Terms of Endearment (46 page)

From wanting Royce to suffer, Mitch had very quickly come around to not wanting Royce to die.

“I kilt Dunlup,” he said, panting. The statement got him the immediate attention of everyone in the bar. Hubert Junior, used to emergencies, picked up the phone at once and gave the ambulance driver he knew best precise instructions as to where to go. Then he scooped the money out of his cash register in case a robber came wandering in while he was gone. In a matter of seconds he and everyone else in the bar were racing down the street toward Shirley’s house, leaving Mitch sitting at a table, aghast and weak, trying to think of how he could begin his story when the police came.

So efficient was Hubert Junior that the police, the ambulance, and all the former customers of the Tired-Out Lounge arrived at Shirley’s house almost at once. “Is anybody in there armed?” a young policeman asked.

“Naw, it’s just an attempted murder,” Hurbert Junior said. Two policemen got up their nerve and opened the door. They weren’t convinced it was safe, but the crowd at their back gave them little choice. At the sight of so many people Barstow yelped once and scuttled into the bedroom to hide under the bed. He had never been much of a watchdog.

When the crowd pressed into the bedroom they were given a choice of two sights: a large man lying unconscious on a bed, a
machete sticking out of his chest or a large woman sitting naked on the floor. Shirley in her shock had been too weak to try to dress. She sat by the bed in a kind of stupor waiting for Royce to finish dying; the next thing she knew twenty men were in, the bedroom.

“Ma’am, we’re the police,” the young officer said, taking off his hat.

“This is terrible. We wasn’t doin’ a thang,” Shirley said. Then she remembered her nakedness and hurriedly got to her feet and scrambled through the men to the bathroom, holding a brassiere in front of her. Everyone watched silently, aware that they were witnessing the real thing: a crime of passion, naked woman, dying man. Only almost immediately the sight of Royce began to act on their unsteady stomachs. Several rushed to the porch to begin puking. Only the ambulance drivers were blasé. They set about getting Royce on a stretcher, and soon the ambulance raced away. Several of the men stayed around to comfort Shirley, who had come out of her faint and said several times that she wished she was dead. Hubert Junior got in the police car and took the officers back to his bar to get Mitch. He was sitting at a table shaking when they walked in.

“What happened?” he asked. “Did Royce die?”

“They don’t know if he’s critical,” Hubert Junior said gently. An air of solemnity settled over the bar as the officer led Mitch away.

“Pore bastard,” one of the men said. “Ruint his life over a woman.”

It was their theme—their only theme—and as the patrons began to stumble in they began to worry it, to tell one another for the first time the story, as they variously fancied it, of Royce Dunlup’s tragedy—a story they would embellish for many a year.

2.

A
URORA RECEIVED
the call at three
A.M
. When the phone rang she assumed it was Emma about to go be delivered of her child. But the voice wasn’t Emma’s.

“Ma’am, sorry to wake you up,” the officer said. “Would you know the whereabouts of Mrs. Rosalyn Dunlup? We understand she works for you.”

“Yes of course. What’s she done?” Aurora said. The General was beside her, and she began nudging him to wake up.

“It ain’t her, it’s her husband,” the officer said. “It ain’t delicate, ma’am, it ain’t delicate.”

“It isn’t delicate for you to keep me in suspense at three in the morning either,” Aurora said. “Just tell me.”

“Well, he was stabbed, ma’am,” the officer said. “I just about upchuck every time I think about it. It was a case of jealousy, we believe.”

“I see,” Aurora said. “I’ll contact Mrs. Dunlup at once. She’s not in town, but I’ll get her here as soon as I can.”

“He’s at Ben Taub,” the officer said. “The criminal’s done confessed, so there ain’t nobody to catch. The doctors just think Mr. Dunlup will do better if he’s got his wife beside him.”

“I quite agree,” Aurora said, nudging the General again.

The General opened his eyes, but then he shut them again. It took her several minutes to get him awake, and then he got angry.

“Your servants are nothing but trouble,” he said. “F.V.’s never cost me an hour’s sleep.”

Aurora was pacing the floor, trying to decide how best to proceed. “Hector, must you really cite F.V. to me at this hour of the night?” she said.

She dressed in silence. Annoying as it was, it was clearly an occasion that would require her to be respectable, so she made herself respectable The General lay in the bed and yawned. When she was dressed Aurora sat down on the bed and waited,
hoping he would have a suggestion—any suggestion would have been helpful.

“Well, it’s damned inconvenient,” he said. “I’m sure Rosie’s asleep. What was the damn fool doing?”

Aurora looked at him unhappily. “Hector, you were a general,” she said. “Why can’t you ever act like one when I need it? What I need is someone to help me think of a way to get Rosie back here quick.”

“She’s unstable,” the General said. “If there was ever a time when she needed to be here it’s now, and where is she? I don’t know why you keep her on.” He got up and marched into the bathroom.

When she heard him urinating she got up and followed him. “We aren’t married, Hector,” she said. “You are not exempt from the practice of ordinary good manners.”

“What?” he said, but Aurora slammed the door and took the telephone to her window nook. She had secured a phone number from Rosie’s sister and called it. After many rings Rosie answered the phone.

“Sad news, dear,” Aurora said. “Royce has gotten himself hurt. I don’t know the details, but it’s somewhat serious. You’ll have to come back at once.”

Rosie was silent. “My lord,” she said. “Somebody probably shot him over that slut.”

“No, they used a knife, not a gun,” Aurora said. “Is somebody there who can drive you back?”

“Naw,” Rosie said. “June’s boy’s taken off in the car. I could take a bus back, come morning. Maybe even a plane.”

“Wait,” Aurora said, remembering someone she had been trying to remember since the time the policeman called. “I just thought of Vernon. He’s got planes and pilots. I heard him say so. I’ll call him at once.”

She hung up. The general strode out of the bathroom. In pajamas he looked quite skinny, his calves particularly. “Who are you calling?” he asked.

Aurora got a busy signal, which filled her with relief. At least he was there. She didn’t answer the General.

“I might get a military plane in the morning,” the General said.

Aurora got another busy signal. She dialed Rosie again. “I shall have to go down there,” she said. “He might be on his phone for hours. You pack and I’ll call you as soon as I’ve arranged something.”

“It’s that oil man,” the General said. “You really love
him.
I knew it anyway.”

Aurora shook her head. “Nothing of the sort, sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “I just happen to trust his judgment in emergencies. I would be happy to trust yours, but you don’t seem to have a judgment, except that F.V. is a better servant than Rosie.”

The General looked around with a show of brusqueness. “I’ll get dressed and go with you,” he said.

“No,” Aurora said. “You get back in that bed and go to sleep. It will be time for your run in two hours. This is no proper concern of yours and there’s no reason you should disrupt your daily schedule. I’ll be back afterwhile, as soon as I’ve gotten Rosie set.”

The General looked at her. She was hastily brushing her hair. “I can go on and sleep here?” he asked just to be sure.

“Why not?” she said. “Where were you thinking of sleeping?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know what you mean half the goddamn time. I don’t see why you need that goddamn little oil man, though. I kind of like the old Italian.”

“He’s younger than you,” Aurora said. “Vernon happens to own planes, Hector. I’m trying to get Rosie here, not reshuffle my very unromantic romantic life. If you’re too thick-skulled to see that, then perhaps I better reshuffle it.”

With that she stuffed her hairbrush into her purse and left, leaving the General to climb back into an empty bed, wondering, as he often did, what was going to happen. What was going to happen?

3.

A
URORA DROVE
her Cadillac through the almost empty streets until she came to the parking garage that Vernon had said was his. She turned in, punched a button, and received a green ticket. She began to drive slowly up the winding ramps, looking down now and then at Houston, orangeish under its lights.

When she got to the fourth floor she was startled to see a tall, gaunt old man step out of a door and hold his hand up at her. She felt a flutter of fear and contemplated trying to back down, but she knew very well she couldn’t back down four floors without having several smashups. Better to hold her ground. The man walked toward her and she watched him closely. He was trampy-looking and had shaggy hair and was large enough to have made an excellent assailant, but somehow he looked more like a night watchman. He stopped and looked at her for a considerable time, and then made a rolling motion with his hand. He wanted her to roll her window down. After a moment she rolled it down halfway. The old man made a rolling motion again. Aurora looked at him and decided he was older than she had thought. She rolled the window the rest of the way down.

“Howdy,” the old man said. “I’m Schweppes. My guess is you’re the widow from Boston, Mass.”

“Ha,” Aurora said. “He talks about me, does he?”

The old man put his long hands on the door of the car. “He did before you cut his water off,” he said.

“Yes, I’m Aurora Greenway,” she said. “Is he around?”

“Yep, up on the roof, making them phone calls,” Schweppes said. “Gonna marry him this time?”

Aurora shook her head. “Why does everyone think I ought to be married?” she asked.

Old Schweppes looked embarrassed and took his hands off the door. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Go right on up.”

She drove on, upward and upward, until the fear of height began to assert itself, after which she concentrated on the curving
ramp in front of her. When she finally came off the ramp on top of the building, there was so much space around her that she gripped the steering wheel tightly. Sure enough, Vernon’s white Lincoln was parked near one edge of the building. Aurora drove slowly across the roof. She could see Vernon quite plainly. His car door was open and he held a phone to his ear. When he heard her approach he looked around in amazement. Aurora stopped, set her brake, and got out. Once out of the car, the roof was no longer so frightening. The air was familiarly heavy and moist, and there was no breeze.

Vernon got out of his car and stood by it, clearly amazed, as Aurora walked toward him. His shirt and gabardines were fresh, she noted.

“There you are, Vernon,” Aurora said, holding out her hand. “Guess what?”

Vernon, not sure whether he should first answer the question or first shake the hand, awkwardly shook the hand. “My lord, what?” he asked.

“I need a little help, old friend,” Aurora said, amused.

Two minutes later Vernon was on the phone to his man in Shreveport, and Aurora had settled herself comfortably in the front seat of the Lincoln to wait her turn to call Rosie and tell her where she would be picked up.

CHAPTER XIX

1.

V
ERNON, AS
usual, was a model of helpfulness and efficiency. Within ten minutes he had arranged for a company man to pick up Rosie and take her to the airport, where a company plane would be waiting to bring her to Houston. In two hours she would be there, which meant that all Vernon had to worry about was what to do with Aurora for two hours. Once the plane had been arranged she no longer seemed in a crisis mood at all.

“It’s too bad you got rid of me so quickly, Vernon,” she said, examining the numerous gadgets she found in the Lincoln. “I scarcely got time to play with your gadgets, and I’m sure you have a lot more that I don’t know about.”

Vernon tried to remember what he had done to make her think he had got rid of her, but he couldn’t remember a thing.

Aurora found indeed that she was feeling extraordinarily good, for some reason. “I don’t see why we don’t take a walk on this roof, since it’s yours,” she said, and they did.

“You know, it feels quite wonderful to be out of my house,” she said. It had just begun to seem faintly morninglike, and the night clouds were breaking.

“Of course, being away from home has always made me feel quite gay,” she added. “I believe I’m a born gadabout. One of my problems is that I frequently need a change. Are you that way, Vernon?”

“I don’t guess,” Vernon said. “I pretty much go along the same.”

It amused her so much that she gave him a quick shake, to his puzzlement. “I’m irresistibly drawn to shake you, Vernon,” she said. “Particularly in my rare moments of buoyancy. You’re a little too useful, that’s all. If you were more erratic someone would probably take a few pains with you. As it is I have plenty of people to take pains with, and some of them are adept at giving pains back.”

“We could have breakfast,” Vernon said.

“I accept,” Aurora said, getting into the Lincoln at once.

“Why it’s a little like driving in Switzerland,” she said as Vernon expertly swirled them down twenty-four stories to the street.

“The place I’m taking you to ain’t noplace fancy,” he said, turning in the direction of the Silver Slipper.

“Good, we’ll slum together,” Aurora said. “Perhaps we should have regular breakfasts together, fortnightly perhaps. Being taken to breakfast is my idea of romance, you know. Very few people have been willing to entertain the thought of me at the breakfast hour, I can tell you that.”

“It’s called the Silver Slipper,” Vernon said when he parked outside the cafe. The pink stucco walls were beginning to peel, which he hadn’t noticed before. In fact, he hadn’t noticed how generally ugly and seedy the whole area was. Debris from a nearby drive-in littered the white shale parking area—smashed beer cans and old french fries and paper cups were plentiful.