The Wrong Kind of Money (40 page)

The bush baby was the first to go. “Oh, please,” Hannah begged him. “He loves that little creature so!”

“He must be punished,” Jules said. “What better punishment than to take away a favorite pet?”

“But he's still just a little boy,” she said. “Don't all little boys experiment with themselves that way? Didn't you, when you were that age, experiment with other boys your age—with sex—like that? I'm sure you did.”

“Never!”

“That headmaster—that Mr. Litchfield—he overreacted to it, I think. St. Anselm's is such an old-fashioned school.”

“He disgraced us. The whole school knows about it now. They've made that little nigger kid a hero. They've labeled my son a pervert. From the report that Litchfield sent out, there isn't another boarding school in New England that will take my son now. He'll have to go to public school, the way I did.”

“But not the bush baby, Jules. Not his precious little Potto.”

“His precious little Potto is already on his way to the Bronx Zoo.”

“They've taken away Potto!” Cyril screamed, rushing into his aunt Bathy's room. “They've taken away Potto, and they won't tell me where he's gone!” Bathy Sachs took him, sobbing, into her arms.

“Now, that's not the way,” she said, trying to comfort him. “You want to show your papa what a little man you are, don't you? This isn't the way to do that, is it? Dry your tears, keep a stiff upper lip, and show your papa what a brave little man you are. That's what he wants to see.”

“I hate them!” he sobbed. “I hate them both!”

“There, there,” she said. “Potto's in a nice new home, with lots of nice new little friends. Don't let your papa see you crying like this. Now just go downstairs and act grownup, and show your papa what a big, brave little man you are. Do that for me, Cyril.”

“I want to kill him!”

“No, you don't. Your papa is angry at you now. But your papa is a good, kind man at heart, Cyril. He really is.”

Oh, he was handsome enough, Hannah supposes, particularly when he was younger, as he was then. Women found him attractive. The Duchess of Windsor, when she came to visit Grandmont after the war, pronounced him “charming,” and he could be charming. From the portrait in the dining room at 1000 Park, which was painted later, he looks a little stern when she gazes up at it from the table. A little stern and sad, and the down-drooping mustache doesn't help; nor does the Napoleonic pose with his right hand inserted in his vest. He looks, more than anything, disappointed. That is the expression in his eyes. If Jules Liebling had a tragic flaw, it was that he was too prone to disappointment. Perhaps it was because he was so used to everything going his way. He couldn't understand why everything could not always go his way. But no one's life goes exactly the way one wants it to. Life takes no one's orders. And so her husband died of disappointment.

“You really do remember me from Horace Mann,” she says to him for perhaps the dozenth time. “I just can't believe it, Billy.”

“Of course I do.” He is sprawled, naked, across her bed, smoking a cigarette.

“I only subbed, maybe, ten or twelve days, at the most, during the two years when you were there. And yet you remember little old me.”

“Little old you were a pretty memorable teacher. Plus being the most beautiful teacher in the whole damn school.”

“Really?”
She giggles. “Well, that wouldn't have been hard to be—when I think of some of the others.”

“You still are.” His lips curl into a smile. “Beautiful, that is.” He runs a fingertip along the curve of her spine.

“Of course, I didn't have the money then that I have now,” she says. “That was before I married Frank.” She reaches over the side of the bed and picks up the pink Adolfo that was dropped in a heap on the floor, and arranges it, more tidily, across the seat of the slipper chair beside the bed. “What was it we were reading in that last English class I taught? Do you remember? Was it—?”

“
Silas Marner?
”

“Yes! Yes, I actually think it was. I'm positive it was
Silas Marner.
What a memory you have, Billy.”

“You could even make a dud like
Silas Marner
interesting.”

She giggles again. “And you were my star pupil. I could tell you were going to have a brilliant future even then. But I shouldn't have let you seduce me, Billy. I think I had a little bit too much to drink at Carol's party tonight.”

“Aw,
c'mon,
teacher,” he says. “We went out to the elevator together. You mentioned that you lived right downstairs, and had some old Horace Mann yearbooks I might like to look at. The old come-up-and-see-my-etchings routine. You wanted it as bad as I did. So don't give me the I-shouldn't-have-let-you-seduce-me bit, Beryl baby.”

“Well—perhaps I did. But—but I guess it's because you've become such a celebrity. It seems like every time I turn on the television, there you are. I guess I sort of got carried away.”

“What the hell? You wanted it, I wanted it. We both wanted it. So what the hell, teacher baby, what the hell?”

“But I'm just an ordinary little old New York housewife. And you—”

“Me, I'm just an ordinary guy who likes to fuck,” he says.

“It doesn't bother you, does it, that I'm—well, that I'm one or two years older than you?”

“Hell, no! You're not about to get all guilty on me, are you, teacher?”

She hesitates. “I guess not,” she says at last. “But I'm the one who should be calling you ‘teacher,' Billy dear. You've taught me things tonight that I never knew before, Billy.”

He stubs out his cigarette. “Oh? What sort of things?”

“Feelings. Depths of feelings I never knew I was capable of before.”

“Say, that's quite a compliment,” he says.

“I mean it, Billy.”

“You cheat on your husband much?”

She looks away. “Not
too
much,” she says.

“Just now and then, huh?”

“Yes. Especially when—”

“Especially when he's out of town. Right?”

“Now, Billy,” she says. “Don't imply that I'm a—you see, the thing is, Frank trusts me. I couldn't do this if he didn't trust me.”

“Yeah, that's important. That he trusts you.”

“The trouble with Frank is, he's stupid.”

“Look,” he says, rolling over on his side and propping himself on his left elbow. “Why don't you come right out and say so? You like a guy's hot cock pumping into your tight little pussy. And you don't get all that much from old Frank—right?”

“Well, after eleven—no, ten years …”

“You liked my cock, didn't you?”

“Oh, yes …”

“So why not come right out and say so?” He grabs her by the shoulder and kisses her a little roughly. “I believe in being honest, don't you? I believe in honesty.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “Definitely. So do I. And you're one of the most honest men I've ever known.”

He swings his long legs over the side of the bed. “Let me ask you something, while we're on the subject,” he says.

“Okay. Ask me.”

“Do you think Noah Liebling's getting it off with that Melody Richards? His daughter's friend?”

“Oh, no!” she gasps. “That couldn't possibly be. What makes you—?”

“She stays with them a lot, doesn't she?”

“Well, over school vacations, but—”

“Has for several years, right?”

“The last two, maybe three years. But—but what makes you think that anything could possibly be going on between Noah and Melody?”

“I dunno. Intuition, maybe. I'm a very intuitive sort of guy. I sized you up right, didn't I?”

“Oh, yes …”

“The other night, New Year's Eve, when I had dinner with them. There were little looks—little looks that passed between them, across the table. Intimate little looks. I'm very sensitive to that sort of thing, you know. As a writer I have to be.”

“Well, I think you're being a little
overly
sensitive in this case, Billy. Noah is such a—well, such a straight arrow, I guess you'd call him. I know, because—”

“Because why?”

“Because—well, I guess I might as well tell you this, Billy. You see, Noah
is
a terribly attractive man. And a couple of years ago—I guess I'd had a little too much to drink—I made a little kind of a pass at Noah. It wasn't a serious pass. It was just a kidding sort of pass, I was just joking with him, really, just teasing him to see how he'd react. Anyway, he just sort of walked away from me and pretended nothing happened. That's how I know that Noah would never cheat on Carol.”

“Any man who could resist you would have to have a lot of willpower,” he says.

“That's what I mean!” she says, a little too quickly.

“So, where is Miss Melody now?”

“Didn't Carol say she's in New Haven? With some play that's trying out?”

“But there's no play doing tryouts in New Haven now. I know, because I go to school in New Haven. At least I go to classes when I feel like it.”

“You're sure there's no play there?”

“Positive. The Shubert's down the street from where I live. It's empty.”

“That does seem strange. Why would she lie?”

“Exactly. And she left the same day Noah did. Funny coincidence, don't you think?”

“No, not really. It just—”

“And why did she leave the building through the basement service door, out through the back alley?”

“She
did?”

“I run a lot in this neighborhood. Monday afternoon I happened to be turning the corner from First Avenue into Fifty-third Street, and I saw Miss Melody coming out of the alley, hurrying, carrying a suitcase. She looked as though she was sneaking away. Escaping, didn't want to be seen. I stepped into a doorway so she wouldn't see me. But she practically ran to Fifty-second and flagged an eastbound taxi.”

“Well, I can't explain that unless—oh, my God!”

He lights another cigarette. “Unless what?” he says.

“I just remembered something! I was talking to Frank on the phone Monday night, and he said he'd seen somebody who looked just like Melody in the lobby of that hotel they're staying at, in Atlantic City. But when he mentioned it to Noah, Noah got—well, got all sort of
squirrelly
about it. Do you think—?”

“Of course. It's obvious they're shacking up there together.”

“Oh, my God! I've got to tell Carol! Carol is my best friend! I've got to tell Carol
now
!” She reaches for the phone.

“Now, wait a minute,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let's think this thing through. Let's not go off half-cocked.”

“But, my God, this is
awful
! The girl is—that girl is Anne's age—even younger!”

“That's right. It's what's called contributing—”

“To the delinquency of a
minor
! Oh, God … oh, God …”

“Male menopause. Male midlife crisis. It happens to a lot of men Noah's age. They can't help it. But that little girl knows what
she's
doing. I can tell that little tramp's been around the block more than once.”

“Oh, and Carol is always going on about what a
sweet
child Melody is. And, all along,
this
has been going on. Poor Carol! I really think one of us has got to tell Carol about this
at once!
”

“No, wait,” he says. “I think we've got to be a little more subtle about this. A little more—artistic.”

“Before this goes any further?”

“Ideally, from an artistic standpoint, Carol should be the last person to find out about it. And she should find out about it from a totally unexpected source. Not from someone obvious, like you or me. Georgette Van Degan?”

“Georgette Van Degan? Why her? Why should we tell her? I hardly know her. I just met her for the first time this afternoon.”

“This coming-out party she's planning for Anne and her daughter. This might make her change her mind about that.”

“And ruin little Anne's coming-out party? That doesn't sound very nice, Billy.”

He steeples his fingers. “I'm thinking of the big picture,” he says. “The artistic picture. It's my creative juices working. I'm thinking of what will make the best
story.
Carol doesn't sound too keen on the whole coming-out party idea. If Georgette pulled out, that would give Carol an excuse to pull out, too. In the long run, you'd be doing Carol a big favor. I'm just thinking out loud. I admit it's not perfect, but it might be worth a try.”

“But
I'm
thinking of giving Carol a chance to slap a separate-maintenance suit on Noah Liebling so fast he won't know what hit him! That's the kind of favor
I'd
like to do for her. There's a lot of money there, you know. Not just him, perhaps, but his mother. Carol could come out of this a very rich woman.”

He winks at her. “Think she'd split it with you?”

“Why, Billy, I never thought of that. Do you think I should ask her?”

“Only kidding,” he says. “You see, the one I'm trying to nail is Melody. That little tramp needs to be knocked down a peg or two.”

She giggles. “Or knocked
up? That
would teach Noah a lesson, wouldn't it?”

“No, she's too clever to let that happen.”

“But the one I'd like to nail is
Noah.
One little peck on the cheek was all I gave him. And he pulled away from me as though I'd made a major pass. I was—
insulted,
is what I was!”

“Of course you were, Beryl baby.”

“Carol should never have married Noah in the first place. Her mother told her so. She told me her mother had an absolute fit when she married Noah!”