The Lockwood Concern (27 page)

take its place." "You don't really believe I have, do you, Ned?" "You cried for Chat. That much I know. Poor old Bender, he'll never get over seeing you cry. His eyes well up when he thinks about it." "Byrne?" "What, Lockwood?" "My grandfather killed two men. He was tried for manslaughter for the one." "Now I never knew that." "I know you didn't. But I'm not what you think I am." "Not the true gentry?" "No." "That explains a few things." "What things, for instance?" "Well - certain hesitancies." "Like what?" "I'd be hard put to give you examples, but since you've told me this, I'll confess that I noticed you're not always as sure of yourself as you ought to be. Most of the time, yes. But not always. Much as I dislike Harbord, he's always sure that what he's doing is the right thing. He's doing it, therefore it's the right thing. If you have a son, he'll probably be as sure of himself as Harbord is. You're more sure of yourself than your father is, aren't you?" "Oh, yes. Much more." "What about your grandfather, the killer?" "Very sure of himself, I think." "Yes. No doubt he didn't care." "Not a bit." "Virile stock, and you're used to having money. Your son will be an aristocrat. Then you ought to have him marry an Italian or a Spaniard before the inbreeding starts." "Maybe I ought to marry an Italian." "Time to turn around, George." "Yes, I guess so." Now they could laugh, and they did.

Harvey Fenstermacher - Harvey Stonebraker Fenstermacher, to give him his full name-prided himself on two things: he was a man of his word, and he was not a hypocrite. He also prided himself on being a good Christian, a good Mason, a good Sigma Chi, a member of an old Lebanon Valley family, an honest judge, a God-fearing member of the Reformed Church, a better than average shot, a prudent banker, a knowing farmer, a fancier of fine Holstein stock, a good judge of trotters, a pleasing baritone, and a real family man. Now, however, he was disturbed by his deviations from excellence in the matter of keeping his word, in his sincerity, and in his role as family man. He did not feel right about the way things were turning out with regard to his daughter Lalie and George Lockwood. There were often times when he found it hard to believe that Lalie was made the same way as her mother; that she was a female woman. Bessie Fenstermacher was female woman, all right, and not only did they have the children to prove it, but Bessie, in the long years of their marriage, had been quite surprising in her demands on his masculinity. That had not been the Bessie he married; she was just like all the other girls of good family - at first - but she certainly had learned quickly. Harvey Fenstermacher supposed that that was the same thing that would happen to Lalie; that she was a female woman and, once married, would probably behave the way her mother behaved. But Harvey Fenstermacher did not like to think about that, and so he didn't very much. He preferred to think of Lalie as she looked at, say, fifteen, with her hair plaited and hanging down her back and wearing a girl's version of a sailor suit, and not bothering about or bothered by boys. No, not fifty.... twelve. At fifteen Bess Fenstermacher had reported, Lalie had already started mensing, had been mensing for over a year. Why did they have to grow up and all? Well, they did, and it was nature. Harvey Fenstermacher put up no serious objections when Bessie favored an understanding between Lalie and George Lockwood. As far as he was concerned, an understanding could go on forever - though he knew better - or it could end in a few weeks. Understandings were harmless if the parents exercised a little extra vigilance, and he could count on Bess to take care of that. But then after Christmas Harvey Fenstermacher was unexpectedly reminded of the other, permanent and final possibilities that an understanding could imply. In his professional life he could have managed postponements and given his law clerk some investigative work to do; but now Bess was prevailing upon him to give his quick consent to an engagement. She wanted Lalie to marry this Lockwood boy, and she wanted no interference from Harvey Fenstermacher. "We don't know so much about him," said Harvey. "Maybe we don't, but I do. I made inquiries, and you can bet your boots he's as good as there is in Lebanon, or better. The father is worth up in the millions, the mother was one of those Hoffners from Richterville. You stay out of this, Harvey, and don't ruin Lalie's chances." "I don't have anything against the boy, but what's the hurry yet?" "The hurry is there is no hurry," said Bess. "The hurry was last summer when I made them have an understanding. Now the understanding time is over and the engagement time starts. You don't go out in the yard and shake a George Lockwood out of the pear tree. You should hear David on how lucky Lalie is. David considers himself honored if George Lockwood gives him the time of day, that's what David thinks of him." "Is he that friendly with David? Maybe he'd do something for the boy." "This isn't your politics, Harvey. Don't monkey around. Let's get Lalie engaged and married." If that was how Bess felt about it, Harvey Fenstermacher was not going to oppose her. She was pretty sharp in some things, and if Lalie was ready to get married, let her mother take the full responsibility. In a way he had said goodbye to Lalie when she was fifteen. Or twelve. He did not really know this female woman who said she was in love with this Lockwood boy. Let her marry and go away, and then bring him some grandchildren. It would be nice to have some grandchildren. Cute little buggers they'd be. So it rested until the day of George Lockwood's formal request for Lalie's hand. Harvey Fenstermacher tried to be agreeable, tried his best, but Lockwood rubbed him the wrong way. The fellow did not talk like a Pennsylvanian, he dressed too old for a college senior, he had artificial manners. He was like one of those out-of-town lawyers that came into Harvey Fenstermacher's court for Iron Company cases. They were over-prepared, insolently polite, and if they lost they always appealed. They treated his court like a way-station on the Fort Penn, Richterville & Lantenengo. Lawyer in his court or suitor in his home, George Lockwood rubbed Harvey Fenstermacher the wrong way, and the quarrel which happened to be over son David and the club situation at Princeton was inevitable; they might just as easily have quarreled over something else, and honestly admitting this to himself, Harvey Fenstermacher was troubled. He had pretended all was well, but he felt hypocritical, miserable. If it was possible to justify what he was about to do, he would justify it, but justified or not, he was determined to keep Lockwood from marrying Lalie. Within two weeks from the time of the Sunday quarrel Harvey Fenstermacher had all the justification he needed, and there was sweet triumph over Bess to make the justification more than complete. Ironically, she had furnished him with one of his leads; conveniently, right in Lebanon. On the way home from the court house Harvey Fenstermacher always passed Vic Hoffner's ice cream parlor-candy store, occasionally stopping to pick up a brick of ice cream or a box of candy. Vic was a prosperous merchant, a good Mason, a God-fearing member of the Reformed Church, although not ever a visitor to the Fenstermacher residence. "Afternoon, Vic." "Afternoon, Judge. Half a pound of Jordan almonds, pound of chocolate nougats. A day early this week. Must of had company Sunday, say?" "Uh-huh. Company. If you got a half a minute, Vic?" said Harvey Fenstermacher. It was not unusual for the two men to speak in private on lodge and church matters. They seated themselves on bent-wire chairs in the rear of the establishment. "All right, we're private," said Hoffner. "You're related to a family named Lockwood over in Lantenengo County," said Fenstermacher. "Distantly. Only distantly. I know the family you mean. That's the young fellow come in here with Lalie. Well, his mother was a Richterville Hoffner, and me and her father are first cousins. She was, uh, uh, Adelaide Hoffner and married this Abraham Lockwood. I was to the wedding. They's martied back, oh, I don't know, twenty-five-so years ago." "Tell me all you can." "Well, you mean about the Lockwood side? Swedish Haven is their town. Very well-to-do. I heard he was a millionaire, Abraham Lockwood, and I wouldn't doubt it. You want everything, Harvey?" "All you can tell me." "Well, Levi Hoffner, my cousin, he had these six daughters and he was well-off, too. But I don't remember him being too pleased with Adelaide marrying Lockwood, rich or no rich. Now I have to think a minute... Ah, yes. Abraham Lockwood had a father, and where he come from I'm not reliable. I did know, but I forgot. Anyhow, the father of Abraham Lockwood murdered a fellow in broad daylight." "Murdered a fellow?" "Well, he shot him dead and he stood trial for it. They must have the records of it in Gibbsville. Isn't Gibbsville the county seat over in Lantenengo?" "Yes, and it doesn't surprise me, anything that happens over there." "Me either. Some of those mining villages, they have a murder every payday. Irish Mollie Maguires, they call them." "Oh, sure. I remember them very well." "Well, Lockwood got off free, but then he killed another fellow. No! No, it was the other way around. He killed one fellow first, and they couldn't prove it. I think that was what Levi said. Then the second time he killed a fellow, they hauled him into court. But he went free." "He was the father of Abraham Lockwood? The grandfather of the young fellow that's been in here with Lalie?" "You have right. But there's more yet. This they didn't find out till Adelaide was married. Now let me think a little Ah, yes. Lockwood, Abraham, was all right in the head, but his mother not and his sisters not. The sisters they had to put away. Oh, yes! Now I remember! The one sister was in the crazy-house and the other they didn't put her in till the wedding was over." "And the mother?" "You'll have to ask, Harvey. Here my memory is not so'good on. But she was wheely. You know, going around in her head the wheels. Slang." Harvey Fenstermacher nodded. "Does your wife know all this?" "No. I wasn't a married man then and I never said nothing to her about any Lockwood." "Well, she got this far without hearing it." "I'm not a talker, Harvey. Don't you worry." To obtain court records from Lantenengo County would take some time, and Harvey Fenstermacher was not even sure that he liked having his confidential law clerk acquire so much information about a prospective son-in-law. And what was the use? He did not want legal documentation; what he had got from Vic Hoffner was enough for his purpose. He took the train to Reading and from there to Swedish Haven. Abraham Lockwood's offices were in a small one-story brick building in the business district of Swedish Haven. There was a brass plate on the front door, and there were dark green curtains on rings that slid on a brass rail, shutting off pedestrians' view of the interior. The legend on the brass plate was Lockwood & Company, Est. 1835. It was a substantial-looking place, and just inside the door there was a polished walnut fence as a reminder to visitors that they were not free to proceed unannounced. "I wish to see Mr. Abraham Lockwood," said Harvey Fenstermacher. "Here is my card." A middle-aged woman in a shirtwaist and skirt, wearing a fleur-de-lis watch and oilcloth sleeve covers, said: "Judge Harvey Fenstermacher, Lebanon, Pennsylvania. So? Will you kindly take a seat, Judge?" "I'd rather stand, thank you." The woman went back to a private office, and Harvey Fenstermacher saw a man at a roll-top desk take the card, look up, and look out toward the visitor. The man signaled to Harvey Fenstermacher to come back to his office. "Good morning, Judge Fenstermacher," said Abraham Lockwood. He was a tall thin fellow and a bit of a dude; the cut of his suit was not unusual, but it was light grey and had satin facing on the lapels, and he wore a gold question mark as a stickpin in his Ascot. He had a Greek-letter fraternity pin on his waistcoat. Lockwood kept a hand on the doorknob and waved Fenstermacher to a chair with the other hand. Accidentally or by design he was not offering to shake hands. "Good morning to you, sir," said Fenstermacher. He waited for Lockwood to sit down, observing the manner in which Lockwood flicked aside the skirt of his coat. "Offer you a cigar, Judge?" "Not this early in the day, thank you." "In town for the day? Of course I've heard about you from my son George." "George is what I came to see you about." "Well, that doesn't surprise me, Judge. I guess matters have proceeded pretty fast with our young people. Mrs. Lockwood had a letter from George day before yesterday." "Saying?" "Saying that he'd proposed to your daughter and been accepted." "Is that the first you heard of it?" "The first I knew that it had gotten to that stage. The young people today seem to take things into their own hands more than we ever did." "Some do, some don't." "Yes, I guess that's true. George does. I always encouraged George to be self-reliant, and he is. That makes it easier for me, in a way. Because when I pull in the reins he knows I mean it, and we have no arguments about it. I don't often have to speak to him twice." "I see. Then maybe that makes things easier all around. My daughter was taught to obey but we didn't do it the same way you did. We gave her her orders every day of her life." "Well, that was your way, and we had ours, and both ways work," said Lockwood. He suddenly leaned forward. "The question is, Judge, what is it that's made easier all around?" "Uh-huh. You're a clever man, Mr. Lockwood." "A busy member of the bar doesn't just accidentally pay a call on a business man sixty miles away. Clever? Well, I inherited some horse sense from my father." "What else? I don't mean money." "What else did I inherit? Is that what you came to see me about?" "Partly." Abraham Lockwood got up and stood at the window. "You don't like clever men, do you, Judge?" "No, I don't." "Very well, since you've already called me clever, I have nothing to lose, so I'll be clever. You want to stop this marriage because you've been digging into our family history." He turned around and faced Fenstermacher. "All right. I'll stop it." "How?" "That's none of your damn business, Judge. Your business is to go back to your little pile of shit in Lebanon and crow like a rooster." "Don't you talk to me like that, you-" "What will you do? Fine me for contempt of court? Get out before I kick you out, you dumb Dutch bastard. And keep your distance or I'll brain you with this poker." Lockwood balanced the poker from his fireplace. "You got already two murders in your family," said Harvey Fenstermacher. "I found out what I want to know." He shook his fist at Abraham Lockwood. "Set foot in Lebanon County once, Mister," he said, and left.