Chapter 12
*** Archive Note: To make up for two chapters labeled "CHAPTER EIGHT", there was no chapter labeled "CHAPTER ELEVEN"
The telephone rang three times before Adam could pad into the living room and collect his senses enough to answer it.
"Hello."
"You goddamn bastard, why didn't you let me in last night?" It was Anne, shrieking at him hysterically.
"I'm sorry, Anne. I must have fallen asleep."
"Fallen asleep, my left tit. Every other night you've been sitting in the kitchen waiting for me, naked and with a hard on."
"Please, Anne. Can't we talk later? I'm not feeling well."
"No, by God! We can't talk later. We're going to talk now. And don't give me any crap about one of your phony headaches."
"Listen, Anne-"
"Shut up! You listen to me. You had some cunt in bed with you last night, didn't you?" Her voice had a rasping sound to it. Adam suddenly realized that she sounded vulgar. Her use of the four-letter words had, up to now, excited him. Now he knew only disgust. He said nothing.
"I asked you a question, shithead." He sighed resignedly. "Yes, Anne, I had a girl in bed with me last night."
"Did you fuck her?"
The absurdity of the question hit him. Impulsively, he said, "No. We were playing ticktack-toe."
"Oh, so now you're Mr. Smart Ass. Tell me, darling, did she give you a blow job?"
Adam's ire spilled over. "Knock it off, you cheap little bitch, or I'll-"
"You'll do what, cunt lapper?" Anne laughed shrilly. "If you're thinking of hanging up on me, don't. I have a piece of news that will crack your skull open. Who was the cunt?"
Adam had, in fact, been about to hang up, but something in her voice stopped him. "So what's the big news?"
"First, answer my question. Who was the cunt?"
Adam hesitated. Anne yelled at him, "You might as well tell me. I took down the registration number of the car parked in front of your cottage. If it's owned by who I think it is, you're in big trouble."
Adam thought, "Well, that's two of you who took down the registration number." Aloud he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, "The young lady who was here last night was Betty Walker. You don't have to check on her registration."
"I thought so. Isn't she the little virgin from your home town to whom you were engaged?"
"I'm still engaged to her."
"And what about me?"
"What about you?"
"Stop me if I'm wrong, but the last I knew you were going to toss Betty to the winds because you know I'm a better piece of ass."
"I know that no longer."
"Why, you insulting prick. If I had your balls in my hands I'd pull them out by the roots." Anne paused, breathing hard.
"Listen, Anne I'm getting tired of this. We're getting nowhere."
"You used me!" Anne shrieked. "You made me go to bed with you by promising to marry me. You kept screwing the pants off me by making more promises. Now you think you can merely toss me aside. Well, you're not going to get away with it."
Of all the ridiculous, absurd statements. She sounded irrational. She was probably drunk. Adam resisted another impulse to hang up. He wanted to know what her big piece of news was.
He said bitterly, "Kept screwing the pants off you? I've yet to see you wearing a pair of pants."
"Oh, sp you're sore about me not wearing my black underwear. Well, I've got news for you, sonny. Now you'll never get to see me wearing them."
"Thank God that's settled. Was that your big piece of news?"
"Hardly. My big news is this: Quimper stole my letters again. You remember the letters, darling. Those gems you wrote to me."
"I thought you were going to carry the letters around with you for safekeeping?"
"Nope. Quimper would smell them out sooner or later. I hid them behind some stuff on the shelf in my closet."
"Are you sure Quimper found them?"
"Who else? An hour ago I saw her hotfooting over to Dean Hodgkiss' house."
"Anne! For God's sake! If she shows those letter to Hodgkiss, do you know what it means?"
"Sure I know what it means. It means the end of your coaching career here and everywhere else."
"What about you?"
"Don't worry about me, darling. I have another career in mind. Know what it is."
"I can guess."
"Tell me if I guess what you're guessing. I'm going to become a hooker. A real professional high-class hooker. I've decided I like the work. You were a big help in making up my mind, darling."
"Wait a minute, Anne. Don't do that. It's a downhill road all the way."
But Adam found he was talking to a dead telephone. He hung up slowly. His head was splitting. He felt' sick all over. God, what a mess! He thought of John Bryant and a feeling of rage filled him. He got up, went into the kitchen and poured himself a straight shot. He drank it in a single swallow. He poured some more whiskey into a glass and filled the glass with water. Steadier now, he sat at the kitchen table and tried to think. Somehow he'd have to convince Betty that it was all a mistake, that what she'd heard were the words of a crackpot, or a dope addict. That's it, a dope addict! When he'd opened the door a man had stood there holding a gun on him. The man's wild ravings were the result of a drug-infested mind.
Well, it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try.
He considered calling Betty right now, but abandoned the idea. He was in no mood to call anyone. Eyes narrowed, Adam went over every detail of the morning's confrontation with Bryant. In retrospect it seemed that the-old man had been needling him. But why? What could he possibly gain by all that vulgar talk? A cold finger suddenly traced its way down Adam's back. What was it Bryant had said just before he delivered the knockout punch. For one thing he'd said that Lafe had told him that he, Adam, had been screwing Nancy Poole. But that wasn't all. What was it? Adam's hand smacked down onto the table. He'd said that maybe it was Adam who had murdered Nancy. A sickening shudder convulsed Adam's body.
Dean Hodgkiss peered at Miss Quimper over the rims of his glasses. They were in his study. A letter lay on the desk in front of him. "I'm not in the habit of reading other people's mail, Miss Quimper? Why should I read this one?"
"Because the future of Mekins Academy is at stake, Dean Hodgkiss," Miss Quimper purred. She felt sure of herself, completely satisfied. She had rehearsed carefully this interview with the dean, anticipating his questions, and was prepared to answer all of them, Before leaving the cottage she had removed only one letter from the package and stowed the remainder in her handbag. It would have seemed ridiculous if she'd presented the dean with the entire package. He'd wonder if she hadn't stolen them. Moreover, she was looking forward to reading the other letters at her leisure.
"How did you happen to come into possession of this letter?" Dean Hodgkiss asked. "It was lying on the living-room table when I got home. I thought it was mine."
"Why would you think it was yours?"
"Because Anne-Miss Yeaton-always gets home before I do. She picks up the mail from the floor beneath the mail slot. If there's any for me, she leaves it on the living-room table."
"But why, when you discovered the letter wasn't for you, did you continue reading?"
"I think, Dean Hodgkiss," Miss Quimper replied patiently, "that when you've read the letter you'll understand."
Dean Hodgkiss sighed deeply. "Very well, if you feel it's that important, perhaps I'd better read it. Although you understand, it's against my principles."
"I understand perfectly, Dean Hodgkiss."
The dean adjusted his glasses, picked up the envelope, opened it and removed the paper inside. He unfolded the paper and held it for reading. His eyebrows arched, and Olive Quimper smiled triumphantly to herself. But the reaction she expected wasn't forthcoming.
Dean Hodgkiss looked at her for a moment, then held out the paper. "Is this what you wanted me to read, Miss Quimper?"
Miss Quimper stared at the sheet of paper. It was a blank! Miss Quimper let out an uncontrolled shriek and leaped to her feet, snatching the paper from Dean Hodgkiss' grasp. She glared at it, as if willing words to appear.
Quite as if she had forgotten the presence of Dean Hodgkiss, she snarled, "That bitch! That two-timing sonofabitch!"
She snatched up her bag and unceremoniously dumped its contents on the dean's desk. She grabbed the package of letters, slipped off the ribbon and one by one began opening them. Trembling, her eyes filled with horror, she looked up at Dean Hodgkiss. "They're all blank! That goddamn little bitch took out the letters and filled the envelopes with blank papers. I'll kill her for this."
An agitated Dean Hodgkiss got to his feet. "Miss Quimper, I don't know what this is all about, but I certainly didn't expect to hear such language coming from your lips. I think, Miss Quimper, that you'd better leave. Immediately!"
Anne wasn't surprised to find the package of envelopes containing the blank papers missing from the shelf in her closet. In fact, she was rather happy about it. She knew that Quimper would not bother to open the envelopes; she'd be too anxious to get over to Dean Hodgkiss' office with her prize.
Anne laughed aloud when she thought of the spinster's reaction when Hodgkiss opened the first letter and found it to be blank. "The old bag must have gone out of her mind," the girl giggled. "Brother, would I have liked to have been there. She probably would have said I'd double-crossed her."
Anne wasn't surprised, either, when Miss Quimper didn't return to the cottage that evening. "Either Hodgkiss had her locked up," she decided, "or the old dried-up bitch is off somewhere getting herself blotto. She's probably imagining she's going to bed with Adam."
Adam! That sonofabitch! She'd fix him, and, oh, would her revenge be sweet. Never had a man turned her down before, and this one wasn't going to get away with it.
Anne considered her decision to become a whore. The idea thrilled her. It would be exciting. It would be fun. Best of all, she'd be paid for what she liked doing most. "I'm beautiful, and I know it. What's the use of being modest? Men want my body, and they're going to have it-for a price. I'll make the men I select squirm. I'll make them suffer the way Adam Lombard made me suffer. He thinks because he's big and strong and good-looking he can fuck anyone he wants to. Well, maybe he can, but so can I."