The Lockwood Concern (3 page)

When he returned to the darkened room he picked up the receiver. "Operator, this is Mr. Lockwood in 1120. No calls before ten o'clock, please. Ten o'clock. Goodnight." It was past eight o'clock When he awoke and looked at his sleeping wife in the other bed. He got out of bed, shaved and had a shower, and as soon as he reentered the bedroom she opened her eyes. "Good morning, dear," she said. "Good morning. Would you like to have some breakfast now? I'm going to have mine." "What time is it?" "Three minutes short of nine," he said. "Oh, I slept so well." "Yes," he said. "What about breakfast? Shall I order for you, or do you want to go back to sleep?" "Oh, order for me, by all means. You do that while I wash my face." "Good," he said. He waited until she closed the bathroom door behind her, then picked up the receiver. "Good morning. Mr. Lockwood, Room 1120. I want to order breakfast, but I still don't want to receive any calls. And instead of ten o'clock, make that eleven. No calls before eleven, please. And now will you give me Room Service?" He gave the breakfast order; orange juice, toast, and coffee for his wife; orange, juice, oatmeal, fried eggs and bacon, toast, jam, and coffee for himself. Geraldine was still in the bathroom when the meal arrived; the waiter left, and George Lockwood knocked on the bathroom door. "Breakfast is here," he called. She came out immediately. "I don't mind having a waiter serve my breakfast when I'm alone," she said. "But I hate it when you're in the room." "Why?" "Because I can't help but think what's going on in his mind. No matter how respectful they may seem, they're usually foreigners, and you know what they're thinking. Wondering whether we slept together." "I'm sure that every foreigner assumes that something went on. If not the previous night, the one before that. Or will go on the next night. Or in our case, that I'm probably getting on in years, and that you have a lover." "I have. You." "Thank you, Geraldine. Shall I pour your coffee?" "Yes, dear, please." She stood near him and drank her orange juice, took the coffee he handed her, and sat across the service table. "It's so long since we've had breakfast together." "Well, you'd rather not." "No woman of forty-eight is a fairy princess when she get up in the morning. Still, we miss something by not having breakfast together." "Well, maybe in the new house. I'll have my bath and get rid of my beard, and you can do whatever you feel is necessary, and we can meet over the orange juice, so to speak." "I like your tie," she said. "Oh," he said. "I'll be here for about a week." "You will? You didn't pack for a week, or are you having some things sent on?" "I'd like you to do me a favor if you will. Will you go over to Brooks Brothers and ask for Mr. Huntington. I'll write this all down for you. Tell Mr. Huntington I'd like to have half a dozen shirts. He'll know what kind when you tell him who you are. And then will you bring them back to me?" "Of course. Mr. Huntington will know the material and the sizes and everything? Would you like me to leave right away? "Well, finish your coffee, and it'd be nice if you put some clothes on," he said. "Didn't you bring another suit?" "Didn't have room, or time, or anything. I'll go to Brooks and get something later in the day, and if we go out in the evening, I always keep a dinner jacket and evening things at the club." "So did Howard." She smiled. "I remember one time he didn't pack his Tuck, because he had one at his club. Then when he tried to put it on he couldn't button the trousers, he'd put on so much weight." "Well, I haven't put on any weight." "You're hurrying me, aren't you?" "A little," he said. "What's the matter with the shirt you have on?" "Not a thing, but I want to get those other shirts in the laundry, don't you see? It's past nine o'clock, Geraldine, and I'm going to have to speak to Mr. DeBorio so that the shirts will get done today. Mr. DeBorio is the manager." "I know. Funny little man, but perfectly charming." George Lockwood looked at his wife. "All right, dear, all right," she said. He waited until she was gone ten minutes, then telephoned the Gibbsville lawyer, Arthur McHenry. "It was a clear case of trespassing, George. The property is posted, so I'm told by Deegan, and you had a watchman, Deegan. I don't see any way that you can be held responsible. Liable. if you want to give the boy's family a few dollars, I can prepare some sort of quit-claim, a release, and I think that's the last we'll ever hear of it." "How much,Arthur?" "Oh, two or three hundred dollars. It's a large family, and I'll put it to them that you'd like to pay the funeral expenses. As you know, these people never have much cash, and a hundred dollars would cover the undertaker's bill." "Give them five hundred." Arthur McHenry chuckled. "If you give them five hundred the parents aren't going to be able to squeeze out many tears. That'll be a real windfall for those people." "Well, I don't want any bad feeling, and by the way, I'm keeping this from Geraldine. Was there anything in the morning paper?" "Yes. A little article on the front page. Nothing sensational." "Would it be possible to have the deputy coroner finish up his investigation before we get back?" "I shouldn't think that would be any problem. I'll speak to him, and I think we could rush it through, oh, within two or three days. They're performing the autopsy today. Cause of death is obvious. And no crime involved, except that the boy was trespassing. The deputy coroner is a young doctor named Miller. You may know him. Been in Swedish Haven about three years." "I know him. He's one of those that approached me about turning over my old house for a hospital." Arthur McHenry laughed. "Oh, my. What would you do if you were in Miller's position?" "Yes, I see." "This case is practically closed, right this minute, or as soon as I speak to Dr. Miller." "Thank you, Arthur. Remember me to Joe Chapin." "I'll do that, George. My best to Geraldine. Not now, though." "I'll save it for some other time, Arthur. Thanks again." George Lockwood looked hastily but carefully through the morning newspapers on the remote chance that the accident might be of news value to New York editors because of its particular gruesomeness, but neither the Herald Tribune nor the Times had seen fit to publish a word about it. Geraldine, followed by a bellboy, returned to the room in less than an hour. "Thank you, Bob," said George Lockwood to the bellboy. "Right you are, sir," said the bellboy, and placed the parcel on the luggage stand and departed. "Mr. Huntington told me to tell you he could have saved me the trip. All you had to do was phone him," said Geraldine. "You were very prompt. Very efficient, my dear, and you don't know Huntington. Whether I spoke to him on the phone or whatever, he would have inquired about every Brooks customer in Lantenengo County, and my brother and my nephews and anybody else he could think of to talk about." "That's why you made me go. I was wondering. But you always have a reason for things. I've learned that." He rang for the valet. "Haven't you? I think everybody has." "Not to the extent that you do, and you don't always explain what your reasons are. Consequently, you mystify people a lot of times." "I've never mystified you, have I? At least I've never let you stay mystified after you ask for an explanation." "No, that's true, dear. But sometimes I forget to ask." "Then you can't really blame me, can you? When something I do mystifies you, just ask. As to other people, I simply don't give a damn. I owe no one any explanation for anything, thought, word, or deed. And they love it. All those stories we heard about the wall. Why I had to have a wall. How much it was going to cost me. And why I discontinued the Dietrich farm. The people in the Valley and Swedish Haven - it's like giving them free band concerts." "Why did you discontinue the Dietrich farm?" "I told you." "You gave me a funny reason. Humorous, that is. You said the prevailing wind was from the west, and we'd get tired of the odor of cow manure." "That answer seemed to satisfy you at the time. What's more, it happens to be true." "But there must be another reason." "There is. Actually, two. One is that in a few years' time you'll find that the quail will be plentiful in that lower land, and we'll have some damn good shooting. A few seasons and the land will be all grown over and full of game. The other reason, of course, is that Dietrichs have farmed that land for so many years that they think of it as theirs, no matter who owns it legally. And the only thing to do was get rid of them, lock, stock and barrel. Good fences make good neighbors, they say. But I did more than build a good fence. I transplanted the neighbors to Lebanon County. I'm very fond of the Dietrichs, now that they're forty miles 26 away. But Oscar wouldn't have made a good tenant, not on what was once his own land." "I never would have thought it all out so carefully," she said. "You didn't have to. I began thinking of these things when we were married. I knew you didn't like the old house in Swedish Haven." "But I did. At least I didn't dislike it." "No woman likes to live in a house that her husband's first wife lived in for twenty years." "But it wasn't her house as much as it was yours. You were bom there, and your brother. If it was any woman's house, it was your mother's." "My grandmother's. Mother never liked that house. And in a few more years you would have liked it even less." "Why didn't your mother like it?" "I can only guess. My mothered never tell any of us that she didn't like the house." "You and your brother?" "Children were children, and they stayed children till they were married. No matter what my father did or said, he was right, according to my mother, and there was to be no discussion or any criticism of anything the parents I did. And I mean no criticism, even unspoken criticism. If we didn't like something they did, and were caught making a face, we'd get a good hard slap." He rubbed his newly shaved chin. "Those fat little hands could slap." "I'm really glad we're past the age for having children. Or at least that I am." "So am I. There'll be small ones around at Christmas for years to come. And any other time we want them, but only when we want them." "Yes. That isn't exactly what I meant, but-" "Oh, I know what you meant, Geraldine. You wouldn't want the task of bringing up a young baby." "That's it. The responsibility." "I knew that. Ah." The door was opened, simultaneously with a knock. "Peter." "Good morning, sir. Maam. Heard you was stopping with us, sir. Pleasure to see you again, sir, Mr. Lockwood. How can I be of service to you, sir?" "Good morning, Peter. See that blue box with the yellow edge? Half a dozen brand-new shirts in there," said George Lockwood. "That have to go into the laundry before Mr. Lockwood wears them. Yes sir." "I know it's past the time." "Oh, I think a special effort can be made, sir. Washed and ironed, no starch, and returned to this 'ere room by no later than eight o'clock this evening, sir? Unless Mr. Lockwood has some evening shirts amongst them? There I'd be inclined to be pessimistic, sir. Sorry." "No evening shirts, Peter." "In that case, I just take the box down meself and as one might say, exert a bit of pressure, sir. Very good sir, thank you sir. Ma'am." "Thank you, Peter." "Thank you, sir." The valet left. "Thank you zah," said Geraldine. "Zah. He sounds as though he were saying czar." "I think they learn that in the British army. Well, now, my dear, what shall we do this evening? Would you like to see a show?" "You're not taking me out to lunch?" "I thought you might have plans of your own, so I think Id like to spend the day downtown." "I'm having lunch at Henri's. Mary Chadburn, if you'd like to join us." "God will bless you for being nice to Mary Chadburn, but I don't want to take anything away from your kind act. You have lunch with Mary, and there'll be a gold star in the Good Book for you." "I like Mary." "Everybody likes Mary. What could anybody possibly have against her? I'll be at Lockwood & Company most of the day." He kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you ordered the vases. They sound just right," he said, and folded his topcoat over his arm and saluted her with his hat, and left. George Lockwood's private office at Lockwood & Company was the smallest in the suite, but it was never used even temporarily by anyone else, and it was always kept ready for just such sudden, unexpected visits as that which George now paid. He went directly to his office, speaking to some of the staff on the way. As was customary, Miss Strademyer knocked on his door and asked if she could take any dictation. "Not this minute, Miss Strademyer. Maybe later. Is my brother in?" "Yes sir." "Well, I'll just go over my mail and then after I've seen my brother I may have some letters for you. After lunch, most likely. You're looking very well, for a girl that just had her appendix out." "Oh, that was in August. I've almost forgotten about it." "You should have had it done last spring, not during your vacation." "I didn't want to have it done at all, and put it off to the last minute. Even then I thought it was swimming cramps." "I told you last spring." "Oh, you were right, no doubt about it." "How is everything else with you?" "Meaning?" "Your life away from the office." "I have somebody." "Good. Who? Are you going to marry him?" "I don't know. I haven't made up my mind. I couldn't stay here if I did." "Why couldn't you?" "Obvious reasons." "Not so obvious, Marian. You don't have to tell him everything." "No, but if he ever did find out anything. Men are men, and he'd never believe that it hasn't been going on all the time." "He probably wouldn't, therefore why tell him at all? Ever. I can assure you I've never said a word to anyone. Not a word, to anyone. No one in this office ever had the slightest suspicion that I know of, and if they didn't know it here, where else would they know it? I think you're worried about me, Marian. That I might someday say something." "No, I'm really more worried about myself." "Then I suggest that you have a serious talk with yourself. Face the fact that you're exaggerating the importance of something that happened two years ago. It wasn't important then. You said so yourself at the time. Why make it important now? Be honest, Marian. The only thing that would have made it important was if you had fallen in love with me, and you didn't do that. The fourth time I wanted to see you, you very firmly refused, and did I ever bother you again?" "No. You were very nice about that." "Well, be that as it may, I think the trouble now is that you've fallen in love with this man, and hadn't been in love with anyone else in between." "You're right." "And there's something very self-destructive about the business of falling in love. I