The Kill-off Part 9

I take a puff or two, so's he won't go for me. Then, he start talking, ain't watching me close, I squeeze it down in my fingers and let it go out.

"Now, it's a money problem I wanted to discuss with you, mother," he said. "Largely one of money. I don't suppose you have a considerable sum you might lend me?"

"Huh," I said. "Where I get any money?"

"I'd probably need several thousand dollars," he said. "There'd be some traveling to do. I'd need enough to get reestablished, for two people to live on, for an extended period."

"Why'n't you go away?" I said. "How I get any money, I don't draw no wages? You want money you knows who to go to."

He look at me a little while. He look right on through my head it seem like, and I figure he's really about to come after me. Figure I really make one big mistake in kind of talking back to him. But what else I do, anyhow? Can't be nothing much but back-talk when you talk to him.

Can't think no more.

Can't do nothing, and can't do something.

Scared if I do and scared if I don't.

He go on looking at me, and I know my time really come. Then, he say, that's perfectly all right, mother. Say he really didn't expect me to have any money, but he thought he should ask. Say it might've hurt my feelings, him needing money and not giving his mother the 'tunity to help.

Crazy-mean, that boy. He nice and polite that way, he crazy-meaner than ever.

"But you're quite right, mother," he said. "I do know where to get it. Or, more accurately, I know where I could lay my hands on a large amount of money. The difficulty is that there is another person who needs it-who will need it, I should say. His situation is quite similar to my own, and it would place him in a position practically as difficult as mine if he didn't have it. So under the circ.u.mstances- what do you think I should do, mother?"

"Huh?" I said. "What? What you talkin' about, boy?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "Please don't feel I don't trust you, mother; it isn't that at all. It's just that you might be placed in a very compromising situation if I gave you any details, spoke in anything but the most general terms. And I believe you can advise me quite as well on that basis. What's your best opinion, mother? If you were in my place, would you feel justified in extricating yourself from an untenable position at this other man's expense?"

What I think? Me-what I think? What I got to think with? Or listen with, or talk with?

That mean boy, I see him too well'n too close-plenty too close, a mean-crazy boy like him-but I sure don't hear him. Might as well be talking a zillion miles away.

"Lea' me alone," I said. "Why you all the time devilin' me? I ain't done nothin' to you."

"Relatively," he nodded. "Yes, I see. Relatively, you have done nothing. And, of course, you meant that as an answer to my question. You did mean it so, didn't you, mother?"

"Fo' G.o.d's sake," I said. "Fo' G.o.d's sake, jus'-"

"I suppose it's always that way, don't you, mother? It's inevitable. There are certain rigid requirements for being one's self, a tenable self. They may not be violated, despite any exigencies, regardless of the temptation and the nominal ease with which violations could be accomplished. Otherwise, he becomes another. And how, if he cannot cope with the problems of his own self-live in pride and contentment within its framework-can he dwell in that other? Obviously, he can't. He loses ident.i.ty. He may have been little, but now he is nothing. He doesn't know what he is. Yes, you're absolutely right, mother. I'm so glad you could advise me out of the background of your experience."

Don't know what he talking about.

Don't want to know.

"Now, there's another thing I wanted to ask you about, mother," he said. "Since I can't help myself-am past the point of help, let's say-should I help this other man? Should I remove an obstacle in the path to the solution of his problem? I have nothing to lose. It would help him immensely. In fact, he might not be able to bring himself to do it. Or if he did, he might suffer from regrets. It might cast a pall over the goal he achieves by so doing. How do you feel about it, mother? Do you think I should help him or not?"

How do I feel? What he care? What do I think? Think nothing. Just think nothing.

Can't.

Him, he might be talkin' about killing someone, and I wouldn't know it.

He look at me, one of them pretty-smooth eyebrows c.o.c.ked up, them even pretty-white teeth showing; kind of smiling and kind of frowning. And I know he as meancrazy as they come-you just look at that boy and you see he is. But for maybe a second or two I don't see it. What I see is sort of a picture that all at once just popped up out of nowhere, that kinda seemed to wooze out of my eyes and spread itself over him. And me-I-I almost laugh out loud.

I think-thought, "Why, my heavens, Hattie, what in the world has come over you? How can you be afraid of this fine young man, your son? What . . . ?"

The picture go away, back wherever crazy place it come from. Me, she, the me that'd thought them words go back to the same place. Nothing but the regular me, now, and it don't do no thinking. Don't see nothing but through that bitty old keyhole. Just sees meanest boy that ever lived.

He been that way for years. I watch it coming on him. Oh, sure, he don't do nothing with it for a long time. He wait until he big and strong. But I see it all right, he let you see it. He nice and polite all the time, but he let you see it; make you know what you can 'spect. Poke it right at you.

"Yes, mother?" he said. "Can you answer my question?"

"Go 'way?" I said. "How I know? I-me-"

"Why, of course," he said. "Naturally, you wouldn't know. It's not something a person can advise another about, is it? The individual concerned has to make his own decision. Thank you, very much, mother. I can't tell you what a comfort it's been to talk over my problems with you. Now, I see you're looking a little tired, so perhaps I'd better . . ."

He stand up. He put one knee on the bed, and start to lean over toward me. Smiling that pretty white-teeth smile, fastening on to me with them soft brown eyes. An' . . .

Knew I was going to get it then. He had been playing around, all politey and smiley, and now he going to do it. Something mean. Something bad. Had to be, because there couldn't be no other be. Couldn't think of no other. Couldn't think no more but little old keyhole stuff.

Don't know what I going to do. House almost in a block by itself, and I yell my lungs out and no one hear me. No good yelling. Couldn't do it nohow, scaredysick as I was. Couldn't do nothing nohow. Just ain't nothing to do but wait, and hope he won't be too mean. No meaner than I can stand.

Can't move. Feel like I frozen, I that stiff and cold. Can't hardly see nothing. Just kind of a white blur moving toward me, pushing right against my face. Then, I can't really see nothing. Just feel something, sort of soft and warm, pressing me on the forehead.

It go away. I get my eyes open somehow, and he standing back on the floor again.

"Good-night, mother," he said. "I hope you sleep well, and please don't worry about anything. After all, there's no longer anything to worry about, is there?"

He stand there and smile, and I figure he really going to get me now. He just been playing around so far, but now he through. Can't scare me no worse, so now he going to get me.

He turn around and leave. He close the door real gentlelike. But, me, I ain't being fooled. Ain't going to get me out there where he probably hiding, all set and waiting for me. Just about bound to be.

Why he act like he do if he ain't up to something? Why he make all that talk at me? Why he keep calling me mother and be so nicey-nice, and-an' kiss me goodnight?

Huh! Me, I know that boy. Seen that meanness coming on him a long, long time. He up to something all right. Fixing to get me.

I hear front door open. Hear it close.

I hear his car starting up, going away.

And all at once, I just flop over on my face and cry. Because he ain't got me, and he ain't going to. Him or n.o.body else.

Can't.

Just ain't nothing to get.

8: LUANE DEVORE.

It was Monday night. The dance pavilion is closed for business that night, but of course Ralph still has things to do there. Or things to do somewhere.

It was a little after eight, a little after dark. I heard the front door open quietly.

I hadn't heard Ralph's car, but I naturally a.s.sumed it was Ralph. The house is well-insulated. If he had driven up the old lane from the rear-as he sometimes does-I wouldn't have heard the car.

I turned around slightly in the bed. I waited a second, listening, and then I called, "Ralph?"

There wasn't any answer. I called again, and there still wasn't any. I made myself smile, forced a laugh into my voice.

Ralph is such a tease, you know. He's always playing funny little jokes, doing things to make you laugh. I suppose he seems pretty dull and stodgy to most people, but he's really worlds of fun. And it's always that sweet, silly puppyish kind. Even while you're laughing, you get a lump in your throat and you want to take him in your arms and pet him.

Oh, I can understand his attraction for women. His looks and youthfulness are only part of it. Mostly, it's because you enjoy being around him. Because he's so funny and sweet and simple and . . .

"Ralph!" I called. "You answer me now, you bad, bad boy. Luane will be terribly angry with you, if you don't."

He didn't answer. He-whoever it was-didn't. But I heard the floor creak. I heard more creaks, coming nearer, moving slowly up the stairs.

Just the creaks, sounds; not footsteps. Nothing I could identify.

I called one more time. Then, I swung my feet out of bed and . . . and sat there motionless. Half paralyzed with fear, helpless even if I was not so badly frightened.

The phone was out of order. As he-this person- doubtless knew. It was useless to yell. And if I locked the door, well, it could be forced. And then I would be trapped in here, in this one crowded, cluttered room, with even less chance of saving myself than I had now.

I got up, took an uncertain step toward the door. I hesitated, stared slowly around the room. And suddenly I was almost calm.

Save myself! I thought. Save myself!

Now, surely I should know how to do that.

Kossy came to see me the first Sunday of the season. I had called him, indicating that there was something I wanted to talk to him about when he had the time- strictly at his own convenience. And he raced right over. He didn't hurry on my account, of course. Catch one of those people doing anything for you unless there's a dollar in it. Probably he thought Ralph would be here, and he could load up on a lot of free eggs and fruit and vegetables.

Oh, well. I suppose I am exaggerating a little. Kossy really doesn't seem to care about money; he'll treat you just about the same way, whether he's getting a fat fee or nothing. And I suppose my call may have sounded rather urgent. But- But why should he care about money? I wouldn't either if I had all he's got. Why should he blame me, a poor, helpless sick old woman for sounding a little excited?

He was very mean and insulting. Not that he usually isn't. As soon as I was convinced that there was nothing to worry about, I ordered him out of the house. I should have done it long before, because I'd heard some pretty unpleasant stories about that man. How he'd cheated and swindled people right out of their eyeteeth. I can't say just who I heard them from, but they're all over town. And where there's so much smoke, there must be some fire.

At any rate, he not only insulted me, but he gave me some very bad advice. Because I most certainly did have something to worry about! He convinced me temporarily-and against my will-that I hadn't. But I knew better. The season was only two days old, and I'd already seen it in Ralph-seen it in the way he talked and acted and looked. And that was only the beginning.

He came home late that night, very late, I should say, since he is always out working as long as he can find work to do. I sleep a lot during the day, however, so I was awake.

He fixed a snack for me; he was too tired to eat, himself, he said. He was going to go straight to bed-in fact, he got a little stubborn about it. But I cried a little and pointed out how lonesome it was for me all day by myself, so we talked a while.

I studied him, listening to what he said, noticing what he didn't. I began to worry again. I began to get frightened.

I hardly slept a wink all night. I hardly slept a wink any night, because Ralph didn't change back to what he had been-he kept going farther and farther the other way.

I was practically out of my mind by the end of the week. I was going to call Kossy, but I didn't have to. He came to see me. As of course, I should have known he would. Catch him letting go of a good thing! He's probably building up his bill, so that he can attach this property.

Anyway, he was afraid not to come. He knew what I could do if I took the notion. I've never said anything about him yet, mind you-hardly anything-but if he wanted to be mean and ugly, I certainly had a right to defend myself!

I cried a little, and told him about Ralph. He sat and stared at me like I was some strange kind of animal, instead of a poor, sick, helpless old woman who needed comfort and sympathy. And then he said that he'd be G.o.dd.a.m.ned.

"Kossy, darling," I said. "I've asked you so many times please not to use-"

"I tell you what I won't use," he said. "I won't use any words you ain't used ten thousand times yourself. I hadn't ought to bother with you at all, but as long as I am I'll-"

"All right, Kossy, dear," I said. "I'm just an old woman. I can't stop you if you insist."

"Luane," he said. "For G.o.d's sake-Aaah, nuts-" he said, and threw up his hands. "Never mind. Let me see if I got this straight. Ralph is seeing this girl every night; you're sure of that. But he isn't sleeping with her. And you're bothered because he isn't!"

I said, no, Ralph wasn't. "He always has before," I said. "He's a-always been honest before-c-come home and told me about it afterwards."

"But-but-" He waved his hands again. "You mean you want it that way? You want him to make these babes?"

"W-well. I don't really want him to," I said. "But it wouldn't be fair to stop him, since I-well, you know. And as long as he tells me about it . . ."

He gave me an odd look, as if he was a little sick at his stomach. He said something about, yes, he could see how I might enjoy that.

"Well, never mind," he went on. "It kind of knocked me over for a minute, but I guess I get the picture. Ralph is playing it clean with this gal. In your book, that makes him in love with her. Suppose he does a switch, goes after what he always has, what does that make him?"

"Please," I said. "Please don't joke about it, Kossy."

"Okay," he shrugged. "Say he's in love with her. Say he's going to stay in love. And you don't like it, naturally. But it don't add up to his planning to kill you."

"But it does! I mean, it could," I said. "I-well-"

"Yeah?" He waited, frowning at me. "How does it? I seem to remember that we were all over that the other day. Ralph could get a divorce. He could just up and leave. We agreed that he could."

"Well," I said. "I guess he could-I mean, I know he could. But-but-"

"Yeah?"

He stared at me. He-and that shows what a crook he is! Honest people move their eyes around. They don't have a guilty conscience, so they don't feel they have to brazen someone down. It's only crooks who do that.

"Okay," he said. "You want to hold out something, go ahead. It ain't my neck."

"But I'm not," I said. "I-it's just that when I talked to you the other day, I didn't know he was so serious about this girl. I-"

"So now you know. And he can still walk away or get a divorce, so it still don't shape up to a murder."

"I-well, here's what I was thinking," I said. "The season will end in a couple months, and of course the girl will be leaving. So whatever . . . if Ralph is going to do anything, he'll have to do it by then. And-and-"

Kossy waited a moment. Then he grimaced and reached for his hat.

"Don't!" I said. "I'm trying to tell you, Kossy. After all, it isn't easy for me to discuss Ralph this way, to think of some reason why my own husband would w-want t-to- to-"

"Well, sure." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I don't suppose it is. But-"