Connie lay down the law. “Ala dear, do sit up straight.… No, darling, it’s quite absurd to want any ice cream.” Connie! I thought. Connie, the great raiser of children, Connie, Mrs. Boomerang.
For a while neither of us said anything. Then when we were headed up Park Avenue, Ala turned to look at me with shy awkwardness.
“George, I’m so terribly sorry… I mean, about getting so mad with you this morning, about everything.”
“That’s okay.”
“And you were right, weren’t you—you and Connie? I mean, Don must have been what you said he was. And that’s why somebody killed him. Somebody we don’t know—somebody with no connection with us.”
“I suppose so.”
“What a fool I was. And how awful I’ve been to poor Chuck.” She paused and then added explosively, “George—please, George, don’t tell her. I… I couldn’t face it, not if she knew I’d been there. There’d be no end. She’d go on and on. Oh, please, George.”
There had been too much happening for me to think about Connie’s reaction. How, in fact, was my wife going to take it? Wasn’t it just possible that, with her rigid canons of behavior, she would go civic-minded on us? Of course we must tell the police everything. Of course it’s Ala’s duty as a citizen … Then I thought: My God, if we tell Connie, I’ll have to admit I was at Eve’s. How could I explain that away? Something about the Brazilian? Could I say there were some letters I’d had to dictate? Would that sound convincing? Or rather, would I be able to make it sound convincing? I began to see all the intricacies with which I would now have to live. It was an octopus situation with tentacles stretching in every direction.
I turned to Ala. “Is there any way we could keep her from knowing?”
“Of course. She doesn’t even know I left the house. After you’d gone, she came up to my room and she made me let her in. She’d brought me something to eat, and she went on and on about the Duvreuxs, about how Don wasn’t in love with me, how he was only a crook trying to get at the Corliss money. Finally I couldn’t face any more of it from her. I simply had to go to Don and find out the truth myself. But I knew that she’d never let me go to him, so I just pretended to be tired. I begged her to go away so I could sleep. And then, after she’d gone—when it seemed to be all right—I just tiptoed out of my room, locked the door behind me and slipped out of the house. She didn’t see me. She wasn’t anywhere around. She must have been in the library doing the Times crossword puzzle the way she always does on Sunday.”
She put her hand coaxingly on my knee. “So… don’t you see? When we get home, I could just sneak up to my room without her knowing, and then… well, just come down again.”
If we could get away with it, that would make it all much simpler. “All right,” I said. “Fine.”
“You mean it? Oh, George, you are wonderful. But then, there’s something else, too, isn’t there? There’s Mrs. Lord.” She shot me a quick glance. “How lucky you happened to be there. But she’s all right, isn’t she? I mean, we can trust her?”
I thought of Eve waiting in that cramped apartment, tom with anxieties for me. And not only that. She’d promised me not to think any more about leaving, but I knew her so well. She would be thinking about it. Her conscience would still be goading her, even more powerfully now that this disaster had struck. A panic stirred in me that I’d never see her again, that even now she’d be packing, calling a taxi… I felt my hands on the wheel, sticky with sweat. I’d have to get back to her.
“George, we can trust her, can’t we?”
“Yes,” I said.
We’d reached the house then. As I looked out at its majestic Corliss facade, I thought I saw Connie in a downstairs window. It wasn’t Connie, it was just the white lining of the living-room drapes, but a bitter resentment came, a resentment
For a while neither of us said anything. Then when we were headed up Park Avenue, Ala turned to look at me with shy awkwardness.
“George, I’m so terribly sorry… I mean, about getting so mad with you this morning, about everything.”
“That’s okay.”
“And you were right, weren’t you—you and Connie? I mean, Don must have been what you said he was. And that’s why somebody killed him. Somebody we don’t know—somebody with no connection with us.”
“I suppose so.”
“What a fool I was. And how awful I’ve been to poor Chuck.” She paused and then added explosively, “George—please, George, don’t tell her. I… I couldn’t face it, not if she knew I’d been there. There’d be no end. She’d go on and on. Oh, please, George.”
There had been too much happening for me to think about Connie’s reaction. How, in fact, was my wife going to take it? Wasn’t it just possible that, with her rigid canons of behavior, she would go civic-minded on us? Of course we must tell the police everything. Of course it’s Ala’s duty as a citizen … Then I thought: My God, if we tell Connie, I’ll have to admit I was at Eve’s. How could I explain that away? Something about the Brazilian? Could I say there were some letters I’d had to dictate? Would that sound convincing? Or rather, would I be able to make it sound convincing? I began to see all the intricacies with which I would now have to live. It was an octopus situation with tentacles stretching in every direction.
I turned to Ala. “Is there any way we could keep her from knowing?”
“Of course. She doesn’t even know I left the house. After you’d gone, she came up to my room and she made me let her in. She’d brought me something to eat, and she went on and on about the Duvreuxs, about how Don wasn’t in love with me, how he was only a crook trying to get at the Corliss money. Finally I couldn’t face any more of it from her. I simply had to go to Don and find out the truth myself. But I knew that she’d never let me go to him, so I just pretended to be tired. I begged her to go away so I could sleep. And then, after she’d gone—when it seemed to be all right—I just tiptoed out of my room, locked the door behind me and slipped out of the house. She didn’t see me. She wasn’t anywhere around. She must have been in the library doing the Times crossword puzzle the way she always does on Sunday.”
She put her hand coaxingly on my knee. “So… don’t you see? When we get home, I could just sneak up to my room without her knowing, and then… well, just come down again.”
If we could get away with it, that would make it all much simpler. “All right,” I said. “Fine.”
“You mean it? Oh, George, you are wonderful. But then, there’s something else, too, isn’t there? There’s Mrs. Lord.” She shot me a quick glance. “How lucky you happened to be there. But she’s all right, isn’t she? I mean, we can trust her?”
I thought of Eve waiting in that cramped apartment, tom with anxieties for me. And not only that. She’d promised me not to think any more about leaving, but I knew her so well. She would be thinking about it. Her conscience would still be goading her, even more powerfully now that this disaster had struck. A panic stirred in me that I’d never see her again, that even now she’d be packing, calling a taxi… I felt my hands on the wheel, sticky with sweat. I’d have to get back to her.
“George, we can trust her, can’t we?”
“Yes,” I said.
We’d reached the house then. As I looked out at its majestic Corliss facade, I thought I saw Connie in a downstairs window. It wasn’t Connie, it was just the white lining of the living-room drapes, but a bitter resentment came, a resentment
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