Chapter 11
Jim sat on the edge of his bed and stared around the motel room. Two elements disturbed him. Although he was alone, two things moved. He sat on the edge of his twin red bed in his white undershirt and undershorts, and guilt pinned him down.
He could not go find Maria, or help her, for he had betrayed her completely. He could have acted-yet he had not acted. He had to sit on his bed like a stupid, reprimanded child and wait for Arlene.
He didn't know where she was. From the top of the hill, Arlene had disappeared into the night, and now he could only remember Maria's screams. In his empty, silent room, two things bugged him.
Brown, red colors circled dizzily in his eyes, and he could not stop following them from right to left, from right to left. His eyes went from luggage rack to dresser, to bathroom door. The brown-and-red room tincanned him in, and into its color scheme, a violent green painting kept drumming repulsion reactions into his consciousness.
He could stand neither the color nor the subject matter. And he couldn't even be sure what that subject matter was. It might have been an elongated green insect, like a praying mantis, or it might have been a broken bottle on a black overturned table. He didn't know.
Maria's lips swam up frantically in his memory. For a while he had almost escaped with her. He had seen Arlene coming toward them, stalking them, undressing, showing her body to him, and he had done nothing.
Why?
Why did a green bottle look like a dead insect?
Why did he have to get Arlene out of town?
Why was he wearing his stupid undershirt, his stupid undershorts? Why were they so white?
Why...?
Once, he had given Arlene an orchid. He remembered it well. It had been several years before, after the first shock of leaving Maria had gone out of his body. It had happened when he was dulled, deadened, defeated by Arlene's mouth and hands.
He remembered it well. He had brought the orchid home after work. Arlene's face lifted slowly, meeting his look as he held out the flower. Her right hand slowly swept back the falling mass of black hair on the right side of her head, and her lips moved in a quick dramatic pout.
"What's that for?"
"It's for you... It's an expensive orchid."
Her hands went to it, felt it. Her white fingers crawled along the brownish, reddish petals with convulsive, caterpillar movements. Her white fingers were eating the orchid petals.
"Jim?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you buy it?"
"For you."
"Because you love me?"
"Do you want me to tell you the truth?"
"No."
He had needed a shower. He felt hot and sticky. He started to leave the bathroom, but Arlene stopped him. She slipped swiftly out of her green dress, and her motions were those of a snake casting off its old skin. Then she had taken his orchid and shoved it into a private place. He remembered the look of pure triumph on her face. She had dropped quickly back on the bed, spread her knees: "Okay, Jim, come on, let's you and me baptize it..."
He had forced himself into the act, and that had been one of the last times. He had distinct, ugly memories about it, and he felt like a huge green insect himself, one making awkward movements, crawling in and out of a big red rose, and then he had felt broken green glass, and then he had felt hot, wet warmth, which had a certain shock-value, because of the cold slippery movements of the orchid petals.
She lay there, looking up at him. She reached down and pulled it out. Arlene held it up to him. "Do you want to eat it."
"No."
"Then I will." Arlene had held it delicately poised above her red mouth, then opened her lips. The orchid fell. Her lips and jaws moved. Her Adam's apple went up and down a couple of times, and Jim watched her...
The motel room made him dizzy. The brown and red colors were very unpleasant, but he didn't want to look for Arlene. He wasn't sure whether he should look for Maria or not, but he now knew he couldn't find her. How could he ever find her? The green picture hanging above his old tan suitcase reminded him of broken glass, and he tried to imagine where he had seen something like it before.
He couldn't remember...
Two hours later, it must have been about five-thirty, Arlene walked in. She stepped through the door, locked it, stared at him for a minute, and her face gleamed with a mysterious expression, which he could only classify as triumph. "Guess what, dear!"
He looked at her firmly. "We're leaving here this afternoon, Arlene. We're getting out of Hollyhock, and we're never coming back."
She strode towards him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and rocked his head back and forth. "Darling, you'll never guess what I did."
He groaned.
"What's the matter? Aren't you interested in your little wifey anymore?"
"Cut it out, Arlene. If we have to live together, let's just make the agony as easy as possible, okay?"
"But, darling, that's the best part of it. It's such a joke! There's no more agony. I've fixed it. Maria will never enter our lives again. You want to know what I did..."
Vaguely her words sank in, and he tried to follow them. Then some subconscious reaction made him focus more decisively on Arlene's face. Her eyes glittered a savage green, and suddenly he felt very much afraid. "Arlene, just what the hell have you done? Tell me quick."
She danced back two steps. "Look at you! See, now you're interested. Now you want to know all about it, huh?"
"What did you do, Arlene? Did you kill her?" His dullness sharpened into acute pain. The very thought seemed impossible, knowing Arlene's lesbianism, but it fitted too well Arlene's present mood and attitude.
She laughed coarsely, looked at the ceiling. "Not her, darling. But I did something better. Want to hear?" She studied his face, and then sat down carefully beside him. She even took a second to smooth her skirt as if that action had any meaning or any importance. "I didn't kill Maria, but I've fixed it so she will be removed..."
"Dammit, Arlene, what have you done?" He couldn't keep the panic from bubbling up in his voice.
"Don't rush me, darling. You've got to wait. This is too priceless. Remember that cab driver? The one who insulted me?" She stared intently into his eyes.
"Yeah."
"Well, I killed him. I did it very, very cleverly too. You would be proud of me. Want to know something?" Words exploded from her, unrestrained, frightening. "You can always lead a man on. They think a woman might like them, might love them, might want them, and their filth..."
He sat there sickly, dully. He couldn't do a thing about it. The world wasn't real. Nothing made sense. He half-listened to her. He half-watched the slowed-down motions of the room itself. He thought that maybe the green picture wasn't so bad after all. It soothed him, somehow.
"Arlene..."
"And when we got all done-I mean when I got all done-I left him there, and it's her stuff that he's got in his pocket. You know what I mean... her private things, like..."
Suddenly, he knew. Suddenly, in that quick second's time, sitting half naked on the bed, he knew full reality. His wife was a spider, and she had caught him, and then she had caught the friendly taxi driver who had kicked her out. And now she was catching Maria, too, in her deadly web for the second time, and this time, it was final. There would be no out.
"Why are you telling me all this?" He had to know. He had to watch the expression on her face, discover her real direction. Her beautiful chin lifted ever so slightly, and she smiled at him with what was meant to be a warm smile.
"We've played games too long, Jim. It was time to test you-I'm sure you're on my side. One-hundred percent on it, but I had to know for sure. This will prove it."
"But, Arlene, you've killed a man!"
Her smile turned into a short, abrupt laugh. "So what, Jim, so what? Are you going to go moral on me all of a sudden?"
A swift sinking feeling hit him in the bottom of his stomach, and he couldn't answer her. He thought of Maria. He thought of Arlene, and her vicious act, and the knock on the door surprised him. He picked up his trousers, tugged them on. He wondered who it was. He looked briefly at Arlene, but she only shrugged her shoulders indifferently, and then he walked over and opened the door. Jerry Williams stood there with two police officers. "Mr. White, I'd like to speak to you and your wife for a minute, please. May I come in?"
"Sure, why not?"
Jim tried to control his emotions. He knew that the police chief had found out about Arlene. He forced a smile, then stepped aside and motioned the men in. He shut the door after them, gestured towards the two available chairs.
The Chief saw his gesture and said, "No, thanks. We're kind of in a hurry." His round face seemed less round now, and he wore a harried, almost frightened look in his eyes.
Jim forced himself to speak: "What can I do for you?"
The police chief turned and gave him a very penetrating glance. "It'll only take a minute. Have you been in all evening?"
Jim looked past him, looked at the other officers, one of whom seemed very nervous and kept dropping a pair of black gloves. He considered for a second and then said, "We were out earlier, but I've been here since midnight."
"And your wife?"
Jim hesitated, then looked directly at the Chief: "She came in at the same time I did." He didn't know why he lied, but it seemed as if he had been forced into covering up her tracks. He had not done it out of loyalty, but out of-"
"Tell me, Mr. White, how well do you know Sue Belden?"
This time the police chief gazed at him steadily and seemed to be waiting very carefully for his answer. "Now, look, Mr. White," he said, "If you don't want to...!"
"I was married to her once. I know her very well. What's the matter? Why are you asking me these questions?"
The Chief took a pad out of his coat pocket, and slapped it against his left hand. "Well, it's tough, I know, but we think she killed a man last night." For one moment, the Chief turned from Jim and looked over towards Arlene. It was only for a second, and then he swung back quickly towards Jim. "It doesn't make sense to me. I didn't think Sue could ever commit such a fiendishly clever murder, but..."
"But, Chief, I don't know what you're talking about." Jim found himself stammering out the words. He was playing a game, and he knew it. Suddenly revolted by the game, he went to the closet, got his coat off its hanger, pulled it on.
Behind him, the Chief slapped the notebook in his hand a couple more times, then started for the door. He stopped. Jim looked at him.
"Mr. White, Ken Wylie was hanging over there in the Circus Room of the Muddy Oak Hotel. All I know is that he was deader than a mackerel and that somebody did it."
"But, Sue... I mean, Maria..."
The chief caught the slip, looked at him. "What is Sue's real name?"
Jim started to answer, but Arlene spoke up from the bed and beat him to it. "Maria Wyzerk, Polish, from Vermont."
The chief turned his cold gaze on Arlene. "Okay, Mrs. White, is there anything else you can tell me?"
Arlene opened up a big smile for him. She shook her head slowly, deliberately. "No, Mr. Williams, I'm afraid not. I always thought Maria was a bit strange at times, but if you want to pin that killing on her, no! She's not the-type."
The double perfidy of Arlene's words made Jim shiver inside with rage, but he stood there and controlled himself. He did walk over to his suitcase. He had a bottle of bourbon there, and he took it out quickly. He held the bottle towards the two officers. They shook their heads coldly. One did moisten his lower lip with a quick flick of his tongue.
Jim took his glass, held it firmly. He looked at the Police Chief. "So what do you want us to do?"
"Nothing much. If we need you, we'll call you. Go on, man, have your drink. But if you two can manage it, we'd like you to stick around for a couple of days anyway."
Jim glanced over at Arlene, and her smile bubbled out quickly and brightly. "We're in no hurry, Mr. Williams. We like your town. We'll be happy to stick around. By the way, have you picked her up yet?"
The chief shook his head with a heavy sad motion. "No, not yet. As a matter of fact, we haven't been able to find her." He stepped quickly towards the door. "Sorry for bothering you folks, we'll be going now."
The door closed slowly behind them, and Jim went back to looking at the room. He studied the colors carefully, he didn't look at Arlene. She dropped back on the bed, closed her eyes. Her hands seemed suddenly taut as they rubbed her cheeks.
"I'm tired. I'm going to have a shower, and then we can make love and have a nap. Okay, lover?"
Jim didn't say anything. He forced himself to stand there with one hand on the dresser top, and he took a steady drink from the glass, which he had filled to the brim with whiskey.
On her way to the bathroom, Arlene stopped close behind him and breathed on his neck. "I'm glad you're drinking, dear, but don't get too drunk. You know what it does to your lovemaking powers."
He didn't finish the glass. He waited until she had the shower running full, and then he got completely dressed. He did it quickly. He took his billfold, a flashlight and his shoes, and he stepped out the door. He had to warn Maria. That much he had to do.
Once outside in the early-morning light, he looked across the vast apron of the parking lot, but he saw nothing. Nobody was in sight. He knew it must have been about six-thirty, and he started to run across the lot, but then, off to his right, parked on a side street, he saw the police car.
He stepped back quickly to the edge of the motel. He didn't know what to do, but then he looked behind him and realized that the area in back of the motel bordered the property of the Muddy Oak Hotel. He could see the hotel roof in the distance, and he could cut through there without being seen.
It jolted him to think of Ken Wylie being murdered in that old abandoned place. It jolted him even harder to think Arlene had done it. Fighting off his aversion, he forced himself around the right-hand corner of the motel. He walked through a strip of weeds, then stepped over a partly fallen-down fence. He found himself surrounded by pines, cedars and spruce. The fresh summer day began to sparkle on a multitude of leaves and needles, but he felt no joy from it.
He had one thing to do. He had to find Maria, and he had to figure out where she might be. This didn't take him long. If she weren't at her apartment, then she had to be someplace where she had a friend. From what she had said, that place could only be Ken Wylie's.
It seemed strange to him that the police hadn't checked on things there, but if they hadn't, he would have to beat them to it. But where was Ken's place? He ran as fast as he could through the trees. He came to a weed-infested clearing in front of the hotel, peered out. There was nobody there.
He skirted the edges of the huge white building and came out on Cedar Street. Nothing was in sight except a few cars, and nobody paid any attention to him, while he hurried to a phone booth. He found Ken's address in the Hollyhock section of the multiple town phone book. It said 316 King Street.
When he got there, he surveyed the whole house carefully. There were no cops in sight. He strolled past the house, making careful observations, and then he saw where she must be. Behind the house, was a big white garage, and over it there were a couple of windows. Ken must have built an apartment of some kind up there.
Jim didn't hesitate a second. He walked briskly down the concrete drive, found the outside door. He saw the steps leading up and then raced up them. He knocked roughly, urgently, on the grey door and called softly at the same time, "Maria, it's me. I've got to see you. Let me in."
He was surprised at how fast she came to the door, for she wore a thin nightgown and had obviously just waked up. Her eyes looked bleary, and she couldn't seem to focus them. She spoke with a sharp, bitter tone, but other than that reproach in her voice, she didn't accuse him of anything. "I didn't think I'd see you again."
"I'm sorry, Maria,"
"What do you want?"
Quickly he told her the whole story. He watched her face until he saw the tears in her eyes, then looked away. She must have felt pretty bad about Ken. He didn't attempt to whitewash his own attitude in front of the police, and he stated the thing just as it had happened. She wiped her eyes, looked at him, studied him.
"Why did you come here? Why didn't you defend me to the police?"
He swallowed hard, then reached for her hand.
"Maria, I don't know what she planted on him, or why they're looking for you. We've got to know that, and I only wanted to get away from Arlene-clear my head."
She glanced up with the hurt expression of a little girl. "What are we going to do, Jim?"
"We'll have to find a place to hide out until I can find out exactly what happened-find out how she did it."
He squeezed her two hands, pulled her towards him, as if hoping for some revelation. Nothing came, and he heard behind them, out in the street, the sound of a car pulling up in front of Ken's house. He hurried to the window, and from there he could see the front end of a police car. "It's the cops," he said, "We've got to get out of here."
He went past her without looking at her and took a quick glance out the back window. The garage backed on the big gully which cut through the town, and a small stream ran like a white ribbon along the bottom of it. The window gave onto a short length of shed roof. He opened the window, turned to her.
"Okay, Maria, grab some clothes. You don't have time to dress. We'll go out this way."
He waited, then helped her out onto the roof. The slope was not too steep, and the asbestos roofing made a good grip for his shoes. He lowered the window behind them and helped her down to the edge, where he lowered her to the ground. He jumped down quickly after her. She waited, and he spoke to her.
"This gully cuts right back into the Muddy Oak property. We can stay out of sight under the trees and then get into the hotel without being seen."
Her voice sounded strained, frightened. "But why, Jim?"
"We can hide out in the hotel some place. They'll never think of looking for you there."
"But, Jim, suppose he's still there."
"No, Ken's gone. The Chief did mention it. They've got him down at the morgue."
They had been gone for about fifteen minutes, when Jim stopped and listened to a siren start up and howl behind them. But it faded off in the opposite direction. Jim didn't stop again. He kept leading her through the trees. Twenty minutes later, he pulled her up a steep bank of red clay. It was very slippery, and he had to hang onto various small poplar trees to get up.
When they got near the clearing, he took a cautious look at the old hotel, and it looked more vacant than ever in the bright sun. Nobody seemed to be anywhere near it, and he led Maria towards the back. When he passed by earlier, he had noticed a brand new padlock on the front door.
It seemed stranger than ever to him now that there was no police guard. But with such a small force available, Jim knew Williams didn't have enough men to spare.
He found a broken basement window in the back, and finished taking out two long, deadly-looking splinters of glass. Then he tried to help Maria through. He wanted to lower her down to the floor inside. He had studied it carefully, and at this spot their entrance would not be noticed. The building was full of broken windows. Rotten boards hung everywhere. Clapboards sagged at crooked angles on all the outside walls.
She had gotten half way inside, and was sitting on the ledge, when she stopped suddenly. He heard the raw, ripe terror in her voice. "Jim, there's a big black spider. I can't go any further."