The Secret History - Donna Tartt [227]
“The FBI? No.”
“I’m surprised. After all that lifeboat shit they were feeding everybody.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Christ. They were saying all kinds of weird stuff. There was a conspiracy going on. They knew that Henry and Charles and I were involved. We were all in bad trouble and there was only room for one guy on the lifeboat out. And that guy was going to be the guy that talked first.” He sniffed again, and rubbed his nose with his knuckle. “In a way, it got worse after my dad sent the lawyer up. ‘Why do you need a lawyer if you’re innocent,’ all that kind of shit. Thing is, even the fucking lawyer couldn’t figure out what they were trying to get me to confess to. They kept saying that my friends—Henry and Charles—had ratted on me. That they were the guilty ones, and if I didn’t start talking I might get blamed for something I didn’t even do.”
My heart was pounding, and not just from the cocaine. “Talking?” I said. “About what?”
“Search me. My lawyer said not to worry, that they were full of shit. I talked to Charles and he said they were giving him the same line, too. And I mean—I know you like Henry but I think he got pretty flipped out by the whole thing.”
“What?”
“Well, I mean, he’s so straight, probably never even had an overdue library book, and out of the blue here comes the fucking FBI all over him. I don’t know what the hell he told them, but he was trying to point them in any direction but towards himself.”
“Like what direction?”
“Like me.” He reached for a cigarette. “And, I hate to say it, but I think towards you.”
“Me?”
“I never brought your name up, man. I hardly fucking know you. But they got it from somewhere. And it wasn’t from me.”
“You mean they actually mentioned my name?” I said, after a stunned silence.
“Maybe Marion gave it to them or something, I don’t know. God knows, they had Bram’s name, Laura’s, even Jud MacKenna’s.… Yours was only once or twice, toward the end there. Don’t ask me why, but I had the idea the Feebies went over to talk to you. I guess that would’ve been the night before they found Bunny’s body. They were coming over to talk to Charles again, I know that, but Henry called and tipped him off that they were on the way. That was when I was staying over at the twins’. Well, I didn’t want to see them, either, so I headed over to Bram’s, and Charles I guess just went to some townie bar and got completely fucked up.”
My heart was thumping so wildly I thought it would burst in my chest like a red balloon. Had Henry got scared, tried to sic the FBI on me? That didn’t make sense. There was no way, at least that I could see, he could set me up without incriminating himself. Then again (paranoia, I thought, I have to stop this) maybe it was no coincidence that Charles had stopped by my room that night on his way to the bar. Maybe he had been apprised of the whole thing and—unbeknownst to Henry—had come over and successfully lured me out of harm’s way.
“You look like you could use a drink, man,” said Cloke presently.
“Yeah,” I said. I had been sitting for a long time without saying anything. “Yeah, I guess I could.”
“Why don’t you go to the Villager tonight? Thirsty Thursday. Two for the price of one.”
“Are you going?”
“Everybody’s going. Shit. You’re trying to tell me you never went to Thirsty Thursday before?”
So I went to Thirsty Thursday, with Cloke and Judy, with Bram and Sophie Dearbold and some friends of Sophie’s, and a lot of other people I didn’t even know, and though I don’t know what time I got home I didn’t wake up till six the next evening, when Sophie knocked at my door. My stomach hurt and my head was splitting in two, but I put on my robe and let her in. She had just got out of ceramics class and was wearing a T-shirt and faded old jeans. She had brought me a bagel from the snack bar.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yes,” I said, though I had to hold on to the back of my chair to stand up.
“You were really drunk last night.”
“I know,” I said. Getting out of bed had made me feel,