Don't Rely on Gemini (15 page)

Sinister was making up for it now!

Neal turned off the water to listen. The bird was really going at it. Neal smiled and went across to the refrigerator to get out the jar of worms. He supposed he was overfeeding the parrot; he would call Dr. Halliday, Monday, and check the diet. He was definitely not going to get rid of the bird; keeping him was the least he could do. He had to admit that he had even grown fond of Sinister.

He walked into the living room in time to see Tiffany Cage leap through the window carrying Sinister by the neck.

He heard a voice behind him cry, “I tried to stop her, but she was too fast for me! She was already at him when I came in the door!”

Neal turned around and faced Forrest Bissel.

It was too late for Sinister; Tiffany had run to the woods with him.

As Neal and Forrest returned to the living room, Neal put the flashlight on his desk, and turned off
Pajama Game.
“Are you in trouble, Forrest?” “I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“I just don't know.” He sat down on the hassock and chewed on his knuckles. He had let his wheat-colored hair grow long; he had sideburns now, too. Neal had not seen him in months, but the morose, repentant expression in his hazel eyes was familiar. Forrest was wearing white sneakers, soiled white ducks, and a T-shirt under a cotton Madras zip-front jacket. Neal noticed the bulge in the left pocket of the jacket.

“If you're not in trouble, why are you carrying a gun?”

“The dog,” Forrest answered.

“What dog?”

“Kendal.”

“What do you know about Kendal?”

“What do I know about her? He lives next door and she's a Doberman. They can kill, Dobermans.”

Neal said, “I mean
how
do you know about her?” Neal sat down on the couch facing Forrest, with the coffee table between them.

“It's a long story, Dr. Dana. I don't know how to tell you.” Neal said, “You haven't been prowling around the Nickersons' place, have you, Forrest?” “No. But they think I have.” “If you haven't, how would they even know you?” “They've seen me.” “Where?”

“Up here,” he said. He gave a nervous little cough and stared at the floor. “Up
here?
You haven't been up here before.” “Yes, I have.” “You've been up here?” “Yes, Dr. Dana. A lot of times.” “When?
Why?”

“A lot of times. To see Marg.” “Who?”

“Marg. Mrs. Dana.”

“What are you talking about, Forrest? You're not making any sense.”

“I got to know Mrs. Dana.”

“What do you mean you got to know her?”

“You know.
That
way.”

Neal snapped, “Have you been drinking?”

“It was me who gave her Sinister.”

“You sold Sinister to her? She never said—”

“I gave her Sinister. I taught him the Christmas carols. I gave him to her for Christmas.”

“You gave Sinister to Mrs. Dana? Why?”

“For Christmas.” He shrugged. “I was going with her.”

“What kind of a joke is this? What have you and Penny decided to—“

Forrest didn't let him finish. “No,” he said. “My sister doesn't know anything about it. No one does.”

Neal got up and walked across the room to get his pack of Trues. “You'd better start making sense, Forrest. You're not making sense.”

He heard Forrest drop something on the coffee table, turned around, and saw the revolver.

Forrest said, “If you want to shoot me, shoot me.”

“I don't want to shoot you,” said Neal. “I want you to try and think straight.”

“We were lovers, Dr. Dana.”

Neal could not suppress a tone of amusement. “You and my wife?”

“Yes. We couldn't help ourselves.”

Neal went over and sat down again on the couch. He lit a True and offered one to Forrest. Forrest refused. He heaved a sigh and would not look at Neal.

Neal said, “Now, Forrest, listen. You're very confused. I want to help you. But I think it's better if you get a good night's sleep. I think you should drive over to the clinic with me and—“

“She has a wart on her stomach.”

“What?”

“Doesn't she? Near her belly button there's a wart the size of a dime. She's always talking about getting it removed.” Neal didn't say anything.

Forrest Bissel said, “I gave her the parrot and she named him Sinister, because I'm left-handed and left-handed aspects in astrology are called Sinister.”

“Go on,” Neal said softly.

“I'm not nuts and I'm not going to the clinic, so I better get everything off my chest.” “Yes, that's best.”

“I came here or we went up to the Shady Rest Motel near Fishkill.”

Neal remembered the nightie and the bathing suit he had found in the Pan Am bag.

Forrest said, “I wasn't the one that started things.”

One night, weeks ago, Margaret had remarked that she had seen Forrest in Piermont … that Forrest was a Scorpio.

“But I fell for her like a ton of bricks, I'll say that.” Then he said, “You believe me now, don't you?”

Neal nodded.

“I won't blame you if you hit me,” Forrest said. “You probably feel like punching my face in.” “What for?”

“What
for?”
He looked at Neal for the first time since he had started talking. “For taking your wife away! You still think I'm nuts or something? We were going on a camping trip! She was trying to get you involved in some kind of astrology show so we could have more nights together! We had Wednesday nights because she told you she took Italian lessons! I was going with Marg right under your nose!”

Neal said, “If I punched your face in, what good would it do?”

“If
you'd
done it to
my
woman, I'd punch yours in.” “Well, that's unlikely.”

“We were going on a camping trip, but I started getting chicken.” “Why?”

“You know me, Dr. Dana. I don't have any stick-to-it-ive-ness. I mean, that's a lack. I lack that. And there was a big age difference. When Marg's fifty, I'll only be thirty-two. You know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“Then they started letting Kendal out and I got afraid to come here. Dobermans kill.” “So you said.”

“And it began to wear off. How I felt. I still really respect her, but … you know?” “Ummm hmmm.”

“And that's why I'm worried, because I wouldn't want anything to happen to her.”

“What do you think could happen to her?” “I know she's gone. I've been trying to call her.” “But you got
me.
So you didn't say anything.” “That was me calling. I was worried. Then I heard you reported her missing. That's why I came here.” “Why?”

“I think she might have done something to herself. She really has a case on me.”

“I see.”

“She really wanted to go on that camping trip, and I told her I didn't want to go.” “What did she say?” “She said I owed it to her.”

“I see … Who told you I reported that she was missing, Forrest?”

“Officer Baird told me.” “Why would he tell you?”

“One time he saw us together. It was a Wednesday night and we were parked down by the river in Nyack.” “In the Volkswagen?”

“Yes. He knew what was going on. He could tell. So yesterday I had an occasion to see him. A little trouble came up about something else. He wanted to talk to me about it, and it was then he asked me if I knew anything about Marg's disappearance.”

“What did you tell him?”

Forrest shrugged. “I said I didn't. I wasn't going to tell him I was afraid she might have done something to herself. I figured it was my duty to come here and tell you that.”

“I see.” Neal stubbed out his cigarette and said, “Where had you planned to go camping?”

“Some woods.”

“I see.”

“We hadn't doped it out yet.”

“I see.”

“I wish you'd stop saying you see. I feel lousy that you're so nice about it, Dr. Dana … I'm not any good at all, I guess. I'm just not any good at all. I'm beginning to see that. I screw up everything. I wish you'd punch me in the mouth. That's what I deserve.”

“No,” said Neal. “No.”

“You're a right guy, you know that? I've failed you more ways than one, more ways than you know, but you're always on my side. I meant it, too, when I said I didn't start anything with Marg. She threw herself in my path, you know what I mean?”

“Ummm hmmm.”

“I mean, Marg fell for me like a ton of bricks.” “I thought you fell for her that way?”

“I mean, I was impressed—a woman like her going after me. But like I said, there's a big age difference. And to level with you, Dr. Dana, I need more than she can give me that way. Do you see my point?”

“Yes.”

“I'm a Scorpio, if you know what that means,” he said, smiling shyly.

“I'll tell you one thing, though, Forrest.” “What's that, Dr. Dana?”

“You ought to go with Margaret to the woods,” he said. “You do owe it to her; she's right.” Then he picked up the revolver and pumped three bullets through Forrest Bissel's heart.

After he had cleaned things up, Neal went upstairs to find the blue Vycron polyester Slumber Bag.

By four-thirty
A.M
., Forrest was buried beside “Marg.”

When Druscilla Gamble arrived back at the Cages', she found a florist's box on the back porch. It was addressed to Mr. Archie Gamble. It contained two dozen purple and red anemones with a card: “Happy Birthday and love, Liddy.” Scribbled across the top of the box was, “Sorry these are late; I didn't know you were staying at the Cages.' Galen Florists, Nyack.”

Archie had made good his promise not to be there. Dru turned on the lights in the living room and turned them off again as soon as she saw the dirty dinner plates and champagne glasses and the overflowing ashtrays. She was certainly not going to stand at the kitchen sink and do a million dishes while Archie was on his way to the arms of Liddy.

Arms? Boobs was more like it. Again she felt the sting of his dirty crack about Miss Ping-Pong Balls. But she was more depressed than angry now. It was her own fault that Archie had gone to New York. She had no doubt that was where he had headed. It was her own fault, and then again maybe the whole mess wasn't anyone's fault; who was Druscilla Gamble to say the stars weren't to blame?

“It can begin to get you,” Archie had said earlier that evening. “Enough of it can begin to get you.”

She had said, “It isn't getting
you,
is it?”

What had he answered? She had forgotten.

The champagne had reached her, too, but like all the other times when she had become quite drunk without any noticeable change in her facade, she hadn't realized it until later. She could see it now: babying Neal Dana that way—Archie was right, she had found a new little rag doll to mend. Alcohol always affected her that way. One of the worst fights she and Archie had ever had occurred during a telethon which was raising money for a children's hospital. They had stayed up late to watch Tim Hardin appear on the show and sing “Don't Make Promises,” one of their favorite records, and they had made a batch of stingers to keep them company. About two hours and three stingers into the show, Dru had gone to the telephone, called in and pledged one hundred dollars. It was during the early days of their marriage, when Archie's analysis was eating up all their money; he had shouted at her that they couldn't afford ten dollars, nevermind a hundred, but Dru had gone right on dialing, and soon the announcer was thanking Mr. and Mrs. Archie Gamble for their generous contribution.

“Boy, I hope our creditors are listening!” Archie had ranted, and Dru had sat there in tears, telling him he didn't care how many little children died, he only cared about Archie Gamble.

The next day she had given up stingers forever, a pledge she had actually kept for a year.

Dru went to the kitchen door and called Tiffany. When the cat didn't answer, she left the window open for her, then turned off the downstairs lights and went up to the bedroom.

She thought of calling the apartment in New York to see if Archie was there, and to apologize, but she didn't want to take the chance of finding out for certain that he wasn't there.

For a while, after she put on her nightie, she sat at Archie's desk and looked through
An Interpretation of Gemini,
written by an astrologer called Zodiack, whose style was gloomily familiar.

Dru turned the page to a “Compatibility Chart.” She skipped down to

“Thanks a lot!” Dru said aloud.

Then she remembered that Liddy was a Scorpio, and her finger went down the column until she found GEMINI AND SCORPIO.

Dru slammed the book shut. For a few moments she sat staring at the telephone; then she gave up, crawled into bed, put out the light and listened to Barry Farber on the radio until she fell asleep.

She was awakened by something dropping on her feet. She let out a shriek of terror as she sat up in bed clutching the sheet to her body.

“Who's there?”

She waited, and then she reached over and turned on the light.

She saw the limp body of Sinister, the blood from his mutilated black feathers staining the yellow-flowered sheets, and she began to scream.

• • •

Archie said, “It's all right now, love. It's all right.” “Thank God you're here! Oh, Arch, I've never been so afraid!” “It was just a dead parrot.”

“Just a dead parrot, folks. They're always dropping on me in my sleep.”

“I thought you were being murdered,” he said. “Where were you?”

He said, “Right downstairs. I came in a few hours ago. You were asleep. I couldn't sleep.” The truth was he hadn't wanted to, hadn't felt like sleeping. He had sat in the darkness of the living room chain-smoking, playing the radio softly.

She blew her nose and dropped the Kleenex into the waste-basket. Archie sat beside her on the bed with his arm around her waist.

She said, “Where's Tiffany now?” “Out.”

“I want to be sure and thank her for the gift. She shouldn't have gone to all that trouble.”

“She's probably out getting something for me now.”

“Probably. A nice bloody owl or something scrumptious like that … Speaking of gifts, Arch.”

He said, “I saw them. That was nice of Liddy.”

“Nice
of Liddy? Not unusual of Liddy, not strange of Liddy? She hasn't remembered your birthday in three years!”

“Dru, she hasn't been around for three years,” he said.

“It's great having Dolly back where she belongs. I wonder if she'll send flowers on our anniversary?”

He changed the subject. “I shouldn't have put Tiffany out of the car,” he said.

“Will you light me a cigarette? My hands are still shaking…. You were going to New York, weren't you?”

He reached in his shirt pocket for the pack of Trues. “I got all the way across the Tappan Zee bridge. Then I turned around in Tarrytown and came back. I went to Sbordone's for a few beers.” At Tarrytown he had pulled into the Hilton, where he had called Liddy in New York and reached her answering service instead. He hadn't left his name. He had driven back across the bridge wondering where she was, and with whom, in the same way he had when they were married.

He scratched a match and lighted cigarettes for Dru and himself.

She said, “Were you going in to see Liddy?” “No. I was just going to our apartment. I came back because I didn't have the keys.” “Thanks a lot.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, passing her the cigarette. “I wasn't going in to see Liddy. I was going in to sleep at our place.”

She said, “I better call Neal and tell him about Sinister.”

“Dru, it's four o'clock.”

“He said that bird was like Margaret's child. He's probably worried sick!”

“Why give him the bad news now?”

“It isn't fair to let him worry all night, Arch.”

“He probably doesn't even know Sinister's gone.”

“The bird must have screamed. And Neal's a light sleeper, remember? An insomniac, remember? He may even be looking for Sinister. I think I should call him, Archie.”

“You know him better than I do.”

“Whatever
that
means,” she said testily. He wasn't sure himself what he had meant by the remark, whether or not he really did suspect her of an intimacy with Neal. Perhaps it was a projection of his own feelings where Liddy was concerned. He didn't feel like thinking about any of it, but it was all just under the surface and came out in this senseless sniping. If they didn't clear the air somehow, he knew, they were in for a real all-nighter.

She reached for the phone and dialed the number while Archie took the sheet with Sinister's blood on it and stuffed it into the bathroom hamper.

“No answer,” she said when he came back into the bedroom. “I bet he's out looking for Sinister.”

“Or he might be on a late date with Margaret,” said Archie. “Can you take a little more excitement?” He kicked off his loafers and sat cross-legged beside her on the bed, putting an ashtray between them. “I saw Margaret Dana tonight.”

“At Sbordone's? How did you know it was her?”

“Not at Sbordone's. After I dropped Mrs. Muckermann off, as I was going up to get you. She was parked down by the turn.”

“How do you know it was her, Arch?”

“She was in the Falcon with the penny on the door.”

“Alone or with Tuto?”

“She was alone. I didn't get a good look at her. She was wearing a green scarf over her head. When I slowed up for the turn, she saw where I was headed and took off.”

“Why didn't you tell me when we were talking in the kitchen?”

He said, “I wanted you to come home with me. I thought maybe you'd hang around if I told you. I didn't know you'd hang around anyway.”

“I'm sorry, Arch.”

“I'm sorry, too, for that crack about your breasts.” “That was hitting below the belt, Archie.” He chuckled, and she said, “All
right—it
was above the belt. It was dirty pool just the same.” “I know,” he said gently. “I'm sorry.”

She said, “Archie? I hate everything, don't you? The way we are with each other lately, and this thing with Neal and Margaret. What would she be doing there?”

He shook his head. “I don't know … Maybe she was coming back for her clothes. Maybe she drove up the hill, saw you inside, and changed her mind.”

“Maybe she was coming back period.”

“In Tuto's car?” Archie said.

“If it is his car … I wish we'd asked Neal about that Falcon.”

“I wish we'd stayed out of the whole damn mess,” Archie sighed. “We should have left the letters and the diary in that bag, and minded our own business!”

“Something's fishy, isn't it, Arch?”

“Yeah.” He put out his cigarette and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Because he doesn't seem concerned about where she is. He never wonders where she is. It's as though he knows where she is, and he can't do anything about it.”

“I know.”

“You know, Arch? He acts resigned … the way you were when Liddy was running around with everything in pants.”

“Liddy didn't run around with everything in pants,” he snapped, “and I was never resigned.”

“You
still
aren't resigned, you mean.”

“You can't have it both ways, Dru.” He got up and took off his trousers. “If I'm still not resigned, how could I have acted resigned?”

“You used to talk about Liddy the same way Neal talks about Margaret, that's all … how wonderful she was, how much style she had, how she could do this and that so well, and all the while you knew she was out catting around.”

The truth of what she said compelled him to shout. “Don't stretch for the parallel! We don't have to look for similarities between Neal and me any more! Mrs. Muckermann will see to that!”

Dru walked by him and got a fresh sheet from the linen closet in the hall. “He makes her sound so pure and righteous,” she persisted. “You'd think she was the Virgin Mary.” Was she as jealous now of Margaret as she had always been of Liddy?

Archie said, “You'd never catch Liddy swallowing a lot of garbage about astrology!”

“Of course not! Liddy's far too intellectual for that! Why, she's the darling of the literati, the dynamo of the drawing room, the conversationalists' conversationalist, is old boobs-brain Liddy!”