A Graveyard for Lunatics

?He calls on that phone across the street about this time, to see has so-and-so arrived, come out, stuff like that,? said Charlotte. ?Saves time. He sleeps late, cause he?s usually out front restaurants midnights.?

?I know.? I finished the last signature, glowing with an inadmissible elation. I still could not look at my new admirers, who smiled at me as if I had just leaped Galilee in one stride.

Across the street the glass-booth phone rang.

?That?s Clarence now!? said Ma.

?Excuse me?? Charlotte started off.

?Please,? I touched her elbow. ?It?s been years. Surprise?? I looked from Charlotte to her Ma and back. ?Yes??

?Oh, all right,? grumped Ma.

?Go ahead,? said Charlotte.

The phone rang. I ran to lift the receiver.

?Clarence?? I said.

?Who?s this!?? he cried, instantly suspicious.

I tried to explain in some detail, but wound up with the old metaphor, ?the Crazy.?

That buttered no bread for Clarence. ?Where?s Charlotte or Ma? I?m sick.?

Sick, I wondered, or, like Roy, suddenly afraid.

?Clarence,? I said, ?where do you live??

?Why?!?

?Give me your phone number, at least??

?No one has that! My place would be robbed! My photos. My treasures!?

?Clarence,? I pleaded, ?I was at the Brown Derby last night.?

Silence.

?Clarence?? I called. ?I need your help to identify someone.?

I swear I could hear his little rabbity heart race down line. I could hear his tiny albino eyes jerk in their sockets.

?Clarence,? I said, ?please! Take my name and phone numbers.? I gave them. ?Call or write the studio. I saw that man almost hit you last night. Why? Who? ??

Click. Hum.

Clarence, wherever he was, was gone.

I moved across the street like a sleepwalker.

?Clarence won?t be here.?

?What d?ya mean?? accused Charlotte. ?He?s always here!?

?What?d you say to him!?? Charlotte?s Ma showed me her left, her evil, eye.

?He?s sick.?

Sick, like Roy, I thought. Sick, like me.

?Does anyone know where he lives??

They all shook their heads.

?I suppose you could follow him and see!? Charlotte stopped and laughed at herself. ?I mean??

Someone else said, ?I seen him go down Beachwood, once. One of those bungalow courts??

?Does he have a last name??

No. Like everyone else in all the years. No last name.

?Damn,? I whispered.

?Comes to that?? Charlotte?s Ma eyed the card I had signed. ?What?s your monicker??

I spelled it for her.

?Gonna work in films,? sniffed Ma, ?oughta get you a new name.?

?Just call me Crazy.? I walked away. ?Charlotte. Ma.?

?Crazy,? they said. ?Goodbye.?

21

Fritz was waiting for me upstairs, outside Manny Leiber?s office.

?They are in a feeding frenzy inside,? he exclaimed. ?What?s wrong with you!??

?I was talking to the gargoyles.?