the low table close against the shaker. It was quite full. She had not taken any. David's fingers congratulated her arm.

They paraded to the table.

David thought, Now, how is it that we go in to dinner, fearing poison? I fear it for Sarah, from either of them. Sarah fears it from Malvina. But Malvina? Is she waiting for it, from the old creature? What if I said so? Gust would soon throw me out. And what would Sarah do then? She would let Gust throw me out. Sarah believes in the legend, still, that the old man could drop dead. How can anyone believe it, thought David—watching him quite merrily survive fire and destruction, crash and suspense, rescue and murder? And now lick his lips over his ancient cleverness? And relish remembered power? This evil old clown.

Distaste and fright made David queasy. He thought, Now
there
is a legend. The grotesque, wide-lipped, white-painted clown's face is no child's delight. Not naturally. A child would scream. If it hadn't been taught a legend, a child would be afraid.

So they were seated, four. David facing Malvina. Fox facing Sarah. Mrs. Monteeth came to serve them.

David spoke suddenly. “Sarah, has anyone told you? There was good news. The doctor thinks Mr. Fox is in very good health.”

“Oh!” She looked radiant. “Oh, Grandfather! How wonderful to hear that!”

The old man cocked his head. His eyes met David's. “It leads me to wonder if Edgar was not somewhat too cautious,” he said with a nibbling roll of his lips. “And it leads me to think of quite a different future. Travel, eh? This place, you see,” Grandfather shrugged, and then settled his shoulders, “has been in a way, beautiful though I find it, somewhat of a prison.”

“Not after today,” Malvina said. “Sarah, will you have the dressing?”

“How impatient you are,” said Grandfather. “Come, Malvina, can we not take our leisure. Here we are at dinner and the night before us.”

“Will you go back to England, sir?” asked David.

“Oh, I am spoiled, you see.” Grandfather sighed. He put a fork daintily to the salad greens. “All this luxury, eh? Sarah, my dearie, if you have had the dressing … I can't see over the flowers.”

“Shall I remove them, Grandfather?” said Malvina rather eagerly.

“Malvina, do not fuss,” he said crossly. “Just do not touch anything unless I say so.”

“England,” said Sarah, “must be rather a gray place.”

“Too gray. Too gray.”

Dessert. Coffee. Malvina increasingly stony-eyed.

They had not eaten. Sarah across the flower centerpiece from Fox was able to seem to nibble but take nothing. David could not eat and had only pretended. Malvina's plate had gone no less untouched.

Now Moon invaded the dining room. He was breaking custom. The old man bridled. Moon let out a stream of his mysterious syllables. He was obviously belligerent and the old man did not awe him.

Sarah said, “I think he wants to know what was wrong with the food. His feelings are hurt. He says we haven't eaten.”

Fox said, “Nonsense. It was all delicious.”
He
had dined well and heartily. “Your place is not here, Moon.”

Moon muttered, swept them all with an angry glance and flounced away. Sarah's eyes widened and then she smiled.

“Sarah, my dearie,” said Grandfather curiously. “How is it that you seem to understand him?”

“I didn't realize I could,” she said. “But if I listen carefully … Perhaps he knows some Japanese and knows that I do. Or perhaps the languages are alike. I don't know. At least, I do get some of his meaning.”

“What was it he said that made you smile, dearie?”

Sarah bit her lip. “Grandfather, I hate to tattle. He called you a name. Not a very bad one.”

“Why, the rascal!” said Grandfather. “Eh? All these years, eh?” The old man was laughing. His lids hid his eyes. His teeth were bad. “An independent character is our Moon, eh? What was the name?”

“Oh, something like fraud or thief. Just a cross word, Grandfather.”

“He is a good cook,” the old man said. “Sarah, my dearie, hadn't you eaten?”

“Enough.” Sarah smiled.

“Take your coffee, do.” The old man spoke sharply. Sarah put the delicate cup up to her mouth, the coffee that Malvina had poured.

David watched Malvina.

All the while between him and Sarah he could feel the strong bond. She was aware and he was watching and they were (sitting politely at table, chatting, smiling) close and together. Sarah did not really drink the coffee and nothing happened.

Grandfather began to push away from the table. “Come, now. I have not been forbidden. So we shall try a taste of brandy.”

He trotted toward the fire.

David looked at his wrist.

Sarah said, at once, “Grandfather, may I be excused? I am really very tired.” She looked tired, suddenly, and sad.

“Eh? Why to be sure, dearie.” The old man was casual.

David watched Malvina.

Malvina said, “Brandy, Sarah?” It came hissing through her teeth.

“No, thank you.” Sarah was graceful. She bent and kissed Grandfather's brow. “Good night. I am so happy you are better.”

“I, too,” he said. “Good night, little Sarah.”

David said “Good night,” hardly keeping out of his voice the love and the excitement he was feeling. Sarah smiled and left them.

David sat down hard. “Malvina …”

“Just a moment, David?” She turned her back. To hide her face? She took a few steps back toward the dining room, murmured and nodded to the housekeeper. Then she stood with her back turned just a moment too long. But when she faced around, her smile was innocent, her mask was in place.

“Mr. Fox,” said David urgently.

“Eh? What's that, David?”

“I am very much worried about the Sheriff's office,” David said in a hushed close conspiratorial tone. “This man, Maxwell, has it in his mind that Edgar poisoned himself.”

He had caught their attention. He didn't care what he was saying. He was talking for time. Time for Sarah to get out her window and go through the gap in the wall and creep cautiously down to the tiny beach and wade around the big rock and so be free.

Malvina knew she was doing all this, even now. Malvina sat on the stool and her gown fell in all grace but her body was rigid. She did not move or speak. The old man might or might not know what Sarah was doing, and if he knew he might or might not believe that the police would be waiting for Sarah. And might or might not care. He did not move, either. He listened with his head cocked. His hands were still.

No one, of course, waited yet for Sarah. David could not call Consuelo until he himself was away from here. But he would not go, he would hold these two until Sarah had time.

“So, you see,” David was saying urgently, “that is why he didn't feel ready to arrest anybody. But …”

“Poor troubled Edgar,” Grandfather said. “I cannot believe it. Poor troubled little Sarah … You say this man told you?”