Beggarman, Thief (53 page)

Wesley stood over him, still threateningly. “How did Uncle Rudolph come into the picture?” he asked. “And no more fairy tales, Billy.”

“I called him in New York. I thought if anybody could help you, he could. I did it for you. You don’t think I did it for myself, do you?”

“You chickened out,” Wesley said contemptuously. “And you called in Santa Claus. I should have known. What the hell would you expect from a tennis player? Go back to your fancy ladies, you bastard. What a royal fucking runaround.”

“You go to Siant-Paul-de-Vence, you murdering idiot,” Billy said, “and you try to choke your Uncle Rudolph.”

“Maybe I’ll try just that,” Wesley said. “And now you get out of my room. And out of town. If I see you around I might be sorry I ever let up on you.”

“The next time I see you,” Billy said as he stood up, “I’m going to have a knife on me. I warn you.”

“Thanks,” Wesley said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

At the door, Billy turned. “One last word,” he said, “I’m your friend, no matter what you think.”

Wesley nodded somberly and Billy opened the door and went out.

When he got downstairs he called Saint-Paul-de-Vence. When Rudolph came to the phone, Billy told him what had happened.

“Oh, Lord,” Rudolph said. “He’s as bad as that?”

“Worse,” said Billy. “Demented. You’d better move to another hotel, if you don’t want another choking session in the family.”

“I’m not moving anywhere,” Rudolph said calmly. “Let him come.”

“Just don’t see him alone,” Billy said, admiring his uncle’s serenity. “With that boy you need plenty of witnesses.”

“I’ll see him any way he wants.”

“Have you come up with anything?”

“Maybe,” Rudolph said. “We’ll see.”

“If I can give you some advice,” Billy said, “I’d get rid of the thing before he gets there. Throw it in the sea.”

“No,” Rudolph said thoughtfully, “I don’t believe I want to do that. It may come in handy. In the not too distant future.”

“Good luck,” Billy said.

“I’ll see you next week in Cannes, at the festival,” Rudolph said. “I’ve reserved rooms at the Hôtel Majestic for all of us. I put you in a room with Wesley. Given the circumstances …” He chuckled oddly. “Given the circumstances, I think I’ll put you on another floor.”

“You think of everything, don’t you, Rudolph,” Billy said sarcastically.

“Almost everything,” Rudolph said.

Billy hung up and went over to the concierge’s desk and said, “Please put the call on Mr. Jordache’s bill.”

Wesley didn’t call that day or the next, but the lawyer from Antibes did.

“I may have some news,” the lawyer said. “The gentleman I have in mind to apply for the position you spoke to me about the other day is not available for the moment. He happens to be in prison in Fresnes. But he is due to get out in two weeks and he is expected at his home in Marseilles shortly after that. I will be in touch with him and will tell him where he can reach you.”

“I’ll be at the Hôtel Majestic in Cannes,” Rudolph said.

“I’m sorry about the delay,” the lawyer said.

“It can’t be helped,” Rudolph said. “Thank you for your trouble. I’ll be expecting the call.”

It can’t be helped, Rudolph thought as he hung up. That would be a good title for the story of my life. It can’t be helped.

CHAPTER 10

The publicity man at the festival for Gretchen’s movie had put out a story about the woman whose first picture as a director had been chosen as one of the American entries to be shown in Cannes, so there were photographers at the Nice airport when Gretchen’s plane came in. The photographers took pictures of Gretchen getting off the plane and then again as she greeted Billy and Rudolph after going through customs. She was near tears as she kissed Billy and hugged him, hard. “It’s been so long,” she whispered.

Billy was embarrassed at the show of maternal emotion with the flashbulbs popping off and extricated himself, gently but firmly, from his mother’s embrace. “Mother,” he said, “why don’t we save the reunion scene for later?” He didn’t like the idea of a photograph of himself being clutched in a domestic stranglehold appearing in the papers, publicity or no publicity.

As Gretchen stepped back Billy saw her lips set in the cold line that was all too familiar to him. “Billy,” she said, her tone formal, “let me introduce you to Mr. Donnelly. He did the sets for our picture.”

Billy shook hands with the red-bearded young man. “Glad to meet you, sir,” he said. Another one, he thought. She never gives up. He had noticed the possessive, protective way the man had held his mother’s arm as they came through the small crowd grouped around the exit from the customs. He had intended to be warm and responsive at this first meeting after so long, but the sight of his mother, as beautiful as ever in her smart blue traveling suit, being squired ostentatiously off the plane by a man who seemed not much older than himself had disturbed him.

Then he felt ashamed for allowing himself to be annoyed. After all, his mother was a big grown woman and what she did on her own time and her taste in partners was none of his business. As he walked beside her toward the chauffeured car that had been sent for her, he squeezed her hand affectionately, to make up for the remark about the reunion scene. She looked at him, surprised, then smiled widely. “We’re going to have a great two weeks,” she said.

“I hope so,” he said. “I can’t wait to see the picture.”

“The omens are good,” she said. “The people who’ve seen it so far seem to like it a great deal.”

“A lot more than a great deal,” Rudolph said. “People’re raving about it. I’ve already been offered a hundred percent profit on my share of it and I’ve turned it down.”

“Faithful brother,” Gretchen said lightly. “He puts his money where his heart is.” Then she frowned. “Rudy,” she said, “you don’t look well. You look as though you haven’t slept in weeks. What’s the matter?”

Rudolph laughed uneasily. “Nothing. Maybe I’ve been staying up too late at the casino.”

“Have you been winning?”

“As always,” Rudolph said.

As the porter and the chauffeur were putting the bags in the car, Gretchen said, “I’m a little disappointed.”

“Why?” Rudolph asked.

“I’d hoped that Wesley would come to meet me, too.”

Rudolph and Billy exchanged glances.

“Isn’t he staying at the hotel with us?” Gretchen asked.

“No,” said Rudolph.

“He’s in Cannes, isn’t he? After the picture’s shown, he’s going to be mobbed by the papers and TV people for interviews. He’s got to
behave
like an actor even if he doesn’t think he is one.”

“Gretchen,” Rudolph said softly, “we don’t know where he is. He was in Saint-Tropez the last we knew, but he’s disappeared.”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Not that we know of,” Rudolph lied. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“He’d better,” Gretchen said, as she and Donnelly got into the car. “Or I’ll send out a missing persons alarm.”

With all the baggage there was no room in the car for Rudolph. He and Billy went toward where the Peugeot was parked. “We’d better cook up
some
kind of story for her about Wesley,” Rudolph said as they got into the Peugeot.

“You
cook up the story this time,” Billy said, as they drove out of the parking lot. “The last story I cooked up nearly got me killed.”

“Maybe when he sees Gretchen’s picture in the papers, he’ll come around,” Rudolph said. “He grew very fond of her while they were shooting.”

“I know. He told me so. Still, I wouldn’t be too hopeful. What he’s really fond of these days is finding a certain Yugoslav.” He turned his head and peered curiously at Rudolph. “Anything new on your front?”

“I won’t know for a few days yet.”

“You still don’t want to tell me what it might be?”

“No,” Rudolph said decisively. “And don’t pry.”

Billy devoted himself to his driving for a minute or so. He had had the car washed and he had dressed in clean, neat clothes for his mother’s arrival. He was sorry that Wesley’s absence had cast a shadow over the occasion. “I hope,” he said, “that wherever he is or whatever he does, he doesn’t spoil my mother’s big moment. She seemed in great spirits at the airport.”

“Except when you made that snide crack about the reunion,” Rudolph said sourly.

“Force of habit.”

“Well, break the habit.”

“I’ll try,” Billy said. “Anyway, for your information, I made up for it on the way to the car.”

“You think she’s tough,” Rudolph said. “Well, let me tell you something—she isn’t. Certainly not about you.”

“I’ll try, I said.” Billy smiled. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

“Very.”

Again, Billy turned his head to peer at Rudolph. “What’s there between her and that Donnelly fellow?”

“Nothing that I know of,” Rudolph said curtly. “They worked well together and he’s now a business associate of mine, too. Don’t pry into that, either.”

“I was just asking,” Billy said. “A son’s natural concern for his mother’s welfare. What sort of guy is he?”

“One of the best,” Rudolph said. “Talented, ambitious, honest, with a drinking problem.”

“She ought to be used to that,” Billy said, “after her life with my father. The drinking part, I mean.”

“She invited your father to come over, too,” Rudolph said. “He said he had a new job and couldn’t leave Chicago. Maybe he’s taking hold of himself at last.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” said Billy. “Well, he’s done at least one useful thing for his son.”

“What’s that?”

“He turned me off drink.” Billy chuckled. “Say—I have an idea. Not about my father or my mother—about Wesley.”

“What’s that?”

“You know, the police pick up those forms you have to fill in when you check into a hotel …”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think Wesley knows anybody he could stay with in Cannes,” Billy went on earnestly, “so he’s most probably in a hotel in the town. We could go to the police and ask for information. After all, he’s in the picture and we could say he’s needed for press photographs and interviews, stuff like that.”

“We could, but we won’t,” Rudolph said. “The less interest the police take in Wesley, the better it will be for all of us.”

“It was just an idea.”

“We’ll just have to find him ourselves. Hang around the port, go to the nightclubs, generally keep our eyes open,” Rudolph said. “Meanwhile, you can tell your mother that he told you he’s shy about any publicity before the picture is shown, he’s afraid he’s no good in it and that people will laugh at him, he’d rather not be around if that happens …”

“Do you think she’ll go for that?” Billy said doubtfully.

“Maybe. She knows he’s a strange young man. She’ll probably say it’s just what you could expect from him.”

“What I’m surprised at,” Billy said, “is that he never called you or came to see you.”

“I was almost sure he wouldn’t,” Rudolph said. “He knows that he’d never get what he was looking for out of me.”

“Have you still got it?” Billy asked. “The gun?”

“Yes.”

Billy chuckled again. “I bet you’re the only one at this festival with a gun with a silencer in his hotel room.”

“It’s a distinction I would gladly renounce,” Rudolph said bleakly.

When they drove down the Croisette in Cannes, Rudolph saw that among the posters advertising the movies to be shown in the next two weeks there was one for
Restoration Comedy
and that Gretchen’s name was prominently displayed.

“She must have gotten a kick seeing that,” Rudolph said. “Your mother.”

“Now,” Billy said, joking, “with all the other things I have to worry about her for, I’ll have to figure out how to handle being the son of a famous mother. What do I say if they interview me and ask me how it feels?”

“Say it feels great.”

“Next question, Mr. Abbott,” Billy said. “Did your mother, in your opinion, neglect you in the interest of her career? Answer—only for ten or fifteen years.”

“You can joke like that with me,” Rudolph said sharply, “but not with anyone else. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir. Of course I was kidding.”

“Anyway,” said Rudolph, “she’s not famous yet. In a place like this, you can be famous one day and nonfamous the next. It’s a tricky emotional time for your mother and we’ve got to be very careful with her.”

“I will be steadfast as an oak in her support,” Billy said. “She will not recognize her wayward son and will look at me in amazement.”

“You may not drink like your father, Billy,” Rudolph said, “but you seem to have inherited his lack of ability to make anyone believe he ever took anything seriously.”

“A protective device,” Billy said lightly, “passed on from father to son, to hide the quivering, tender soul hidden beneath.”

“Let it show once in a while,” Rudolph said. “It won’t kill you.”

When they went into the lobby of the hotel, Rudolph asked if there were any messages for him. There were no messages.

Gretchen was in a corner of the lobby, surrounded by journalists and photographers. The big guns had not yet arrived in Cannes and the publicity man for
Restoration Comedy
was making the most of it. Rudolph saw that Gretchen was talking smoothly, smiling and at ease.