'I swear to you,' he said hotly, 'Helene and I have never-'
'Oh, cut the bullshit,' she interrupted in a tone of great disgust. 'You've been banging her since the day you met. Do you take me for a complete idiot? I've seen the way you look at her. The same way you looked at Bob Farber's new wife tonight. Is that what gave you the idea, Clay?'
'I'm telling you there's nothing between Helene and me.'
'Laughing at her feeble jokes,' Eleanor went on relentlessly. 'Agreeing with all her stupid opinions. Rushing to help her on with her coat. Any excuse to touch her. There's no fool like an old fool, Clay.'
'I'm not old,' he shouted at her. 'And you're dead wrong about all those things. I was just trying to be a good host.'
'Oh sure,' his wife jeered. 'That's why you made certain you sat next to her every time she came to dinner. Playing a little kneesy, Clay? Listen, don't ever get the idea that the wife is the last to know. The wife is the first to know. When her rotten husband starts being extra pleasant and accommodating. When he starts buying clothes too young for him and gets facials. That's you, Clay. You're really a moron if you think I haven't known what's been going on. Sure, you can have a divorce, sonny boy, but it's going to cost you an arm and a leg, now and forever.'
'Believe me,' he said wrathfully, 'whatever it costs, it'll be worth it to dump a sour, dried-up hag like you.'
Still she would not weep. 'Oh, Helene will marry you,' she said, showing her teeth in a mirthless grin. 'That greedy bitch has a bottom-line mentality. I give it a year, and then she'll walk. That's another alimony check every month, Clay. Then you'll find a new conversation piece- and I do mean piece- and do it again, and keep on doing it until you grow up, which will be never. You're a victim of your glands, Clay.'
'Just have your attorney contact Arthur Rushkin in the morning,' he said stiffly.
'With pleasure,' his wife said. 'Before I get through with you, you'll be lucky to have fillings in your teeth. Did you tell your mother about this?'
'Yes.'
'Poor Olivia,' she said. 'She's the one I feel sorry for. She's had more than her share of troubles lately. But she's a tough lady; she'll survive. I'm sure she already knew her only son was short-changed in the brains department. Now I'm going to bed, Clay, and I think it would be best if you slept somewhere else.'
He was outraged. 'Where am I going to go at this time of night?' he demanded.
'You can go to hell,' Eleanor spat at him. 'You miserable shit!'
Chapter 25
Turner Pierce paced about Helene's apartment, head lowered, hands clasped behind him.
'My God, you're antsy,' Helene said. 'Calm down; it's only Sid.'
'I have bad vibes about this,' he said. 'I reminded him we had agreed on no private meetings unless there was an emergency. He said this was an emergency, but he sounded so damned smug. I don't like the way he sounded.'
'He's such a scamp,' Helene said.
'A scamp?' Turner repeated. 'Darling, the man is an out-and-out crook-and a slimy crook at that.'
'It takes one to know one,' she said, and he turned to make certain she was smiling. She was.
He sat down on the couch, took a swallow of his Stolich-naya. 'At least we don't promise suckers everlasting life in the holy oneness. Now that's slimy.'
'Yes,' she said, still smiling, 'we do have our standards, don't we. Did I ever tell you Sid has the hots for me?'
'That was obvious in KC. Did he ever make a move on you?'
'Once,' she said, not smiling now. 'I told him what I'd do to him if he tried anything. He backed off.'
Turner glanced at his watch. 'If he's not here in ten minutes, I'm splitting. I have a date with Felicia tonight.'
'Where are you going?'
'Who said we're going anywhere?' he said.
'Have you figured a way to stall her?'
'I have, but you don't want to know it, do you?'
'Not really.'
'What about Clayton?'
'I can handle him,' she said. 'He's pussy-whipped. All we want is another year-right?'
He nodded. 'That should do it.'
The phone rang and Helene picked it up. 'Yes? That's correct. Send him up, please. Thank you.' She hung up. 'That was the concierge. Sid's on his way up.'
'I'm not looking forward to this,' Turner said.
The first thing Father Brian Callaway did when he entered the apartment, even before he removed his hat and coat, was to rip off his clerical collar. 'That damn thing is going to cut my throat one of these days,' he said.
'We should be so lucky,' Helene said, and Sidney Loftus laughed.
'What a kidder you are,' he said. 'What're you guys drinking?'
'Stoli rocks,' Turner said.
'Sounds good to me,' Loftus said, rubbing his palms together. 'With a splash of water, please.'
Helene rose, sighing, and went into the kitchen. Sid sat down heavily on an armchair. The two men looked at each other with wary smiles.
'How's the church doing?' Turner asked.
Loftus flipped a palm back and forth. 'Not hellacious but adequate,' he said. 'The take is good but I've got to live in that shithouse on Twentieth Street, kip in the back room, and ladle out slop to a bunch of crumbums.'
'Why don't you move?'
The other man shook his head. 'No can do. It's the reverse of a flash front, y'see. Living in that dump proves my spirituality. I couldn't live in a Park Avenue duplex and plead poverty, now could I?'
'Image-building,' Turner said.
'You've got it,' Sid said, nodding. 'Very important in our game, as you well know. Thank you, my dear,' he said, taking the glass from Helene. He raised it. 'Here's to crime,' he toasted. But he was the only one who drank.
'Sid,' Turner said, 'I've got a meeting to get to. What's this big emergency you mentioned?'
Loftus crossed his knees. He adjusted the crease in his trousers. He leaned back. He took a pigskin case from an inner pocket. He extracted a long cigarillo carefully. He lighted up slowly.
'An impressive performance,' Turner said. 'Keep it up and I'm going to waltz out of here. Now what's on your mind?'
'Business, business,' Sidney said, shaking his head. 'With you it's always business. You never take time to smell the flowers. Very well, I'll be brief. You know, of course, that Clayton Starrett is divorcing Eleanor.'
'Who told you that?' Helene demanded.
He looked at her, amused. 'Olivia,' he said. 'She tells Father Brian Callaway everything.'
'My God,' Turner said, 'you're not porking the woman, are you?'
'Oh, dear me, no,' Loftus said. 'I am her confidant, her father confessor. She dotes on me.'
'You've got a sweet little scam going there,' Turner said.
Sid shrugged. 'To each his own,' he said. 'And Olivia also told me that as soon as Clayton can give his wife the boot, he plans to marry Helene.' He turned to her. 'Congratulations, my dear,' he said. 'May all your troubles be little ones.'
'Stuff it,' she told him.
He smiled and took a swallow of his drink. 'Too much water,' he said. 'Now this is the way I figure it… Clayton has told you, Helene, of his impending divorce and has already proposed. I'm sure you've discovered that Clayton is not the brightest kid on the block. He's easily manipulated, and I'm guessing that you'll play him along until his divorce comes through, and then you'll take a walk. Am I correct in my assumptions?'
