Kiss Your Elbow (18 page)

“What's the idea of sitting in that cab all this time spying on me?”

“Oh, Timmy, I wasn't spying on you. I was waiting for all those people to go away so you could tell me what happened. Darling, who hurt you…was it Bobby—did he try to kill you? Oh, Timmy, we're not going to wait another minute. Come on—we'll go to the police….”

“Now calm down, Maggie. It was just an accident. I'm perfectly all right. Just a few scratches…”

“But how did it happen? You're lying to me. They tried to kill you.”

“I'm not lying and nobody tried to kill me. Stop being so hysterical.” What was the use of upsetting her? It wouldn't do any good. There wasn't anything she could do about it now. So I told her approximately the same story I told the rest of the cast. She, at least, didn't laugh. But I'm not sure she believed me, although she pretended to.

“Then you're really all right?” I assured her I was. “Well, that's good, but don't ever scare me again like that. Oh, Timmy…wait till you see my dress. It is absolutely out of this world. Ernie and Jenny did themselves proud. I only hope it isn't too good or Miss Randall will never let me wear it. And Ernie made the most marvelous little hat to match—”

“Never mind about your dress, did you go to Chorus Equity?”

“I'm sorry, Timmy, but I'm afraid I overslept.”

“Then you didn't go?”

“In a word, no.”

“Then you've got time to do it now.”

“But what about rehearsal? We're late already.”

“Frobisher sent me to the doctor's and they are starting with the first act so it will be at least an hour, and don't forget I offered you a drink out of the office bottle when you did it.”

“Okay, chief, but you're a hard man. Maybe I'll try and get a job at Chorus Equity. You'll be sorry when I'm dancing in a
louche
dive in South America.”

“See if you can get one for me, too. I'll probably need it after today.”

Frobisher's doctor had his office in Radio City and Frobisher's name got me right in without an appointment. While the doc was cleaning out my scratches Frobisher even called up to check on my condition. With at least a hundred thousand dollars already invested in the play I could understand why he would want to make sure that my part as a walking cocktail shaker wasn't going to look like a class in first aid. The doc reassured him that I would look reasonably human in a couple of days but I didn't feel that his final tape job was much of an improvement over mine.

 

I was about a hundred yards from the Lyceum when I saw him. Just seeing my dog-faced pal, Jo-Jo, again was like a kick in the stomach. I ducked into the doorway of a Mexican restaurant and watched him through the angle of the window glass. He stood for a moment
looking up and down the street. Even at that distance he looked big. Big and ugly. My throat was dry and I was scared. Even with a gun I was scared. Jo-Jo slowly lit a cigarette, then packed those huge hands in his pockets and shuffled off toward Broadway. I transferred the pistol to my coat pocket and started to follow him. I didn't know what I was going to do if I did catch up to him, and when I got to Broadway I was almost relieved that I lost him in the crowd. What was he doing in the Lyceum? Had he come back to finish the job he'd started on me last night? God, if he was being that open about it…If he was that set on killing me…he'd be back in a little while to try again, and maybe better luck next time—and I knew there would be a next time and a next time after that until he did it. Or I did it. Bobby was playing for keeps. No picking up your marbles and going home when you got bored with this game. I was sick at myself for being glad that Jo-Jo had disappeared in the crowd. I'd had my chance…even a gun. I could have forced him to go with me to Lieutenant Heffran…or I could have even shot him in the back. This was no time to be concerned about ethics. But now I'd have to wait until he came at me again. At his convenience…and he would choose the place—and there are an awful lot of choice places in New York. Alleys, subways, rooming houses, Turkish baths…even backstage in theaters…All my life I've been avoiding them, but now it looked as though Mr. Milquetoast was going to have to make a choice—either just wait for it to happen where or when Bobby wanted, or go out and
look for it and make it happen. And when I thought this over on the way back to the theater I realized that I hadn't much of a choice after all. The decision was just about made for me.

Maggie was waiting in the hall.

“What did the doctor say, Tim? Are you going to live?”

“At least the scratches won't kill me, if that's what you mean.”

“Of course that's what I mean. What did you think I meant?”

“It doesn't matter, Maggie. I was just trying to be funny.”

“Well, I don't like you being funny like that.” She looked my face over very carefully. “Are you sure you're all right? You look sort of odd.”

“I'm okay. Maggie, how long have you been standing here in the hall?”

“About ten minutes. Why?”

“Did you see someone go out just now? A big guy?”

“Looked like an ape?”

“That's the one.”

“Yes. Friend of yours?”

“Did he ask for me?”

“No. He just left. Maybe you can still catch him.”

“Thank you, no.”

“Well, he'll probably come back,” said Maggie.

“Yes,” I said, “he probably will. What did you find out at Chorus Equity?”

“Oh, Timmy. What a place. It reminded me of Polly Adler's in all its glory.”

“How do you know what Polly Adler's looks like?”

“Don't be so literal. Besides, I have gentlemen friends. Anyway, they wouldn't tell me if they had a Bobby LeBranch in their files because I didn't have sense enough to tell them I was doing bumps in some musical, so I got one of the cuties out in the hall by the elevator to go in. It really is the most amazing place. You've never seen such people. Imagine having the energy to paste on false eyelashes at this hour in the morning. Does pink hair send you?”

“Never mind about the hair. What did you find out about Bobby?”

“I'm coming to that, but most of them had pink hair, a very peculiar shade. Maybe I should try it. My little pal told me she did it herself. I wonder if I could? Or maybe you could help me with the back bits. It would probably make all the difference in my life.”

“Maggie, for God's sake…”

“Don't get so excited or you'll blow a bandage. I've got it right here, Bobby's forwarding address.” She fished around in her handbag. “Though I don't think it's going to do us any good because in a way we knew it all the time and Choo-Choo or Chug-Chug or whatever her name is thinks I'd do well as a showgirl and I wouldn't even have to dance…just walk around. She even offered to introduce me to Billy Rose. She's been a chorus girl for five years and knows all about it. She said I'd love it. Do you suppose I would?” She finally pulled a piece of paper out of her bag, “Here it is.”

I grabbed it, straightened it out and read Choo-Choo
or Chug-Chug's florid backhand. Bobby LeBranch c/o Nellie Brant, Shubert Bldg., West 44th Street, New York City, New York.

Round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows. We were right back where we started. I sagged down on the dressing room steps and sat staring at the crumpled bit of paper. What was the use.

Maggie sat down beside me and put her arm around me.

“You know what you ought to do, Timmy.”

“Yeah, shoot myself and get it over with.”

“You see. That's what I mean. What you need is to relax. You ought to get a massage or a rubdown or something.” That jerked me to my feet.

“What do you mean I ought to get a massage? Why did you say that?”

“There, you see. You're so jumpy. It would do you good.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Lots of actors do. It's the most soothing thing in the world.”

“Maggie, what made you think of that? It's important. What made you think of a massage just now?”

“Well, look at the way you're acting. You're all tied up in knots.”

“No, no. Now think, Maggie. Why did you say that just now? Please, Maggie, think back.”

“I don't know…. Please, Timmy, you're hurting me.” I hadn't realized that I was gripping her shoulders as hard as I could. Almost trying to shake it out of her. I let
go. “Did it have anything to do with that big ape that was here a few minutes ago? The one I asked you about?”

“Why yes, Timmy. That was it. How did you know? Though I do think you could find a little nicer-looking one…he was a trifle too Neanderthal for my tastes.”

“But how did you know he was a rubber—did you talk to him?”

“No, it was because they wouldn't pay their bill….”

“Because who wouldn't pay whose bill? Maggie, for God's sake tell me.”

“I can't see what you're getting in such a sweat about, it wasn't your bill…I just happened to hear him trying to collect for a massage he had given last night and somebody wouldn't pay.”

“Who wouldn't pay?”

“Darling, how should I know? I was just waiting out here for you to get back from the doctor's and I overheard Sweetie-pie demanding his money.”

“Who was he talking to?” It had to be Bobby or at least a friend of Bobby's and he was in the theater ten minutes ago…. Maybe he was still here. “Who, Maggie? Who?”

“Oh, darling, I'm afraid I didn't see him. You see I was standing over there by the door that goes onstage and I just overheard them. It isn't nice to eavesdrop I know, but I just happened to be standing there…I didn't mean to listen, really. If I'd known it was so important I could have looked in, but how was I to know?”

“But what did the person he was talking to sound like…could you recognize his voice? Think back.”

“No, I'm sorry. You know how it is…all sort of muffled, and actually I could only hear Sweetie-pie clearly and I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention. Did it have something to do with you-know-who?”

“‘Sweetie-pie,' as you call him, was probably talking to Bobby when you heard him. That's all.”

“Oh, Timmy, no. But why didn't you tell me? You mean he's here in the theater?”

“It's either Bobby or one of his buddies. Did anyone leave after Sweetie-pie?”

“No, I'm sure of that, though you can get out through the front of the house if you want to. Oh, Timmy, I'm sorry if I messed it up, but you don't tell me everything and how was I to know?”

“It isn't your fault…I never dreamed he'd come here. Come on, let's go in and try and see if you can spot the voice you heard—you follow me around and give me a nudge at the slightest suggestion of the same voice.”

“I'll try, but I'm afraid it's not much use. Sweetie-pie did all the talking, but let's go. Only do be careful. Things are forever happening to people backstage.”

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“Well, you know…in the movies…things falling out of the flies on top of people…the Phantom of the Opera…you know.”

She would have to bring that up at a time like this.

W
HEN WE GOT ON THE STAGE
it looked like old home week. I didn't even know where to begin. Ernie had brought over a hat for Miss Randall to try on. Jenny had some swatches for curtain material for the third act she wanted Mr. Frobisher to okay so they were having a break. Margo was sitting in a corner by the switchboard waiting for Mr. Frobisher to get through with Jenny so Greg could introduce her to him properly through channels. And Greg was talking to none other than my old nemesis, Ted Kent. Word must have gotten around about my accident and the old ghoul was there trying to get my part. Yes, Libby was there, too, standing behind him. The old double play: Margo to Libby, Libby to Ted. Don't write or telegraph, just tell an actor. The news will get there twice as fast. Although I had more important things to do, I couldn't resist the opportunity. I sauntered over to Ted, followed by Maggie, who had somewhat the air of a birddog poising to point.

“Hello, Ted, how good of you to come,” I said as archly as I could which considering the bandage handicap was pretty arch indeed. “I hate to be the one to tell
you your trip was for naught, but my physician assures me I shall be able to open with the show.” I glanced at Libby. “Contrary to what you may have been told.” Libby at least had the decency to blush and splutter a bit.

“Don't be ridiculous, old man,” said Ted. “Libby and I just happened to be having lunch with Jenny, and she insisted we stop by here just a minute with her. I haven't quite descended to walk-ons yet. As a matter of fact…”

“Oh, Tim…” Libby fancied herself oil on troubled waters. “I think it was grand of you to arrange for Greg to introduce Margo to Frobisher.”

“But, Libby,” said Margo, “I still don't think I've had enough experience.”

“Don't be silly, dear. You don't have to have any experience to be an understudy for a star. You never get to play it anyhow.” Libby turned to me. “By the way, Tim, what did happen to you? Your face, I mean?”

“I'll tell you all about it one day.” I didn't feel up to repeating my pat little story again. “Greg, how long do you think it will be before we get to the third act?”

“Bout an hour, I should think.”

Well, all four of them had said something and no nudge from Maggie. With Maggie still pattering after me I did the rounds and made an excuse to talk to everyone else on the stage. Showers still thought my accident was hilarious but didn't rate a nudge. Frobisher said he was glad I was going to be able to open. No nudge. Jenny shrieked with laughter and said my face
gave her an inspiration for a new plaid, but no nudge from Maggie and I had to restrain myself from doing more than nudging Jenny and her crummy jokes.

I borrowed a cigarette from Maggie and while I was lighting it I whispered to her to meet me in the ladies' room at the front of the house right away and I wandered to the other side of the stage hoping I didn't look as keyed up as I felt. I watched Maggie go through the pass door and up the aisle to the front of the house and I gave her a couple of minutes' start, then followed her up the opposite aisle. She was waiting for me in the ladies' room when I got there.

“Well this is certainly a novel place for a rendezvous,” she said. I carefully looked in all the toilet stalls before I answered her. They were empty.

“I thought it would be the safest place. Everyone else uses the johns backstage. Well, I take it you didn't recognize any of the voices.”

“But I told you I didn't hear whoever Sweetie-pie was talking to…just a mumble. I didn't think it would do any good. And those silly questions you asked. They'll think you're mad as a hatter. ‘Do you think it's going to rain, Miss Randall?' and ‘Do you like baseball, Mr. Showers?'
Really!”

“Well, I had to get them to talk somehow.”

“Okay. Now what do we do?”

“I've got to think.”

“Is this where you come when you want to think?”

“Maggie, what do we know that Bobby doesn't want us to?”

“Not much. It's what we
don't
know that would fill a book…and I don't mean Youth and Beauty.”

“Yeah, but it couldn't be the Youth and Beauty Book. He's got that back.”

“All but that one page, of course.”

“What do you mean, all but one page?”

“That page with our names on it. It seemed silly leaving it in that day when we were going to pitch it back in Nellie's office.”

“And you tore it out?” I should have known. Maggie and her habit of tearing out pages. She nodded, very pleased with herself. “But where is it now?”

“Up in my apartment. I can get it for you if it's as important as all that. After all it didn't have anything on it but the names, did it?”

“But that must be it. That's what he's still after. Maggie, why didn't you tell me?”

“But I thought you knew. You were right there when I did it. Or weren't you? Anyway, I'm sure I've still got it.”

That was it. The missing page was the missing link. That was why Bobby and Jo-Jo tried to stew me in my own juice. That was why a tombstone in New Jersey read Amos Slattery. And if I could only work it right, that would be why another tombstone would read Bobby LeBranch. That page could set up Bobby for me on my own terms. I started getting all hopped up inside. No more hugging walls in subway stations afraid I'll be pushed in front of a train. No more chairs under my doorknob. We'd get it settled once and for all. By now I could practically hear background music of the
William Tell Overture. I was Popeye after a dose of spinach. I was Dick Tracy in spades. As a matter of fact I was a damn fool, but you don't always know those things at the time.

“Maggie. How are you feeling?”

“I like that. How are
you
feeling?”

“Remember a couple of days ago you said that if I ever got anything definite about this murder business, you thought it would be sheer heaven to play cops and robbers?”

“But, angel, what bliss. Am I to be the bait for your trap?” That jolted me.

“What trap?”

“Darling, don't tell me you haven't got a trap. That's ridiculous, you must have a trap. How else can I be the bait? Could you give me time to get my hair pink? Chug-Chug says…”

“Never mind about Chug-Chug. How are you on adlibbing? Do you have to have your lines written out for you or can you make them up as you go along?”

“I don't know. Whatever for?”

“Because in a few minutes you and I are going to play a scene in front of the whole company.”

“Wonderful. Are there cocktails in it or do I really get a chance to act?”

“You get a chance to act. The idea is to bring Bobby over to your house to play by letting him know that you have the missing page to the Youth and Beauty Book.”

“But what's the idea? Then Bobby
is
one of the
company? I knew it. Which one? Frobisher, Greg, Showers…? Oh, tell me.”

“I'm not sure myself yet, but the less you know the safer you'll be, but I do know that if he isn't—someone in the company does know him and will pass the word along. I'm going to drop this page from the Burns Mantle
Best Plays
that you tore out at the library and then you can pick it up and sort of read through the cast aloud…. You know actors always love to talk about old plays, and then when you come to Bobby's name you can bring it in that you have seen that name before in an engagement book and you just happen to have that page at home, and what a coincidence. You don't need to mention the Youth and Beauty Book by name. Our pal will know. Then I'll take it from there. It won't make much sense to the rest of the people, but we're only playing to one person—think you can do it?”

“My God, I certainly have all the exposition in this lousy play. Why don't I just have a feather duster and say to the butler, ‘I sye, 'ow careless of young Mawster Bobby to leave a page of the Youth and Beauty Book lyin' around careless like with Poor Miss Nellie not cold in her gryve!' I hope you're not planning to put money in this turkey. It doesn't look to me like it's got a prayer.”

But it had to have a prayer. Now or never. Last night proved that. If I didn't get him—he'd get me. Simple as that.

“But they were wrong about
Tobacco Road.”
She sighed. “Okay, what else do I do?”

“Then you simply go home and lock your door and wait.”

“Where will you be?”

“Bobby will think I am at the tailor's, I hope.”

“And will you be?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She thought this over for a minute. “And will dreamy Bobby show up?”

“No.”

“Well, it sounds like a lively afternoon for me I must say.”

“Someone may phone you, though. He'll probably say it's the wrong number or something, just to see if you're home. That's the only reason I've got to have you in on this. But don't worry, he'll never get as far as your apartment.”

“Is there going to be a lot of shooting? I should hate that.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Well, you're sagging like an old woman on your right chest and I've certainly seen enough movies to know what that means.” I must have taken my hands out of my pocket without thinking.

“Do you think any of the rest noticed it?”

“They'd be pretty damn stupid if they didn't.” That set me back a bit.

“Well, it's too late now. We'll just have to take a chance. Good luck.”

“‘Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell,'” she quoted, “‘that summons thee to heaven or to hell.'”

“Don't you know better than to do that?” I said angrily.

“What?”

“Quoting Macbeth…it's bad luck.”

“Oh, nonsense. What a silly lot you actors are. Come on, let's get started. I can't wait.” She started back up the stairs. All at once I knew it was no good.

“Wait a minute, Maggie.”

She stopped and turned around. “Now what?”

“The whole thing's off. It's folded…closed out of town.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm a damn fool to even think of trying to pull a stunt like this. Just forget the whole thing.”

“But you can't back out now. I don't know what it is really, but whatever it is you can't get me all excited like this and then stop.”

“Not only can, but have,” I said. “Let's go back.” I started up the stairs.

“Now hold on a minute. What's happened? You were so excited about it a minute ago. What's changed?”

“It's too dangerous, that's all. I don't understand enough about these things to take the chance.”

“Do you know enough to go to Lieutenant Heffran yet?”

“No.”

“Are you just going to keep on being beaten up until they finish the job on you?”

“How did you know I was beaten up? Who told you?”

“Nobody had to tell me. But you don't think for a minute I believed that story about you falling down stairs, do you? And you've been jittery all day. Don't forget, Pistol Packin' Papa, I've known you a long time.
I've been waiting for you to tell me the truth, but when you didn't I gathered it was because you wanted to spare me the gory details. You weren't home all last night—I called you a dozen times—and then you turn up this morning looking like Hamburger Heaven…What else could I think? Now if it's yourself you're worrying about—okay. Just say so and it's all off, but if you're suddenly getting all Galahad and worrying about me—why, forget it. I don't know anything anybody could get too unhappy about—you've seen to that, dammit—so I can't imagine what could happen to me. If you want me to wait at home for a phone call and that will help any, what are we waiting for? So something should happen…What the hell, I've seen everything.” She reached up and touched the bandages on my forehead lightly. “But I'm not going to have people doing things like that to you. I like you the way you are. I didn't sweat out four years of war waiting for you to come back all in one piece to let anybody try to change you all over to suit them now.” I put my arms around her and kissed her. I could feel her body shiver. She pushed me away, turning her head so I couldn't see her face and ran up the stairs. But I knew she was crying.

I waited a minute then slowly followed her. Just as I came out of the ladies' room, Ted Kent came out of the men's room. He stared at me.

“Well, what do you know.” He smiled and shook his head. I didn't say anything, but walked on up the stairs. He followed me, laughing to himself.