Butterflies in Heat (71 page)

Slowly and deliberately Numie was treading his way across the docks. The wooden planks on the wharf dated from Reconstruction days. Although they'd survived hurricanes and tropical storms, they were sagging dangerously. Many of the pilings had collapsed. Every few feet was another pitfall, another Blanchard's folly.

An unpainted, wooden-framed warehouse was mistress of the wharf. But even her front sagged in rhythmic sympathy with the docks. Her huge doors opening onto the pier had long ago caved in—so they were boarded up.

Tangerine was gone now, but what about her prediction? Would he end up the way she did? A loser like her?

So many questions, so few answers.

He stared out at the sea. When he came to this town, he was a fugitive at the end of the line. But was Tortuga really the end? When towns ran out, didn't you have to go back and start all over again?

Was Tortuga just the beginning of a new journey?

In her bedroom, Leonora was dictating into her tape recorder. Of all the times in life she didn't want to attend a funeral, today was the day. Right when she was trying to escape any association with death, she had found herself in the graveyard, that awful graveyard, again. Best to wipe it out and get on with her life.

A sudden knock sounded on the door. "Who in hell?" she shouted. "Nothing but interruptions. I'm dictating. Let me alone."

"I have to see you," Numie said, opening the door. The sight of her nude breasts, still firm at her age, always disturbed him for reasons he did not know. He'd certainly seen enough nudity in his business.

"What is it?" she demanded to know.

He coughed. Why delay it any longer? "Anne and I are leaving this afternoon. I'm sorry we couldn't give you notice. She's packing now." He waited for the impact of his words to reach her, bracing himself for a screaming denunciation.

She was outwardly calm. Remembering how embarrassed Numie always was at the sight of her nudity, she reached for a satin sheet to cover herself. "Darling, don't be ridiculous." She turned off the tape recorder. "You might leave me. After all, you're nothing but a drifter. Anne, never! She's completely dependent on me. I'm taking her back to New York with me. You, too, if you want to go. Although I think you've been drinking more Scotch than we agreed upon. Providing you refrain and stick to our original agreement, you may come."

"We
are
leaving, but not with you, Leonora." The woman was utterly impossible. Refusing to listen to anything she didn't want to hear.

"I assume you're not joking," she said. "If I remember, you were never much for humor. "Why doesn't Anne come down and tell me herself?" Suspicion was racing through her mind. "You realize I plan to have my books audited. If you or Anne have stolen from me..." She looked at him accusingly. "In fact, if you head out of this house, I'm calling Yellowwood to stop you. Your leaving like this can mean only one thing—you're making off with my jewelry. My silver, at least." She leaned back in bed, rubbing her head. "I'm surrounded by thieves and bandits. I didn't tell you this. But my accountant called me. It appears that Ralph has been embezzling from me for years. I've called the FBI."

Numie's face reddened, his temples throbbed. "We haven't taken anything that belongs to you. We're not asking for anything either. Not even our back pay. You can call the sheriff if you want to."

Although she long ago learned not to trust anyone, she believed him. Then what was the reason? Suddenly, it was all too clear. "I keep forgetting you're a hustler. I know what your scheme is."

"I have no scheme," he said.

"You hustlers are always after something." She felt relieved, confident. The only time she was ever upset was when people behaved unpredictably. "Ralph's gone. You want to fill his shoes, not that I blame you. You want the prestige of being associated with me so intimately. Darling, nature abhors a vacuum. My dismissal of him certainly created one. You might as well take the position. I'll need someone now that I'm leaving for New York. So much to take care of, including moving all my possessions from Sacre-Coeur. I knew you wouldn't settle for being a chauffeur forever. Didn't I predict that?"

Leonora was tiring him, bringing him down. This goodbye wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "I don't want Ralph's job," he said adamantly.

"Of course, you do. You're annoying me holding out like this when we both know that getting Ralph's job is the only reason you're here now."

"No, I don't want to be in any of your Sacre-Coeurs, including the one I know you'll re-create in New York," he said. "I want to be out where I can breathe the air for a change and be my own man."

"Don't be sophomoric, my dear."

"I mean it!" he said. "When I first saw Sacre-Coeur, I thought that big fence was to keep other people out. Now, I know it's to keep the inmates in."

The sudden animosity in his voice surprised her. She decided she had better start taking him seriously.

"I was your lowest paid servant, and I earned every penny, that's for sure," he said. "The life style you created is not for me."

"You're right," she said.

He was startled to find her agreeing with him about anything.

"Even in my present savaged state, I know you're right," she said. "You want no part of the world I created here. Neither do I. I don't know whatever possessed me to return to this God forsaken place. But that's in the past. I'm moving back into life, 
adventure,
and I'll take you with me. You'll be a success, providing you stick close to my skirt-tails." No sooner had she said that than she regretted it. After all, Numie was a man, and he'd resent it. Even hustlers had human feelings some of the time.

"No thanks," he said bitterly. "I used to dream I'd meet a rich lady one day who'd invite me to live with her in her fine house. I never really believed that dream would come true. But it didn't work out exactly as I dreamed it."

"I'm on the verge of my greatest triumph—stick with me," she pleaded, resenting the tone of desperation creeping into her voice. "You'll share in it."

"I'm not interested," he said.

"Now I know why I was attracted to you in the bar that night," she said angrily. Seeing that he was really going, she decided to use any ploy.
"New me
indeed! Your name is a betrayal and a lie. The hustler who came here to pander to me, to light my cigarettes, to give me insincere compliments was just waiting till he caught me in a weak moment before moving in for the kill." She fell back on her pillow. "You know I have to have people around me who'll take care of me. Okay, buster, state your price."

"Nothing."

"Years of hustling destroys sensitivity," she went on. "Your heart—whatever there was of it—is gone. You're cold and cruel, deserting a helpless woman."

If he hadn't been so saddened by the day's events, he could have laughed at that last remark. "You're not exactly helpless."

Her statement had been so utterly ridiculous, even to herself, she decided to admit it. "True," she said, "I'll survive longer than you or Anne. Of course, you two think you have each other ... for the moment at least. God only knows how long that will last. I have no one."

"There's Dinah," he said.

"Tricks don't count," she said. "I've survived without love from any quarter all these years, and I'll continue."

"At least you had talent," he said.

"You left out beauty," she accused, "and, yes, I still have my talent."

"You've mentioned beauty so many times I didn't think it was necessary."

She bristled at that remark.

"Thank you for everything," he said. "I know you meant well. At least, I'd like to think you did."

"That's right, use your unbearable cliches to confront any human situation," she said, sitting up again. "I used to loathe cliches. Now, I feel differently. I think we should repeat them over and over. They are the only true things in life."

"Okay, Leonora," he said, growing impatient. "I'm leaving."

"One small favor," she said, suddenly resigned to the fact that he was going. "Get Joan on the phone. You know how I hate to dial numbers." If she were to survive, she had to get tough again. Forget Anne. Forget Numie. They'd be back soon enough. Perhaps she'd take them in again. That depended on how repentant they were.

Numie called the Garden of Delights. Joan answered. He handed the receiver to Leonora, his last official duty as her employee.

At the door, he looked back.

Leonora was no longer paying attention to him. "My darling," she was saying into her 1920s phone, "I might as well inform you, I've sold the Garden of Delights. From now on, your bosses will be Lola and the commodore's sister. Mainly Lola. Of course, she'll fire you as soon as the papers are signed. That will leave you out in the cold. I should let you starve—or go on welfare. However, I'm dismissing Anne tonight and taking you back as my secretary. You can answer the phone and type, the only talents you ever had. As an actress, you were ludicrous. I'm allowing you to return with me to New York. All your years of treachery, the thousand and one betrayals, I've decided to forgive."

The bus to the mainland was ready to pullout. Numie was squeezing Anne's hand. Coming out of the station, Castor Q. Combes was zipping up. Trailing him was his calico cat.

"Just a minute," Numie said, getting up. "Somebody I have to say goodbye to."

In front of the station, Numie confronted Castor.

"You again, white boy," Castor said. "Good for me I was out of the toilet this time before you came in to try to molest me."

"The cat," Numie said. "It's okay?"

"Of course, it's okay."

"I thought..." The memory of that early morning ride, the calico fur lifeless at the side of the road, came back. Obviously it hadn't been Castor's cat. Thank God for that.

The driver called to Numie.

"I'm leaving, Castor," Numie said. "Take good care of that cat. A cat could get run over, you know."

"Always trying to interfere in somebody else's business, ain't you?"

"Not really," Numie said. "And take care of yourself, too."

"Get on that bus," Castor said. "I ain't got no time to fool with you."

Numie reached down and petted the cat, who was rubbing against his leg. Then he turned to Castor. "Give me a quick hug, 'cause you're the only friend I'm leaving on this island." He reached out and hugged the boy close.

For one brief second, Castor almost responded, then broke away. "You get away from me, you pervert," he said. "Come on, cat." He looked back at Numie. "My mama told me never to trust a man with violet eyes."

Back in his seat, Numie was reaching for Anne again.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Just someone who showed me a little kindness my first day in town," he said.

The bus screeched into gear.

Numie looked back only once.

It was growing dark.

Castor and his calico cat walked under a crescent sign marking the end of the highway in continental U.S.A. In faded letters, it proclaimed, "The End of the Rainbow."