THE NOISE AT THE front of the cabin triggered a dream: bits and pieces caroused through his head during the moments he wrestled with sleep. Someone was pounding on the door, and he came awake sore-eyed and feverish. The cat stirred at his feet, stretched and began to complain. The room was filled with morning light, and the noise up front persisted. Roy rolled out of bed and searched for his trousers. He thought about the dream, concentrating on it, hoping the stray pieces would not vanish in the morning air, unnamed and irretrievable. He moved toward the front of the cabin. The pounding continued until he began to shift the bolt.
Rinemiller stood under the slight shelter of the eaves, lashed by the rain. He did not speak but stalked past Roy and then turned, waiting, in the middle of the room, water spilling off his slicker, his forehead glistening.
Roy closed the door and hoisted his trousers. His mind seemed blank: gone slack in another moment of truth. Rinemiller was there, finally, come to call, and Roy was suddenly furious with everyone, all the politicians, for going off and shooting birds, battling tennis balls, playing with parachutes. It wasn’t right they should be gone or still in bed when Alfred came round. Roy wondered why it should be his responsibility.
“You’re Willie’s soulmate,” Rinemiller said. “You got to stop him.”
“Stop him from what?” Roy said.
“I give you credit for not being totally ignorant of what’s been going on,” Rinemiller said. “Don’t act so goddam innocent … That paper — that’s what. That story he’s written. You’ve got to stop him from publishing it today.”
“Isn’t it already out?” Roy said. “He was at the printer’s when I called him yesterday evening.”
“It’s not out yet … It’s printed but not yet out … I’ve got to stop him before he starts distribution.”
“He’s your employee — not mine,” Roy said. “I can’t stop him from doing anything he’s set on.”
“You could reason with him,” Rinemiller said. “You might try to talk some sense into that crazy bastard. Maybe he’d listen to you. I’ve tried everything else. I’m havin’ him fired this afternoon … Called a meeting of the board. But by then it could be too late. He’s got to be stopped this morning. I’d get a goddam restraining order if it weren’t a weekend.”
Rinemiller’s greased face seemed about to crack; he dripped water, hands stuck in the pockets of his coat; he did not move off the damp spot in the center of the room.
Roy said: “You’re not going to stop him — and I couldn’t if I wanted to. He’s going to get that story out. He’d do it even if he had to run it off on a mimeograph.”
“He’s a damn fool, then,” Rinemiller said. “He’s really pulling a rock. Why the hell — just why? I’ll never figure out.”
“He thinks you’re guilty,” Roy said. “And I know damn well you are.”
“You’re a whore — you’re both whores. You and Willie both,” Rinemiller said. “Fenstemaker’s bought you off and I’m not really much surprised. You’ve been ready for the sellout. You’ve never been with us. You’ve never had the guts to stand up and —”
“Oh shut up and go away,” Roy said.
“Never in your life — not once …”
“Go away,” Roy repeated. “It’s early in the morning and I’ve got to spend the day trying to figure how to prevent you from hauling everybody else down the abyss with you … Go on home, Alfred … Go badger some more of your witnesses. You stink. You’re a god damn sewer.”
“I just wish I could prove you had something to do with this story,” Rinemiller said. “I’d sue. If Willie had any money, I’d sue him.”
“Wish I had had something to do with it,” Roy said. He sat down on the bed and smoked a cigarette. Through the window he could see the rain beating on the lake surface, but beyond the hills there was a faint break in the overcast, a wisp of improbably blue sky. Some crazy college students sped past, moving upriver in a large outboard, towing a water skier. Rinemiller continued to stand in the middle of the room, fixed on the damp spot. He stared round the room, looking impatient and slightly wall-eyed.
“You got any coffee?” he said.
He was insane, Roy thought. In just a minute he’ll give me his fraternity grip and call me a whore again. He said: “What the hell were you going to do with all that money, Alfred?”
“What the hell you think?” Rinemiller said. “Buy myself a new blazer jacket and join the Book-of-the-Month. Go to hell.” He walked into the small kitchen, found a clean tumbler, and drew a glass of water from the tap.
“Have you heard yourself on tape?” Roy said. “You didn’t do too badly. Though you really ought to work on your diction. You tend to slur —”
“I haven’t had that privilege,” Rinemiller said, setting the glass down. “I wasn’t invited to the premier in Fenstemaker’s office … I’m going to get that son of a bitch, too. One way or another. Never thought of asking me. Never give a man a chance at all. Face his accusers. Never thought of getting my side of it. Just invited people in to hear his lousy tape recordings … I’ll bet he’s had some second thoughts since yesterday.”
“Imagine he has,” Roy said. “Probably wishes he’d left Willie and me out of this and handled it all himself. I don’t think he’d ever have let you get off so easy.”
They both jumped a little when the phone rang. Roy walked over and picked up the receiver.
“Roy, dearest …” Ouida’s voice was weak and full of exhaustion.
“How are you?” The question sounded ridiculous in his head, but he could think of nothing else to say to her.
“Do you love me?” she said. “Do you care anything at all about me?”
“I imagine so,” he said. “There’s certainly that possibility.”
“I thought I was going to die the night you took me to the hospital. And I really didn’t care. Not till you came by. We didn’t know each other very well then. I needed you, though — someone — to lean on.”
“You sure did,” Roy said. “Otherwise you’d have sat there all night, watching the television and bleeding to death.”
Rinemiller glanced up, frowning, from the kitchen. He had a small coffeepot from the cupboard and was trying to measure with a teaspoon. He drew water and then put the pot on an open burner. He began to rinse a cup and saucer.
“Do you love me, Roy?” Ouida repeated.
“Yes,” Roy said.
“Say it.”
“It’s … hard. It’s damned difficult. I’m trying to learn how.”
“When did you know?” Ouida said. “How long … do you think you’ve loved me?”
“Off and on,” Roy said, “for three or four hours.”
Rinemiller came into the room, rubbing the cup with a dishtowel. “Don’t you ever wash your goddam dishes?” he said.
“Who was that?” Ouida said.
“It was just Ellen Streeter,” Roy said. “Ellen spent the night here with me.”
“Who was it?” Ouida said. “Who’s there with you? It sounded like Alfred.”
“A legislator of note,” Roy said. “A famous recording artist.”
Rinemiller made a wicked gesture with his hand. Roy made it back.
“Is it Alfred? Is he there?” Ouida said.
“Yes,” Roy said. “You have hit the nail on the hammer.”
“Let me talk to him,” Ouida said. “That’s what I called you about. I’ve been trying to get Alfred on the phone since seven o’clock this morning. I need to talk to him …”
Roy held the receiver out for Rinemiller and said it turned out the call was for him. Rinemiller got to his feet and reached for the instrument. Roy pulled it back at the last instant and said into the mouthpiece, “I love you, this is goodbye.”
Then he gave the phone to Rinemiller and walked over next to the screen door and stood there looking out, scratching his bare chest, attempting to listen to what was said and understand what was happening to him that morning, while all the time the bits and pieces of the dream kept coming back from his interrupted sleep. He had been stopped by police while out driving late at night and taken to the station because he had no identification on him and was wearing only pajama bottoms. The police were coarse and impatient with him. He did not seem able to explain why he was what he was. They wouldn’t believe it when he emphasized he was a solid, respectable, responsible citizen. With important connections, moreover. Who just happened to be riding through the city in pajama bottoms. They pushed him around, but the abuse wasn’t so annoying as the fact they just didn’t understand. Then Arthur Fenstemaker appeared, coming through the station house shaking hands, moving from one officer to another, gripping everyone. And he had thought, here, at last, was someone who could help. But the Governor had only looked over at him, winked an eye, and strode on out of sight. Toward the end of the dream the police were getting more abusive and it appeared he would never be given an opportunity to make that one phone call. And he was uncertain, for that matter, just who he might have called …
Someday … he thought … Someday I will be alone and in trouble and inadequate for the moment. The more I will rage, the more I will be pushed around by the law. Arthur Fenstemaker will be out campaigning for re-election, flapping his huge arms, gold teeth gleaming in the Kleig lights, quoting from Isaiah, and the authorities in some perverse sequence of events will be singularly unimpressed by the power catchwords I will have thrown out to them.
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching the coffee boil. Alfred Rinemiller had hung the phone up and was now sitting across from him, beginning to cry. It was horrible to see the big, handsome, bushy-haired man cry that way. Alfred’s face was swollen and inflamed, and he sat across from Roy blowing his nose, repeating over and over again, “God damn her soul … God damn her soul …”
After a few minutes, he seemed to have got control of himself. He straightened and even managed to show a little of his old arrogance. “Earle will stick with me,” he said. “I’ll fix that bitch with Earle, and he’ll back me up. He’ll remember what I told him Thursday night. He’ll testify to what I told him Thursday night …”
Roy sat watching in wonder. It was fantastic. He really believed what he was saying; he’d convinced himself.
“You didn’t tell Earle anything Thursday night.”
“Who says? Who the hell says?” Rinemiller seemed prepared to debate the point endlessly.
“You weren’t even with Earle Thursday night,” Roy said.
“Who says?”
“You were with Ouida Thursday night. You were shacked up with Ouida Thursday night.”
“Who says?” Rinemiller repeated, his voice high and shrill and breaking slightly. He began, once again, to cry. His expression gave way and was twisted then into an awful distortion. After another minute he got up to leave.
“Hold on,” Roy said. “Wait up. Sit down and I’ll tell you what you ought to do. I’ll give you my counsel — no fee involved. I don’t hardly ever give it away, either. Not often even for money.”
Rinemiller sat back down.
“Incline your ear to wisdom,” Roy said. “I quote the Governor of our state, who reads the Good Book … Bend your heart to understanding …”