Before the impulse had a chance to die she got out of bed, fumbled in her sewing basket for a pair of shears, and clipped the ad from the paper. Scarcely knowing what she would say, she dialed the number in the ad with a trembling finger, and only when a man’s voice responded did she feel a sudden shyness and confusion. The mere sound of a stranger’s voice distracted her from the purpose of her call.
“Who is this? Is someone there?” the voice kept repeating, and finally, in a tremulous little-girl voice she whispered into the phone, “Harriet. It’s Harriet.”
“Harriet?”
“Who is this?” she asked falteringly.
“Denton.”
“I saw it... in the paper. I had to call.” And she read out the text of the ad. “I am desperate!” she cried, frightened by a horrible doubt that she might not qualify for the understanding promised in the ad. “I truly am desperate.”
“What seems to be the trouble?” the voice asked, not urgently but with a gentle, inquiring curiosity. And then: “Hello? Harriet? You still there?”
“Yes... yes. I’m always here. I can’t get out.”
“Now do calm down, my dear. I don’t understand. You say you can’t get out? Do you mean you’re trapped somewhere?”
Trapped! Oh, yes, she was trapped. “It’s him. Uncle Emil. I have to take care of him. It’s awful. Degrading. I could bear it as long as Piper would talk to me. But now he won’t. I don’t know why, but he won’t say a word. I feel so all alone. Desperate, desperate, desperate!”
The jumble of words seemed not to put him off, and when she paused for breath he replied soothingly, as if to a child, “Now, Harriet, my dear, please start from the beginning. If I’m to help you I must know precisely what the problem is. Do you understand, Harriet?”
Her head jerked toward the door. Did she hear something? Alarmed, she pressed the mouthpiece to her lips. “He mustn’t know. He’d be furious.” And then in a burst of emotion: “There’s no other way out! I can’t just leave him. I don’t want to do it but there’s no other way.”
“You don’t want to do what, my dear?”
But now she hesitated, frightened and unsure. “Nobody would understand.”
“Isn’t that why you called me? Because I might understand?”
A friend who understands. Yes, that’s what the ad promised.
“Somebody must listen. Somebody must understand.”
Unceasingly patient, the voice promised to understand, but now Harriet’s courage failed her. “Not now,” she whispered. “I’m afraid.”
A sigh came over the line. “I understand, my dear. Perhaps you’ll call me again?”
She dropped the phone ever so softly and craned her neck above the pillow, listening.
Gary flung the door shut and propped his dripping umbrella against the wall in the foyer before advancing into the living room of the apartment. His face wore a tired, disgruntled frown as he ripped off his tie and headed for the liquor cabinet. Denton was just hanging up the phone.
“For me?” Gary asked peevishly.
Black hair and the ivory pallor of his skin gave an impression of manliness combined with delicacy to the face of the young man sprawled negligently on the sofa. He smiled up at his friend. “Could have been, if among your acquaintance of female crackpots there’s one named Harriet.”
“I don’t know any Harriet.”
“Then it must have been a wrong number. Do you get many?”
Gary flung him a satirical look. “I’m not around here long enough to get any calls, wrong or right. I have to work, remember?” Gary managed a restaurant and worked from noon until often late at night. Now, sipping his drink, he regarded the indolent, mocking expression on Denton’s face with frank distaste.
“Any luck today?” Gary asked.
“To the extent I did not get mugged, break a leg, or run into any of my more belligerent creditors, yes, one might say I was lucky.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, Gary, I know what you mean. And the answer is no, I didn’t get the part.”
“Or look for any other sort of job, needless to say.”
“I’m an actor, not a dishwasher.”
Gary drained his glass and stood twirling it in his hands. “The job at Raffaelo’s is hardly a dishwasher’s. Believe me I had to do a good job of acting myself to convince Tony you could handle it.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
This flippant reply seemed all that Gary needed to make up his mind. “Then that’s it, pal. I told you I’d put you up for a couple of weeks. It’s been over a month. You’ll have to make other arrangements before the weekend.”
Denton reacted with a malicious grin. “Darling Peggy’s idea, no doubt? I can just hear her: ‘He’s nothing but a sponger. Kick him out.’ ”
“Peggy has nothing to do with it. I’ve just had it up to here. So let’s drop it, okay?”
“And where do you suggest I pitch my tent?”
“Try a hotel.”
“Gladly. If you’ll tender me a friendly loan.”
“Considering I haven’t seen a dime of what I’ve already given you? Don’t be dumb.”
Recalling something mad Harriet had said, Denton replied with a hopeless shrug, “A friend who understands. How can I be so lucky?”
“Can it, Denton. If you’re really all that desperate you’d take whatever job you could find.”
With the bizarre phone call still at the back of his mind, Denton laughed. “Oh, I’m not nearly so desperate as some people. I’ll get by.”
In a spirit of newfound rebelliousness Harriet stubbornly shut her ears to the cranky tap-tap-tap that dogged her consciousness as she wandered aimlessly from room to room in the gloomy old house. I don’t hear a thing, she kept telling herself. It’s all in my mind. She stopped in front of Piper’s cage and returned his sullen, glazed stare with an arch smile. “I don’t, my darling. I don’t hear a blessed thing.”
But of course she did. It kept hammering relentlessly in her brain. Her mind was made up. There was only one way to silence it.
“Harriet? I was afraid you weren’t going to call. I was worried about you, my dear.”
“Were you, Denton? Were you truly?”
“Well, the way you sounded last night. I mean, so desperate.”
“Oh, I am. Frightened and desperate.”
“I know the feeling, my dear. Believe me.”
“I can’t bear it any longer!” she cried. “I’ve made up my mind. I really am going to do it. There’s no other way.”
Still without a whisper of impatience in his tone he asked what it was she meant to do, and this time, in a breathless, defiant rush of words, she told him.
“I’m going to kill him!”
The ensuing prolonged silence frightened her. “Denton? Are you there? Please answer me.”
His voice reached her, subdued, a trifle anxious. “I’m here, Harriet. I heard you.”
“I know it sounds most awfully wicked, but it’s not. How could it be? He’s a miserable, ugly, detestable old man!”
Another pause. “Of course, dear. I understand. But do you think it’s wise? Not everybody is as understanding as I am, you know.”
“Nobody cares. We’re all alone here. We’ve been shut up here together, just the two of us, for years and years. Nobody will ever know.”
Suddenly a vision invaded her mind, a vision of blue skies and great puffy white clouds reflected in a mirror-smooth lake bordered with tall green pine trees. Where was it? She strained to bring the picture into focus. Mama and Papa were with her, she remembered that, and there was a wicker picnic basket and the sound of laughter.