“I’ll pretend you didn’t even say that, Clyde. Why don’t you take some pictures and make some chalk marks on the floor? Miss Leopold will talk to you in the morning. And that will be on doctor’s orders as soon as I get the good doctor’s eye. George? Could you give your attention to one of the survivors for a moment? Miss Leopold is in something of a state, and I think you’ll agree with me that she doesn’t want to talk to any municipal employees right now. How would you like to supply a dreamy little sedative and we’ll tuck this poor child into bed. And not that bed, perish the thought. Could she stay with you, Linda?”
In her own room, Linda helped Tanya off with her clothes, got her into bed, and drew the covers over her. The doctor injected her with morphine. She kept talking, not even wincing at the needle’s jab, until her words abruptly trailed off and her eyes closed. George Perlmutter raised one of her eyelids, let it drop back in place. He turned to Linda and asked her if she wanted something to help her sleep. She said she didn’t. He offered a tranquilizer and she shook her head. He told her she was in light shock and a tranquilizer would help her to relax, but when she refused again he did not insist. Tanya, he said, would sleep for a minimum of eight hours.
After he had left, Warren cleared the hallway. “Now I know you’re all motivated solely by the desire to help,” he announced, “but some might mistake your interest for morbid curiosity. Please go home. Now.”
And they went. As the hallway emptied Warren moved to take Linda’s aim. He asked her where she would sleep. She blinked until he repeated the question.
“Oh,” she said. “Here, I guess.”
“You’re welcome to stay at my house. I can assure you it’s safe. Or I can get you a room at the Logan.”
“I want to be here when Tanya wakes up.”
“I was thinking that I would sit up with her myself.”
“No, I’ll stay. I don’t mind.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “That’s probably the best idea, if you’re sure you don’t mind. But you do need a tranquilizer, you know. George would have handed you a Miltown or Valium or some other mysterious chemical. My prescription would be along organic lines.”
“What do you mean?”
“Alcohol. Come to Sully’s with me.”
“I don’t—”
“She’ll be out for the next eight hours, and the bar will close long before then. I won’t let you stay here alone now, Linda, and I need a drink if you don’t. Come along.”
“I suppose a drink is a good idea,” she said.
“It generally is,” Warren said.
He was as smoothly capable at the Barge Inn as he had been earlier. He selected a remote table, ordered Cognac for both of them, and effortlessly got rid of any number of persons who wanted to join them. Some had heard about Bill Donatelli’s death and wanted to discuss it; others simply wanted conversation with Warren. He disposed of all of them easily and efficiently.
At one point she said, “I didn’t even know him. I think that’s the worst part.”
“I doubt anyone knew him. Or is that what you meant?”
“I think it is. He was the silent man across the hall who did nothing but paint strange pictures and watch television and sleep with Tanya. Peter and I used to joke about him. About them. Those jokes—”
“You can’t regret them after the fact. Everyone’s mortal and sooner or later you could never say anything vicious about anyone on the chance he or she might ultimately die.”
“I guess Tanya knew him.”
“Do you think so? I would suppose she knew him as completely as one could. I was going to say that they lived on the same level, but I’m sure that’s not true. They lived with each other on the same level.”
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
“But she’s so much better a person.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because she would never have done what he did.”
“No, I can’t imagine her committing suicide, but—”
He was shaking his head. “Nor can I, but neither of us can know that. But that’s not what I mean. He set things up so that she would walk in and find him like that That was the last picture he painted, and he let her have first look at it, so that every time she thinks of him for the rest of her life she’s going to visualize that squalid little tableau. Nothing on earth could make Tanya do that.”
“God, I didn’t think of that”
“I can think of little else. Which will make it rather difficult for me to shed tears for him.”
“Maybe he just didn’t think.”
“Even so. Even so. Tanya would have thought.”
“She was saying something tonight on the way upstairs. That some people can sit and think for hours and that she hardly ever thinks.”
“What brought that on?”
“Something about a role she’s rehearsing—”
“Oh, of course. She’s supposed to look pensive and she heard the word today for the first time. The ass of a director translated it as thoughtful, which of course is all wrong. Tanya could never look pensive, but she’s one of the most genuinely thoughtful people I know. And without thinking about it.”
“Yes.” She picked up her glass, drank. “God, it was awful. Everything.”
“Yes.”
“You were so perfect” He started. “You were. You... handled everything.”
“The actor in my soul.”
“No one else knew what to do.”
“So I leaped into the role. Far too great an opportunity to be missed.”
“Well, then it was a good performance.” She lowered her eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Warren.”
“How’s that?”
“I mean, I’m all right now.”
“Oh, I know that.” He flashed that peculiar sardonic smile of his. “You know, that’s the marvelous thing about being a nelly old aunt. One can behave chivalrously with beautiful women without worrying about the purity of one’s motives. And I cannot think offhand of a more powerful argument for homosexuality. Oh, there’s Peter Nicholas. You know him, don’t you? Of course you do, what am I thinking of? Peter! Come join us, why don’t you? And see if you can catch that trollop’s eye and order up another round.”
It was Peter who walked home with her. They left the Barge Inn together while Warren stayed behind, moving to join a crowd at the bar. The air outside was cool and fresh after the close atmosphere within. She walked along at Peter’s side, breathing deeply. She had had just the right amount to drink, enough to relax her but too little to make her the slightest bit drunk.
“The perfect tranquilizer,” she said aloud.
“What?”
“Oh, I was thinking out loud. The doctor offered me a tranquilizer but I wasn’t having any. Then Warren prescribed a few drinks, and he was right. God, it was awful. Were you there?”
“I ran upstairs to see what was happening, but I didn’t hang around.” They walked a little farther in silence before he said, “We haven’t really seen each other in a long time, have we?”
“No, we haven’t.”
“I’ve missed it.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I guess you have a good thing going. With Hugh Markarian.”
“I guess so.”
“I’m happy for you. Seriously.”
“I’m not sure if it’s that good a thing.”
“Oh? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Right now it’s more a question of knowing what I want. Oh, Christ!”
All at once she was crying. He reached to comfort and she turned from him. “I’m all right. I was thinking. Tanya was the one person I know who really knew what she wanted and look what she got. Just look what she got!”