Slam the Big Door

Six

He slept late on Tuesday. When he got up, the Chrysler was back and the Porsche was gone. Durelda gave him breakfast on the patio. She said her tooth was better. She said the mister was sleeping and the missus had gone away for a little trip.

After breakfast he drove into Ravenna and found a stationery store and bought a package of coarse yellow paper and some soft pencils. It was the special armor of his trade. Operating on the smallest hints and clues, he had often, in the past, dug out stories that had nudged people in high places out of their upholstered niches in city and county government. It was no special trick. It required merely sturdy legs, a consuming diligence, and the knowledge that to most people the sweetest possible sound is their own voice. They can never hear it often enough. And everybody likes to give the impression that they are very well informed. To Mike Rodenska the miracle was not that chicanery was revealed but that it was so often successfully concealed.

He went first to the small sales office just inside the pretentious entrance to Horseshoe Pass Estates and talked to Marvin Hessler, the salesman-employee Troy had introduced him to when he had shown Mike the property. Marvin was wary at first, but after Mike had managed to give the impression that his investigative efforts might serve to put the project back on its feet, and thus protect a job Hessler had begun to be dubious of, he got complete cooperation. He scrawled key words as memory aids on the coarse paper, folded twice, bulging the pocket.

He looked at land which had been cleared and land which hadn’t. He saw half-dug canals with banks that were collapsing because the sea-walling hadn’t been done. He saw where the dredging had stopped, and where they had run out of fill. He looked at the plot map, read the restrictions and specifications which had been filed with and approved by the Ravenna County Board of Commissioners. He studied the engineering reports, the list of lots already sold, the clips of the advertising campaign, a copy of the original land purchase agreement.

The initial contact always gives you a lead to a few others. It is a geometric progression. He went to the office of the elderly, somewhat ineffectual-acting lawyer who had set up the corporation. By then Mike had become a Mr. Rodney, a staff writer for a large picture magazine which was contemplating doing a story on a typical Florida land-development project — not one of the monster ones, and not one of the little grubby ones — one about the size of Horseshoe Pass Estates. He got some information from the lawyer. He had lunch, picked up his cash from Western Union, added a couple of hundred in traveler’s checks and opened a bank account at the Ravenna National Bank, where he talked for over an hour with an amiable, elderly, low-pressure vice president about the opportunities for investment in Florida land. After he left the bank he became Mr. Rodney again, and talked to three real estate agents until he found one that suited his purposes, a brown, wiry, savage little woman in her fifties who had been born in Ravenna, who envied and despised the people who, through her efforts, had made large pieces of money in real estate, who was a confirmed and vicious gossip, and who seemed to know every local landowner and every parcel of land in the county, and every slick trick that had ever been pulled on the unsuspecting. Her name was Lottie Spranger.

After talking a half hour in her office they went across the street to a curiously tearoomy sort of bar and drank Cokes in a booth.

“A story like that wouldn’t hurt this area a bit,” she said, “and I’m all for it, but you’re making a terrible mistake picking that Jamison mess out there opposite the pass. Sure, it’s a pretty piece of land, but it’s dead.”

“You keep saying that, Miss Spranger, but I don’t quite see how it’s dead. Their sales office is open.”

“I’m not one to gossip, but I’ll tell you just what happened there. For your own good. Jamison is a fool, came down from the north, built some little houses, nothing special, then married Mary Kail who was married before to Bernard Dow, and he died and left her a stack of money. Jamison got his hands on that money and got big ideas and went in too deep. I’d say it’s a good buy for anybody right now, buying good lots in there at the price he’s got ’em down to, but people can’t see that. They haven’t got patience. Pretty soon Jamison is going to be dead broke, and then he’s going to have to unload his equity for whatever he can get for it, and the wolves are just setting-waiting to jump. After Jamison is out, whoever gets it will finish the development and clean up. There’s millions in that kind of deal. That’s choice land. There isn’t much of that left on this coast. It’ll be a high-class development. I’ll tell you this. Jamison fought pretty good there. He’s tried to sell treasury stock, bring people in with him, tried to borrow, tried to move those lots. Nothing has worked.”

“Who are these wolves you mention?”

“There’s big ones and little ones. This deal is big enough to interest the big ones. Purdy Elmarr. Wink Haskell. J. C. Arlenton. They sit way back quiet, but they run Ravenna County, Mr. Rodney. They make out like they’re just old cracker boys, but they’re made of money, and all that money started with land, and they still buy, swap and sell land. And when any of ’em hanker to own a piece of land, there isn’t anybody going to come in from the outside and grab it away.”

“So you think somebody is after the Jamison land?”

“I do.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he had too much bad luck for it to all be accidental. Dredge broke down. The work crew dug a whole canal in the wrong place and had to fill it up. They put fill too high around tree trunks and lost a lot of good trees. All this adds up to money, and he didn’t start with enough at first. Then there’ve been rumors about how he couldn’t give you a good deed to a lot there, and how it never would be finished. I tell you, when you’re in the selling business, rumors like that can hurt bad. Somebody wants it. I don’t know who.”

“I was talking about this project of mine to a young lawyer named Raines. He said the whole thing would fall through, that Jamison couldn’t save it. Was that an example of these rumors?”

Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “Hmmm. Rob Raines. Dee Raines’s boy. Now what in the world reason would he have to bad-mouth Jamison? He’s seeing Mary’s daughter, I hear. Nice-looking boy, but he’s got an awful cold-looking pair of eyes on him. You know, if he could work his way in with... Say, he has been doing some law work for Corey Haas. Jamison took Corey in with him on account of Corey being so close to Mary’s father and Bernard Dow a long time ago. And taking Corey in with you is just about like carrying a snake in your pocket. He’s a slippery one, that Corey. I must be getting old and stupid. I didn’t add that up before. Sure. Corey would love to ease Jamison out of there, and I’ll bet he hasn’t put in a dime over and above what it cost him when they set up the corporation. Corey isn’t real dishonest, but he’s so close to it you can’t hardly tell the difference. Corey goes into things with old Purdy Elmarr sometimes, and this is just the sort of thing to catch Purdy’s eye. Yes sir. It would be Purdy working with Corey, and Rob Raines sticking close to that Debbie Ann to keep in close touch with what’s going on. Nice law work that is!” She gave an evil snicker.

“I guess I better pick a different development.”

“Oh, this one will move fast enough soon as old Purdy gets his hooks into it. I’m sort of glad it’s Purdy instead of Wink. Or Corey Haas all alone. Purdy pushes hard, but he isn’t merciless. He’ll set it up so Jamison and Mary Kail won’t lose everything.”

“I’m grateful to you, Miss Spranger.”

“All I’ve done is talk. It didn’t cost me a thing.”

The day was gone. He went back to Riley Key. The Chrysler was gone. Debbie Ann was prone on a poolside mattress, her sun top unlatched, her sun shorts rolled and tucked to expose the maximum area. As she was entirely in shadow, it was obvious she had fallen asleep. The scuff of his shoe on the patio stone awakened her. She lifted her head, then sat up, holding the bra top against her, craning her arms back and latching it. Her face was puffy with sleep, her light hair tangled.

She yawned widely and said, “Wow! I folded. Where’ve you been all day? I got back at two. I’m going out to dinner with Rob so I sent Durelda home. No point in her staying around. You wouldn’t mind eating out, would you? Just go down to the Key Club and sign Mommy’s name.”

“I’m thirsty,” he said. “Bring you a beer?”

“Sounds good.” He opened two cans, brought her one, and folded himself into a bronze and plastic chaise longue. “I’ve been a tourist today. Was Troy gone when you got back?”

“Durelda said he went out about noon.”

“Did you get Mary settled?”

“Yes. A very nice place up on Longboat Key. Corny name. Lazy Harbor. The phone number is in my purse. What’s going on, Mike?”

“What did she tell you?”

“She said she had to get away for a little while to think things over. I asked her if she was going to think about divorce. She said no. She was pretty quiet on the way up.”

“So I guess she told you as much as she wants you to know.”

“My God, you’d think I was eleven years old. I’m an elderly divorced type, remember?”

“It’s probably a good idea to get away, get some perspective.”

“While Troy works himself up to being a genuine alcoholic, keeps some tramp on the string, and loses the family fortune. It wasn’t a big fortune, but it was comforting while it lasted.”

He studied her. “Is there anything you really give a damn about, Debbie Ann? Anything that really concerns you seriously and deeply?”

“No, thank God! I don’t want to be involved in anything but kicks.”

“Any plans at all?”

“Nothing that isn’t frivolous. What got you on this sober dedication routine anyhow?”

“Are you concerned about Mary’s happiness?”

“I’d like her to have it. She had it and now she hasn’t. Nothing I can do is going to turn it back on, like a switch.”

“True.”

“Speaking of frivolous, why don’t we make Rob take us both out? He’d hate every minute of it. We could be very flirtatious and he wouldn’t dare yelp. For some reason he’s being terrible good. A real little gentleman. I suppose he’s figured out a new approach, but I don’t know what it is yet. Won’t you come along?”

“No thanks. I’ve got a little work to do.”

“Work?”

“Sorting some notes.”

“Writing a book?”

“I might.”

“Oh, I forgot! Two letters came for you. Durelda put them in your room.”

He got up quickly. “Excuse me,” he said. “Probably the boys.”

One was from the boys, two letters traveling with one airmail stamp. Micky told him Tommy had been very homesick, but he was getting over it. They seemed to like the school well enough. One of the boys had taken to calling Micky Round-End-Ski and the fight had been broken up. They were taken to the headmaster, who turned them over to the athletic instructor, who had put gloves on them and let them work it out. Now they were good friends. The work was hard. They were way behind the others, but they were getting special help so they could catch up.

The other letter was from a friend on the paper. After he read it, he reread the boys’ letters. Poor lonely devils. He heard Debbie Ann in the bathroom, heard the shower running.

A few minutes after the shower stopped, his bathroom door opened. She stood in the doorway, artfully draped in a big chocolate and white towel, her smile wide and utterly innocent. “Was it from your boys? Are they all right?”

“They’re fine, thanks.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’d ask you in,” he said, “but they got a tough house detective in this joint.”

She made a face at him. “Poo! It’s just friendship, Mike.” “You can’t trust me. I’m queer for towels.”

“I could take it off.”

“That’s enough kidding around, Debbie Ann,” he said gruffly. “There’s no sense in it and no future. So back up and shut the door.”

She widened her eyes. “My goodness! The man can’t take a joke.” She backed into the bathroom and shut the door, firmly.

“Have to beat them off with clubs,” he grumbled. “Little old irresistible me.” But he decided his second reaction was right. It would do no good to try to joke with her on her level. She would just become bolder. And then, in a parody of enticement, in a burlesque of seduction, she would manage to wind up in his arms, and then it wouldn’t be parody or burlesque any longer, and she would have had her opportunity to not only satisfy her curiosity and make her soiled and ordinary little conquest, but also to save her own pride by faking great consternation and saying, afterward, in a stricken way, “But I didn’t mean this to happen, darling! I was only joking! Really I was. And suddenly everything got... out of control.”

Or, if she was a little more vicious, and it was quite possible she was, she would go only far enough to be certain that he committed himself, that he made the unmistakable pass, and then scramble away from him and be very upset about the whole thing. They had the right words long ago. Trollop. Baggage. Wench. He wondered if Dacey Whatsis knew how lucky he was to get rid of her. And he hoped Mary would never see her daughter clearly. Mary deserved a hell of a lot more than she was getting.

He stretched out for a while, then changed and went over to the mainland and ate and went to a drive-in movie. Two westerns. The good guy finally nailed the bad guys. He rode back to his room, tall in the saddle, lean, noble and deadly, rolling a cigarette with one hand and shooting hawks out of the sky with the other. He was always a hell of a wing shot.

Troy wasn’t home yet when Mike got in, but was home and sleeping when he left in the morning. He had sorted out the important pieces of information. He talked to two more men who contributed a little, more in the line of confirmation than anything new. He drove to where yellow bulldozers and draglines were working and talked to the man who had bossed the Horseshoe Pass Estates job. He questioned him closely about the bad luck he had had on the job, and when he became convinced the man was lying, and not interested enough to lie very well, he felt he was ready to tackle Corey Haas. Corey Haas managed his varied business interests from a small office in a shabby old building on West Main in downtown Ravenna.

He was a gaunt stooped man in his late fifties, with bad teeth, a threadbare suit, thinning hair dyed a violent purple-black, an artificial affability in his manner, the gray rubbery face of a retired comedian, and a firm over-prolonged handshake.

“Rodenska? Aren’t you the fella visiting Troy and Mary? Sit down. What can I do you for on this beautiful day?”

“I guess I wanted a little free advice, Mr. Haas. I got talking to Rob Raines the other night about my putting some money into Horseshoe Pass Estates. I know you own stock in it.”

“Eighteen percent,” Haas said with a wistful smile. “They’re right pretty stock certificates.”

“Rob didn’t think it was a good idea, but I guess he didn’t want to say anything about his girl’s stepfather, so he told me you’re an honest man and you’d tell me the things he didn’t want to.”

Haas shook his head. “Now, I could paint a big wonderful picture for you and I could make it sound good, and maybe we could take your money away from you, Mr. Rodenska. But it wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be fair. Frankly, I got stung. I figure I’ve lost my money. Oh, I may come out with some if we can ever unload the whole corporation, but I just thank God I didn’t have more to put into it, or I might have, and that would be gone too. I only got in on account of knowing Mary’s daddy so well, and knowing her first husband — lot older man than Troy, and I hate to say it, but a lot smarter man too. It’s pitiful that girl has to lose her money that way. I can go into details that probably wouldn’t mean too much to you, Mr. Rodinski.”

“Rodenska.”

“I’m sorry. Man likes to hear his name said right. Were you thinking of any sizable amount?”

“Three hundred thousand, maybe.”

He pursed his lips and shook his narrow head. “Wouldn’t help. It’s too late for that. Throwing good money after bad. Rob did right sending you to me. It would be a terrible mistake. I can go into details about what them problems are, but like I said...”

Mike pulled a sheaf of notes out of his pocket. “Care if I go into details?”

“What? What’s that?”

“Want to hear what I think of it?”

“I don’t see how you’d have much of an idea about—”

“Let’s try it and see.” Mike began to talk, carefully, explicitly. At first Haas looked dazed. And then all expression went out of his face. His eyes were watchful. From time to time he reached up and touched his throat with his fingertips and swallowed.

Mike put his papers back into his pocket. “Those are the figures. Those are the problems. Three hundred thousand would more than bail it out. You know that. I know that. Troy knows that. I’m going to loan the corporation three hundred thousand, and take Troy’s and Mary’s stock as security. I didn’t come here for advice. I came here to tell you something, Haas. I’m going to hire a detective. And if there’s any more bad luck out there, and he can prove who caused it, like your bribing that construction clown to goof off, you’re going to have a conspiracy suit on your hands. I’m sorry I can’t get your eighteen percent back from you. You stand to make a lot of money out of it. And it’s too good a thing for you to ever let go of. That’s all I have to say to you.”

“Just a minute,” Haas said quietly. “Sit down, Mr. Rodenska. I thought you were just a newspaperman.”

“That’s all.”

“You would have made a hell of a good businessman. You still might.”

“A glorious ambition.”

“Eh?”

“I just collected facts and suspicions, Haas. I did some leg-work. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” Haas said bitterly. He seemed to be trying to make up his mind about something. He waited long minutes. “All right. It won’t hurt me none to admit something else has been cooking, and when it all blew up and the dust settled, Jamison would be out but not hurt too awful bad, and I’d have me a bigger piece of it. It’s worth waiting for the size money that thing’ll make. So I’ll tell you this. Detective or no detective, I can work against you and give you a hell of a lot of problems one way or another. Or I can work with you, and things will smooth out just fine.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’ll split the risk with you. One-fifty apiece, hear? We’ll juggle the stock around. You’re in for a third, I’m in for a third, and the Jamisons are in for a third. You and me, we’ll run it right.”

“No thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Mister Corey Haas, I wouldn’t go in with you on a ten-cent pail of water if we were both on fire.”

“That’s a rough way to talk to a man, Mr. Rodenska.”

“I can make it rougher.”

Haas smiled. “You’re new here. Jamison was new. Don’t have any idea what makes the wheels go around here. You just bought yourself a mess of trouble. Go into it if you want, newspaperman. The more I think about it, the more I don’t think three hundred will quite do it.”

“We can try,” Mike said, and left.

He placed a call to Purdy Elmarr from a drugstore booth. An hour later he was seated on Purdy’s front porch, with a bourbon in his hand. The old man gave an impression of ageless strength that did not match the frailness of his voice over the phone. There was no cordiality in him. He looked out toward the highway, his face still.

“My basic deduction, the reason I came to see you, may be entirely wrong, Mr. Elmarr. So I can save both of us time by starting with a question. Are you interested in any way in Horseshoe Pass Estates?”

There was a long silence. The old man spat over the railing. “Keep talking.”

“As I told you, I’m a newspaperman. Ex-newspaperman, at least for a while. I’ve done a lot of interviewing. I listen to what people say and how they say it. And I remember. I want to give you as near a verbatim conversation as I had today with Corey Haas as I can manage. There’s no point in telling you why I came to go to him. But I did. Here is what was said.”

Except for the infrequent lift of the glass to the lips for a measured sip, the old man was motionless as a lizard. Mike wondered if he was really hearing any of it, or if he was far off in one of the misty reveries of senility.

“That’s all. I said, ‘We can try.’ I left and phoned you within the next five minutes.”

Purdy Elmarr stood up and went to the table and fixed himself a fresh drink, slowly, carefully. He went back to the chair, sat down and said, “He’p yourself any time you feel like.”

“Thanks.”

“One thing. That Raines boy bring up my name?”

“No. It was just a guess.”

“Never liked newspaper people. Spent my life keeping my name out of the papers. Every time you open a paper, there’s the same damn fools grinning out at you. So I never got to know one. Why’d you bring this to me?”

“It seemed like a good idea. And somebody told me you aren’t... merciless.”

“Have been. Can be again if I have to. One third to him, one third to you, and one third to Mary Kail and her husband. Pretty. But you didn’t like that. I know you’re telling me exactly how it was, because you got the figures right, and that’s just how Corey would say things. What are you after?”

“I like Mary. I don’t like Raines and I don’t like Haas.”

“I don’t have to like the people make money for me. So you’re just going around doing good?”

“Call it that.”

“You could come out with a nice profit. They’ll want to cut you in. Mary will anyhow. Nice girl. Haven’t seen her in years. Is that the only money you got?”

“Yes sir.”

“Funny you want to risk it all in something you don’t know anything about.”

“It isn’t very important to me. When it could have been, I didn’t have it. And got along fine.”

“I got stacks of money, son. If there was twenty of me and we all went hog wild, we couldn’t spend down to the end of it. Don’t use it for anything special. Just like piling it up.”

“I can see how that could be.”

“I like you. You aren’t the least damn bit scared of money. Most people come here act a little trembly, like I’d bite hell out of them.”

“There are things I’m scared of. Money isn’t one of them.”

“He wanted one third of it. It’s the second time he’s acted cute on the same project. Corey is getting awful hungry, seems.”

“I guess so.”

“I’m going to break a rule. I don’t generally tell people my plans. Then if they don’t work out good, I don’t have to explain anything. I’ll tell you a couple things. You keep them to yourself. I wouldn’t tell you if I thought you couldn’t. First off, put your money into that thing. I’ve give up wanting it. Second, you won’t have no trouble of any kind. I’ll talk to Corey. If there’s trouble anyway, come to me and I’ll tell you how to fix it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Elmarr.”

“Now here’s the last thing. You can think about this some. I’ll talk sweet and pretty to Corey Haas. I think I’ll last another five years. He should too, if he doesn’t kill hisself. I’d say about five years from now, sooner if I can do it, Corey Haas is going to be walking the streets with his skinny old tail sticking out through his raggedy pants a-wondering just what in hell happened to him. He tried to cross me a second time, and I shouldn’t have let him get away with it the first time.”

Purdy Elmarr turned as he spoke and looked squarely at Mike. The faded old eyes were like bits of a wintry sky, and he wore a slow barracuda smile. In a very few moments Haas had been tried, sentenced and executed.

“I guess you know why I don’t keep on saying thank you.”

“Do I?”

“Some of this is because you’re probably a decent enough man, Mr. Elmarr. But you feel like it’s smart to play it safe, too. Because I’ll be quiet. Otherwise I might be crazy enough and lucky enough to get the whole thing in print.”

“You know, we got us a little poker group meets out here.”

“I’m not that crazy or that lucky, Mr. Elmarr.”

The old man thumped his thigh and gave a wild high cackle of laughter. “Damn if I don’t like you some, son. Never thought I’d see the day. Northun fella. Newspaper fella. Foreign name on you. Just tell me one thing. What got you started digging on this land deal? What got you to wondering?”

“Rob Raines acted too anxious about keeping me from putting any money in it.”

“Ummm. See how that could be. Just another kid lawyer. Gawd damn! New crop every year. But a man can’t find him a good one any more. Seems like every year they’re hungrier. Want to get rich right now, and don’t give a damn how they do it, long as it’s a little bit legal. They don’t seem to have anything on the inside of ’em any more, any old-time rules of what a man can do and can’t do. They wear everything on the outside. Raines looked possible, but damn if I felt right about a man willing to mess around with a girl for more than that one good old-fashioned reason. Guess I’m losing my judgment about folks. Want to take a look at some nice pups I’ve got?”

“Thanks, but I’d better be getting back.”

The old man cackled again and said, “People just don’t do that to Purdy Elmarr. I say come look at the pups, they say sure thing. I say go gnaw down that oak, and they say how far up from the ground, Purd? Anything to get close and cozy to where the money is. Maybe one time you could bring Mary out, just to say hello. Not her husband. Just her.”

“Why not her husband?”

“He’s got another woman, and I don’t want a cheatin’ man settin’ foot on my prop’ty.” He spat over the railing. “And he can’t handle his liquor. And he was pig stupid about how to develop that land. You put your money in it, boy, you handle it yourself.”

“You keep in touch with things, don’t you?”

And once again he saw the barracuda smile as Purdy Elmarr said, innocently, “Why, people just seem to keep coming out here telling me things.”

Elmarr walked out to his borrowed station wagon with him. “Glad you come out,” he said. “I mean that. I told you what I would do, and that makes it a deal, so on account of it’s a deal, I’ll shake your hand. It’s the only time I ever shake a man’s hand. Shaking it for hello and good-by is just damn silly. It gets to mean nothing. Here.”

He shook the spare leathery hand, and they exchanged conspiratorial smiles, and he drove away from there.

All you could do — all you can ever do, Mike thought — is make the best guess you can about a man, and play it that way. The rough road brought out the rattles and creaks in the station wagon. The low sun glared into his eyes when, almost an hour later, he turned toward the bridge to Riley Key. It was five-thirty when he reached the house.

Durelda came to the carport just as he got out of the car and said rapidly, her eyes round and white in her dark face, “Miz Debbie Ann says I was to tell you case you come home ’fore my husban’ comes to pick me up — the sheriff called twicet and final got ’hole Miz Debbie Ann telling her the mister got hisself messed up on drunk driving, and it was two hundred dollars cash money to get him out, so Miz Debbie Ann borrowed it here and there and took off maybe a hour ago to go down bail him free.”

“Thanks, Durelda. Was there an accident? Anybody hurt?”

“Nobody said nothing about anybody hurt, but he went and messed up our car some ways.”

He went into the house and phoned the Ravenna County sheriff’s office and got hold of a deputy who told him Troy Jamison had been released about twenty minutes ago.

“He was definitely drunk?”

“I wouldn’t know, mister. He missed a curve on Ravenna Key and he put that Chrysler smack through one of his own signboards, and he couldn’t walk. This was two o’clock in the afternoon, mister, and he threw up in the patrol car, and when they brought him in here he was yelling that Marine Corps song but you couldn’t hardly understand a word of it, so what do you think?”

“Oh. Where’s the car?”

“I don’t know, but that girl, that stepdaughter I guess it is, arranged something about it.”

“And he wasn’t hurt?”

“Man! Tomorrow he’s going to feel like somebody’s spooning his brains out with their thumbnail.”

Mike thanked him and hung up.

The white Porsche, with the top up, snorted into the drive five minutes later. Debbie Ann got out quickly, her face rigid with disgust. “It’s somebody else’s turn now,” she said. “Anybody’s.” She turned and walked swiftly toward her room.

“Hold it!” Mike said sharply. She turned and waited for him. He took his time catching up with her. “Want to clue me in on it?”

She seemed to relax a little. “They called up because he...”

“I know most of it. I talked to somebody in the sheriff’s office. I just want to get a few details. He was still here when I left this morning. When did he get so...”

They were keeping their voices down. “I don’t think he slept last night. He had a bottle in the bedroom. I didn’t see him leave here, about eleven. Durelda did. She said he left woobly. Isn’t that a dandy word? Woobly.”

“How about the car?”

“It’s been towed into Carson’s in Ravenna. I didn’t see it.”

“How about a lawyer?”

“I phoned Rob. He wasn’t exactly eager, but he said he’d take care of it. I explained what happened, told him the names of the arresting deputies. The county police patrol the Keys. He said it didn’t sound like he could fight it. About all he could do would be to ask Troy to plead guilty and then he’d see if he could get permission for him to drive his car during daylight hours for business purposes only, and whether that would be granted right now or three months from now would depend on the judge. He won’t have a regular license for a year.”

They both turned and looked toward Debbie Ann’s car.

“Things seem to go to hell in all kinds of ways around here,” Debbie Ann said.

“But you don’t give much of a damn in any case.”

“Thanks. I must try to keep remembering that.”

“Does he need a doctor?”

“He needs a bath,” she said, and, turning, opened the entry door to the guest wing and went inside.

Mike walked out to the car and opened the door on Troy’s side. He sat slack in the bucket seat of the Porsche, staring ahead, slack fists resting on his thighs, mouth agape, coppery stubble on his jowls, his white shirt ripped and soiled, a purple bruise on his left cheekbone.

“Come on, boy. Get out.”

Troy didn’t stir until Mike shook him and repeated the order. He made slow work of getting out of the small car. Once out he fell back against the car. Mike caught him by the arm and then, supporting a good portion of his weight, led him slowly, blinking, dazed, barefoot, soiled, to the house. He took him through to the master bedroom, eased him into a small straight chair and got him out of his clothes. They were beyond repair. He performed the distasteful task of going through the pockets before he bundled them up to take out to the trash baskets by the garage later.

He left Troy there for a moment while he went into the big tiled bathroom and got the shower going at the right temperature. When he went back to the bedroom Troy was sitting, his head almost between his knees. Mike got his wrists and pulled him up and wrestled him gently into the bathroom. He could detect vague attempts at cooperation. He got Troy into the shower but when he handed him the soap, it slipped out of his hand. Mike sighed, stripped down to his shorts, found a bath brush, and scrubbed Troy as if he were a sleepy, spiritless horse. He pulled him out of the shower, perched him on a bath stool, toweled him dry, found clean pajamas and got him into them.

He leaned close to him and said, “Sleeping pills! Have you got sleeping pills? Where’s the sleeping pills!” He slapped Troy lightly. “Sleeping pills!”

The eyes tracked a little and he made an aimless gesture toward the medicine cabinet. “Blue,” he mumbled. “Blue’n white. Lil bo’ll.”

Mike found the little bottle. Blue and white capsules. The dosage was one. And no more than two. In Troy’s condition, one should do it, one should take him beyond that state where, after three hours of semi-sleep, alcohol induced, he would wake up with nerves like icy screaming wires.

He fed him one, poking it into his mouth, sluicing it down with water. When he pulled him off the stool he nearly lost him, nearly went down with him at the unexpected lurch. He turned one of the beds down, got Troy into it. He put his own clothes back on, took his first good look at the room. It was in shades of blue with a deep blue rug, and had wide doors that swung open onto its own tiny private patio where there was a table and two chairs. Atop Mary’s dressing table was a big colored photograph in a plain silver frame. He picked it up and turned it toward the light of the dying day. It had been taken on a boat, the two of them sitting side by side on the transom, Troy and Mary, brown, grinning, holding hands. The ensign was snapping on its staff — a fat white wake boiled through blue water — there was wind in Mary’s dark hair — in the background, far away, was a tall sailboat, and close at hand a gull was caught in one teetering instant. Good composition. A vivid little piece of happiness, frozen in place by Kodak.

And again, with no warning, the towering wave smashed at him, slamming him down into savage undertows. Not enough pictures of her. All the chances gone. Camera dusty on a shelf on the days she laughed. And he was far away from love, tending a drunk.

“Mike,” Troy said in a blurred way.

He put the picture back and went to the bed. He was certain Troy, up until then, had had no idea who was helping him. So this was a return of lucidity on the edge of sleep.

“What is it, boy?” He sat on his heels by the side of the bed, his face a foot from Troy’s blurred face.

“Mary took off. Gone two days.” The words were slow, the efforts of pronunciation clear.

“I know.”

“That isn’t why... this.”

“What reason then, Troy? Why this?”

Troy closed his eyes for so long Mike thought he had gone off, but then he opened them again. “It’s... a thing in my head. It’s there, Mike. It’s been there... long, long time.”

“What kind of a thing?”

“Right... in the middle, Mike. Round. Black thing. All... knotty like... black rubber ball of dead snakes. So there isn’t room... room in there for me. Didn’t want to tell anybody.”

“A long, long time?”

“Went... away by itself. Came back.” Suddenly he lifted his head from the pillow and reached out and caught Mike by the shoulder with fingers that dug so strongly Mike wheezed with pain. In a voice suddenly clear and strong he said, “I had it licked today, Mike. I made it go away. I felt so damn good. I knew all the things I had to do. I sang, Mike. I was drunk outside, but ’way down inside I was sober like I’ve never been, seeing everything about me like I was on a hill looking down. And I knew, Mike. Everything was going to be right for me. I’d licked everything by myself.” His hand fell from Mike’s shoulder. His head dropped back to the pillow, voice blurred again. “Then they were pulling me out of the car. Didn’t know where the hell I was. It’s... back again. It... takes up too damn much room.”

“Here is what we are going to do, Troy,” Mike said. He spoke slowly, distinctly, precisely. “We’re going to find a doctor for you. He will make that thing go away and stay away.”

Troy closed his eyes. “Sure,” he murmured.

“You can’t handle a thing like that yourself. You should have told Mary, me, somebody.”

Troy sighed.

“When you know something’s wrong, you can get it fixed.”

Troy had begun to breathe heavily, slowly. Mike looked at him for a few moments. He got to his feet. The cramped muscles of his legs creaked, and his knees popped.

He picked up the bundle of ruined clothing, closed the bedroom door quietly behind him, and, after he had disposed of the clothing, took the number Debbie Ann had given him out of his wallet and phoned the Lazy Harbor Motel on Longboat Key. There were evidently phones in the rooms.

Mary answered. “Oh, Mike, I was hoping you’d call yesterday, and if you hadn’t phoned I was going to wait until seven and then phone you.”

“Is this a private line here?”

“Yes. What’s happened?”

“Something bad and something good. The bad isn’t too serious, Mary. Just messy.” He told her about the arrest, the car, told her Troy was in bed asleep.

“I shouldn’t have gone away like this. It was a bad idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. Maybe it brought it all to a head. I’ve got news on the land thing, and I guess it’s good news, but it isn’t the good news I meant.” He told her about Troy’s confession of the black object in his head.

“I’ll come back right away.”

“Now wait a minute. He talked to me. He promised he’d see a doctor. I’ll get one lined up. I’ll refresh hell out of his memory if he pretends to draw a blank. I’m no shrinker, but I don’t think this is physical. You know, a tumor, anything like that. I think it’s a kind of anxiety. I think he scared hell out of himself today, and I think that’s good. I think we’re getting someplace. But I’m afraid if you come roaring back, he’s going to back off into a defensive position again, and maybe we won’t be able to get him to cooperate. Do you see what I mean?”

“Yes, but...”

“I’ll be talking to him tomorrow. And then I’ll be in touch with you, Mary, and I swear if I think you can help me get him to do something constructive about this, I’ll yell for you. I promise.”

“All... all right, Mike.”

“Cheer up, honey. I think we’re moving in the right direction.”

“That sounds like an order. All right. I’ll cheer up.”

“I talked to an old duck today who wants to see you sometime. Purdy Elmarr.”

“Purdy! My goodness, how did you happen to meet him?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you the whole thing later on. I’m an expert on Florida land development all of a sudden.”

“Mike, would you do one thing for me?”

“Of course.”

“If... it should happen that you don’t think it would be wise for me to come back, after you talk to Troy tomorrow, could you come up and tell me what’s been happening? Phones are no good. Not for a thing like this.”

“It might be Friday instead of tomorrow.”

“That would be all right. But phone me tomorrow anyway.”

“Sure.”

After he hung up he looked at Troy again. He was reasonably certain Troy wouldn’t stir for at least fourteen hours. With luck he’d sleep through the more desperate symptoms of hangover.

As he walked back into the living room, Debbie Ann came in, eyebrows high in inquiry.

“I got him hosed off and sacked out,” Mike said.

“Good.”

“I just talked to your mother.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about, if you or I should phone her. Is she upset?”

“Sure, she’s upset.”

“Is she coming back?”

“Not right away. I told her you did a fine job of taking care of things.”

“Up to a point.”

He shrugged. “You couldn’t have helped me with what I had to do.”

“I’ve had more experience than you might guess, Mike. Dacey tied on some beauts. It’s quite an experience, swabbing off lipstick and wondering whose it is. I just got fed up with him, with Troy, on the way back.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I think he thought I was somebody else. I couldn’t understand him very well, but he certainly called me all the names in the book. He started with slut and went on from there. Of course, deep in that alcohol fog, he may have known exactly who he was talking to.”

“Have you given him cause?”

“That’s a funny damn question.”

“I just wondered whether he ever got that towel routine you worked on me.”

Anger went out of her. “Why, I’m just a simple little affectionate girl-type girl,” she lisped, “and I just can’t understand why the menfolks keep getting wrong ideas about me, I swear I can’t.”

“That ends the discussion, of course, which is just what you wanted to do. You’ve got more defenses than a radar system.”

“So let’s not tire ourselves out emotionally, Mike. There are more practical things to consider. Food. Drink.”

“You look all gussied up for a date.”

“I had one, but I just canceled out. I couldn’t stand the thought of all that polite, humble attentiveness from Rob again. He keeps looking at me like a spaniel begging me to throw a stick so he can show how wonderfully he can bring it back. I had one meager idea. I looked in the deep freeze. There’s a steak in there the size of a coffee table, and a charcoal grill over at the cabaña, so let’s get into beach togs and phone Shirley and I’ll pick her up while you do something important about some drinks and the charcoal.”

Rob Raines had been within minutes of leaving to drive out to the Key and pick Debbie Ann up when she had called him and had broken the date with such a bored, irritable, arrogant manner that it cut deeply.

“But I thought we could just...”

“I don’t want to do anything. I just don’t feel like seeing you. Isn’t that clear enough?”

She had hung up on him. After a few seconds he put the phone back on the cradle.

His mother called to him from the kitchen. “Who was that, sweetie?”

“Uh... Debbie Ann.”

She came into the hallway, licking chocolate from her thumb. “She just can’t leave you alone, can she. You’re going out there anyway, but she just has to call up and...”

“She broke the date, Mom. She... doesn’t feel well.”

“Ha! If I know that one, she’s got somebody else all lined up all of a sudden, and she knows she can lead you around by the nose any old time, and she...”

“Cut it out, will you?”

“You don’t have to yell at me, sweetie.”

“But you keep on bad-mouthing her every chance you get. I get sick of it.”

“The only reason I even asked about the phone call at all, Robert, was on account of I thought it might be Purdy Elmarr calling you, or Mr. Arlenton or Mr. Haas. You know, sweetie. Your new business associates. I’m so proud of how well you’re doing, honey.”

He shrugged and went to his room. And a half hour later Purdy Elmarr, much to Rob’s astonishment, did call him.

“Raines? Elmarr talkin’. Wondered how you’re comin’.”

“Oh, I’m coming along fine, just fine,” Rob said heartily. “I’m getting the Twin Keys Corporation all set up just the way you said you wanted it, and...”

“Any fool knows how to set up a little corporation, boy. You think I’d bother phoning you to ask about that?”

“Well... I guess not, Mr. Elmarr.”

“Then you know what I am asking about. I want to know about that funny-name foreigner.”

“Mr. Rodenska? Well, sir, I talked to him, like you suggested. I think I got it across pretty strongly that he’d be making a mistake going into Jamison’s project with him.”

“You tole him it was real sour, eh?”

“I got that across all right.”

“And he believed you?”

“Yes sir. I’m... pretty sure he did.”

There was a long silence during which Rob got more and more uncomfortable. “Then maybe you can tell me this, boy. Maybe you can tell me how come that Rodinsky fella is going all over town asking a lot of questions about Horseshoe Pass Estates.”

“I... I didn’t know that, Mr. Elmarr.”

“You’re supposed to know stuff like that. Has Rodinsky talked to Jamison about loanin’ him money?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Then you better start hustlin’ your tail to and fro and be a-findin’ out some of these things you don’t know, boy. Or we can get right impatient with you, hear?”

Purdy Elmarr heard the nervous protestations as he slowly placed the phone back on the hook.