The Rip-Off (10 page)

"At home, I won't have more than two visitors at most. Manny, and possibly Pat Aloe. Only those two-only one of them, actually- will be all that have to be watched. I say that's a hell of a lot better than the way it is here."

Claggett deliberated briefly, and agreed with me. "If it's all right with the doctors, it's all right with me," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll be going now, but I'll be in touch."

"Wait a minute," I said. "What about the nurse?"

"What? Oh, yes, she almost slipped my mind. Hadn't decided about her yet, had I?"

"No, you hadn't. You were going to talk to her when she came back from lunch."

"Uh-huh. Well"-he glanced at his watch. "I'm going to have to go now. I'll talk to her on the way out."

He left before I could ask what he was going to say to her. But when she came in a few minutes later, I learned that he had okayed her for the job-but not very pleasantly.

"The very idea!" she said indignantly. "Saying he'd go after my hide if anything happened to you! I'd just like to see him try, darn him!"

"Don't say that," I said. "Bite your tongue, Kay."

She looked blank, then caught my meaning and laughed. "I didn't think how that sounded, Britt. Naturally, he isn't going to try because nothing is going to happen to you."

My lunch tray was brought in. Consommй with toast, vanilla custard and tea. It looked reasonably good to me, but I ate almost none of it. I couldn't. After a couple of sips of tea, I suddenly went to sleep.

Claggett called me that night to say that I would be checking out of the hospital the next morning. He told me the conditions under which I would be checking out, and going from the hospital to my home. I listened stunned, then sputtered profane objections.

He laughed uproariously. "But you just think about it, Britt. Think it over, and it doesn't sound so crazy, does it? Sure, it's his own idea, and I say it's a good one. You couldn't be any safer in your mother's arms."

I said that wasn't very safe. My mother, the first woman judge of the State Circuit Court, had taken to the sauce harder than Dad.

"The poor old biddy dropped me on my head more times than she was overturned, and, believe me, they didn't call her Reverse- Decision Rainstar for nothing."

"Aaah, she wasn't that bad," Claggett chuckled. "But what do you think about this other? It's the safest way, right?"

"Right," I said.

A very large black limousine with a uniformed chauffeur was waiting at the side entrance for us. I got into the back seat between the two guards. Kay rode in front between Pat and the chauffeur. Pat jabbed a finger at him, and nodded to me.

"This is the character that was supposed to have picked you up at the restaurant that night two-three months ago, Britt. Too damned stupid to do what he's told, but who the hell ain't these days?"

The man grinned sheepishly. Pat scowled at him for a moment, then turned his gaze on Kay. Looked at her long and thoughtfully.

She jerked her head around suddenly, and looked at him.

"Yes?" she said. "Something wrong?"

"I've seen you before," he said. "Where was it?"

"Nowhere. You're mistaken."

"You guys back there! Where have I seen her?"

The guards leaned forward, examined Kay meticulously. They made a big business out of squinting at her, stroking their chins with pseudo-shrewdness, and the like-a pantomime of great minds at work. Pat put an end to the charade with a rude order to knock it off for Nellie's sake.

"What about you, Johnnie?"-to the chauffeur; and then, disgustedly, "Ahh, why do I ask? You're as stupid as these guys."

"
Mis-ter Aloe!"
Kay heaved a sigh of exaggerated exasperation. "We have
not
met before! I would certainly remember it if we had!"

I murmured for her to take it easy, also quietly suggesting to Pat that the subject was hardly worth pursuing. He glanced at me absently, not seeming to hear what I had said.

"I never forget a face, Britt, baby. Ask anyone that knows me."

"
You sure don't, Mr. Aloe! Not never ever!"

"I don't know where or when it was. But I've seen her, and I'll remember."

He let it go at that, facing back around in the seat. Kay gave me a smile of thanks for my support in the rearview. I smiled back at her, then shifted my gaze. What difference did it make, whether he had or hadn't seen her? And why should I be again starting to feel that creeping uneasiness in my stomach?

Pat took an envelope from his pocket, and handed it to me. It was the bonus check I had so foolishly given back to Manny, and I accepted it gratefully. The money would keep Connie off my back indefinitely, relieving me of at least one of my major worries.

We arrived at the house. The guards and the chauffeur remained with the car while Pat accompanied Kay and me inside. As she preceded us up the steps, he told me sotto voce that I should have a salary check coming pretty soon, and that he would see to it and anything else that needed taking care of, in case Manny wasn't available.

I said that was very nice of him, and how was Manny getting along? "I hope she's not seriously ill?"

"Naah, nothing like it," he grunted. "Just been working to hard, I guess. Got herself run down, and picked up a touch of flu."

"Well, give her my best," I said. "And thanks very much for seeing me safely home."

I held out my hand tentatively. He said he'd go in the house with me if I didn't mind. "Reckon you'll want to check in with the sergeant, and let him know you got here all right."

"I'll do that," I said, "and you can let him know that you got here all right."

He gave me a puzzled look, and said, Huh? And I said, Never mind, to forget it; and rang the doorbell.

I rang it several times, but there was no response from Mrs. Olmstead. So, finally, I unlocked the door and we went in.

She was in the kitchen talking on the telephone. Hearing us enter the house, she hurriedly concluded her call and came into the living room, carrying the phone with her and almost becoming entangled in its long extension cord.

I took it from her, introducing her to Kay and Pat as I dialed Claggett's number. They grimaced briefly at one another, mumbling inconsequentialities, and I reported in to Jeff and then passed the phone to Pat. He did as I did, and hung up the receiver.

I walked Pat to the door. As we stood there for a moment, shaking hands and exchanging the usual polite pleasantries customary to departures and arrivals, he looked past me to Kay, eyes narrowing reflectively. He was obviously trying to remember where he had seen her before, and was, just as obviously, disturbed at his inability to do so. Fortunately, however, he left without giving voice to his thoughts; and I started back to the living room. I stopped short of it, in the entrance foyer, listening to the repartee between Kay Nolton and Mrs. Olmstead.

"Now, Mrs. Olmstead. All I said was that the house needs a good airing out, and it most certainly does!"

"Doesn't neither! Who're you to be giving me orders, anyway?"

"You know very well who I am-I've told you several times. My job is to help Mr. Rainstar recover his health, which means that he must have fresh air to breathe-"

THEN?"

They left grudgingly, without disturbing me, each noisily shushing the other. I got up, visited the bathroom to dab cold water on my nose, then stretched out on the bed again.

I suppose I should have known that there would be friction between any woman as stubbornly sloppy as Mrs. Olmstead and one who was not only red-haired but as patently hygienic as scrubbed-looking Kay Nolton. I suppose that I should also have known that I would be caught in the middle of the dispute, since, like the legendary hapless Pierre, unpleasantness was always catching me in the middle of it. What I should
not
have supposed, I suppose, was that I would have known what the crud to do about it. Because about all I ever had known to do about something inevitably turned out to be the wrong thing.

So there you were, and here I was, and the air did smell pretty foul, but then it never did smell very good. And I was rather worn out from too much exercise, following no exercise at all, so I went to sleep.

It was a day over two weeks before I saw Manny. It was a Friday, her first day out of the hospital, and she came out to the house as soon as she had gone to Mass. She had lost weight, and it had been taken from her face. But she had good color, having sunned frequently in the hospital's solarium, and the thinning of her face gave a quality of spirituality to her beauty it had lacked before.

She-

But hold it! Hold it right there! I have gone way ahead of myself, skimming over events which should certainly deserve telling.

To take things in reasonably proper order (or as much as their frequent impropriety will allow):

I worked. I badly wanted to work, and I am a very hard guy to distract when I am that way. When I was distracted, as, of course, I soon was, I dealt with the distraction-Kay and Mrs. Olmstead-with exceptional shrewdness and diplomacy, thus keeping my time-waste minimal.

I explained to Mrs. Olmstead that it was only fair that Kay should take over the cooking and certain other chores since she, Mrs. Olmstead, was terribly overworked, and certain changes in household routine were necessary due to my illness.

"The doctors have forbidden me to leave the house, and Miss Nolton is required to stay in the house with me at all times. She can't order up a taxi, as you can, and go shopping and buy ice cream sodas and, oh, a lot of things, like you'll be doing for me. I doubt if she
could
do it, even if she was allowed to leave the house. But I trust
you
, Mrs. Olmstead. I know you'll do the job
right
. So I'm putting a supply of money in the telephone-stand drawer, and you can help yourself to whatever you need. And if any problems do arise I know you'll know how to handle them, without any advice from me."

That disposed of Mrs. Olmstead-almost. She could not quite accept what was a very good thing for her without a grumbled recital of complaints against me-principally, my occasional failure to mail her letters, or to "do something" about a possible invasion by rats. Still, I was sure she would cooperate, since she had no good reason to do otherwise, and I said as much to Kay.

She said flatly that I didn't know what I was talking about, then hastily apologized for the statement.

"I'm here to help you, Britt. To make things as easy for you as possible. And I'm afraid I've added to the strain you've been under by letting Mrs. Olmstead provoke me into quarreling with her. I-no, wait now, please!" She held up her hand as I started to interrupt. "I've been at least partly at fault, and I'm sorry, and I'll try to do better from now on. I'll humor Mrs. Olmstead. I'll consult her. I'll do what has to be done without being obtrusive about it-making it seem like a rebuke to her. But I don't think it'll do any good. I've seen too many other people like her. They have a very keen sense of their privileges and rights, but they're blind to their obligations. They're constantly criticizing others, but they never do anything wrong themselves. Not to hear
them
tell it. I think she spells trouble, Britt, regardless of what you do or I do. For your own good, I think you should fire her."

"But I need her," I said. "She has to do the shopping for us."

"You can order whatever we need. Have it delivered."

"Well, uh, there are other things besides shopping. Anyway-anyway-"

"Yes?"

"Well, it wouldn't seem quite right for us to be alone in the house. Just the two of us, I mean. It just wouldn't be right, now, would it?"

"Why not?" said Kay; and as I hesitated, fumbling for words, she said quietly, "All right, Britt. You're too softhearted to get rid of her, and I probably wouldn't like you as much as I do if you weren't that way. So I'll say no more about it. Mrs. Olmstead stays, and I just hope you're not sorry."

She left my office, leaving me greatly relieved as I returned to my work. Glad that I had not had to explain why I did not want to live alone in the house with her. I had no concrete reason to suspect her, or, rather, to be afraid of her. Nothing at all but the uneasy doubts planted in my mind by Claggett and Pat Aloe. Still, I knew I would be more comfortable with a third person present. And I was very happy to have managed it without a lot of fussing and fuming.

The pamphlet I was doing was on soil erosion, a subject I had shied away from in the past. I was afraid I would be inadequate to such an important topic, with so many facets, i.e., flood, drought, wind and irresponsible agricultural practices. Somehow, however, I had found the courage to plunge into the job and persist at it, meeting its challenges instead of veering or backing away-my customary reaction when confronted with the difficult. And I had advanced to its approximate halfway point when I looked up one afternoon to find Kay smiling at me from the doorway.

I stood up automatically, and started to unbuckle my belt. But she laughed and said we could dispense with the vitamin shot today.

"Just let me get your pulse and your temperature," she said, and proceeded to get them. "You're doing very well, Britt. Working hard and apparently enjoying it."

I agreed that I was doing both, adding that I was going to be very irritated if I was finished off before the job was finished.

"Well, then, I do solemnly swear to keep you alive," she said piously. "Not that I know why it's so important, but…"

I told her to sit down, and I would give her a hint of its importance. Which she did, and I did.

It was as important as life itself, I said. In fact it
was
life. Yet we sat around on our butts, uncaring, while it was slowly being stolen from us.

"Do you know that three-fourths of this state's topsoil has been washed away, blown away, or just by-God pooped away? Do you know that an immeasurable but dangerously tragic amount of its subsoil has gone the same route? Given a millennium and enough million- millions you can replace the topsoil, but once the subsoil's gone it's gone forever. In other words, you've got nothing to grow crops on, and nothing"-I broke off; paused a moment. "In other words," I said, "it stinks. Thanks for being so graphic."

She looked at me absently, nose crinkled with distaste. Then, she suddenly came alive, stammering embarrassed apologies.

"Please forgive me, Britt. It sounds terribly interesting, and you must tell me more. But what
is
that awful smell? It stinks like, well I don't know what! It's worse than anything I've smelled before in this house, and that's really saying something!"

I said I had noticed nothing much worse than usual. I also said I had a lot of work to do, and that I was anxious to get back to it.

"Now, Britt-" She got to her feet. "I'm sorry, and I'll run right along. Can I do anything for you before I go?"

Mollified, I said that, as a matter of fact, she could do something. There were some USDA brochures in the top drawer of my topmost filing cabinet, and if she would hold a chair while I climbed up on it, I would dance at her wedding or render any other small favor to her.

"You just stay right where you are," she said firmly. "I'll do any climbing that's done around here!"

She dragged a chair over to the stack of files, hiked her skirt and stepped up on it. Standing on tiptoe, she edged out the top file drawer and reached inside. She fumbled blindly inside, trying to grasp the documents inside. And, then, suddenly, she gasped and her face went livid.

For a moment I thought she was going to topple from the chair, and I jumped up and started toward her. But she motioned me back with a grim jerk of her head, then jumped down from the chair, white-faced with anger.

She was holding a large dead rat by the tail. Without a word she marched out of the room, and, by the sound of things, disposed of it in the rear porch garbage can. She returned to my office, stopping on the way to scrub her hands at the kitchen sink.

"All right, Britt"-she confronted me again. "I hope you're going to do something now!"

"Yes, I am," I said. "I'm going to go up to my room, and lie down."

"
Britt!
What are you going to do about that awful woman?"

"Now, Kay," I said. "That rat could have crawled in there and died. You know it could! Why-"

Kay said she knew it could
not
. The rat's head had been smashed. It had been killed, then put in the file.

"The shock of finding it could have killed you, Britt. Or if you were standing on a chair, you could have fallen and broken your neck! I just can't allow this kind of thing to go on, Britt. I'm responsible, and-you've got to fire her!"

I pointed out that I couldn't fire Mrs. Olmstead. Not, at least, until she returned from shopping. I pointed out- rather piteously-that I was not at all well. This in the opinion of medical experts.

"Now, please help me up to my bed. I implore you, Kay Nolton."

She did so, though irritably. Then, looking up at her from the counterpane, I smiled at her and took one of her hands in mine. I said that perhaps she would not mind discussing Mrs. Olmstead when I was feeling better-say, tomorrow or the next day or, perhaps, the day after that. And I gave her a small pinch on the thigh.

She drew back skittishly, but not without a certain coyness. Which was all right with me. I wanted only to avoid a problem-Mrs. Olmstead-not to walk into another one. But Kay had her wants as well as I. And to get one must give. So when she said that she had to go to her room for a moment but would be right back, I told her I would count on it.

"I'll hold your place for you," I promised. "I'll also move over on the bed, in case you want to sit down, in case you cannot think of a more comfortable position than sitting."

Well.

When we heard Mrs. Olmstead return an hour later, we were locked together as the blissful beast-with-two-heads. We sprang apart, and she trotted into the bathroom ahead of me, her white uniform drawn high upon her sweet nakedness. I used the sink, while she sat on the toilet, tinkling pleasantly. And then I went over to her and hugged her red head against my stomach, and she nuzzled and kissed its environs in unashamed womanliness.

I congratulated myself.

For once, Britton Rainstar
, I thought,
you bridged a puddle without putting your foot down in stinky stuff. You've closed the door to debates on Mrs. Olmstead. Without compromising yourself, you've had a nice time and given same to a very nice young lady
.

That's what I thought-and why not?

I nourished that thought, while I returned to bed and Kay went downstairs to prepare my dinner. It began to glimmer away, due to a kind of bashful shyness of manner as she served said dinner to me. And at bedtime, when she came into my room in an old-fashioned, unrevealing flannel, lips trembling, eyes downcast, a pastel symphony of embarrassment-bingo. The sound was the sound of my comforting thought leaping out the window.

But I didn't think of that then. All I could think of was drawing her down into my arms and holding her tight and trying to pet away her sadness.

"You won't like me any more, now," she sobbed brokenheartedly. "You think I'm awful, now. You think I'm not a nice girl, now…" And so on, until I thought my heart was breaking, too.

"Please, please don't cry, darling," I pleaded. "Please don't, baby girl. Of course, I like you. Of course, I think you're a nice girl. Of course, I think-I
don't
think you're awful."

But she continued to weep and sob. Oh, she didn't blame me. Not for a moment! She knew I was married, so it was all her fault. But men never did like you
afterwards
. There was this intern and she'd liked him a lot and he'd kept after her, and finally she'd done it with him. And he'd told everyone in this hospital that she did it, and they'd all laughed and thought she was awful. Then there was this obstetrician she'd worked for, a wonderfully sweet, considerate man- but after she did it with him awhile, he must have thought she was awful (and not very nice, either) because he decided not to get a divorce after all. Then there was this-

"Well, pee on all of them!" I broke in. "Doing it is one of the very nicest things girls do, and any guy who wouldn't treat her nice afterwards would doubtless eat dog-hockey in Hammacher-Schlemmer's side window."

She giggled, then sniffled and giggled simultaneously. She asked if she could ask me something, and then she asked it.

"Would you-I know you can't, because you're already married-but would you, if you weren't? I mean, you wouldn't think I was too awful to marry, just because I did it?"

"You asked me something, my precious love-pot," I said, "so let me tell you something. If I was not married- and please note that I use the verb
was
, not
were
, since
were
connotes the wildly impractical or impossible, as in 'If I were you,' and no one but a pretentious damned fool would say, 'If I were not married' because that's not only possible but, in my case, a lousy actuality. But, uh, what was the question?"

"Would you marry me if you were not-I mean,
was
not-already married."

"The answer is
absotively
, and, look, dear.
Were
is proper when prefixed by the pronoun
you
. That's one of those exceptions- -"