The Stand-In (19 page)

“I figured it out since then, Millie. I, well—you know it's the truth. You know I've always been the one who cracked the whip; well, not with Ronnie. You think he even wanted to—I practically had to drag him into bed!

“He has this way of looking as if you crawled out of the wall. Since I was in diapers, nobody ever looked at me that way. It's bad for a kid to have everyone—you know. I'm glad Cornie's not pretty, because then when you meet someone who spits at you, you crawl. Or maybe I'm a masochist, that's probably what a shrink would say. Not that any shrink could have stopped me; Freud himself couldn't have stopped me!”

“Ronnie was Cornie's father?” Millie thought: Wait a minute, wait a minute.

“The minute I had the A.Z. test done, I had the big scene all set up!”

Millie could tell that for the time being Coral had forgotten all about Bran. People were like that. “Go on.”

“I called Ronnie and he didn't even want to see me, but I promised if he came over I'd show him. You know. Ronnie was always saying I was a sexual illiterate, no less. To get him there that night I promised—I tell you I didn't even know
what
I promised. If he'd pinned me down, I would have been in trouble.

“Well, anyhow, he didn't even show for this
orgy
, and that finally made me come to my senses! He would only have laughed in my face about being pregnant. But though I wouldn't tell Ronnie, I wouldn't have an abortion, you know why? This was the weirdest—if I couldn't have him, I wanted his child.”

Millie had the feeling that Coral
had
told the story to her
real
friends, but not to her sister and not to Bran.

“Millie, remember how they wrote up my marriage? One bastard just about said shotgun wedding. Well, I fixed it so Bran could think the rush was on account of him. I'm not sorry about that part; you know I worship the ground Cornie walks on. Where was I? Oh, I got over Ronnie. I'm Bran's wife and God knows I try to be a good wife, and I didn't remember that stinker from one year to the next. Well, maybe on Cornie's birthday.

“I only thought seriously about Ronnie again when Nube suddenly decided to make
Peepshow
here and use Cornie. If there were big publicity pictures of Cornie—If Ronnie once saw her picture, he'd realize the truth. Wouldn't you know she'd be his spitting image, wouldn't you
know
?”

Kitten looked like Coral. Millie looked to see whether her sister remembered how many times she'd said so and never once opened up, but Coral wasn't remembering.

“I had to do
Peep
, but I thought if Cornie wasn't in the picture and there was no publicity about her—So I made Nube substitute Kitten.”

“So I made Nube substitute Kitten.”
Coral had forgotten how she had insisted Kitten should be in pictures and that this part in
Peepshow
was made for her.
“Don't thank me, Millie, you're doing me a favor.”
Not that she was supposed to believe that! Millie moved away from her sister.

“If she hadn't conned me,” Millie thought, “if she'd told me the truth. I'm supposed to be her sister.”

“—saw him twice, so I should have known—”

If she hadn't conned her, if she'd come to her like a real sister! “Who?” she asked dully.

“Ronnie. I saw him twice. At the gates of St. Andrews, twice. Monday he came over. ‘May I have your autograph, Miss Reid?' Like a real fan, but with that same face as if I was
dirt!
I wanted to spit in his eye, but I knew damn well he meant he
had
my autograph on my love letters. They're the only ones I ever wrote, and they were really something! If they were printed—oh, Millie!

“He was there again yesterday asking for my autograph again and this time he held out something for me to write it on and it was my love letters. I recognized the color, my trademark, fuschia, but I couldn't stop to say anything because Nube was there rushing me off to Lady St. Justin's party. I thought Ronnie would understand, I thought he'd wait. Oh, God, if only I'd told Nube!”

“Hysterics aren't going to do any good,” Millie said, and hearing herself knew that she had never used that tone of voice to her sister in her whole life. Coral shuddered and pulled herself together. “So you think this Englishman Ronnie blackmailed Bran?”

“What else? Why else would Bran kill him? Today Ronnie must have seen the picture of Cornie in the papers and read the article saying when she was born. He must have known he'd got something worth more than the love letters and called Bran. I don't know when. Yes, I do. You were here, Mill, it was after lunch. Bran got a call and I saw it threw him. Yes, it was then, it was that call!

“Remember, Mill? Bran said it was about his damn picture rights, or I said it because
everything's
been about that. Remember that stink Bran made about renting a car because you were taking the Ferrari? How a taxi wouldn't do? Of course he wouldn't take a taxi to drive to Stoke Newington and kill Ronnie; taxi drivers talk.

“Ronnie must have said he'd spread the real story about Cornie, and Bran couldn't take that. He's hipped on getting respect; no one respects him any more!”

Desmond hit Ronnie with a milk bottle and he fell down the stairs and was dead, Kitten has said. Maybe Ronnie hadn't been dead? What did Kitten know about dead?
Bang, bang, you're dead! Westerns!
Maybe Ronnie was just unconscious and it really was Bran who killed him? Millie couldn't see Bran killing anyone who could hit back, but suppose Ronnie was unconscious, helpless? She stared at Coral, who was lighting another cigarette.

“Oh, Millie, now I've told you I feel a little better. When you came in I was beside myself, but now I really do feel a little better!”

Coral sighed and even smiled, dragging on her cigarette, leaning back, looking at Millie, how? As if she, Millie, should feel like a million because now Coral felt a little better. Millie saw that her hands were shaking because she was shaking so hard inside. It was as if she, Millie, had agreed, as if it was agreed between the two of them, that anything which concerned Coral was naturally more important than anything which concerned only her, Millie!

She was supposed to care more about that son of a bitch Bran, who had only called her once on the telephone, than about the man who had saved Kitten! She was supposed to do more than that—probably take them straight to Desmond and then Bran and Coral and Cornie could live happily ever after!

Coral went on, “Millie, now the thing I want your advice on—”

But she didn't let Coral finish. “You didn't even ask about Kitten!”

There was a silence as Millie watched Kitten coming back to Coral. She flushed and then regained her composure.

“Don't be silly, darling! I didn't have to ask about Kitten. You'd have told me if she wasn't okay, and you know it, so, come on, Millie!”

Coral bit her lip. She could see Millie didn't believe her.

“Millie, you're not being fair. Remember what I just heard! I was waiting for the cops, lawyers, reporters, what have you, and when I opened that door, all I thought was that my sister was here and not strangers, and all I could think was I was so happy you were here to help me.”

Help
her
, what else? After all, Kitten was only in
Peep
in the first place to help Coral. “Yes, what did you want to ask me now?”

“Millie, should
I
tell the whole story for Bran's sake? Because people can understand a motive like that. I'm thinking of Bran, Millie. Nube won't. Nube will do what's best for his picture, so I'm asking you should I tell about Ronnie and me, no matter what the lawyers and P.R. people say? I mean, then they'll go easier on him, don't you think?”

No. It wasn't right. Bran hadn't killed the Englishman. It had happened the way Kitten said, and Bran had nothing to do with it, so it wasn't right. “Wait.” Millie stood.

“Wait for what?”

“I left Kitten in the bathtub.” Bring her down. Let her tell.
It wasn't right
.

“Oh, Millie!”

“I must get Kitten. You listen to me. You just
wait
.”

But when she came back to the suite, she told Coral that she and Kitten were leaving.

“Millie, you have to stay here with me!” Coral cried. “Look, Millie, Kitten can be with Cornie. We'll get a new nurse we can trust, and they can play together. It will be swell for Cornie to have her little cousin to play with.”

Swell for Cornie. It will be swell for Cornie
. The shaking began again. Millie could hear her voice shaking when she told her sister that she couldn't stay because, even if it was swell for Cornie, it wouldn't be swell for Kitten. “Kitten's got to be with me after what she's been through. We're going to get out of this place.”

“How can you do this to me, Millie?”

“The same way your husband did this to me!” She unzipped the blue flight bag and pulled out some of the cut-up newspaper, holding the pieces up for Coral to see, then letting them drop on the carpet.

“What's that paper?”

“My life! Kitten's life! Your husband—your
husband
tore that newspaper up and stuffed it into that bag! He had plenty opportunity. Why did he, Coral?” She stamped her foot on some of the paper. “You know damn well! Your husband stuck that paper in the bag when he took the money out of it to give to the kidnappers, to give to your ex-boyfriend, what's his name, to pay the blackmail.”

“Oh, Millie.” Coral was crying.

“Don't say ‘Oh, Millie' as if you gave a shit, either. You didn't even ask was Kitten alive! Your husband knew damn well when he took the money what the kidnappers might do when they opened that bag!” She stooped and began to pick up the papers she had thrown down, stuffing them back into the bag.

“Why are you crying now? They didn't kill us when they saw this. God knows why not! They just gave the bag back. I thought it was because they were sure the money was marked, but now I know. I tell you, Coral, I owe them more than your husband!” When she had unzipped the flight bag in her room because she was so nervous and her fingers—no! God moved her fingers! God made her unzip that bag before it was too late, before she told Coral Bran hadn't killed Ronnie. It was to show her what Bran
had
done so she'd know why He had put Bran on the spot. Coral had her hands over her face. “For a change, I'm going to ask you to do something for me, Coral.”

Coral nodded.

That was supposed to mean that naturally she would do anything for her sister. Well, she better do this. “Coral, in case, just in case, Bran or Mr. Ossian should happen to remember a little thing like my daughter was kidnapped, you tell them Kitten's back and I'm okay, but I don't want one word to the cops about the kidnapping!”

Coral took her hands away from her face and said if that was what Millie wanted.

“No cops, no reporters—nobody, but nobody—talks about the kidnapping. Kitten's had enough. I may only be your sister, but I'm Kitten's mother and this is Kitten's mother talking. My baby's not taking any more!

“Listen, Coral, I swear to you on Mother's grave that if the kidnapping is mentioned, I tell about the letters so they'll start looking for Bran.” She held out the flight bag. “I'll also tell about this. Maybe they'll go easy on your husband for killing a guy because he was blackmailing him, but I don't think he'd win any popularity contest if they knew what he did to Kitten and me. And now I'm leaving.”

“Where are you going, Millie?”

“Where? To my boyfriend, my boyfriend! Don't faint, I can get a man, too! I told you I was with someone the night they snatched Kitten; well, he's the one I'm going to. Desmond, my boyfriend, Desmond Carr!”

22

Boy's manservant showed Dr. Finney into the library. “Good evening, Boy. What
is
that you're wearing?”

“My papa's smoking jacket, Julius.” It still had such a respectably masculine odor that it would help, should the police come bursting in. “Why are you so late?”

“Why are you so late?”
Snapping at him as if he were a dilatory servant, or as if to the Honorable Boy physicians were still barbers! “I'm not quite at your beck and call, Boy.”

“Of course you're not. I beg your pardon, Julius, of course you're not.” In his mind Boy went over what Julius could tell the police about him, including his present injuries. Not that Julius knew
who
, but he had certainly guessed
why
. “I've just had some very bad news and I'm nervy. I'm sure that whatever kept you was of much greater importance than my poor old leg.”

“A life and death thing, actually, Boy. Now let's have your papa's smoking jacket off so I can have a look at the shoulder first.” He raised Boy's right arm, watching his expression while he touched the tendon that Boy had pulled trying to protect his face. “No more pain? Good. Now you may put back that peculiar garment. I was delayed because of Cyril Moore. Caught me just as I was leaving, and a good thing, too.”

Boy grinned. “If Cyril is ill, I may be the cause.”

“I hardly think so, Boy. Anyhow, the patient was a young friend of Cyril's.”

“What young friend? You're hurting me
now
, Julius! Will that leg never heal? And why the odd pause, Julius? Why did you say ‘patient' that odd way?”

There could be no harm in telling Boy. What harm telling Boy? Remembering the beauty of the unconscious young man, Dr. Finney thought how Boy would covet him and described the patient in a way which must be making Boy's mouth water. Then he said, “Desmond Carr is Cyril's
friend
.”

“And he will recover, you say? And I complained because you were late, and all the time you were saving this thing of beauty!” He bent forward and with both hands adjusted his game leg to a more comfortable position, then straightened up and fixed his eyes on Julius, who was going on about diathermy and electro-thermal baths. Boy kept thinking over and over:
Poor Ronnie murdered today and today Desmond Carr tried to kill himself. Julius's sly suggestion that it was on Cyril Moore's account was ridiculous. No one had better reason than he to know how preposterous this notion was
. “Very well, Julius, if you say so.”
Ronnie is killed and immediately Desmond Carr attempts suicide. In this room he had heard Carr threatening to kill Ronnie and who knew better than he, Boy, what violence young Carr was capable of?