Джеймс Кейн - The Enchanted Isle

“Go on, Jim. What’s the rest?”

“Someone must go to them, through me, of course, with news of a friend of his, sex as yet undisclosed; who helped out on that crime; who knows the police are off on a wrong scent trying to find the Rossi brothers; who is willing to help, with information that may be of value, in recovering that money; but who won’t talk, won’t say one word, one word of any kind, unless granted immunity.”

“Meaning me?”

“Ben, meaning you as I would assume, but you’re not involved in this crime, you can’t take the Fifth Amendment, and as a material witness you can be made to talk.”

“Yeah? How?”

“You can be jailed until you do.”

“Now I have it.”

He studied Mr. Clawson, trying to make up his mind whether to put his head on the block. He swears now he would have, and I believe him, but it didn’t get that far. Suddenly Steve spoke up, “How about me, Mr. Clawson?”

“You? Mr. Baker, is that your name?”

“Yeah. And I’d go to jail for Mandy.”

“You could stay there and stay there and stay there.”

“If they have that much time.”

“He’ll do. This guy is elected.”

Mr. Wilmer went over and took Steve by the hand. He said, “Steve, my hat’s off to you.” Mother went over and kissed him. I kissed him.

Next was to figure out how we would do to get the thing in the works, and Mr. Clawson said Steve should stay there, right in his office with him, while he called the state’s attorney with his item of news. But while the discussion went on, he wanted me out of the way, as well as Mother and Mr. Wilmer, until the time would come for me to “do my stuff,” as he put it. But at the same time he wanted me near, so I would be on call and get there quick when told. That way, he said, no time would be lost, “and we could wrap it up, right here, this afternoon.” So Mr. Wilmer suggested a hotel, where we could be in a suite and at the same time be ready to come “as soon as we get your call and you give us the word.” So lo and behold, we walked around the corner, Mother and Mr. Wilmer and I, to the same old hotel Rick and I had stopped at two nights before. Mr. Wilmer asked for sitting room, bedroom, and bath but, of course, had no luggage, as the car was still on the parking lot and he hadn’t bothered to get it just to take us a block or two. So he took out his wallet to pay or show his credit card or whatever he meant to do, but the clerk held up his hand to stop him. He said, “Please, Mr. Wilmer! We don’t have such rules for you.”

What it means to be a big shot.

So the suite was even fancier than the room Rick and I had had, and as soon as the bellboy went Mother took off the green so it wouldn’t get mussed and stretched out on the chaise lounge in her black pantyhose, black shoes, and black bra, like in Playboy magazine — ’specially around the bra and what she had in it, which was plenty. Mr. Wilmer threw me a wink, and maybe I winked back, but I didn’t take off my dress. Then he sat me down on the sofa and asked what was my favorite poem. I said, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”

“Really? Why?”

“It sends shivers down my back.”

“You know it?”

“Some of it. Not all. It’s awful long.”

“Let’s hear you recite what you know.”

It seemed like a funny idea, but turned out he had a reason, as he later explained to me, which I’ll tell all in due course, when I get to it. However, anything to please, and I commenced giving out. And he commenced watching me, not only listening but watching, as though he was seeing something about me that I didn’t know about. When I came to the line “I shot the albatross,” who got in it but Mother. “I’ll say she did!” she popped off, and I’m telling you that broke it up. We all three got to laughing so I couldn’t go on. So then, of course, we had kisses, and I had to kneel beside Mother to sniff her and touch her and feel how pretty she was. I said, “It’s a mess from beginning to end, and I hate myself that I ever got into it. And yet it’s almost been worth it, to bring me at last so close to my wonderful mother.”

“Yes, Darling, and I’ve been thinking the same.”

He sat on the edge of the chaise, holding one of her hands, while I kept kissing the other, and that’s how we were when the phone rang. He answered, then said, “Steve’s on his way up. Sally, get yourself dressed.”

She took her time, as she always did, getting up from the chaise and sashaying into the bedroom, but at lease the door was closed when Steve sounded the buzzer. Mr. Wilmer let him in, and he burst out very excited, talking to both of us but looking mainly at me, “They’re on their way over, Mr. Clawson, guy name of Haynes from the state’s attorney’s office, couple of detectives, a police stenographer, a guy from the bank, and a guy from the insurance company. But, Mandy, I put it over. It’s what I ducked out to tell you before they get here. They didn’t want any piece of a deal, tried to break me, tried to make me spell it regardless, and, hey, they handled me rough. But Mr. Clawson kept looking at me, like trying to telegraph something, which he couldn’t tell me about by whispering in my ear, as it would look like he was coaching me, which would have loused us, of course. Then at last I got it: no insurance man was there. But, the insurance company, of course, was the one under the boom. If the money was not recovered, they were the ones had to pay. So once I caught on to that, did I let them have it! I said, ‘So you don’t want money at all, just this person’s blood, so you see justice done? My, how noble of you. I’m fainting from admiration.’ Then I faced the guy from the bank, a vice president name of Clark, and cussed him out by the book. Then I said, ‘Will you kindly stop being funny? You want me to name this person, that’s Jake with me, but I do it to Mr. Big, not you. Get your bondsman in here! I won’t spill it to nobody else! If he wants blood, OK, but could be he’d rather have dough.’

“I’d played the right card, I could feel it, and when I looked at Mr. Clawson, he had this smile on his face. The rest of it went fast. The insurance man was called and got there in just a few minutes, little guy name of Richter. And when he got the straight of it all, what he said to Clark made what I said sound like a Sunday school. He really went to town, telling him what he’d forgotten, that unless he took all possible steps to help in the money’s recovery, ‘your goddam bond is canceled.’ And that did it. Mr. Clawson insisted they call a judge to get court approval by phone for immunity, but then at last the deal was made. That’s when I slipped out, like to the little boy’s room, to hightail it over here so I could tell you myself. Mandy, I did it. It was me.”

I went over and kissed him. Mother had come in by then, in time to hear the last of it, and she patted him on the head. Mr. Wilmer gave him a wave of the hand. When the phone rang he took it and told us, “They’re on their way up.”

Real quick Steve said, “Mandy?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“Kind of put it on me. You know?”

But Mr. Wilmer said “Steve” real sharp.

“Yes, sir?”

“Quit telling her what to say. It’s up to her who she puts it on. She’s in enough trouble already without any help from you.”

“OK.”

We sat down again on the sofa, me in the middle, Steve on one side, Mr. Wilmer on the other, each of them holding one of my hands. When the buzzer sounded Mother opened the door. She didn’t look like Playboy anymore, but more like the Ladies’ Home Journal, from being so elegant. And the black gloves topped it all off. They were cotton and elbow-length, but instead of wearing them she carried them, occasionally pulling them through one hand so she was oh, oh, oh, so casual, as though it was all of no real importance. And if you ask me, that helped. She let in quite a bunch, giving them each a separate smile, very friendly and warm: a bald-headed guy named Haynes, the assistant state’s attorney in charge of the case; a woman in police uniform, carrying a stenotype case; two detectives, one carrying a tape recorder, the other cans of tape; a middle-aged man from the bank, introduced as Mr. Clark; a small, gray-haired man from Patapsco Mutual, introduced as Mr. Richter. And, of course, Mr. Clawson, who did the introducing.