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“You spent—” A gleam had come into the publisher’s eyes. “Where is the press room, please? I should like to a
There weren’t any reporters, whatever his position was. The police had issued no statement except that u
“I’m sorry — but I’ve quite made up my mind. The public must be informed. This girl is i
“Thank you, Ernest,” Fern told him.
“You poor girl, not at all. I can only hope you’ll learn to forgive me for having permitted myself any doubt—”
She dismissed his chagrin with a gesture, and he turned to motion one of his lawyers to the door. “Phone them,” he said. “All the local papers, the wire services. Yes, don’t forget the wire services—”
Bra
“You’ll make arrangements for her release now, naturally? The entire situation is unthinkable, subjecting one of our most talented writers to this indignity—”
Bra
“Well, I certainly shall, if this is to be your attitude.” The publisher waved off another member of his portable bar association to wake up a judge or two. “Call Learned,” he said.
“This man Fa
“Marlon who?” a reporter said.
They tried to corner me when he’d run dry, but Du
I was hunting for a drinking fountain up a flight when I ran into Ephraim. The police no longer had any interest in him and he was on his way out, looking whipped. He’d put on a suit before he’d turned himself in, cheap cord off the basement racks in a lower-grade shop and far from new. Tin sorry I tried to hit you last night,” he said clumsily.
“Forget it. Poets are out of my league anyhow.”
He didn’t smile. “Fern did it — there’s no question?”
“A question of proof.”
“Will they prove it?”
“If they don’t come up with anything besides my version they’ll never get into court to try.”
“What happens then?”
I nodded toward the street. “Cocktails with the bookish set. A week from now she’ll be telling Katherine A
That made twice he didn’t smile, but I decided it wasn’t particularly hilarious. “She won’t go to any cocktail parties,” he said.
I looked at him with care. “If that means you know something, now’s the time to spill it, Ephraim.”
The expression on his face was reflective, gloomy, without much meaning. “I don’t know anything,” he said.
He scuffed away, plunging his hands into his pockets. I scowled after him, then got my drink and went back downstairs myself.
The conference had broken up and they were letting the publisher play in the schoolyard again, which could only mean one thing. Nothing had developed which had given me any reason not to expect it. He was chatting with Du
“Fern, I’ll escort you home—”
She was coming out from the rear with Vasella. “Thank you again, Ernest, sincerely. You’ve been great—”
“Nothing, nothing—”
“Are there martinis tomorrow, did you say—?”
“Everyone will be there — J. D., E. B., W H., E. E.—”
They went by arm in arm, clucking, like a couple of celibate hens who’d just got word about the new rooster. I was a handful of yesterday’s feed they didn’t glance at in passing.
She had a second thought when she reached the head of the steps. She stopped, said something to the publisher, and then came back.
“I really must say thanks, Harry, since its worked out so beautifully.” She was cooing. “After all, it was you who put the idea into my head. A mock confession to three murders I didn’t commit — perfectly safe, and probably the greatest publicity idea in the history of literature.”
“God almighty—”
“You don’t think it’s possible, do you? In spite of how ripe you were?” She laughed. “Oh, Harry, if you could only have seen the outrage in your face — you were so shocked you even gave these people a more convincing story than I gave you. Ah, well, not that it matters what you believe, not that it matters in the least—”
Bulbs began to flash in the stairwell. A nerve was jumping in my cheek as I watched her walk out of there.
CHAPTER 31
I didn’t tell them. I didn’t say a word. Vasella had gone into the interrogation room, and he and Bra
The Chevy was on Hudson Street. I sat in it for a while, mumbling.
She’d made up the whole story. That was all I would have needed to mention. Pardon me, fellas, tee-hee-hee, but now she says she was just playing. So she could sell her book, you know? You know? I’m really sorry if I’ve put anybody to any trouble…
The girl was as nutty as a two-headed gnu.
Even thinking about it was absurd. There wasn’t anyone else in it. I could run it up and down the flagpole all day, she’d still be the only one to salute.
Okay, Ebenezer. But what have you got to show proof-wise, like?
Let the cops prove it. Me, I’d had enough. I was going back to sleep like the captain said.
Sure I was. So I drove up Hudson two blocks and then parked again. The image in my rear-view mirror was leering at me. I leered back.
This was ridiculous. She did it.
The image kept on leering. It was a dark, amorphous blur, like an inkblot. What do you think you see in the blot, Mr. Fa
Fern killed them.
Of course she did. There, now, that’s a good lad. Tell me, when did you first start to get this sensation that people were taunting you? Do you often feel inadequate, left out? Do you find total strangers smirking behind their hands when you walk into a room?
She did it, damn it.
It was 4:19 when I parked in front of a hydrant four doors down from her building. There was a faint mist from the river. The angle was bad, but I could see the glow of a lamp behind her blinds. She probably had a wax statuette of somebody named Harry up there and was huddled over it in a trance, jabbing it with long sharp pins.