Джеймс Кейн - Rainbow’s End

I told him, “OK, and thanks,” real quick, to cut it off, because the thing of it was, of course, that who Mantle had known wasn’t Jill but Mom. We set it up that he should come around 4:00, “so we can check it over,” as he said, “what we’re going to say, so at least we all say the same thing.”

“What was that all about?” Mom asked when I’d put down the phone.

“Lawyer I know named Bledsoe. He offered to come out, and I let him.”

“What do we want with a lawyer?”

“Just to be on the safe side.”

“You’re keeping something from me.” In some ways, Mom resembled a bobcat more than a human being, because a bobcat knows just by looking at you what you’re thinking.

I said: “I’m not keeping anything from you. He told me: ‘After all, you shot a guy, and you can’t be sure what Edgren’s going to do.’ ”

“I don’t like that Edgren, and I don’t like that Mantle.”

“Yeah, him.”

“I don’t like him at all.”

“What happened with him in Fairmont?”

“Nothing.”

“He was on the case of the guy you bit. What other case was he on? And where did you come in?”

“You want the story of my life?”

I kept at it and pieced it together: in the place where she worked, another girl had accused her of stealing her tips, and the manager had called the police. Mantle at that time was on the Fairmont force. Nothing was done, and she got on the bus for Marietta. This took me an hour to find out and didn’t tell me much, but at least it explained Mantle and what he thought about her.

I washed up the dishes after the lunch I’d given our visitors. Mom helped but bumped me quite a lot over and beyond the call of duty. It was nearly 4:00 when a car pulled up outside, a Chevy, but nobody got out. When I went out, Jill was on the front seat, dressed in nurse’s clothes, but without a nurse’s cap. A nurse was on the back seat and a guy was at the wheel who I’d never seen before. Jill introduced me to the nurse and to the man, Mr. York, who, it turned out, was with the airline Jill worked for. He had been rushed on a plane by the airline president within a half hour of her phone call and had hustled down here with money and whatever else she might need — like this car he’d rented for her, “as long as I want it — I never felt so important in my life.”

“Baby,” he told her, “you’re the heroine of the year. Maybe Mr. Howell saved you, but you saved 28 lives. We don’t speak of a multimillion dollar plane. That was due to break apart in the next air pocket unless that door could be closed. You pushed him out, thank God. I hope you feel as important as we think you are.”

“Well, who am I to say no?”

“Anyhow, come in. All of you.”

“David, until the officers get here, I’d rather wait in the car.”

“Why?”

“I have a reason.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what the reason was, and I didn’t argue much but stood by the side of the car, talking through the window, with the nurse leaning forward to hear and Mr. York speaking up now and then. In a minute or two another car drove up and Mr. Bledsoe got out. I introduced him, and he took off his hat politely and said: “Let’s go inside.”

“When the officers come,” said Jill. “If you want to go in Mr. Bledsoe, please do, but we’re staying here—”

“I said, let’s go in,” Bledsoe snapped. “They’ll be here any minute, and we have to talk — now! ”

“Well, who are you,” snapped York, “to be telling this girl what she does?”

“James J. Bledsoe, attorney at law, representing Mr. Howell. I suggest that Miss Kreeger accept me as counsel too. She’s in trouble and time is running short.”

“Trouble?” said York. “ Trouble? Here she’s the heroine of the year and you try to say she’s in trouble.”

“If Mantle says so, she is.”

Jill drew a blank, looking first at me and then at York. “Who’s Mantle?” he asked.

“I think she knows.”

“What’s this about?” snapped Jill. “What in the hell’s it about? I never heard of Mantle.”

By that time I was nudging Bledsoe who was staring at Jill. I took him aside and whispered: “She’s not the one Mantle knows.” Suddenly he backed water, apologizing as hard as he knew how, but insisting all over again that Jill “could be in trouble” and begging her to come in, “so we can get together on what we tell the police when they come.”

Jill looked at me. When I nodded, York saw me do it. He whispered something to her and she said: “OK.” But she flinched when she put her weight on her feet, and once more I carried her. She put her right arm around my neck.

I introduced Mom who took charge. She pointed at the armchair for Jill, the sofa for me and herself, and various chairs for the nurse, York, and Bledsoe. But I set Jill down on the sofa, camped beside her myself, and let everyone else, including Mom, find places where they could. Bledsoe got to the point at once: “Let’s get going. What’s Mantle suspicious about?”

“What ain’t he suspicious about?” asked Mom. “He’s a rat. He suspicions everyone — for no reason.”

Bledsoe eyed her, comprehending at last what his friend had heard on the phone but hadn’t rightly got the point of. But when he looked at me, I sidestepped. “Well, I wouldn’t know,” I faltered.

“Dave! You do know. Spit it out!”

“The little he said,” I told him, “he seemed to think it funny I killed Shaw around 5:30 and didn’t call in until 6:00. I explained to him the shape Miss Kreeger was in, how I was actually afraid she would die—”

“I would have,” she cut in.

“Well, she could have,” said the nurse. “She was in dreadful shape when we got her. She’s in pretty bad shape now .”

“Why didn’t you call, Mrs. Howell?” Bledsoe asked. “Did Mantle go into that?”

“I explained it to him over and over,” Mom answered. “That I was out looking for the money, to find it and claim the reward. I started looking right off, and that’s why I didn’t call. It wasn’t my fault it wasn’t there. I found them the parachute, though — a lot of thanks I got.”

Bledsoe thought this over and asked: “Is that what you told Mantle?”

“Edgren did the talking.”

“Edgren, then?”

“What else was there to tell him?”

He thought some more, then asked me: “So what’s Mantle suspicious of? Or Edgren? Or whichever it is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Dave, let’s have it.”

“Perhaps I might know,” Jill said. “They think she stole the money while pretending to be looking for it.”

“Were you here, Miss Kreeger?”

“No. They hauled me off in an ambulance before the questioning started. I just think that’s what it was. If I can think of it, they can think of it.”

“Well, thanks, Miss Whatever-Your-Name-Is, thanks a lot. Here I save your life and you up and call me a thief.”

“You are a thief.”

“Don’t you call me that! Don’t you do it!” And with that, Mom jumped up and ran at Jill. Jill rose from the sofa, waited till Mom was close to her, then let go with a slap that banged Mom down on the floor. I was blocked off by the table, but Bledsoe helped her up and led her back to her chair. “You rotten bitch,” snarled Jill. “You tried to get me killed, you—”

“Will you cool it!” bellowed Bledsoe. “We have just a few minutes. Are you going to use that time to save your necks or to send all three to prison? Don’t you realize that that’s all it takes? That the three of you start working against each other, to land you all in the soup?”