Catch-As-Catch-Can Page 3

  Dee sighed and stepped to the house door, and there was Laila. “Clive’s coming up. He wants you to lend him some more money.” Dee watched her cousin.

  “Oh, does he need it?” said Laila.

  “He always needs it. Sweetie, you shouldn’t do it.”

  “Shouldn’t I?” Dee saw the look of obedience, of reverence, and she wished it were not worn for her, either.

  “Think about it,” she urged. “You’ve loaned him a lot already and he hasn’t even tried to pay it back. You’d be giving it to him, sweetie.”

  “But shouldn’t I, Dee?”

  “It … just isn’t very good for him.” Dee suddenly gave it up. “Never mind. You do what you want,” she said gently. “Look, sweetie, we may not get to go to the beach, after all. Poor Mrs. Vaughn is quite ill, I guess.”

  “I know,” said Laila. “I’m so sorry. But Dr. John sent me away from her. He sent Pearl away, Dee. Pearl could have helped her.”

  The girl’s eyes, so full of trust, were asking Dee to explain and how could Dee explain? How could she tell her that Pearl Dean had seceded from the common experience of western man and was, instead, a healer on some mystical basis invented by herself. Dee had tried to keep an open mind. She knew many earnest people were looking for clues in some odd but not necessarily unfruitful directions. But Pearl Dean repudiated all these, too. The monstrous egoism was repelling.

  Now, she said gently, “Do you think so, Laila?” For how could she explain?

  “But Dee, of course. She helps everyone. She helps me.”

  “Sweetie, you never feel ill, do you?”

  “No, never,” said Laila, rising on her toes as if she would leave the earth and fly. “I feel wonderful, always. Pearl does, too. It is easy to be well, Dee.”

  “But if you ever feel—not altogether well, you must tell me, sweetie. Or tell Dr. John.”

  The girl’s eyes flashed. It was a look of fear.

  Dee said, “You know, Jonas wanted Dr. John and me to take care of you.”

  “You’ll take care of me, Dee,” said Laila, “until I understand better.” Her eyes were clear as spring water dyed leaf-brown.

  “Of course,” Dee hugged her shoulders. “I must talk to the doctor. Maybe we can go. I’ll see.”

  “I hope we can go,” said Laila. “Where is Andrew? Oh, I do love—” her breath caught, “to be at the beach, Dee.”

  “I know you do,” said Dee.

  She turned away. She knew Laila went flying across the dim sitting room to the glass doors and out to the patio, the one open and airy spot, saved from the encroachment of greenery by having been firmly paved long ago. Dee thought, she could have a swimming pool out there where Mrs. Vaughn’s vegetable patch is going to seed. There’s plenty of money. I must see about it. I must get her away from that Pearl. The tutor must come soon. I sound like her grandmother.

  She came into the kitchen. From the high windows that overlooked the patio, she could see Andy standing with his hands in his blue denim pockets staring down at the broken fountain. She saw Laila whirl gracefully to sit on the tiled rim and look up with adoration into his face.

  Dee opened her clenched hands. She thought, well if he loves her, why, then, he does.

  Dr. Stirling had the refrigerator open and was rooting around inside of it.

  “Dee,” he said sharply. “Come here.”

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “What have you eaten out of this lot?”

  Startled, she moved to look past his shoulder. “Eaten of, you mean? Not much. The ham was last night’s dinner. Lettuce, of course. Butter.”

  “This, too?” He was peering at a glass-covered dish.

  “No, we had spinach with the ham, of course. It’s a law.”

  “Lunch here today, Dee?” His voice was muffled. He didn’t respond to her little joke.

  “Not I,” she said. “I was shopping. Andy picked me up and we had a bite, just now.”

  He grunted. “Call Lorraine a minute, will you?”

  When Lorraine came he had the glass dish on the sink and the cover off. “Lorraine, did you eat any of this stuff? Salad, isn’t it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “When was it made?”

  “Yesterday, I believe, sir. Mrs. Vaughn must have made it yesterday noon.”

  “And she ate of it then?” Dr. Stirling asked questions for the sake of getting the answers. He had a buzz in his voice and was as concentrated and tactless as a bee.

  “I guess she did,” said Lorraine, sounding frightened and defensive. “I was off for the afternoon. I wasn’t here.”

  “What is it, Dr. John?” Dee felt frightened, too. “What ails her?”

  “I’m guessing,” he buzzed, “but I’m guessing good, Dee, and I don’t like what I’m guessing. Um. Who else ate of this stuff? That chauffeur fellow, your husband?”

  Lorraine said, “Oh no, I don’t think so, sir. He was off with me yesterday and anyhow, he won’t touch a cold salad. Never would.”

  The doctor’s rough gray head came up sharply. “How about Laila? Did she eat any of this?”

  “Not yesterday,” said Dee quickly, “because she went with me to the tennis matches. We lunched near there.”

  “What about today?”

  Lorraine said, quavering, “I don’t know, sir. Miss Dean came and took her away about eleven thirty, it was.”

  “That’s right,” Dee said, her blood tingling with relief. “They lunched together. She told me.”

  “Out? In a restaurant? Not here?”

  “Not here,” said Lorraine, “because Mrs. Vaughn was sick and I never did make any lunch today. I haven’t even had any.”

  The doctor grunted. “Lucky for you, you haven’t. So. Nobody ate of this but Mrs. Vaughn herself. Umhum.”

  “You think there is something wrong with it, Dr. John?”

  “I sure do, Dee. String-bean salad. Now, I’ll bet,” the doctor raised again his tousled head, “these beans came from a can.”

  “No sir. From a glass jar,” said Lorraine shakily.

  “Home canned?” he pounced.

  “Mrs. Vaughn canned them. Yes, sir. Out of her garden. She’s canned lots of stuff. It was kind of her hobby while the house was closed.”

  The doctor fixed her with a stern eye. “And she took the cold beans out of the jar and put the salad dressing on them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She didn’t boil them?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. I’ve seen her do that. What you said.”

  “May not be conclusive.” said the doctor, “but it’s good enough for me to go on. All right,” he snapped. “Where do you keep that canned stuff?”

  “In the cellar.”

  “Locked?”

  “Yes, it’s locked, sir.”

  “Make sure it’s locked now, and bring me the key.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lorraine went dithering away.

  “Can’t have the whole lot of you poisoned,” the doctor said.

  “Poisoned! The whole cellar! Dr. John, what do you mean?”

  “I mean Bacillus botulinus and that’s a cute little poison, believe me.”

  Dee heard a soft whistle and turned. Andy was standing, alone, in the pantry door, with his face sober.

  The doctor was hunting the kitchen drawers. “Wrapping paper,” he demanded. “Hello, Talbot.”

  Dee moved to show him where the wrapping paper was. Fragments of knowledge were coming into her mind. She heard Andy say, as if he knew, “That’s bad, eh?”

  “How bad is it?” she asked quietly.

  The doctor shot a sharp look at her. “You should never …” he began in his exasperated rasp. “Well, the old lady didn’t know, or if she knew, she forgot. But she ought to have known. Even if the toxin forms, you can kill it by six minutes of boiling. Looks like she didn’t do that. All I can say, it’s lucky the whole household wasn’t bowled over.”

  “Dr. John,” said Dee forcefully, “you’d better te
ll me. Do people die?”

  He said, “Yes, people die.”

  “Oh!” It was Lorraine, who cried out, sharply. She put the key on the sink and cried. “Sidney! He’s at the garage, getting the car fixed! I don’t know the name of it! Oh, Miss Dee, I got to go there! I got to see if he’s all right.”

  “Of course you do,” said Dee quickly.

  “Now, now,” said the doctor briskly, “They don’t always die.” But Lorraine had gone, stumbling out the back way.

  Andy was saying, “Isn’t there such a thing as an antitoxin?”

  And Stirling answered, “Yes, there is. But the trouble with that is, by the time you can diagnose this stuff, it’s too late. Still … one thing and another … we can try. Depends on how much she got. Listen, hear it?”

  “Ambulance,” said Andy.

  “Dee, see if the old lady’s ready.”

  “Where’s Laila?” Dee turned her head to look back.

  Andy said, “Laila’s upstairs. Better she stays there.” She felt her heart buckle, as if it would soon break, so sad and so tender was his voice upon her cousin’s name.

  CHAPTER 4

  When the bustle was over, the stricken housekeeper had been carried off to Dr. Stirling’s hospital, and the doctor gone, too, after many warnings, but with the bean salad wrapped beside him on the seat of his car, then Dee sat down.

  She sat on the stairs. The hall clock said one thirty-five. The sun was blazing on the sand, somewhere.

  Dee was thinking. Ignorance. Poor old Mrs. Vaughn may have destroyed herself, in ignorance. How could Dee keep her little ignorant cousin safe? Pearl was right! Laila was in danger! Traffic. That alone! And electricity. Not to touch with a wet hand. Fuses and all of that. And gas. Carbon monoxide. And all the drugs and poisons blithely used. How teach her about the daily dangers so close and familiar that they are avoided without thought?

  She said aloud, “How can I even tell her what happened to Mrs. Vaughn?”

  “Laila?” said Andy. He was standing there at the newel post looking past her up the stairs.

  “It’s going to sound to her like magic sounds to me.” Dee thought of whole generations of experiment, study, and slow gain that lay behind the doctor’s diagnosis.

  “Tell her it was an evil spirit in the beans,” said Andy grimly. “Will you want to go down to the hospital?”

  “Yes, I think I—”

  “Ought,” he finished. But he touched her shoulder. “Dee, don’t be so upset. The poor old soul could have done this any day in the last twenty years.”

  “Andy, where is Laila? Did she go up to change?”

  He hesitated, so long that Dee looked up at him.

  “She … wouldn’t be going to the beach with us,” he said at last.

  “Why not?”

  He sat down on the carpet-covered stairs beside her.

  “Matter of fact, I took the opportunity. I warned you, Dee.”

  “You … warned me!”

  “I pointed out a few things to Laila. I told her, for one thing, how much you were giving up to stay here and take care of her.”

  Dee had the feeling that sometimes comes to a redhead, of bursting into flames at the top.

  “And I told her, further, that since I am engaged to you,” said Andy bleakly, “she had better put out of her head any tender thoughts. I told her … they were getting to be a nuisance to both of us.”

  “Oh Andy.…” Dee’s anger broke into dismay.

  His face was stubborn. “Dee, we were getting all snarled up in a pretty uncomfortable state of affairs. Now you’re thinking how cruel I was. You’re wrong, Dee. It took a little nerve.…”

  “To break her heart! I should think it might.”

  “She’s too young to have her heart broken,” he said with that bleak expression. “Be more like a greenstick fractura I was as gentle as I could be.”

  Dee said slowly, “You did what you thought was best and it’s a free country.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You were wrong!” Dee blazed.

  He leaned away from her … more than his body withdrew. He looked at her from afar. “How so?” he asked remotely.

  “Do you think I’m going to take advantage of a … a promise? Do you think I’m going to marry a man about half in love with another girl?”

  “All right, Dee,” he said, helplessly.

  “You don’t deny it?”

  “No, I don’t deny it.” His eyes were honest. “I was trying.…”

  “Don’t try.” She stripped his ring from her finger and his hand came up and received it. He started to speak but she went right on. “You can’t pretend. You can’t start your life on a … a noble resolution. Andy, let me tell you something. Maybe you don’t think I know. I look pretty startling. You say I blind. All right. I know that I’ve had to cope with it all my life. Because my hair’s so red, my eyes so blue. I’ve got good legs and my nose is straight. People are startled. Up ’til now I’ve always made a discount for that. But I fell in love with you and so I forgot. But it’s possible, now that you’re used to the razzledazzle, you don’t even like me. I’m no teacher. I’m too stubborn to be taught. Maybe there’s not the attraction you expected. All right. You think better of it I told you it’s a free country.”

  “Dee,” he said, “don’t.…”

  “You said,” she went on passionately, “you wouldn’t marry me until this weird triangle was broken. Well, you can’t break it by a resolution or an act of will. And I don’t … want it that way.”

  “All right, Dee,” he said, again. “Now I think it’s best if I disappear.” He stood up. “I agree. I was wrong.”

  She gave him a look, wild with dismay.

  “And I’ll take the consequence,” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me what you planned to do? You didn’t break the impasse. You broke something else. I was her friend. She knew she could count on me. Now she won’t dare feel the same. You’ve made her feel guilty about me. You had no business.…”

  “She’ll have to learn to think sometime,” he muttered. “She can’t run forever on ignorance and feeling.”

  Dee covered her face.

  There were rapid footsteps below and behind them. The pantry door was slapped open. Lorraine came rushing along. Her husband, Sidney Dickett, loomed behind her.

  “Are you all right, Sidney?” said Dee at once. She pulled herself to her feet and leaned over the bannister.

  Lorraine was gasping for breath and could not find enough to speak but the man spoke. He was a bulky, a shambling man. Now his voice was incisive with alarm. “Lorraine says we got to tell you right away. I saw Miss Laila eating that stuff this morning.”

  “You … did?” Dee’s hands on the bannister were cold.

  “Yeah. I went through the kitchen about eleven o’clock on my way to take the car down and she was standing by the sink and she had a plate of it and bread and butter.”

  “Are you … sure?”

  “Bean salad,” Sidney said. “It looked terrible. Beans and goop. It musta been the same stuff.”

  “I suppose it must have been.” A frightened note was creeping into Dee’s voice.

  “Wait a minute,” said Andy quickly. “Watch out, now, Dee. Be careful. Laila won’t understand it, you know. We’ll have to get her to the hospital, I suppose, where Stirling can handle her.”

  “She’s never been there,” Dee murmured, “but once, the day Jonas died. She won’t go any more.”

  “She’s afraid?” Andy was alert. His hands gripped her shoulders. The stormy passage between them was forgotten.

  “Yes, she’s afraid,” Dee said.

  “Influence of La Pearl?”

  “And Jonas, too. Jonas got into the hands of some quack once.” Why are we standing here chattering, Dee thought.

  “Shall I call Stirling, Dee?” Andy was speaking firmly and quietly.

  Dee looked around. “I will. I will. Lorraine, you go up and just … just be with her. Don’t
say anything until I come. Just see if she’s all right. Tell her about Mrs. Vaughn some … comforting way.” The big woman nodded. There was no panic, only the strong sense of a need to act.

  “I haven’t got the car,” Sidney said. “It’s up on blocks.”

  “I’ve got mine,” said Andy.

  Dee was at the phone.

  “When did she eat it and how much?” There as no change whatsoever in the quality of Dr. Stirling’s rasp.

  “This morning about eleven o’clock. I don’t know how much. Sidney saw her. I suppose Lorraine was with Mrs. Vaughn and she was hungry.…”

  “Take it easy, Dee. Remember I told you there is an antitoxin. Now this is what will happen.” He was so matter-of-fact that Dee’s hands began to relax. “We’ll get hold of that. The symptoms of this damn stuff don’t show up at all for from sixteen to thirty-six hours. D’you see? Now, if in that time we shoot the antitoxin to her, it’ll be easy. So don’t worry. Darn lucky for Laila we know what she got and know it so early. There’s time, Dee. Now you just run her right down here, and everything’s going to be O.K.”

  “You’ve got something that will s—stop it? You really have!”

  “Certainly. So take it easy, mind, and get her down here.”

  “We will. We will.”

  “What does he say?” Andy demanded.

  Dee told him.

  “Then so long as she gets the antitoxin before too many hours, she’s not in danger at all?”

  “That’s what he says!”

  “Well, thank God,” said Andy reverently. “Ain’t science wonderful!” A weak smile went between them.

  “She isn’t there,” said Lorraine.

  Lorraine was halfway down the stairs.

  “She isn’t there?” Dee said stupidly. “She must have come down, then.”

  “Look out on the patio,” said Andy. “Maybe the library.…” He hurried across the rugs.

  Sidney said, “Not there.”

  “Did you look in my room, Lorraine?” Dee began to run upstairs.

  “Everywhere upstairs, Miss Dee. She’s not up there.”

  Sidney ran outdoors to thrash about in the jungle of the grounds. Dee turned on the stairs. Her body wanted to run very fast, somewhere. But her mind put the brakes on, asking where she must run. In that suspension she looked down and saw that Andy had come back. The skin of his face was an odd color.