Wall of Eyes

Chapter 7

Five minutes later Mr. Heath had already forgotten the young man in the car. Remembering was difficult for him and he was too tired to make the effort.

He turned off the hall light downstairs. Maurice had left it on for him. Maurice was the only one who knew that he went out like this at night when he couldn’t sleep and prowled through the dark city, heavy limbed and dull eyed like an aged lion.

When he reached the second floor he saw the light shining underneath Kelsey’s door but he noticed it only for a second, a moment of puzzlement, and then he passed on. Going from the second floor to the third he always used the back stairs that the servants used. He had never stopped to reason this out, only realizing vaguely that it had something to do with Isobel. Isobel had sent him up to the third floor. They had shared the front bedroom which was Kelsey’s now, but Isobel had always hated this convention of happy marriages. When she became ill she sent him up to the third floor where, properly, he belonged since he was no longer of any use to anyone. He could not help her pain or comfort her or support his children or give orders to the servants or even say anything that he had not already said a hundred times.

When Isobel died he hadn’t moved down to the second floor again. It was too much trouble and you couldn’t be sure that Isobel was really gone from the room, or if gone that she wouldn’t come back and shatter your sleep with her groans.

At the top of the stairs he turned and looked down, cupping his ear in his hand to catch a noise he thought he’d heard for an instant between the creakings of the stair treads. A padding noise like swift silent feet running over a carpet. It was gone now. It was not Isobel; perhaps it was the dog.

He went into his own room and undressed in the dark.

“Dark,” Kelsey said. “It’s dark, Alice. Come and help me, Alice!”

“I’m coming. Don’t be frightened. I’m coming.”

They were in a dark wood and the bleak and hungry trees stretched out their branches, quivering at the tips like the tentacles of an octopus, sucking out at Alice as she ran.

But Kelsey was running too, away from her, fleetly, as if she knew this dark wood well.

“I’m coming! Wait for me, Kelsey!”

She heard the soft laughing of birds from the branches, and a cry that throbbed into an echo. She came upon Kelsey lying on her face in the moss, and lifted her up. But it was too late. This face was dead.

It was Kelsey who had died, not the other girl. The other girl lived, blind, but this was Kelsey here dead, cuddled in the bruised and bloody moss.

She fingered the dead face, and the hungry tentacles of trees swooped down...

She woke groaning and fighting for her breath. The dark wood and the dead girl rolled off the stage. Only the soft derisive laughing of the birds remained, the clock saying, “Tut tut! Tut tut!”

Bong bong bong bong. One for Geraldine. One for Marcie. One for Stevie. And one for the pot.

Victoria College, the Soldiers’ Tower, the Parliament Buildings and Queen’s Park.

He hadn’t walked through Queen’s Park for over two years. The last time something had happened to him. He’d been walking with a girl, and the girl had talked in a low voice with her head bent down and half turned away as if she were ashamed of her words. But he could see that her eyes were shining and that she was happy, and he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Listen, Stevie. I thought I could tell you this better if we took a walk, you know, with people around so you won’t do anything like lose your temper. I mean, sometimes I’m kinda scared of you...”

He had never lost his temper with her, struck her or sworn at her, but he had been too shocked to reply. Maybe she saw through him and there were things in him to be afraid of. “Well, anyway, Stevie. I guess you know what it is. I’m not coming back to your place tonight. Margy is going up this afternoon to get my things. No, he hasn’t said anything about you-know-what. Only I saw his sisters on the street yesterday, Margy pointed them out. And I guess I just want to move out, Stevie. You know how it is. I guess I felt kinda funny when I saw his sisters, me sleeping with you all this time...”

“I hope Margy don’t forget my toothbrush.”

Charles Street. Maybe he’d go back to Mamie Rosen’s and get a drink. Mamie’s landlady wasn’t fussy. His own landlady was a terror. She was always tacking up signs, especially in the bathroom:

“Kindly refrain from baths after eleven o’clock. Ethel G. McGillicuddy.”

“Consider the other tenants and please do not use the toilet for serious purposes after twelve o’clock as the noise is disturbing. By order. Ethel G. McGillicuddy.”

You hardly ever saw her. She did all her communicating by signs and small notes left pinned to the pillows. “Mr. Jordan. What do you want done with the pile of socks in the closet? And oblige. Ethel G. McGillicuddy.”

Stevie always saved the notes and read them to his friends for a laugh. Once he had borrowed the “for serious purposes” sign and taken it to the club because no one would believe it. He forgot to take it back, but that night there was a second sign in the same place with the same wording.

She had always called Geraldine “Mrs. Jordan,” though she knew different. Her only way of putting Geraldine in her place was to ignore her, that is, write all the notes to Stevie. Like, “Please ask Mrs. Jordan to refrain from washing her hair under the showers. And oblige. E.G.M. It clogs the drains.”

Stevie didn’t go to Geraldine’s funeral, but Mrs. McGillicuddy did. She carried a bouquet of chrysanthemums and she was heavily draped in black. When she came back her eyes were red with weeping. She flung herself into her work and new signs sprang up all over the house, dealing with the morals of her tenants.

Steve parked in front of Mamie’s house. Mamie’s shade was down but a light shone through the cracks.

“Come on out!” Stevie shouted. “Oh, MAmie! MamEE!”

A window was flung up on the second floor.

“Go drown yourself,” a man’s voice yelled.

“MamEE!”

“I’ll call the police on you!”

Stevie waved up at him. “Sure, and is it a crime to be seekin’ me own sister Mamie Rosen?”

The window closed with a bang. A couple of minutes later Mamie’s window opened and Mamie stuck her head out.

“Oh, for Gawd’s sake, Stevie,” she said. “You again.”

“ ’Tis your own brother Stevie come home, Mamie. Tell me mither and me—”

“Oh, shut up. What do you want?”

“A drink.”

“I haven’t got a thing.”

“One drink and I’ll tell you a secret.”

“What about?”

“Hush.” He came closer to the window, brushing aside a lice-eaten rosebush, and whispered, “Tony.”

“What about him?” Her voice was excited. “You saw him? Where is he?”

“I have a theory,” Stevie said. “If you’ll hand me your key I shall step insider a moment...”

“You didn’t see him,” she said dully, but she left the window and a minute later the front door opened. Stevie went through the gloomy hall into Mamie’s room. She hadn’t been to bed. She still wore her stage makeup and the red velvet evening dress, and there was a glass and a half-empty bottle of rye on the table.

Stevie sat down on the edge of the bed and poured some rye into the glass.

“To Tony,” he said. “May his dismembered torso find its way into a trunk.”

She watched him while he drained the glass. “All right. You’ve had your drink. Now beat it.”

“I thought I’d stay and see the sun rise over Charles Street,” Stevie said. “Be kind of a gruesome sight.”

“Go on, beat it. I’m going to bed.”

“I could sleep on the couch.”

“Why?”

He poured out the rest of the bottle. “Well, I just had a bad shock. When I got home there was Mrs. McGillicuddy on the front steps with an axe. So I thought I’d come and stay with you.”

“Well, you can’t.” She reached for the glass. “That’s my last bottle. Give it here.”

She sat down beside him and they shared the rye.

“Cut the gags,” she said. “Why’d you come back?”

“Oh, I don’t, know. Maybe I’m going for you.”

“The hell.” She stared at him.

“All right, the hell.” He swished the rye around the glass. “What ever happened to Margy?”

“Margy?”

“Geraldine’s cousin.”

“Oh, her. She got married. Married an electrician. She’s even got a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“I saw her in Eaton’s last week and she had the kid with her.”

“Be kind of funny to have a kid,” Stevie said.

“For Christ’s sake what’s the matter with you tonight? First Geraldine and now kids. Next you’ll be getting the D.T.’s.” She got up and yawned. “I’m going to bed. I can’t kick you out so I guess you can sleep on the couch.”

“Thanks.”

He sounded so grateful that she turned to look at him, suspicious. But she couldn’t tell anything from his face, and his eyes were closed.

With her eyes still tightly closed Ida reached over and turned off her alarm, switched on the light and fumbled with her bare feet for her slippers.

The sounds of morning began to seep through the house, the plop-plop-plop of Ida’s slippers along the hall, the swish of a tap, and the gurgling of drains, the faint tinkle of another alarm, the thud of a dropped shoe.

Descending the back stairs Ida began to hum loudly to herself. She didn’t feel like humming this morning — the toothache had gone, giving place to a headache — but she hummed in the hope that Maurice and Letty would hear her and know she was up and doing her duty.

She paused on the second-floor landing and ran her eye along the hall. Kelsey’s light still shone underneath the door. Ida stopped humming and walked on tiptoe down the hall. In spite of her size she was as stealthy as a cat when she was stalking a closed door.

Was it possible that Kelsey and Mr. James...?

She crept to the door and listened but heard no sound. Then she rapped softly, blinking her eyes in concentration. Suppose she walked in and found Mr. James there in his pyjamas — or not in his pyjamas.

She shivered with dread and delight and began to turn the knob slowly, giving herself time to think of something to say, just in case...

But there was no need to say anything.

She stepped back into the hall. She tucked in a stray piece of hair and smoothed her apron carefully. Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

“Stop that screaming!” Mamie hissed. “Stevie! Wake up!”

Stevie rolled over on his back and groaned, “What? What?”

“You were yelling in your sleep. How do you expect me to get...”

“Yeah?” He was awake now. “What was I talking about?”

“Her again,” Mamie said, “and that Heath guy. I thought it was just crazy people who talked in their sleep.”

“Maybe it is.” He yawned. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. I just been lying here.”

“Want to turn the light on?”

There was a creak of bedsprings as Mamie rolled off the bed and lurched over to the switch. She blinked her eyes and said, “Gawd!” when the glare struck her.

“Quarter to seven,” Stevie said. “Maybe we can catch that sunrise after all.”

“Oh, dry up about the sunrise. Charles Street is just as good as a lot of other streets. I’m out of cigarettes. You got any?”

Stevie reached into his pocket and brought out a package. He had been lying on it and the cigarettes were flat but they weren’t broken.

“Tony and I often did this,” Mamie said.

“Did what?”

“When we couldn’t sleep we’d get up and turn on the light and smoke.”

“I think that’s real touching,” Stevie said. “Though I may say that Tony’s special brand of cigarettes stinks up the room.”

“He’s off reefers,” Mamie said. “And if you don’t like the stink why don’t you go home? Why’d you come for in the first place?”

“Company. Same reason you let me stay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t of if I’d known you were going to talk all night in your sleep. Maybe you’re going crazy.”

Stevie flicked ashes on the rug. “Maybe.”

“Raking up all that old stuff about Geraldine. A lot of other people die all the time.”

“Too true,” Stevie said.

“I got nothing on my conscience, about taking her place, I mean. I sent her a wreath, didn’t I? And it wasn’t anything anybody could help, like a murder. It was just an accident.”

“Sure, and now there’s going to be another.”

“What?”

“He called for Geraldine and took her out and she died. He came tonight for Marcie...”

“Oh, you’re nuts, Stevie!”

“I went and looked at his house tonight, before I came here. It was the middle of the night and the lights were on and the old man was out walking.”

“Well, who cares?” Mamie flung herself across the bed. “Who in hell cares?”

“At first I thought it was him — Johnny — Johnny Heath. Listen, Mamie. You say that name to yourself, say it, go on.”

“Johnny Heath,” Mamie said in a bored voice. “So what?”

“Doesn’t it give you a funny feeling? Because it sounds like he is. It sounds like the name of a guy who’s got everything, money and looks and everything, including two of my girls. Say it again.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“Johnny Heath. There, you get it? It sounds like he’s got plate glass around him to separate him off as something special. He can do anything and nobody can touch him. He can get away with murder. Tonight when I saw his, father I thought it was Johnny and that he’d just come from killing Marcie and the strain had aged him... Mamie.”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a phone around?”

“What for?”

“I thought I’d phone Marcie, see if she’s all right.”

“For the love of the Lord who made little green apples,” Mamie said.

“I’ve got to phone.”

“Haven’t you done enough to get me kicked out of this place? You can’t phone from here this time of morning. There’s an all-night drugstore a couple of blocks up.”

Stevie got off the couch and began brushing off his clothes.

“Leave me the cigarettes,” Mamie said. “And buy a bottle of rye if you can.”

“Sure, sure,” Stevie said, but he hadn’t heard her.

She waited up for the bottle of rye but Stevie didn’t come back.

“She wasn’t meant to come back,” Ida said. “That’s what I told you.”

Alice walked toward her slowly. “What are you saying, Ida?”

“I’m saying she’s dead,” Ida said. She stood in the open door of Kelsey’s room and the light streamed around her. She posed in it like a blowsy sibyl in a spotlight, her breasts jiggling. In the dark hall Alice was only a gray blur.

“Dead,” Ida said. “Soaking in her own blood.” She did not move aside to let Alice go into the room. Even when other doors opened and other gray blurs came into the hall Ida did not move. It was her moment, her corpse, her friend who had died, she had predicted it, she had found it, she was guarding it.

“Someone screamed?” Letty said uncertainly. “Alice, what is it?”

“What in hell?” Johnny said, and Ida’s moment was over. He thrust her aside and strode into the room. When he came out he closed the door behind him and they were left in utter darkness. For a time no one spoke or moved.

“She killed herself,” Johnny said into the darkness. “With a knife.”

“The lights,” Alice said. “Maurice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The lights sprang up and caught them stupid with sleep and shock.

“Dead?” Philip said as if he didn’t know the word. He took a step toward the door.

“Don’t go in,” Johnny said sharply. “Don’t any of you go in!” He caught Philip’s arm and swung him around. “I’m telling you.”

“That’s right,” Ida said softly. “She looks real bad. So much blood. All over the carpet.”

Letty whirled savagely toward her. “Get back to your room and stay there!”

“I don’t take no orders from you!”

“John.” Alice’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “Will you make everyone go away, John?”

She did not hear or see them go. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned slowly.

“I thought I’d better stay,” Letty said quietly. “Don’t go in.”

“Let me go in, Letty.”

“No. She wanted to die. She had no peace in this world. Leave her alone, Alice.”

“Like I told you,” Ida said from the back of the hall, “she wasn’t meant to come back.”

“Get upstairs, you slut,” Letty said.

Ida retreated slowly, lingering on each step, lolling against the banister. “Think you can shut me up... Another think coming...” Her voice faded into a mumble.

“I’d better phone,” Letty said.

Alice repeated, “Phone?”

“We... I have to phone... somebody.”

“The police.”

“A doctor,” Letty said, “A doctor first, anyway.”

“Yes. What time is it?”

“Early. Not seven.”

“Early,” Alice said. “She wouldn’t wake up and kill herself so early.”

Letty looked down at her gaunt hands. “She wouldn’t have known what time it was.”

“No.”

“And she always felt bad when she woke up. You remember how bad she felt, waking up and opening her eyes and not seeing anything. She said it was like waking up in a coffin with the lid nailed down. That’s what she used to dream before she woke up, and I’d go in and find her beating her hands in the air to get the lid off...”

“Don’t, Letty.”

“No.”

“I have to see her, Letty.”

“Yes, I guess you do,” Letty said. She walked away, clutching her bathrobe together at the front. The belt was half off and trailed behind her along the rug. Alice watched the belt and when it had disappeared she went into Kelsey’s room and closed the door.

Kelsey stared at the ceiling in eternal surprise. The ivory hilt of the knife lay between her breasts like a lover’s finger and her mouth was open for a kiss. The blood had bubbled out like a fountain and splashed the bed and the rug and grown cold and dark and sluggish. Alice touched it with her finger.