Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

“Nobody there gives us a year,” Joanna said, suddenly very solemn.

“Who says?”

“I know,” she said.

“They’re wrong,” he whispered, and kissed her gently. “It’ll last forever.”

He was awake earlier than Joanna the next morning, and had showered and shaved even before she began stirring. He went to the bed, gently nudged her, and asked if she wanted him to order breakfast. He called down to room service, and then looked up the Klein number in the directory, and dialed it. It was 9:00 A.M. by then, and he wanted to make sure Lissie was up and around; they had told her yesterday they’d be picking her up sometime between ten and ten-thirty.

Rusty answered the phone.

“Hi,” Jamie said, “this is Mr. Croft.”

“Hi, Mr. Croft,” she said.

“Lissie awake yet?”

“Uh... yeah,” Rusty said.

“Could you call her to the phone, please?”

“Well... yeah,” Rusty said. “Just a second.”

He waited. There had been something strange in Rusty’s voice, a hesitancy, a wariness. No, he was imagining things. He waited. Across the room, Joanna sat up, stretched lazily, yawned, and then plunked her head down on the pillow again. Jamie waited.

“She awake yet?” Joanna murmured into the pillow.

“Well... I guess so.”

“I didn’t get enough sleep,” Joanna said.

“Better get up, hon. Breakfast’ll be here in a minute.”

“Okay,” Joanna said.

“Honey?”

“Okay.”

She sat up, blinked into the room, sighed, and then got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Jamie waited. He looked at his watch. “Come on,” he said, under his breath. A knock sounded on the door. “Just a minute,” he said. Into the phone, he said, “Rusty?” He put down the phone and went to the door. “I’m on the phone,” he said to the waiter, “just put it down anyplace.” He went back to the phone, picked it up, said, “Hello?” and got no answer. The waiter put the breakfast tray on a coffee table between two wingback chairs, and then brought the check to Jamie to sign. Jamie added a tip to the total, and then signed the check. The waiter went out of the room. There was still no one on the other end of the line. “Hello?” Jamie said. “Rusty? Hello?” In the bathroom, he heard the toilet flushing, and then the sound of water splashing into the sink. He waited. Joanna came out of the bathroom.

“Did you get her?” she asked.

“No, not yet,” he said.

“Well, what...?”

“Hell-o?” a voice said.

“Lissie?” he said.

“Hell-o, Dad,” she said.

The voice sent a sudden chill up his spine. It was the voice of...

“Lissie?”

“Hell-o, Dad.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m o-kay, Dad.”

“Then... then why are you talking that way?”

“What, way, Dad?”

It was the voice he had heard people affecting whenever they told the joke about the idiot painting the horse’s legs. It was the voice of a moron.

“Lissie,” he said, “are you drunk?”

“No, I’m o-kay, Dad.”

The same moronic voice, deep and slow, the word “okay” broken in two, with what seemed an interminable pause between the halves.

“What... what took you so long to get to the phone?” he asked.

“Did, it, Dad?”

“Yes, it took very long.”

“Gee, Dad.”

“Lissie...”

“Gee.”

“You’d better put Rusty on.”

“O-kay, Dad.”

“Get Rusty, will you?”

“O-kay.”

He waited.

“What is it?” Joanna asked.

“Hello?” Rusty said.

“Rusty, what’s the matter there?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Croft?”

“What’s the matter with Lissie?”

“Well... I don’t know, Mr. Croft.”

“Where are your parents? Let me talk to one of your parents.”

“They both left for work already.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jamie said. “Tell Lissie I’m on the way over.”

He hung up without waiting for Rusty’s reply. Across the room, Joanna was watching him, alarmed. “What is it?” she asked again.

“I don’t know, honey. She sounded... strange. I want to run over there, I’ll be right back.”

“Drive carefully,” she said, and went to him, and kissed him on the cheek.

He did not drive at all carefully. He screeched the car around every familiar backroad curve, driving the mile and a half to the Klein house in less than three minutes, racing up the gravel driveway, yanking up the hand brake and turning off the ignition in almost the same swift motion, and then walking quickly to the front door and ringing the bell. Rusty answered the door. She was wearing a long granny nightgown and she was barefooted.

“Where’s Lissie?” he said at once.

“In the bedroom,” Rusty said.

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

He had been in the Klein house before and was fairly familiar with the layout. He took the steps up to the second floor, walking past the Kleins’ treasured collection of clocks ticking on every wall, filling the corridor with a sound that seemed ominous in the otherwise silent house. One of the clocks chimed a single note. He looked at his watch. Nine-thirty. Another clock sounded. And then another. As he glanced through the open doorway to the master bedroom, the bed unmade, Marvin Klein’s pajamas in a heap on the floor beside it, the corridor reverberated with the sound of all the clocks ticking and chiming. The chiming stopped abruptly. Now there was only the ticking. He opened the door at the end of the hall.

Lissie was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, one hand over her eyes. She was wearing a long granny gown, similar to the one Rusty had on. A shaft of morning sunlight angled through the window like a laser beam.

“Lissie?” he said.

“Mm?”

“Lissie? It’s Dad.”

“Mm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Dad.”

The same slow, deep voice. The moron’s voice.

He took her hand from where it lay covering her eyes. She allowed him to move it. She looked up at him. Her pale blue eyes were glazed. Her face was beaded with perspiration.

“Lissie, what’s the matter with you?” he said.

“I’m o-kay, Dad.”

“What’d you take?” he asked at once.

“Take, Dad?”

“Lissie, damn it, what did you take?”

“Nothing, Dad.”

“Get dressed,” he said. “Can you dress yourself? Rusty!” he shouted. “Damn it,” he said, “what’d you do to yourself? Rusty!” he shouted again.

He heard Rusty running up the corridor. She stopped in the doorframe, as though afraid of entering her own room.

“Help her get dressed,” he said. “Where’s a phone I can use?”

“In the kitchen,” Rusty said. “Or in my parents’ bedroom, if you...”

“Get her dressed,” Jamie said, and went out of the room. As he walked down the corridor, the clocks ticking all around him, he heard Rusty whisper behind him, “Liss? Come on, Liss, we’ve got to get you dressed,” and his daughter answering in her moronic voice, “O-kay, Rust.”

He found the wall phone in the kitchen, looked up the number for the Rutledge Inn, and dialed it at once. He asked for Room 412, and when Joanna came on the line, he said, “Honey, there’s something wrong here, I don’t know what it is, I think she’s taken something.”

“Taken?”

“Some kind of drug. I really don’t know, Joanna, I’m only guessing. I want to run her over to Harry’s.”

“Harry’s?”

“Our doctor. Harry Landau. I’ll call you later, honey. I’m worried about her, I want to get her over to Harry’s right away.”

“All right, darling.”

“Love you,” he said, and hung up. “Rusty?” he yelled. “How’s it going?”