Chapter 12
EDDIE HADN'T EXPECTED ANYTHING LIKE THIS from Marion. But then, he hadn't expected anything of her, period. He never considered what she might be feeling or doing or going to do. He never had her much in mind at all. They ate and slept together as just part of a mindless, emotionless routine. The words they exchanged were mundane and rather meaningless.
He had taken her as much for granted as the rug on the floor, and walked over her the same way.
That she should even think of leaving him was outrageous. He had the same thing in mind for later, but that she should do it, why that was awful! After all, who was she? A homely, passionless, dumb housewife. While he-he was a handsome young man who was being groomed for statesmanship. She should not be allowed to interfere with his path to glory by thus prematurely parting herself from him.
Eddie felt awful. He blamed it on lack of sleep. He went to get the bottle of bourbon, and then he went off to the bedroom. He'd have a snort or two, then get hold of Marion at her folks' place before the fact that she had left him became knowledge to more than just the family.
He poured down the alcohol, and suddenly his weariness reached up from his tired limbs and hit him inside his head. He could resist sleep no longer, and he let himself down heavily, stomach-first on the bed.
Lord, it would be nice to have a woman now, he felt-to plunge deep into the oblivion of passion. But he had neither Marion nor Belda. He only had booze and a lonely bed.
In his later existence, Eddie was often to wonder if this had been the decisive moment when he should, have acted; could he have changed things if he had gone promptly to seek out Marion? Would she have listened? Could he have gotten things back on their normal level?
But he didn't. He was angry and he was feeling sorry for himself. And even feeling a grudging little sympathy for the thought of homely old Marion and her pathetic, practical underwear. So it had been too much bourbon and then sleep.
Perhaps if he'd hurried over to her ... had reasoned with her ... had even lied to her by telling her about his affection for her....
Perhaps ... if only ... why didn't I?....
But he hadn't sought her out until he woke from an unrestful, alcoholic pass-out. It was after ten in the morning. He knew he had to do something to get her back and get her back with no fuss. He even hated to call her parents. For all he really knew, she might not even be there. She might have run away with the milkman or jumped into the river. Naw, he told himself, not Marion. Little, mousy Marion would creep weepily home to Mama and Daddy.
He called their house, and the frosty voice of her mother informed him that, yes, Marion had spent the night there, but she had just left. She did not know where her daughter was going and probably wouldn't tell Eddie even if she knew.
After he hung up, Eddie was relieved about the situation, for no accountable reason ... except that Marion was following the standard pattern. No surprises. She was teed-off and she went home to Mama. With a woman like that, Eddie thought to himself smugly, you can outguess her and outsmart her, by being two jumps ahead of her.
When Eddie had wandered about the deserted house that morning at dawn seeking to find out what Marion had taken with her. He had thought only in terms of things such as silver cigarette boxes, some bonds and title documents to some possessions of theirs, some rare coins and stamps he had obtained.
Never once did it occur to him that she had in her possession something so valuable and deadly that it made his concern about material things appear stupid.
But Marion remembered.
She carried it in her purse when she went to her parents' home that night. She held it in her hand that next morning when, about ten o'clock, she called Senator Kassnar at his downtown office to inform him that she was on her way to see him. When she finally got him on the phone, after a secretary had tried to give her the brush, he asked in cool fashion, "Who is this?"
"I'm Mrs. Edward Kilby," she replied, just as coolly. She told him she'd be right down. When she hung up, she looked down at what she held in her hand, and her lips contorted in a combination of smile and sneer. She was out to get Edward Kilby, and she would.
Senator Kassnar was thoughtful as he sat back immediately after receiving Mrs. Kilby's phone call. He cancelled some appointments he had for the morning in order to be free to see her.
She sounded very determined. But that was to be expected. He realized that she had heard what was going on between his daughter and her husband..
He was more perturbed than he ever had been when he became aware of the talk. He didn't like his name or his family bantered about in such a manner.
But he could never stay angry long with Belda. Her father was Belda's first conquest; the old man had been enchanted with his lovely daughter since he first saw her, twenty mintues after she was born, and he loved her to excess; for him, Belda could do no wrong.
As for Marion Kilby; well, that was unfortunate. Perhaps she wanted to cause trouble; maybe she just wanted to be bought off. Whatever she had in mind, Senator Kassnar was sure he could handle the situation. A man doesn't rise as far as I have in politics, he thought to himself, without knowing how to take care of any contingency.
Depending on how she acted, he might try bribing her to keep quiet until after the election, or he might try appealing to her better nature, if she revealed that she might be soft-soaped into acting their way for the good of family, home, country, flag, and like that.
But ten mintues after Marion had been ushered into his private office, Senator Kassnar understood that Marion Kilby was neither to be bribed or persuaded. She was attacking the man who'd wronged her, and she was doing it viciously, at deadly gut level.
With just a hint of the ceremonious about her action, Marion revealed her weapon. It was the thing she had brought from the house that Eddie hadn't even remembered that she had, much less would ever use against him.
Senator Kassnar opened the small envelope which Marion had handed him. Her air had been one of finality, her expression informing him that this was what she had made the object of so much mystery. Inside was a photograph.
Senator Kassnar recoiled at the pornographic aspects of the picture, and it was a moment before he realized that-yes, that was Eddie Kilby.
It was the photograph that was taken at the party for the homosexuals in that huge mansion with all the homo statuary and paintings, so many years before. In one of his weak moments, Eddie had told her of that wild incident and given her the picture.
Now, the affair was back to ruin him.
Stunned, Senator Kassnar placed the photograph back in the envelope. Charges of just ordinary sexual immorality, such as infidelity, would have been bad enough for a political figure; charges or suspicions of perversion were absolutely impossible to overcome, with the majority of voters being ultra prim when it came to the matter of queers.
Senator Kassnar handed the packet back to Marion. "Thank you, Mrs. Kilby," he said in a strained voice.
"Well?" she demanded.
"Well? Well what?" he replied. "What did you want out of this? Money?"
Marion was flustered. Actually she didn't want anything out of this, but to cut savagely at Eddie for all the hurts he had given her. "I ... I don't know what I wanted you to do."
Senator Kassnar arose. His voice and bearing were strong again. "I shall see to it that he never sees my daughter again. As for any hopes he had for public office, well that would be insane of him even to contemplate. Good day, Mrs. Kilby."
Marion was confused by all that she had felt the past day or so, and she was ready to meekly leave. Senator Kassnar suddenly stopped her. "Could I have that photograph?"
"Why, why, yes," Marion stammered. She handed it to him. "Why do you want it?" she asked.
"Personal reasons."
Marion left.
Senator Kassnar looked out the window, but saw nothing of the expansive view of the city it afforded. He had the small snapshot in his hand, but he put his hands behind his back, as if keeping this dreadful object as far out of sight as possible.
There might be some mistake about this, he thought. Perhaps it was some sort of tasteless fraternity prank, or Eddie had been in some sort of weird theatrical endeavor. Could there be any decent, logical explanation to oppose to this pictorial evidence?
The old man was not thinking of Eddie's political career or any use he might be for the party. Eddie was through in that regard. That bitter wife of his would certainly see to that.
No, Senator Kassnar was thinking only of his daughter, beloved Belda. She was in love with Kilby, and it would break her heart if anything broke them up. If there was some mistake, perhaps they could yet be together. After all, a man didn't have to be a statesman in Washington in order to be acceptable. If everything were straightened out, perhaps Belda and Edward could move somewhere else and have a happy life.
If everything were straightened out.
He had to face that situation now. It weighed as heavily on him as anything in his life ever had having to talk to Belda about this.
When they were alone together at home, Senator Kassnar came right to the point-gently, but firmly. He didn't want his beloved girl to say that she'd been having sexual intercourse with a married man, and yet it would be a distinct relief it she did. He asked her point-blank about sex.
Belda blushed and turned away. "What is this?"
"I want an answer, Belda, and a truthful one. Just tell me-did he ever-well, have you?"
Something in her father's tone made Belda realize the ultra-seriousness of the occasion. It wasn't just an irate parent wondering if his daughter had been seduced or wronged. "No, we never did that."
Senator Kassnar slumped heavily in his chair. He wished he had heard another answer. "Why not?"
Belda tried to laugh, "Why, Daddy, what a question for a parent to ask."
"Why not?" he thundered.
It was Belda's turn to be somber. She was even frightened by the tone of the inquisition. "What is all this? I want to know the truth. What's behind all this?"
For a long moment, he just looked at her, wondering if she could take it. Well, she'd have to know. Wordlessly, Senator Kassnar handed her the photograph.
Belda reacted as if she had been kicked in the stomach with terrific force. She sort of folded up on the sofa. "Is this a joke? It must be some sort of joke. Tell me it's a stupid joke," she almost wailed.
"Is it a joke?" Senator Kassnar countered softly. "You tell me." He suddenly felt awfully tired and very old.
"But he's married," she exclaimed.
"A lot of them are. And a lot even have children ... which he doesn't even have."
He said it so matter-of-factly. Neither took much notice of the fact that in one short sentence, Eddie had been relegated from one merely accused of some unseemly act into a convicted felon. To both their minds, he was now like "a lot of them".
Senator Kassnar looked at his utterly stricken little girl. He wished she'd break down and cry, and come to him for the warmth of his embrace and his soothing words.
But Belda did not break down. After a few mintues, she composed herself and arose..
"You all right, Belda?"
"Sure, Daddy, I'm all right. After all, there was . ... nothing between us."
She gave a little attempt at an ironic smile, then left for her room.
Later, only Eddie knew the irony of the situation, and he was never clear enough of emotion so that he could appreciate how humorous that irony was. If only he had been his usual self there on the river bank with Belda, if only he had taken that beautiful, nude body in his arms, put her on the ground and given her everything he had in a fierce tussle of unrestrained lust-then he wouldn't have lost Belda. But no!-for once in his life he had tried to act better than he was, to behave like a gentleman, to try to live as he thought the people in Belda's world lived. Or if he'd given in to his baser passions that night in her bedroom. He could have shown her what a man was-not only normal in desire, but extraordinary in performance.
But no. He had saved himself to go home to top his frigid, rigid wife. And she had gotten so sick of loveless sex-among other things, he admitted that she had been driven to her icy-hearted vengeance on him.
Belda had a sandwich in her bedroom that evening, in place of dinner with her father and a guest downstairs. She had excused herself as being ill. Senator Kassnar came up to see her after the meal. She was to have gone on to a meeting with him and their guest, but he understood when she said how tired she was.
He was not overly worried about her when he left. His daughter had always been resilient and she'd snap out of this too. She was taking it well, he thought.
Several times Eddie had phoned the house, but she wouldn't talk to him. She finally told the maid, "Tell Mister Kilby that I'm out-permanently."
Belda went into her bathroom and started the water running in the tub.. The water running-it reminded her of the night she had taken the shower. Then naked, and from Eddie, nothing. Nothing!
The revelation about him had been utterly devastating. She had built so many dreams around what she could make of him, and then what they could do for the world together. Together! And they couldn't even get together between the sheets.
Belda hated having people laugh at her. She had not liked it when she knew that people were gossiping about her affair with Eddie. But at least they thought of it as an affair. And she hadn't been ashamed. People may click their tongues about your morals if you sleep with someone you're not married to, but they don't snicker.
Not like when you're a beautiful girl-in love with a queer. What would all her friends and everybody else make of that now? Now that they knew about Eddie? She was sure they did or would soon. You couldn't hide any sort of secret from those people. Everything came out. Everything. What a fool she'd been. Like any dummy in any backwoods hick town-she, Belda Kassnar, acting so stupidly.
As the water ran into the tub, she went to a closet in the hall. Years ago, she had gone to Colorado with a group of girls on a camping trip, and she still had all the expensive equipment stored away there.
She took out the small, Italian-made knife, carefully carrying it in its leather sheath.
Belda entered the bathroom and carefully closed the door. She placed the knife on the edge of the bathtub, and then began undressing. She hung up her clothes nearby on the hooks. She had never minded previously looking at her naked self in the full-length mirror behind the door, but tonight, she did not want to see that which was considered a classic of feminine beauty.
She had a sudden, down-to-earth thought. She had heard that when it happened to a person, all of them, every part, relaxed. They despoiled themselves. So Belda went to relieve herself in the other part of the bathroom. Afterward, she mechanically washed her hands, as any girl did from girlhood.
She was a bit amused by the way she was acting. She had always read that only people out of their heads did this sort of thing, yet she was as cool and reasonable as could be. She had thought it all through, from every angle. She wasn't certain, for instance, that even a whole bottle of sleeping pills would do it; and what if her stomach recoiled from the massive dose and she upchucked the whole mess? And other methods seemed so messy. She'd hate to do them to her lovely body, and leave a mess behind.
She looked at her face in the mirror over the lavatory, and gently plopped up one side of her hair with her hand. What foolishness, she smiled to herself: it would be all wet and stringy soon anyway.
Belda stepped daintily into the tub, and settled those lovely haunches into the steaming water. She could .see her legs get pinkish from the hot water, under their smooth, lovely tan. What would she be like in a few hours? Did so much drain from the body that one got pale? She slid down into the tub, her feet on either side of the strong pour of water from the gold faucet, which she wouldn't turn off, letting the water go out the drain beneath the faucet. She was covered to her neck with the enveloping and comforting liquid. She looked down at the form which was now distorted madly from the water and steam. It wouldn't have been anything for him to have possessed that body, which was considered so faultless and lust-provoking. Oh, why hadn't he? Why? Why? Why?
Belda pulled herself up into a sitting position, wiped her hands dry on a towel hanging nearby, and took out the superbly sharp, imported, expensive knife.
Eddie was having a cup of awful coffee that he had had to make himself the next morning. He felt very depressed and very confused. Yesterday, all day, he couldn't get hold of Marion-her mother said she was gone to see people downtown. And Belda too. Phoned many times. And then that last, final-sounding message from the maid at the Kassnar mansion. What did it all mean? He hadn't slept well all night. He needed sleep and he needed a woman. Even Marion would be nice to have back, just to have somebody around. Well, maybe she'd be back. Women can be persuaded to do almost anything, he told himself.
The phone rang, and he was sure that it was going to be one of the two women in his life.
The voice at the other end of the line was a man's, and he identified himself as a reporter for the paper.. He reminded Eddie that he had given him his first publicity, way back when Eddie handled the divorce involving that fat stripper.
"Yeah, yeah," Eddie said, in a bad humor. "What do you want now?"
"I just thought it would make a cute feature-you know, big divorce lawyer being divorced himself."
Eddie wished he could have played it cool and not exposed himself, but before he could think, he exclaimed, "What?"
"Sure," the reporter went on. "I got another lawyer friend who is handling things for Mrs. Kilby. She saw him yesterday. And I thought I could get your angles-some little funny stuff."
Funny? Eddie was almost sick to his stomach.. This might ruin things for him with the party and with Belda.
"I got nothing to say," he snapped.
He could almost hear the shrug in the reporter's voice. "Okay. So she'll get her side in the paper and you'll look like a schnook. She says she'd going to take you for everything you've got."
Eddie bit his lip to keep from saying something vile to him. Instead, he just said, "No comment."
The reporter laughed, thinking back to when Eddie Kilby was a'two-bit lawyer. And now he was behaving like a big shot.
Eddie was ready to slam down the receiver, when the reporter just off-handedly remembered something. "Say, you knew Belda Kassnar, didn't you?"
"Yes, I know Belda Kassnar," Eddie admitted guardedly. "Why?"
"You mean you didn't know that either? Don't you have a radio or TV set? Don't you listen to the news? it seems there was a police call from out there early this morning and...."