The Devil's Cook

11

“Sundays,” said Farley, “last forever.”

“They only seem that way to you,” said his sister Fanny, “because they give you an uneasy conscience.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“My conscience never bothers me.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t have one. Let it go, however. It so happens that I am living quite comfortably with my conscience at the moment. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“That’s for you to say.”

“Tell me, little sister, why should my conscience kick up on Sundays in particular? Rather, that is, than on Mondays or Tuesdays or any other day of the week?”

“It seems to me difficult to rest easy on a day of rest when one never does anything else, whatever the day is. As for me, I work hard earning my living, and therefore I have nothing to reproach myself with.”

“Well, what the hell would you call studying law? I’d call it work, that’s what I’d call it! And damn hard work, too, between you and me.”

“It all depends on who’s doing it, and how much is being done. You want me to be honest, don’t you? I haven’t seen you crack a book all weekend.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve been compelled to do other things.”

Sprawled on the sofa in Fanny’s apartment, Farley eyed her sourly. If it had not been contrary to his best interests, he would have said something insulting and stalked out. His best interests could best be served, however, by hanging on, even if it mean submitting to harassment. In short, he had eaten very little for almost two days, and he was badly in need of nourishment. He had realized this about four o’clock, ten minutes ago, and he had simultaneously remembered that Fanny, if she had Sunday dinner in, usually had it around five. So Farley had come up to see if anything edible was under way, and luckily something was — a piece of beef tenderloin in the oven that was adequate for two. But Fanny had as yet extended no invitation to stay. Worse, she was looking at him in a manner that did nothing to feed his hopes.

“That reminds me,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you called the taxi companies, as I told you to.”

“I considered not doing it, but I knew you’d devil the devil out of me if I didn’t. So I did.”

“What did you find out?”

“Just what I expected. Nothing. There’s no record of anyone’s picking up a passenger here, or near here, any time close to the time Terry left.”

“Are you sure you inquired, or are you just saying so?”

“Of course I’m sure. Do you think I’d lie about it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I’m not going to take an oath on it. Believe me or not as you please.”

She was distracted from whatever response was on her tongue by a knocking on the door, and she went over and opened it to reveal Jay Miles. He was wearing his topcoat and was obviously either just going out or just coming back from having been out. The two wedges of flesh below his eyes, behind the thick glasses, were dark smudges.

“Hello, Fanny.” He peered over her shoulder at Farley. “Oh, there you are, Farley. I thought you might be up here.”

“I came up to have dinner with Fanny,” Farley said, “but she hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Fat chance,” said Fanny. “Come in, Jay. Whither away, or where from?”

“I’m just going.” Jay stepped inside far enough to allow Fanny to close the door. “As a matter of fact, that’s why I was looking for you, Farley. I thought maybe you might go with me.”

“That’s a good idea!” Fanny said. “Farley, get yourself cleaned up and go with Jay. While you’re out you can have dinner together somewhere.”

“Not I,” Farley said. “I don’t want to go.”

“How do you know you don’t? You don’t even know yet where he’s going.”

“Wherever it is, I don’t want to go.”

“Don’t be contrary. Where are you going, Jay?”

“To the police. I’ve finally made up my mind.”

Farley sat up at Jay’s quiet declaration. Fanny backed her eat little stern onto the arm of a chair and studied Jay as if she were trying to make up her own mind about something. Oddly, although she had been urging action, she did not seem enthusiastic about Jay’s proposed visit to the police.

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “Have you made certain that she didn’t run off to Los Angeles?”

“Yes. I called Feldman yesterday afternoon. He hasn’t seen or heard from her.”

“I hate to be bitchy, but another suggestion was made.”

“Brian O’Hara? I went to see O’Hara after talking with Feldman. Last night. Terry wasn’t at his place and hadn’t been there.”

“Do you think for an instant he’d admit it if she had been?”

“I’m convinced O’Hara was telling the truth.”

“Perhaps so, but it doesn’t do to be impetuous in, an affair of this sort. There’s such a thing as going off halfcocked, you know.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Farley was staring at Fanny in amazement. “You have been running all over the place doing things and forcing others to do things, and now all of a sudden you start dragging your heels. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter. We have delayed going to the police this long, and it will do no great harm to delay a little longer, that’s all. Ben can be expected back soon, if his word can be relied upon, and he may know something that will be helpful.”

“Ben?” Jay sounded confused. “Oh, I don’t think so. What in the world could Ben know about it?”

“You never know,” Fanny snapped. “He’s a deceptive little bugger.”

“She persists in suspecting Ben of dark, doleful deeds,” Farley said. “She’s absolutely irrational about it.”

“That’s not true! I am only trying to keep an open mind.”

“It doesn’t make any difference one way or the other,” Jay said. “I’ve made up my mind, and I’m going. I’m a great deal more worried than I was at first.”

“Oh, all right. I can see there’s no use trying to stop you. However, I see no advantage in going immediately. You might just as well wait until tomorrow.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Because today’s Sunday, that’s why.”

“What does its being Sunday have to do with it?”

“Things are closed on Sunday. Everyone knows that.”

“Police headquarters? Don’t be absurd, Fanny.”

“At least they’ll be operating with a skeleton crew. It will probably be impossible—”

“Fanny,” said Farley, “you’ve gone too far. Even you have better sense than to believe that. You’re up to something, and I want to know what it is.”

“What you want is of no consequence. I am the only one who has been attaching proper importance to all this, and I don’t propose to be criticized now for a difference of opinion.” Fanny, having disposed of Farley, turned her attention to Jay. “Jay, are you actually determined to go?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, Farley will go with you.”

“Who says so?” Farley said.

“I say so. I can tell you right now that you’ll gain nothing by hanging around here, for you aren’t getting any of my dinner. Not a bite.”

“Come along with me, Farley,” Jay said. “I’d appreciate it if you would.”

“What for?”

“Call it moral support. We probably won’t be there long. When we’re through, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Since you put it that way,” Farley said, rising with a show of interest, “I’ll come.”

He went out in Jay’s wake; and Fanny, still hooked on the arm of the chair, began to consider the new development. She was not opposed in principle to bringing in the police, for she had been convinced for some time that it was the only sensible thing to do. But her uneasiness about Ben and his possible connection with Terry Miles’s disappearance had increased with speculation; she was not, where Ben was concerned, nearly so sensible as in the case of others. It would be a great relief if only he would get back and explain things, damn him. In the meanwhile, time would pass more quickly if it were filled with events.

Fan went into the kitchen and looked into the oven. The tenderloin had acquired a nice crust and would soon be done. She mixed batter for potato pancakes, using a prepared mix and letting the batter stand for ten minutes, according to the directions on the box. This interval Fan utilized in stirring up a couple of martinis. One she drank in what was left of the ten minutes, the other she saved to drink just before eating.

Having eaten, she cleaned up and went back into the living room and turned on the table lamp. Night had come early, as nights did in November; it seemed much later than it probably was. It was actually six-thirty; and it was unlikely that Jay and Farley, who had left approximately two hours ago, had had time to go to police headquarters, stop somewhere for dinner, and return. It was even less likely, when they did return, that they would come up and report to her as, in all decency, they should. They would go to Jay’s apartment, or to Farley’s or each to his own; and she, Fanny, would be left in exasperating ignorance for the whole night. This was not to be borne, of course. She decided to wait in Farley’s apartment, assuming that Farley had left the door unlocked. (She could hardly take the liberty of waiting in Jay’s without his permission, but Farley’s was something else.)

Taking cigarettes and matches with her, she went downstairs, tried Farley’s door, and found it unlocked. Farley was notoriously careless about doors, one of his few habits that could sometimes be useful. His living room was dark, but the darkness was cut by a swath of light from the bedroom, Fanny crossed the room, peeped cautiously in — and there, lying on the bed, on his back, his shoes off and his arms folded under his head, was Ben Green.

Fan stepped into full view.

“Hello, Fan,” Ben Green said in his melodious baritone. “Come in and lie down.”

“Like hell,” Fanny said.

His grin expanded. “I naturally assumed that you had slipped in for a bit of sport.”

“Your error.”

“Which brings us to the point. What are you doing here?”

“More to the point, where have you been?”

“That’s no secret. I’ve been away.”

“Where away?”

“Out of town.”

“With whom?”

“Do you think I’d tell you? However, I was lone-wolfing it.”

“Where’s Terry?”

“Terry? Is she gone?”

“Yes. So have you been. Doesn’t that seem a coincidence?”

“You’re on the wrong track, honeyball. I’m saving myself for you.”

“Well, you can be as clever and secretive as you choose. But you had better think up a convincing lie if you don’t care to tell the truth.”

Impressed by her gravity, Ben sat up on the edge of the bed, prepared as a tentative measure to take her seriously. Now that he had assumed a position less conducive to the free exercise of his libido, Fan ventured to come closer. She even sat down beside him. He helped himself to her near hand, examined it, patted it, and continued to hold it.

“Something’s up,” he said. “Tell old Ben.”

“I told you. Terry’s gone. No one knows where she is.”

“So what? Terry has always been given to a moderate amount of moonlighting. She’ll be back after a while, breathing sighs and telling lies.”

“If she’s coming back, she’s taking her own sweet time about it. She disappeared shortly after you left on Friday afternoon.”

“So that’s it. Old Ben wanders away, and Terry goes up in smoke. Natural conclusion: assignation. Sweet nitwit, it won’t wash. I don’t even come close to fitting Terry’s prescription. Wrong ingredients entirely. I’m too poor, too runty, too ugly. And incidentally, if I may say so, too smart.”

“How about Otis? What kind of prescription did he fit?”

“Otis was a joke. Otis was a comedian. All he gave was laughs, and what he got was nothing. Everybody knew the score except Otis. That’s the trouble with these scientific types. They leave their brains in the laboratory. They’d be better off if they were born without glands.”

“Well, you mustn’t call yourself unpleasant names. I won’t have it. No one can deny that you are poor, but you are not runty and ugly.”

“As another runt, you’re prejudiced. Not that you’re ugly, I hasten to add. On the contrary, you’re lovely and sexy. Would you like to recline?”

“What I would like and what I would do are two different things. Behave yourself, Ben. In my opinion, you are just as brainy and glandular as Otis ever was.”

“True. My brains, however, are Machiavellian.”

“Damn it, Ben, you have a positive talent for leading me off the point. The point is, Terry’s been gone since Friday, everyone’s worried, and what are you going to do about it?”

“I?” His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Me? Nothing. Why should I? What could I?”

“You could explain where you’ve been, to start with. Besides, what do you mean by running off without a word to me about it? You know very well I’ve decided to marry you as soon as you get your doctorate and show signs of amounting to something. I won’t have you running all over the place without restraint. Tell me at once where you have been.”

“I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that anything I say you’ll use to incriminate me.”

“You mean you won’t tell me?”

“That’s it.”

“Very well. It’s plain that I can’t help you if you won’t let me. You can explain to the police.”

“The police!” His voice had sharpened, and his grip tightened on her hand. “What do the police have to do with it?”

“Jay and Farley have gone down to headquarters to report Terry missing, and some sort of investigation is bound to be made.”

“Why did they want to do such an idiotic thing? Well, I have nothing to say to the police. They can damn well let me alone.”

“They can, but it is doubtful that they will. We will all have to answer their questions.”

“Don’t worry, Fan. I can take care of myself.”

They sat side by side on the bed. Ben’s grip had relaxed, and her hand was comfortably, in his, at home. She felt alarmingly warm and susceptible, and she had a strong notion that it would be wiser and safer, if less interesting, to devise a distraction. After all, if she was beginning to think along certain lines, it was more than likely that he was already ahead of her.

“Have you had dinner?” she said. “I have some tenderloin left. Would you like some?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

They continued to sit, undistracted.

Damn it, she thought, what has become of Jay and Farley? What could be keeping them?