Lucy had now switched songs to 'Heart of Gold,' which she rendered with something approaching a genuine Neil Young whine. Marlene joined in, her thoughts turning from the past to her present situation and to Karp. Karp was not bad, ever. He had, in addition, a true heart of gold, honest and loving. Occasionally priggish, perhaps, but never would he have sucked after Bloom the way she had, never betrayed himself as she had… Stop! she told herself, that was quite enough of that. She was paying for her mistake, had ditched her job, was living in a rat hole, was dead broke, but on the other hand, she was at long last starting to recover a taste of free. Free to hang out with Lucy, who was more enjoyable company than anyone she was likely to meet in the criminal courts, or official Washington, and free to fully explore bad Marlene, something that she now discovered filled her with a certain anticipation.
Back in Federal Gardens, Marlene left Lucy snoring gently in her stroller in the living room and opened a beer for herself. She could hear loud voices and heavy movements from the apartment next door. Marlene and Karp called the couple who lived there Thug 'n' Dwarf. Thug was a hulking long-haul truck driver, and Dwarf was his tiny bride. Their relationship seemed to consist of silence, violent arguments, and noisy fucking. Lately the arguments had grown more violent, as Dwarf had brought home a dog without Thug's permission. The barking and whining of this dog now added its note to the audio channel. A final burst of screaming and the door slammed next door: Thug going off to get his load. He'd be back at midnight, ready for action.
The phone rang and Marlene went into the kitchen to get it.
'God, Marlene,' said Karp, 'I've been calling all day. Where have you been?'
'It was a nice day. We took a long walk. Why, is anything wrong?'
'No, but I just wanted to remind you that we have a dinner party to go to tonight. At the Dobbses'.'
A pause. 'That's 'remind' meaning 'to inform for the first time'?' asked Marlene sweetly.
'Yeah, well, I lost track of it; Bert reminded me yesterday. Is that going to be a problem?'
'No, not really. I have nothing to wear, no baby-sitter, and we have no means of transportation. I tell you what, why don't I just huddle in the cinders and sniffle while you go to the ball?'
'You're sounding more feisty, anyway,' said Karp. 'Last couple of weeks I thought it was Invasion of the Body Snatchers.'
'Yeah, well, it's probably just the manic phase. Couple of days I'll try to break into the White House with a secret plan for world peace.'
'Please, don't joke!' said Karp. 'Meanwhile, smarty-pants, dumb old husband happened to take care of the baby-sitter and the car both. Clay's going to watch Lucy, and we can borrow his car.'
'Great!' said Marlene. 'Does he have a dress I could wear?'
The truth was that Marlene had packed hardly any of her own clothes during her precipitate flight from New York. She had dragooned her younger brother into leaving his comfortable Village apartment and moving into the loft, at a ruinously low rent, carefully packed all of Lucy's clothes and toys, and, as an afterthought, emptied some of her own drawers and shelves almost at random into an army duffel bag, lest she have to walk the streets of Washington literally nude. Tony dinner parties in McLean were not uppermost in her mind during those dreadful days.
Thus, she was well supplied with undies, but the only shoes in the house, besides sneakers, were a pair of knee-high, floppy boots suitable for appearing in performances of Der Rosenkavalier. As for dresses and suits, Marlene had grabbed a handful of summer items, having picked up that Washington was swelteringly hot in summer, but having somehow forgotten that it was now closing in on winter. As these were obviously unsuitable, she chose a quilted grayish purple long skirt of some vague central Asian ethnicity, and a good silvery-colored French silk blouse from Saks that unfortunately had a large and indelible wine stain under the right breast.
Easily solved: she had a paisley Edwardian waistcoat, moth-holed, yes, but the moth holes did not match where the wine stain was.
Having selected her outfit, Marlene bathed and washed her hair, and put in her glassie. She paused to inspect herself in the small and blackened bathroom mirror. Her hair was an impossible mess. The lock that was usually sculpted by her hairdresser to distract from her bad eye was long grown out. She dragged a brush through the worst of the tangles, and then gave up, laughing hysterically. The errant lock she grabbed and pulled back, and looked around for something to hold it with. Ah, Lucy's Little Orphan Annie plastic barrette-perfect! She snapped it in.
She was dressed and watching the blurry black-and-white TV with Lucy when Karp and Fulton arrived.
'Daddy, I coldcocked a asshole!' shrieked Lucy, running into Karp's arms.
He hugged her and shot an inquiring look at Marlene, who shrugged casually.
She kissed Fulton, and said, 'Thanks a million for this, Clay. Make yourself at home, such as it is. There's beer in the fridge. Try to keep Lucy under a quart. She's a mean drunk.'
Fulton chuckled, and said, 'No problem. Speaking of which, don't wreck my car.'
'You still driving that T-bird?'
'Uh-huh. I would've traded for a Caddie El Dorado last year, but my mama gave me all kinds of grief about it. Ford hired her brother in 1938 and since then everybody in the family's got to drive their shit.'
'What is this about 'coldcocked,' ' asked Karp.
'What she said,' answered Marlene indifferently. 'Some brat tried to boost her toy and she flattened him.' She twirled. 'How do you like my outfit?'
'Great, Marl. You look great,' said Karp automatically, in the fashion of husbands.
'I look like a clown,' said Marlene cheerfully. 'Let's go to the circus!' she cried, literally skipping to the door, the clunky boots thumping, the tacky skirt flapping.
Karp followed with a measured tread. He had seen tiny glimpses of his beloved in this state from time to time; now it looked like becoming nonstop entertainment. To his credit, Karp preferred this version to the recent zombie. Manic. A good word, he thought, as he went through the door. Marlene was in the car and honking its horn in a boogie rhythm. Maniac, another good word.
In Miami, the thin man grew bored. He shaved his beard, leaving the mustache. Beards weren't real big in this neighborhood. In violation of instructions, he went out and walked around Little Havana, and had a late meal at La Lechoneria: steak with a foot-high stack of curly fried potatoes. It was bright as day in the place, as in all Cuban restaurants, but he wore his ball hat and dark glasses. With those and the mustache, he doubted anyone would recognize him. It had, after all, been thirteen years. And, of course, everyone thought he was dead. The thin man enjoyed his meal, left a nice tip, and walked back to the house.
NINE
They had valet parking at the Dobbs house. The Karps alighted from the T-bird nonchalantly, as if they always went to parties with valet parking, and let the teenage kid drive it away. The house was a three-story, red brick, Federal-style structure, with two generous wings, its face embellished with white trim and a white-columned portico, set on two acres of landscaped grounds. There were several outbuildings, each with a white spire and a weathercock.
Past the door, in the circular entrance hall under the glittering brass-and-glass chandelier, Butch and Marlene had their coats taken by a maid in uniform-no throwing on the bed for the Dobbses-and were greeted by a small woman who introduced herself as Maggie Dobbs. As Marlene shook the proffered hand she noticed the woman's eyes widen and her smile stiffen as she absorbed what Marlene was wearing. Marlene absorbed Mrs. Dobbs too: a fine-boned woman not much older than herself, with delicate china-doll features, a shining blond Dutch boy, and blue eyes to match. She was wearing a jacket and trousers outfit of vaguely oriental cut, in embroidered yellow brocade. Marlene judged the outfit stylish, and absurdly expensive, but somehow Maggie Dobbs failed to bring it off in the manner that Halston, or whoever, had intended. The vivid yellow washed out her pale coloring, and besides that there was something in her eyes, a faintheartedness surprising in a good-looking woman, the chatelaine of this rich place, a look more comprehensible in an unattractive teenager on the wallflower line at the junior prom.
'I love your outfit,' said Marlene.
The woman colored and murmured, 'Thank you, I… ah…' She reached for a return compliment, baffled.
Marlene said gaily, 'Oh, it's just something I threw together,' and tripped off to the brightly lit living room,
