The Open Curtain (30 page)

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice behind him.

He turned and saw there, behind him, his half-brother.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can handle it.”

“Please,” said Lael. “You overestimate yourself. Don’t you want me to come along?”

He stayed a long moment looking at Lael. The doorbell rang again. “All right,” he said, “come if you want.”

He turned and without looking behind him to see if Lael followed, he continued to the bottom of the stairs. What had been the name the man on the street had called him? Rudd? Would that work here as well?

The doorbell rang again before he reached the door. He opened it, looked out.

On the steps was an older woman, her hair carefully cut and streaked, trying to look younger than she really was. She had a suitcase to either side of her.

“Well?” she said.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You must be Rudd,” she said. “You’re filthy.”

“Hooper,” he started to say, then corrected himself, stopped. Behind him he heard his half-brother’s voice. “Tell her you’ve been working on the car,” Lael said.

“I’ve been working on the car,” he said.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “But the car’s right here,” she said, pointing to the driveway. “And the hood’s down.”

“Right,” he said. “Just finished.”

“I suppose your beard grew while you were fixing the car as well, eh? Cleanliness, not beardliness, is next to Godliness,” she said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Invite you in?” he asked. “But who are you?”

“This is bad, Rudd,” said Lael, behind him.

“I’m Lyndi’s aunt, silly,” she said. “Here to meet the new in-law. You.”

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked.

“I did,” said the aunt. “I called and called. Nobody ever answered. So I just came.”

“Invite her in,” said Lael. “Then kill her.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Rudd, half-turning to Lael, trying to see him there behind him.

“No,” said Lael.

“No,” said Lyndi’s aunt. “Maybe there’s something wrong with your phone? Where’s Lyndi? And what’s that post-it on your shirt? ‘Hopper.’ What does that mean?”

“Invite her in,” Lael said.

“Lyndi’s not here,” said Rudd.

The aunt shrugged. “I can wait,” she said, and took a step toward the door. Rudd quickly closed it further, peered at her through the crack.

“I don’t think that would be all right,” he said.

“Where is she?” the aunt asked.

“Don’t be a fool,” said Lael, hissing now in his ear. “Invite her in. Be cordial. Offer her a glass of water. Slaughter her.”

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

The aunt nodded. “Why can’t I come in?” she asked. And then asked again, “Where’s Lyndi?”

“Just a moment,” he said. “One drink coming up,” and shut and locked the door.

“You’re going to ruin everything,” Lael was whispering all the way back down the hall. “Everything.” He sat leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, watching Rudd’s shaky hands pour a glass of water.

“If it’s so important,” Rudd said, “why don’t you do it?”

Lael smiled. “It’s not as easy as that,” he said. “Our relationship has changed.”

“How has it changed?”

“For one thing, there are four of us.”

“Four of us? Where are the other two?”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on here. I want to be back in New York.”

“No,” said Lael. “That’s not the problem. Don’t lie to me. You understand all too well.”

Rudd was already starting back toward the door, hands still shaking, trying to ignore his half-brother’s voice. He managed to get the door unlocked. He passed the glass of water to her, spilling some on her hands.

“Thank you,” the aunt said, and took it. She took a long drink.

“Should have poisoned it,” said Lael.

“Shut up,” hissed Rudd.

“Excuse me?” said the aunt. “Nothing,” Rudd said.

The aunt put her knuckles against her hip, her elbow swiveled out. “Young man,” she said, “I want to know what’s going on here. Where’s my niece?”

“She isn’t here,” said Rudd.

“Then where is she?”

Rudd stared. “New York,” he finally said.

“New York? What business would she have in New York?”

“Vacation,” whispered Lael.

“Vacation,” said Rudd.

“Vacation?” said the aunt. “But why would she go on vacation without you?”

Rudd shrugged.

“There’s something funny going on here,” the aunt said.

“You see?” said Lael. “You should have listened to me.”

“Would you like to come in?” asked Rudd, and opened the door wide.

She looked at him warily, took a step back. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“But you wanted to come in before,” he said.

She stepped all the way off the porch, began backing slowly away down the drive.

“You’ve got to catch her,” said Lael.

“Wait,” said Rudd. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Throw the pepper in her eyes,” said Lael, but by the time he said it she was already out to the sidewalk.

“What about her bags?” asked Lael.

“What about your bags?” asked Rudd.

“I’ll leave them there,” she said. “You can take them inside if you like. Or not. I’ll come back for them.” She set the water glass down on the cement. “Here’s your glass,” she said. And then she was off, down the sidewalk and away.

“Now you’ve done it,” said Lael. “Now you’ve really done it.”

They went back into the house, Rudd shutting the door behind him, locking it. He started down the hall and toward the stairs, his half-brother coming close behind him.

“She’ll be back, you know,” said Lael.

“I know,” said Rudd.

“And she won’t be alone.”

“I know,” said Rudd.

“Don’t you care?”

Rudd shrugged. He started up the stairs. Had he been walking that slowly, for them to have such a conversation over ten feet of hallway?

“Don’t you love me?” asked Lael.

“Excuse me?” said Rudd.

“Don’t you love me?” Lael insisted. “Don’t you care for your half-brother?”

Rudd paused on the stairs and turned. There was his half-brother behind him, hesitating, pale as a ghost.

“I think I hate you,” said Rudd.

Lael smiled. “Close enough,” he said. “Same difference.”

They were standing on either side of the bed, Lyndi lying bound and gagged between them. Her eyes were closed. She looked pale. How had she gotten out of the trunk and back on the bed? He did not remember carrying her, or tying her up for that matter.

“Which one of us tied her up?” he asked Lael.

“Whichever,” Lael said. “What difference does it make?”

But it does make a difference,
Rudd thought.
It must.

“Well,” said Lael, sighing, “are you ready?”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“To get back to it,” said Lael. “To get on with it. To finish.” He cracked the knuckles on one hand, then cracked those on the other. “But we should do something about Lyndi first.”

“I thought we already did something about her,” said Rudd.

“We did,” said Lael. “Or rather Hooper and Elling did. But that was a different girl. Anna.”

“We should bring it to a stop,” said Rudd. “Whatever we’re doing, it’s time to stop.”

Lael laughed. “It’s too late, Rudd. You couldn’t stop now even if you wanted to.”

Rudd turned and made for the door. He passed through it and went down the stairs and out the front door, which somehow opened again into the same room, Lyndi on the bed, Lael standing beside. He went out the door and down the stairs again and this time into the kitchen, only it was not the kitchen but again the same bedroom.

“Change of heart, Rudd?” asked Lael. “Little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“I’m not the person you think I am,” said Rudd.

Lael chuckled. “Who is?” he asked. “But you’re not who you think you are either.”

“Want to bet?”

“No time for a fight, Rudd,” Lael said. “In fact, time’s running out altogether.” He gestured toward Lyndi, whose eyes were open now. She was dully struggling. “You’ve got to kill her,” said Lael. “Kill her and we’ll get on with it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You want me to do it?”

“I don’t want anyone to do it.”

Lael shrugged. “Whatever, what do I care? After all, brother, it’s your life.”

Lael turned around and faced the closet, took a wool jacket and a fedora out of it.

“Put these on,” he said to Rudd.

Rudd took them. “What’s this for?”

“It’s time to leave,” said Lael.

“Where are we going?”

“New York.”

Rudd slipped the hat on.
New York?
he thought. He put the hat on his head, held the jacket in front of him, looked at it.

“Come on, Hooper,” said Lael. “We’re in a hurry.”

The jacket seemed too big for him until he had it on, but then seemed to fit just right.
How odd,
he thought.

The room was changing around him, the carpet pulling away from the walls and becoming a rug of oriental design. The girl on the bed, he saw,
had gone pale, all the color draining out of her, as if she were becoming a ghost. He looked up at Lael, saw him the same way, devoid of color and substance as if one could reach through him. His own hand, he saw, was still fleshy and solid.

“Aren’t you coming with me, Lael?” he asked.

“I’m Elling now,” the man said. And indeed as Hooper looked at him he could not understand how he could have mistaken Elling for anyone else. Who had it been now? “You’re on your own, Hooper,” the voice said, “at least for a while.” And then Elling and everyone around him seemed to fade, and his own mind went dark as well.

I
t was time to leave. It would not be long before the police would be back; he had already spent too much time in his father’s apartment as it was. He slipped out of the door of the apartment and down the stairs, changing his walk to crouch a little, ambling like a tramp, swaying a little on his way down the street.

A block away from the apartment he passed a brace of policemen moving the opposite direction. He ducked his head and gave them a wide berth. Both of them, somehow, looked vaguely familiar. Neither one paid him any heed. After they had passed, he slid into a doorway and watched them covertly to see where they were going. Did they turn into his doorway? He shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand. Yes, perhaps. He couldn’t see clearly for the sun and crowds, but they were, in any case, now gone.

He kept on down the street to the corner and then turned, went down a block, cut up again to less busy streets. Four or five blocks away from his father’s house he straightened up, straightened his cap, and headed for the railroad tracks.

He had gone a few more blocks when he heard a voice behind him calling his name. It sounded vaguely familiar. He kept on walking, hunching his shoulders slightly and picking up his pace.

“Mr. Young!” the voice called behind him. “Mr. Hooper! Wait!”

He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, saw only a young boy. He slowed down a little, never quite stopping but still letting the boy catch up.

“What is it?” he asked once the boy was beside him, panting. It was the same boy, he saw now, who had helped him with the trunk. “Speak up,” he said.

“It’s just,” the boy said, and then looked shrewdly at Hooper. “I know what you did, sir. I read it in the paper.”

“What have I done?” asked Hooper.

“And,” said the boy, “it seems to me it might be worth something to you to stop me from calling attention to you.”

Hooper swerved toward the boy and struck him hard in the temple. The boy stumbled and cursed, went down.

“Don’t threaten me,” Hooper said, and kicked the boy in the throat with the tip of his shoe.

The boy gave a strangled cry and gripped his throat and then, as Hooper watched, he began to change, his body stretching in every direction until he was fully a man.

“Lael?” said Hooper.

“Elling,” said the man, still holding his throat, his voice rasping.

Yes it was Elling, thought Hooper. But how was that possible? “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Where do you come from?”

“You’ve gone too far,” said Elling. “Can’t you see this is just a game?”

“A game?”

Elling nodded. “Pay the boy and get on with it,” he said.

“Why?” said Hooper.

“And,” said Elling, ignoring him, “you forgot to mail the note.”

“The note?”

“Jesus,” said Elling, “don’t you remember anything? ‘Search in vain; have killed myself’ Does that ring a bell?”

Hooper shook his head. “I don’t have any paper,” he said.

“Ask the boy,” said Elling, still rubbing his throat, which, Hooper saw, was now smeared with blood.

“What boy?” Hooper asked. He reached down and touched his own throat and brought his hand away to find it bloody as well.

“Brothers always,” he heard Elling say. But when he looked up, Elling was nowhere to be seen, in his place a small boy holding out his palm.

He shook his head to clear it, then reached into his pocket and absently removed a coin, pressed it into the boy’s hand. Then he started past.