The Resort (25 page)

The rec room, it turned out, was much too small to be a real gymnasium. It had a polished wooden floor and only one basketball hoop. The volleyball net was wrapped around its standards in the corner. The rest of the room was bare, except for the other resident, who stopped bouncing the basketball when they opened the one door.

“This is Dr. Brown,” Charlotte said.

“Phyllis Minter,” the other woman said, nodding only at Margaret.

“Don’t try anything funny,” Charlotte said. “There’s only the one door.”

“I can see that,” Margaret said.

“It’s bolted from the outside.”

“What do I do in case of fire?” Margaret said.
What’s the point of baiting her?

“Don’t play with matches,” Charlotte said. “I’m to be back for you as soon as Mr. Clifford arrives.”

“Is it supposed to be a privilege to meet the sickie who invented this place?”

“You’re looking for real trouble,” Charlotte said.

“I already have that,” Margaret said. “Shouldn’t I be looking for something else?”

“Mr. Clifford will deal with you.”

“I have nothing to say to him or to any of you.”

“Dr. Brown, Mr. Clifford is bringing a new interrogator with him, and there’ll be several of the men from here.”

“I won’t talk to any of them.”

“My instructions are that when I get you over there, you’re to wear handcuffs behind your back and nothing else.”

“What do you mean nothing else?”

“The person being interrogated is always in the nude,” Charlotte said, backing out, then shutting the rec-room door. Phyllis Minter and Margaret heard the promised bolt slide home.

“What are they doing that to you for?” Phyllis asked.

“My husband’s escaped.”

“I heard about that. Listen, can they hear what we’re saying? Is the place bugged?”

Margaret surveyed the periphery of the ceiling where it met each wall. No camera. “I don’t know,” she said.

“I don’t care if those bastards hear me. I want to do what your husband did, get the hell out of here.” She looked at Margaret, who she guessed to be perhaps ten years older. “Are they going to rape you?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh they’d dare.”

“Charlotte said they were going to question me.”

“Don’t be naïve, Doctor. You are a medical doctor?”

Margaret nodded.

“Want to play? Basketball, I mean.”

“I haven’t played in what, twenty-six years.”

“Let’s just throw it around.”

Phyllis dribbled the ball toward the other end of the room, then lightly threw it up. It circled the hoop and dropped through the net.

“Here, you try,” she said, throwing the ball to Margaret

Margaret caught the ball clumsily. “I don’t know if I can.”

She bounced the ball once, twice, then stopped. “What are they giving you special attention for?” Margaret asked.

“I talked to a truck driver from the outside,” Phyllis said. “I thought he might give me a lift down. He was scared shitless.”

How naive,
Margaret thought,
trying to hitch a ride out of a place like this.

Phyllis thought Margaret was reacting to her choice of words. “Sorry,” she said. “I use words like that all the time. I’m not a doctor. I’m a nothing.”

The young woman’s toughness denied her self-deprecation, Margaret thought. She reminded her of Bacall in those early Bogart films.

“I didn’t know nothings can afford to come to a place like Cliffhaven,” Margaret said.

“I have money,” Phyllis said. “Pass the ball.”

Margaret threw the ball to Phyllis, who caught it as if she were used to catching it.

“Are you married?” Margaret asked.

Phyllis laughed. “On and off.” She dribbled the basketball in place, stopped. “Look, I want to get the hell out of this cockamamie place. How did your husband escape?”

“We both got down to the highway by going through the woods.”

“What happened?”

“There were half a dozen trusties waiting for us.”

“So what, they’re mostly fogies.”

“They all had clubs,” Margaret said. “And there was a state trooper.”

“Didn’t you tell him they were keeping you prisoner up here?” Phyllis said, her voice rising.

“He called us kikes,” Margaret said.

“I’d cut the balls off a guy like that,” Phyllis said and threw the ball at the basket in anger. It hit the backboard, rolled around the basket, missed. The ball bounced, then less and less. Phyllis made no attempt to retrieve it.

“On the way back up,” Margaret said, “there was a fight. While the others brought me back up here, he must have overcome the trusty who was left to guard him.”

“Terrific,” Phyllis said, her eyes showing her excitement.

“They say he’s still on the grounds somewhere.”

“I’m sure he’ll get away,” Phyllis said. “He’ll blow the whistle on the place, right?”

Margaret did not want to quash the hope in the younger woman’s eyes.

“All we got to do,” Phyllis said, “is keep whole in the meantime, right? Listen, can I trust you?”

“Yes,” Margaret said.

“I have a knife. You take it. If they try anything in that interrogation, you can use it.”

“I couldn’t. Besides, if I were undressed, where would I hide it?”

“Use it on them when they try to undress you.”

“No, no,” Margaret said, “put it back in your boot. What good would it do against half a dozen men?”

“If
they go after you, just jam it into their you-know-whats. You’ll see what good it’ll do.”

“I don’t think I could,” Margaret said.

“I could,” Phyllis said.

“Then you keep it.”

“If your husband finds you, take me with you. Please? I’m in room 27. Please.”

“I’ll remember,” Margaret said.

“Terrific,” Phyllis said. “Where you from?”

“Just north of New York.”

“Gee,” Phyllis said. “I’m from here, California I mean, but I was born in Brooklyn. Why don’t we throw the basketball around, it’ll take our mind off things.”

*

Dan Pitz found the ride up Highway 1 exhilarating. As a youngster he had hated the people he saw inside chauffeured limousines. Now he was riding in one himself, a prospective future manager for Mr. Clifford, a resourceful, accomplished, rich man.

When they were about halfway, Mr. Clifford said, “We are paying double pro rata for the day, but if you and I agree that you will work for me, I will pay you precisely the annual salary you received at your last position.”

“Plus an expense account?” Dan asked.

“You won’t need an expense account at Cliffhaven. Everything is provided.” He looked over at Pitz. “The reason I pay the same is to make sure that it is not just the money that attracts you to our work.”

“I understand.”

“You have one serious liability,” Mr. Clifford said.

He’s tracked down some of the people I’ve had affairs with.

“You are not,” Mr. Clifford continued, “what I would call a natural reader. You may have read a lot in school, that is immaterial. You do not now have the habit of ingesting information from books. Your reading list was full of trivia. Pity.”

“I’ve been busy,” Dan said.

“Have you been too busy to fornicate?”

What was he getting at?

“People have time for what they want to do,” Mr. Clifford said. “I suppose you haven’t read Kosinski, Bellow, Kazin, Trunk.”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“It is very important in our work to understand how Jews think. Today’s Jews. I don’t want robots working at Cliffhaven. You must understand your work in its social and historical context. I will give you a list with a time schedule for each book. I will ask you two or three questions about each as you finish.”

Dan, who had hated school, thought
maybe this job isn’t for me.

“Perhaps this position is not for you,” Mr. Clifford said.

He reads minds. He knows too much about me for me not to take the job. If he offers it.

“Well, my boy,” Mr. Clifford said, patting Pitz once on the forearm, “nothing to worry about. Just some catch-up work to do. You’ll be surprised how easy it is, once you get used to it.”

*

They arrived at the entrance to Cliffhaven just after eleven o’clock. There were two uniformed staff members at the gate, and as soon as they saw the limousine in the distance, one of them lowered the chain. The other was Clete, who signaled to the driver.

Mr. Clifford pushed the tab that lowered the electric window.

“Hop in, Clete,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Clifford nodded to the Japanese driver and they started up the road to Cliffhaven.

“This is Daniel Pitz, Clete. He may be joining us in a senior position.”

Dan shook Clete’s hand.

“What’s the story?” Mr. Clifford asked.

“Well, sir,” Clete said, “no real change from last night They both got out of a rest-room window in the dining room. They made it down to the highway, but George had six trusties down there.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Mr. Clifford said impatiently. He turned to Pitz. “George is George Whittaker, manager of the resort.”

“On the way back up,” Clete said, “Henry Brown—that’s the escapee’s name—tried to shout a warning to a new customer I was driving up. He got clubbed by one of the trusties—I didn’t see that—and the others took his wife—she’s a doctor—back up. Apparently Brown wasn’t as badly hurt as we thought, and he somehow managed to overcome the trusty guarding him and took off. George decided we’d better use dogs, but we couldn’t track him.”

Mr. Clifford seemed pensive for a moment. “Perhaps he’s still on the property somewhere.”

“You think so, sir?” Clete asked.

Dan Pitz took a chance and volunteered. “If he got away, you’d have heard one way or another by now,” he said.

“Very good,” Mr. Clifford said. “I was thinking the same thing. Especially if he encountered an obstacle at the road the first time—”

“We took the dogs down to the road,” Clete said, “and worked our way up.”

“If he heard the dogs,” Mr. Clifford said, “he’d have backtracked. Maybe he’s hiding under your bunk, Clete. It was your fault they escaped, wasn’t it?”

Clete nodded.

“This is the first time you’ve disappointed me. You’ve spoiled a promising record. You’ll have to make up for it.”

“We’ll find him,” Clete said.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Clifford said. “Assuredly.”

*

Dan expected Cliffhaven to be like one of the resorts he had worked at previously. He was overwhelmed by the magnificently designed buildings, a row of triangles against the mountains and the sky.

“It’s certainly beautiful,” he said.

The last of the buildings looked the same as the others from the outside, but inside it had been designed as a private residence. The living room had a two-story-high, vaulted ceiling, with the highest wall giving the appearance of being wholly of glass. Dan noted another wall that had filled bookshelves ten feet high. He hoped he wasn’t going to be made to read all that.

“Whom will you want for the meeting with Dr. Brown?” Clete asked. “Besides George.”

“You can stay, Clete. Tell George to bring Robinson and Trask. Who’s taking care of the woman?”

“Charlotte,” Clete said. “She’s the best woman
we’ve
got.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

*

Margaret and Phyllis Minter had worked up a sweat playing basketball. The physical activity made Margaret feel better.

The Minter woman interested her because there was no one like that in her circle of friends or acquaintances. Had she and Henry grown too narrow without realizing it?

When Charlotte came to take her back to her room, she and Phyllis parted as if they were old friends.

“Break it up,” Charlotte said and led Margaret away.

Back in Margaret’s room, Charlotte ordered her to take a shower.

“Are you going to watch?”

“Why would anyone watch an old bag like you?” Charlotte said. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. You hurry.”

Good,
Margaret thought, as Charlotte slammed the door and locked it.
She’s angry. Angry people are less in control. Maybe I can make Clifford angry.

In the shower, she could not shake her thoughts about Henry.
Please, God, let him not come to harm.
For the last quarter of a century, she had been there to advise. They collaborated on the solution to problems. When Ruth, at one, seemed to be developing knock-knees, it was Henry who insisted that she ignore the advice of three orthopedic specialists to put Ruth’s legs in metal braces linked to each other so that the child could not move at night. “I’m not interested in warping her mind with fear for the sake of her winning a beauty contest,” Henry had said. And, eventually, they found an orthopedist who prescribed shoes for the toddler that did the trick without harm. And when Henry procrastinated about the mailboy who was stealing paychecks and managing to get some of them cashed, she was the one who said demoralizing everyone else by inaction was a greater sin than picking up the phone and letting the police deal with the young man. In the end their decisions were right because they served as devil’s advocates for each other. She needed him now.