The Venus Death: A Ralph Lindsay Mystery. Ben Benson

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СКАЧАТЬ had dinner. There was a bouquet of white gardenias Ellen had brought. My father made the expected joke about not being able to see what he was eating and his usual reminiscences about the troops. After it was over, and my father had gone to his bedroom to catch his favorite TV crime program, Ellen and I helped my mother with the dishes. Then my mother shooed us out of the house.

      We went onto the porch. Ellen sat down on the porch glider. She took a deep breath. “Indian summer,” she said. “The air is hazy and there’s a smell of woodsmoke and burning leaves. It’s the best time of year. Don’t you think so, Ralph?”

      “Yes,” I said. “Let’s ride into Boston and see a show.”

      “No, let’s sit out here for a while.”

      I leaned against the porch railing and took out my pipe. “Do you mind if I smoke the old incinerator?”

      She looked up at me in surprise. “You know I always liked your pipe. You look perfectly handsome in a pipe.”

      “Thanks,” I said, filling it from my pouch. “I have to keep it at home. There’s no time in the barracks for a pipe. You go on patrol, go to bed, wake up and go on another patrol. No good for pipe smokers. They need leisure. And you can’t sneak a pipe smoke in a cruiser like you can a cigarette.”

      “You sound a little sullen tonight,” she said. “What happened, Ralph? You stayed away from home for ten days. You never did that before.”

      “Maybe you’re just getting to know me.”

      “After all these years? No, I know you from way back. I remember you from the days when we used to hitchhike to Walden Pond. Or don’t you remember?”

      “Yes, I do,” I said, puffing on my pipe. And I did remember. She had been a gawky little kid then, with thin spindly legs, a skinny boyish body and a tense face. When she ran, the ribbons on her pigtails streamed out in the wind. She had a fierce little temper, erupting like a volcano and subsiding quickly. There was a time when I dropped a frog down the neck of her dress. She raked my face with her nails and kicked my shins, and five minutes later she was all contrite and came running with iodine for my scratches.

      “We used to go to Walden Pond,” she said. “It was where Thoreau had communed with nature. I often hoped some of the atmosphere would rub off onto us. I used to examine you closely to see if you were turning into a brilliant philosopher.”

      “It didn’t work,” I said shortly.

      She looked sharply at me. “Nothing seems to be working tonight,” she said quietly. “At dinner you hardly spoke a word. It’s not like you.”

      “I didn’t get a chance to say a word. My father was telling us about when he was a corporal at Andover. We’ve heard those stories a hundred times. He keeps looking back all the time. Why doesn’t he look ahead?”

      “To what?” she asked. “What future is there for him? He’s a paraplegic, and inside he’s dying by degrees. How much more time does he have, Ralph? One year? Two? Five? Would you deny him the little pleasure of his anecdotes?”

      “No, of course not,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m acting like a damn moron tonight. I wish I was like him. I’m not. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cop.”

      “Why not?”

      “Listen, I put in over a hundred duty hours a week. I’d like more time off. At least, I’d like evenings to myself. No wonder they retire a trooper at the age of fifty. He’s all beat out by then.”

      “But you knew all this when you went in.” She swung back and forth on the glider. “Ralph,” she said gently. “What’s her name?”

      “Whose name?”

      “The girl you met.”

      I reddened. “What do I have? A glass door in my head? How did you know I met a girl?”

      “It shows,” she said. “What else could it be? Ralph, what’s her name?”

      “Manette Venus,” I said.

      “I see,” she said. “You met this girl and that’s why you haven’t been home. And she doesn’t want you to be a trooper, either.”

      “All right,” I said. “So that’s what happened.”

      “Where did you meet this Manette Venus?”

      “What difference does it make? I was at a bar having a glass of beer. We started talking.”

      “You mean she picked you up in a saloon.”

      “You don’t have to make it sound dirty, Ellen. It was mutual. She was lonely. She was a stranger in Danford. She knew nobody.”

      “So she went to a barroom and picked you up. And never mind the misguided gallantry. You never picked up a girl in your life. You wouldn’t know how. And what does she look like? Smooth sultry blonde? Big blue mascaraed eyes and silver lacquered fingernails? Sexy legs and rhinestone high heels on her shoes?”

      “She’s a blonde, yes. But not–”

      “What does she do?” Ellen interrupted. “Work as a hostess in a dance hall?”

      “No. She’s in the office of the Staley Woolen Company.”

      “But why pick you? What does she want? A good time? Where are you going to get the money to spend on that type? What is she asking for?”

      “Nothing. She–”

      “You’re a big hick,” she said, her voice tense and distraught. “She must want something. You went after her like a seal after a fish. You swallowed the bait. What happens now? What happens when she spends all your money and gets tired of you?”

      “No, you have her wrong. Listen, she’s in trouble–”

      “You don’t owe me any explanation,” she said, her face set and rigid. “I’m the little dirty-faced kid next door, remember? I don’t have any ring on my finger. We talked about marriage, sure. But what’s talk? Talk is cheap. It would be better if I went into a saloon and wiggled a snaky hip at you.”

      “Look, you’re making this sound a lot worse than it is. It’s childish–”

      “Is it? It’s because I thought you were too good for any barroom girl. And it’s because I’m a poor sport. And it’s because I happen to be in love with a big lug and I don’t want to let him go. Now do you want me to open the rest of my diary?”

      “No,” I said. “Ellen–” I left the railing and went to her. I reached out and tried to take her hands. She slid away and stood up.

      “Say good-by to your father and mother for me,” she said. “Tell them the flowers and candles were a good idea, but it was a little too late.”

      “Ellen,” I said sharply. “You have it all wrong. I told Manette–”

      “I could kill Manette,” she said. She fled down the stairs СКАЧАТЬ