Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [288]
“There’s nothing to be upset about, from what you tell me.”
“Will you be upset if I marry her? If she’ll have me, I will. That’s definite.”
Mrs. Keith glanced at him for an instant. She was a timorous gray-headed old woman in that look, and Willie suddenly felt warmly sorry for her. Then she turned to the road again, and her determined strong profile was the same as ever. She waited a long time before answering. “You’ve grown up. You know everything I can tell you. If you’re still seeking out May, she must have qualities I’ve never had a chance to observe. I hope she doesn’t hate me.”
“Of course not, Mother-”
“I wouldn’t want to be shut out of your life, whatever you do. I’m rather short on sons.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She said in an agitated voice, “Why now? You haven’t kissed me since you’ve been back.”
“I’ve been in a fog, Mother. When I find May I’ll be normal again, maybe-”
“Bring her home and let me get to know her. Were you fair to me? Didn’t you hide her away like a cheap liaison? I took her at the value you set on her, Willie. That’s the truth.”
It was a good shot-only partly true, he thought, because his mother’s possessiveness had a violent life of its own-but a fair criticism of himself. He was relieved by his mother’s apparent surrender. “I’ll bring her home, Mother, as soon as I find her.”
He called Rubin’s office as soon as he brought the bags from the car. This time the agent answered. “Willie! It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for a couple of months for you to show up-”
“Where’s May, Marty?”
“What are you doing now? Where are you?”
“Home in Manhasset. Why?”
“Can you come into town? I’d like to talk to you.”
“Where’s May? Is she all right? What are you being so mysterious about? Is she married or something?”
“No, she isn’t married. Look, can’t you come in? It’s kind of important-”
“Of course I can. I’ll be there in an hour. What’s it all about?”
“Come on in. Come to my office. The Brill Building. I’ll wait here for you.”
Rubin’s “office” was a desk in a cluttered room that had four other desks occupied by four other agents. Rubin stood as soon as Willie came in the door, and picked up a loud plaid overcoat draped on the back of his chair. “Hi, Lieutenant. Let’s go where we can talk.”
He said nothing about May as he led Willie along Forty-seventh Street and turned up Seventh Avenue. He asked eager questions about the Kamikazes and minesweeping. Willie interrupted at last. “Look, Marty, I want to know-”
“I know what you want to know. Here we are.” They went through a revolving door into the crowded ornate lobby of a popular tourist hotel. Willie knew it well. He immediately recognized, even after three years, the deodorant perfume that characterized the place; every hotel in New York has its own unchanging smell. Marty led him to a large glass-covered signboard in mid-lobby, and pointed. “There’s your girl. She’s stopping here.”
NOW NIGHTLY IN THE GORGEOUS AZTEC LOUNGE
THE SHIMMERING MUSIC OF
Walter Feather
AND HIS SAXOPHONE
WITH THE ORCHESTRA
“Heaven in a Horn”
AND SONGS BY
Marie Minotti
“Broadway’s Beloved Bombshell”
There was a picture of a saxophonist and May together at a microphone. “Now you know,” Rubin said.
“What do I know? Why did she change her name?”
“Said the other one didn’t bring her any luck. She’s been with Feather since about two weeks after you left, Willie. She’s-she’s mixed up with him.”
The words and the tone made Willie very sick. He stared at the saxophonist’s picture. He had rimless glasses, a flat thin stage smile, and a long nose. “He doesn’t look like much-”
“He’s a prime no-good. Married and divorced twice-I’ve been fighting it, but-she just gets sore at me-”
“Christ; May has more sense than that-”
“He caught her on the bounce, Willie. You threw her down pretty hard. He’s a fine musician, he has a lot of moola, and he’s as smart as Einstein about women. He’s a little god in his own crowd. May-well, she’s pretty innocent, Willie, for all her wise-guy line-”
“What’s the story? Are they