Sisters in Waiting
A Novelette
Copyright © 1999, Kellis
Richard J. Shendley, Jr.
6 Mertonrudd Lane
Albany, New York
October 21, 1928
Personal to George S.
Chamford, Esq.
Elysian Grove
Albany County, New York
My dear Mr. Chamford,
I presume upon your acquaintance with my father, who is Chief
Claims Commissioner for the state procurement office. Though you and I have
never met, I hope you can forgive me for contacting you in this hasty and
informal manner.
I have just received a communication that disturbs me greatly, as
no doubt it will disturb you, but at the same time excites me with delight.
This is a true copy, reproduced in my hand, of a note addressed
to myself and received this week:
October 16, 1928
Dearest Dicky,
Oh, I do hope this time I have the right address, even if it’s
only your father’s. I lost the one you
gave me, and Cissy must have made a mistake with Corky’s because he never wrote
back. Please, God, let this one be
right!
Dicky, my darling, Cissy and I are in the most terrible trouble,
just as you jokingly suggested. At
least Stan took the blame for you and Corky so that Uncle didn’t punish us
except to send us away.
The nurse says that our stay here will soon be over, but she
hints that we’ll be even sorrier when it is.
That scares us. I will think
only of kissing your sweet lips once again.
Cissy thinks only of Corky.
Your loving
Tissy (XXX)
Sir, I can readily infer the cause of the sisters’ “trouble” and
herewith admit to you that I strongly doubt your chauffeur was at the root of
it, whatever he says!
I speak for my close friend, Corquer Francis Raventuck of the
Cambridge Raventucks, and for myself.
We met your nieces at the High Adirondack Lodge in January and February
of this year. We are appalled to learn
of the resulting problems and anxious to take every honorable action required
to relieve the girls’ minds -- and yours as well!
When the girls never wrote, we assumed their interests had turned
elsewhere. Frankly, Sir, we are
delighted to discover otherwise!
Very truly yours,
Richard Jeffries Shendley, Jr.
NEW ENGLAND PRIVATE PRINTING TELEGRAPH CO
PERSONAL TO GEORGE S CHAMFORD STOP ELYSIAN GROVE STOP ALBANY
CO NY
FROM AVERY PETERSEN STOP PETERSEN INVESTIGATIVE AGENCY STOP
TRANS PT 121 STOP BOSTON MASS
START MSG INITIAL RESULTS CORQUER FRANCIS RAVENTUCK VERIFIED
YOUNGEST SON OF ELLINGTON RAVENTUCK STOP OLD CAMBRIDGE FAMILY BUT PUBLIC
HOLDINGS REDUCED TO SINGLE PROPERTY STOP PRESENT WHEREABOUTS OF CORQUER FRANCIS
NOT YET DETERMINED STOP LETTER WITH DETAILS WILL FOLLOW END MSG
XM COMP 23OCT28 0924 AM BY JKW
At the sound of a door opening in the room
below, Tissy’s attention sharpened through the eye holes. Could it be …
She rubbed her forehead in excitement. It was, oh, it was! Dick’s heavy figure, dressed in slacks and
an open shirt, hove into view, bending around the foot of Arleigh’s empty bed
to reach the bookcase beyond it. The
orange light of the setting sun shining almost horizontally through a far
window limned brow and arm brilliantly as he lifted a book from the high shelf.
The girl skipped down from her perch, found
the significant nail and pulled open the disguised door, heedless of screeching
hinges, still not greased. She dashed
through the interesting odor of male clothing and threw open Arleigh’s closet
door.
Dick had spun about at the sound of
hinges. His eyes lit as the girl popped
out of the closet. They collided at the
foot of the bed. Two sets of arms
groped for each other across swollen bellies.
“Tissy, my love!”
“Oh, Dick!”
A passionate kiss stopped further comment
until the faces finally separated. They
were both panting for breath.
“Oh, god, Tissy!”
“Oh, Dick, my sweet Dick. I’ve missed you so!”
“No more than I’ve missed you! Couldn’t you come sooner?”
“Cissy wouldn’t let me. Today is only Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?
Yes, it is. We’ve been apart two
whole days! Uh, why ‘only Wednesday?’”
“We’re not supposed to meet till Friday
night. I need you so much, Dick,
I couldn’t stand it!”
He breathed, “And you waited in the closet
for me? Oh, Tissy, you sweetheart! Do you … do you really want me?”
Her experience of Stan had taught her that
men were sometimes slow to react. She
answered him by withdrawing both hands to attack his shirt buttons. He smiled in delight and reached likewise to
her blouse but was of course diverted to the swollen mammaries jiggling
unrestrained behind it. Tissy noticed
approvingly. Stan had also been so
readily distracted even though in his day the diversions hardly jiggled at all.
“My buttons are in the back,” she advised,
her hands now engaged forcefully with the thicker buttons of his fly.
His hands worked behind her but fell idle
when her fingers darted through the flap of his undershorts and secured her
objective, already half swollen and pulsing larger at her touch.
Stan had also taught her the value of this
scepter as a diviner of certain truths.
“Oh, Dicky, you are glad to see me!”
He licked dry lips. “You know I am!”
He pulled the separated halves of her blouse
forward over her shoulders but hesitated at the realization that it was
integrally attached to her skirt. “How
does this work?”
“Let me.”
She stepped back and shimmied out of the
oversized dress and shift. Dick took
his own cue and because of the delay attendant upon unswaddling her huge belly,
matched her nudity in the same time.
Staring at her, he shook his head. “Tissy, are you sure this won’t hurt you?”
“Uncle Edward said it won’t.”
“You heard all that?”
“I heard everything you said.”
He sighed, touching her belly. “I don’t see how you could have room in
there for me!”
“We’ll make room.” Her hand enclosed him. “I
know you want me.”
“I just don’t want it to hurt you.”
“I’ll tell you if it does. Oh, Dicky, you are such a wonderful man!”
On Arleigh’s bed she of necessity mounted
him, emitting a soft soprano scream as his thick organ parted tender
tissues. He rose up on his elbow in
alarm but soon understood that her sensation was not pain. The continuing worry delayed him enough that
her wild front-to-rear gyrations triggered her own crisis first. For two days she had thought of nothing
else.
His hands closed on her widely swinging
nipples. Powerful hips lifted her with
each thrust. Her shivers and
contortions communicated her condition to his body and he soon joined her with
bleats of his own. When at last he
stilled, she collapsed upon him then settled beside him with head on his
shoulder, breasts and belly pressed into his side, an arm and leg across
him. His hand stroked her back and hip
tenderly.
“Tissy, are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“Oh, no!
Nothing makes me feel so good.”
“Me, too.”
He squeezed her closer. “But I
couldn’t stand for anything to hurt you.”
“Oh, Dicky!
You mean that, don’t you!”
“I mean it!”
Her hand caressed his cheek and turned his
face to hers for a kiss. He added with
determination, “Nothing will hurt you if I can help it.”
She sighed.
“I wish you could.”
“Could what?”
“Help it.
The maids all say Cissy and I are due a lot of hurting soon.”
“Why? …
Oh.”
She wriggled tighter against him. In a low voice she said, “I wish it was your
baby.”
When he failed to respond, she turned large
eyes up to find him looking thoughtfully into the distance. She added, “I so wish I had met you first.”
He said, “I can make it mine.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You can? How?”
“We … we could g-get married.” He turned to see her face.
“M-married?”
His voice firmed. “Tissy, would you marry me?”
“Oh, Dick!”
Her eyes were huge.
He smiled.
“Well, would you?”
“I’ll have to ask Cis- No, I won’t! Oh, Dicky!” Her hand
clenched into a fist. “Yes, I’ll marry
you. But we’ll have to elope. I’m only sixteen.”
He gulped.
“Tissy, you’d marry me when you don’t know anything about me?”
Her voice was confident. “You’ll tell me what I need to know.”
“Yes.
Yes, by god, I will! Tissy, you
are so wonderful! Why did I ever think
I hated girls?”
“You hated girls?”
“I thought so, but I was a fool. I love this one!” He patted her buttock cheek.
“Dicky,” she began hesitantly, “did you see
the note Cissy made me write to you?”
“I saw it.”
“I wish we had met that way.”
“So do I.”
She stretched her head up for a lingering
kiss during which his arms enclosed her tightly.
He stiffened as a shadow fell upon them. She turned to look over her shoulder and
smiled. “Oh, Cissy, I am so happy!”
The sister, swaddled in her oversized
clothing, stood at the bedside. “It’s
not hard to see why, you lucky thing!
Hullo, Dick.”
“H-hello -” he stammered.
But Tissy, rising on an elbow, interrupted
him. “We’re engaged.”
“Engaged?” Cissy repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Dicky asked me to marry him. And I will, even if we have to elope.” Suddenly the happy face frowned and turned
back to the man. “Can Cissy marry you,
too?”
Dick swallowed. “I - I don’t think so.
It’s against the law.”
Tissy clenched a fist. “Hang the law! We need Cissy, too.”
He shook his head. “I can’t have but one wife.”
“Who says?”
“The law.”
“What if they don’t know?”
He smiled at his new fiancée. “But you have to tell them.”
“We didn’t tell about the other night.”
While he cast about for a response to that,
Cissy sniffed. “He doesn’t want me,
Tissy.”
Stung, Dick retorted, “That’s not true. It’s just that -”
“Show me.”
His eyebrows rose. He looked at the girl on his shoulder, whose face turned back to
him, wheedling, “Couldn’t she come with us, Dicky?”
“I - If that’s what you really want.”
“I want it, Dicky.”
He shrugged and opened his free arm toward
Cissy, who lost no time shrugging out of her clothing and joining them on the
bed. She snuggled against his other
side, head on his shoulder, lips seeking his.
Wide-eyed, he demanded, “Tissy, are you sure -”
“Kiss her, Dicky,” commanded the satisfied
sister.
He lowered his lips to Cissy. Her hand slipped across his belly and cupped
his wet genitals, finding and withdrawing the foreskin. In response the hand at her back crept under
her arm and fondled a swollen breast.
They lingered thus for a minute or so, hands busy. Tissy raised herself to kiss the side of his
face. Suddenly curious, she rose higher
and worked her tongue into his mouth beside her sister’s. Soon her hand joined Cissy’s to caress his
testicles. By this time his thick organ
was firmly re-erected.
Eyes very round, he cried, “Wow! Kissing two at once is fun!”
Cissy raised herself across his hips and
smiled as her sister’s hand guided his introduction. Tissy let her hand remain, cocking her thumb deliberately so that
a sisterly clitoris rode upon it the bottom of each stroke, while grasping the
man’s root between thumb and forefinger.
With the aid of that pressure, along with the extreme novelty of the circumstances,
he achieved his second climax in a minute or two. Cissy of course was already groaning and shuddering in her own
orgasms.
When they lay quietly beside him again, he
gasped out, “That was the best … I
mean, you girls are the greatest!”
Tissy smiled complacently. “You’re real good, too, Dicky. Stan couldn’t do us together so soon.”
“Stan!”
His voice went flat. “He’s the
one who left you in the lurch.”
“He couldn’t help it,” explained Tissy. “Uncle George shot him.”
“Did you … love him together like this?”
“We tried, but he couldn’t.” She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. “You’re so much more man than he was,
Dicky.”
Cissy sighed. “But he’s right, Tissy. I
can’t marry Dick, too. What I’ll do is
marry one of his friends. We can all
be together!”
He nodded.
“That’s right: Corky.”
She agreed unenthusiastically. “Yes, Corky.” She raised up. “We’d
better go wash.”
“Wash?” wondered Tissy.
“They might check us again.”
Dick looked from one to the other. “Check you?
What for?”
“Jism.”
“Jism!
You mean -”
Cissy nodded at him. “Old Lady Horner and that nurse have
surprised us two or three times and made us show them our things. Yesterday it was right before dinner.” She grinned. “We don’t want them to find anything, do we?”
“No!”
He extricated himself purposefully from the tangle of their arms and
legs. Pausing briefly at the foot of
the bed, he declared, “But I know Corky would love to see you. Wait just a minute. I’ll fetch him back and he can at least say
hello.”
He detoured by the second bed, snatched up a
lounging robe and disappeared through the far door.
“Well?” demanded Tissy.
“Well, what?”
Tissy leered. “How did you like a fat cock?”
Slowly Cissy nodded. “It was fatter.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“I could tell it was fatter, but …”
“But what?”
Cissy took a breath. “When I met Uncle Edward on Monday, he did
me in the woods. That’s why I had to
take a bath before dinner. But his
thing made me feel just as good as Dick’s.”
“Huh!
You call me a lucky thing!”
Cissy smiled. “That was before Dick did me, too.”
“If I’d known about Uncle Edward, Dick wouldn’t
have!”
“Now, Tissy!
Don’t get mad at me. We’re the
same. We’ll both take what we can
get.” She recovered her smile. “And we just got it. Now we both need a bath.”
She left the bed and stooped to gather her
discarded clothing. “Come on. We’d better get one quick.”
Tissy obeyed but seemed reluctant. “Don’t you want to wait for Corky?”
“No!” spat Cissy disdainfully, darting into
the closet. Shrugging, Tissy began
scooping up her own clothing.
* *
* *
“Just a moment, please, young ladies. Let me see you once more.”
Miss Horner stepped between them and the door
of polished oak, inlaid with a brass plaque labeled Director. She scanned back and forth, scrutinizing
their faces and hair, taking a comb from her apron pocket to run again through
Tissy’s unbound locks. Her movements
were jerky and nervous.
With an ironically cocked eyebrow Cissy
asked, “Don’t you want us to pull up our skirts and lie on the floor?”
“Oh, please!” The woman stepped back, returning the comb to her pocket. “Can’t we forget the recent unpleasantness?”
Cissy sniffed. “We haven’t been looking up your dress!”
“Please, Miss Harwick!”
“What’s the matter, Miss Horner? Why have you brought us here?”
“Cecilia, please! Can’t you remember how kindly we’ve treated you these several
weeks?”
“Miss Horner, you wouldn’t clean us up just
to see the head. Who’s in there?”
The older woman’s tone was one of
pleading. “You won’t say anything about
seeing men, will you?”
“What men?” asked Cissy indifferently. “Who is it?
Not Uncle George!”
The woman took a breath and nodded.
Both girls immediately stood straighter. Tissy’s voice quavered. “Uncle G-George is here?”
Studying her, Miss Horner regained a measure
of confidence. “He asked to see you
privately.” Reaching behind her, she
unlatched the door and stepped aside.
“Please go in.”
With evident reluctance the two girls,
dressed temporarily in pinned green satin, slipped through the door that Miss
Horner closed behind them. They entered
a plushly furnished anteroom, tall windows on one side overlooking the drive,
the director’s office door on the other, now closed.
A man stood up from a settee across the
room. Though short, his presence was
commanding. Grizzled hair was clipped
close above a matching Van Dyke beard.
He was dressed in formal clothes with a white tie. His blue eyes pierced both girls, who
lowered their heads and remained near the door.
He frowned and said gruffly, “Well, come on
into the room. Do you have no more
grace than that?”
They waddled obediently across the room and
stood beyond arm’s reach before him, hands clenched behind themselves. He stared from one to the other. His frown increased. “Can’t you speak?”
In unison they said, “Good afternoon, Uncle
George. I am pleased to see you.”
He shook his head. “I can see just how pleased you are!”
Their glances flicked up at him then lowered.
He stepped closer, studying them as Miss
Horner had done. “Well, you look
healthy as can be expected, if a bit colorless. Don’t they allow you to use makeup here?”
“N-no, sir,” said Tissy.
He nodded.
“Guess they figure you don’t need it.
Well, how do you feel? Are they
treating you all right?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Tissy stammered. She shivered unaccountably.
He stepped directly before her and
frowned. “What’s the matter with you?”
Tissy flinched back just slightly. Her chin quivered.
The man turned to regard Cissy. “What’s going on here?”
Cissy raised her chin. “Did you forget?”
“Forget what?”
“What you said when we parted.”
“What did I say?”
“That you might … shoot us.”
His eyebrows rose. “I said no such thing!”
“Almost.
The car was waiting. The last thing
you told us was, ‘Get out of my sight before I forget myself and blast you and
your big bellies off the face of the Earth.’”
He stared at her. Shaking his head, he took a slow breath. “I forget how little you girls know about
life. Cissy, I was just angry. You have no idea how many carefully laid
plans your … indiscretion has wiped out. I’m sorry for whatever I said at the time. Very sorry.
I am not going to shoot you, regardless of what you do. Can’t you understand that? You two girls are the only kin I have. I would shoot myself first.”
He peered from one to the other. “Don’t your backs hurt?”
“No,” Cissy replied shortly.
“I thought pregnant women’s backs hurt. You’re nearly at term, you know. Huh!
No, you probably don’t know.
Well, sit down, anyway. Yeah,
right there. I won’t touch you, if
that’s what’s bothering you!”
He took a seat facing them across a small
coffee table. “What have they told you
to expect?”
“About what?” asked Cissy.
He gestured toward them. “You and your sister are about to give
birth, you know. Haven’t they told you
about it?”
“They?”
“The staff.
This place has a doctor and nurse, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.
They put things into us every week.”
“They do what? What things?”
“The doctor has a name for it. It reminds me of a shoe stretcher.”
The man grunted. “A shoe stretcher! But
what do they tell you?”
“To eat our vegetables and get plenty of
fresh air.”
“Nothing about … what’s due to happen to
you?”
Cissy shrugged. “We’re going to have babies.
The maids say it will hurt.”
“Maybe not too much. I’m sure they use anesthetic. What do they say about … your social
situation?”
Cissy frowned. “Our what?”
But the man didn’t answer her
immediately. He stared down at his
hands in his lap, clasping and unclasping.
He said less gruffly, “I was so disgusted and … yes, ashamed when
you both turned up pregnant at the hands of my chauffeur, that I failed to
exercise diligence. Instead of checking
up, as I should have done, as I routinely do for even the most piddling
business details, I believed this trumped up story of his culpability and put
you out of my sight. But every night
you pop back up in my mind’s eye. Our
fortunes are tied together in ways you can’t even imagine. I have got to find a solution to this mess
that brings you back home and minimizes the scandal.”
He looked up at Cissy and his eyes
hardened. “Stanley Gilligan didn’t
really do that to you - either of you, did he?”
Cissy’s chin rose again. “What happens if we say no?”
His head swung. “I want to hear Tissy’s answer.”
The younger girl’s eyes fell.
“What about it, Tissy?” he demanded. “Did Stan make you pregnant … or was it
someone else?”
Tissy glanced fearfully at Cissy. Her gaze fell when the elder looked away. Oddly she blushed. She said, so softly as to be barely intelligible, “It was Dicky.”
“Dick - Richard Shendley?”
“Yes.
Dicky.”
His head snapped around. “And you?
Who did it to you - this, ah, Corquer Raventuck?”
Cissy returned his stare unblinkingly. At last she said, “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no?’ Who was it, then?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Do you mean it was Stanley Gilligan after
all?”
“I mean I don’t want to say.”
“Why not?”
“Because … you won’t like it.”
His nod was exaggerated. “Well, you’re right about that, whoever you
name! But it’s too late for likes to
matter.”
He sighed, leaning back on the couch. “It’s time you girls learned some facts of
life. You are about to have babies out
of wedlock. That is perhaps the most
disgraceful thing a gentlewoman can do.
No one will welcome you into his home after that, no matter how powerful
you become. You’d have to leave the
country to live it down. All of our
lives would be completely disrupted.
“The solution is to get married. Fast!
But you couldn’t marry my goddamned chauffeur! Fortunately, like a gift from God almighty, you have an
alternative. Incredible as it may seem,
two young men of good families with plausible backgrounds have come forward admitting
to complicity in your present condition and willing to do the right thing by
you. One of them, Tissy, is your friend
Dick. The other, Cissy, is at least
known to you.”
“Corky,” she said flatly.
“Yes.
Will you deny having intercourse with him?”
“No.”
“I thought not. He wants to marry you.
And, Tissy, Mr. Shendley wants to marry you. Do you girls understand what that means?”
Cissy announced disinterestedly, “Tissy is
already engaged to Dick.”
“She what?”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “I
see. Of course he’s been in
communication. What about you and
Raventuck?”
“No.”
“You’ve heard nothing from him? I can fix that!”
“I mean, no, I won’t marry Corky.”
“Cissy …”
His face darkened. “I tell you
he’s willing!”
Her eyes settled on his. “I want someone else.”
“Who?”
She stared at him and sighed. “I told you: you won’t like him.”
“Try me.”
“He’s 47 years old.”
“He’s what?”
“47.”
“That’s almost old enough to be your grandfather! It’s almost old as I am!”
“I don’t care.”
“Did you meet him at High Adirondack, too?”
“Yes.”
“And had sex with him?”
“Yes.”
“My god!
I thought you were such innocents!”
He shook his head. “All
right. But we’ll never find him now.”
“His name is Edward Mastrit and I know
exactly where he is.”
He goggled at her. “Where?”
She gestured with her chin. “Upstairs on the third floor.”
His eyebrows threatened to climb to his
hairline. “What did you say - on the
third floor? Here at Rolling Meadow?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen him here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you … engaged also?”
Cissy sighed. “No. He says he’s too
old, too.”
“Well!
I give him some sense, at least.
You’ve discussed marriage?”
“I asked him.”
“And the fool refused you?”
Her voice strengthened. “He’s no fool.”
“Let me talk to him!”
“Please don’t shoot him!”
“I won’t shoot him.”
* *
* *
“Mr. Millinger, I’ve sent my nieces
upstairs. I wonder if I might have a
word with you.”
“Why, certainly, Mr. Chamford. It would be a pleasure. Come in and sit down. Let me pull up this chair.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How’s that?
Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, quite.
Thank you.”
“How did you find your nieces? I trust they’re progressing satisfactorily.”
“Yes, they are, though I wonder if they might
not be permitted a little rouge and lipstick.”
“I’ll see to it immediately, Mr. Chamford.”
“Thank you.
Have you reached a final decision on the endowment?”
“We’re getting close. The Chamford wing will be on the east side,
above the river, and will include the latest medical facilities. Thanks to you, Rolling Meadow may have the
best-equipped infant delivery room in the world!”
“That’s fine. I’m glad to hear it. Mr.
Millinger, ah -”
“Do call me Arnold, Mr. Chapman.”
“Thank you, Arnold. I have a … favor to ask of you.”
“As I said earlier, anything we can do.”
“I appreciate that attitude… I know your policy about confidentiality and
the privacy of your … guests. It’s one
of the main reasons I chose Rolling Meadow for my nieces’ confinement. But now I need some information that very
much affects them. Will you confirm
that you have a guest named Edward Mastrit?”
The director’s effusive smile vanished. His lips parted slowly. “All you need is confirmation? Just a moment, sir.”
He spun around to the cabinet behind him,
removed a large ledger book and turned back to lay it on the desk. He thumbed through it and looked up. “Yes, sir.
I confirm that we have such a resident.”
Uncle George nodded. “I knew you had. He has been in communication with my nieces.”
The director’s eyes glittered. “We allow no such contact. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” said Uncle George grimly, “and
I’m afraid I need more than mere confirmation.
He has communicated so well with my Cecilia that she wants to marry
him.” He took a deep breath. “I’m told that he’s 47 years old, but that’s
all I’ve heard.” His teeth gritted
audibly. “Perhaps you can see, Arnold,
why I want to hear everything you know about him!”
The director frowned but only for a
moment. “In for a penny …” he mumbled
under his breath, rose and crossed the room to a large filing cabinet. In a moment he returned with a manila
folder, resumed his seat and opened it on top of the previously consulted
ledger. He paged through it quickly and
looked up at his visitor.
“This man has been with us for only two
months. He was recommended here by an
attorney, John Medley, of Carson, Medley and Riems.”
“He’s a drunk?”
The director found another page. “No, nor a tubercular.” He looked up at Uncle George. “This is ironical.”
“Perhaps you’ll explain.”
“I’m just amazed that he was able to impress
your niece.”
“What, then - drugs?”
The man took a breath. “No, sir.”
He rotated the page so that Uncle George might read it and pointed to a
printed line, Reason for admission, followed by the typewritten word,
Reversion.
“Reversion,” Uncle George pronounced. “What does that mean?”
The director looked away, took a breath,
looked back. “I would hate to answer that,
sir, under any circumstances. Now I am
frankly … I very much fear that it may
cause you to alter your good opinion of Rolling Meadow.”
Uncle George’s eyebrows rose. “Good god, man, what is it?”
The director’s face set. “They have a right to live. They only harm each other.”
“Good lord!
Do you mean leprosy?”
“No.
That’s not so terribly illegal.
I mean homosexuality.”
Uncle George leaned back in his seat to stare
at the other. “A fag? He’s a fag?”
“Apparently so.”
“How about that!” Uncle George produced a single bark of laughter, then shook his
head. “Somebody is full of it. Probably that lawyer. Cecilia believes that Mr. Mastrit is the
cause of her condition. I assure you,
he’s no fag.”
The director ducked his head. “Your assurance will certainly not be
ignored, Mr. Chapman, but I must caution you that he is rooming with a man
presently under indictment for what the law terms a ‘crime against nature.’”
“Under indictment? What’s he doing here, then?”
“You understand, I don’t know! But he has plenty of money behind him. My guess is that he’s out on bail, lying
low, waiting for a friendlier judge to take the bench.”
Uncle George’s face stiffened. “His name, please.”
The director blanched. “Will you open me to a suit for libel?”
“I won’t quote you, if that’s what you
mean. What’s his name?”
The director moved the folder to re-expose
the ledger. “Richard Shendley, son -”
“Damn!”
Uncle George struck one palm with a clenched fist. “So he’s here, too, is he?”
“What’s the matter?”
“What can you tell me about a certain Corquer
Raventuck?”
The director nodded. “That name is a bit unusual, which is why I
remember it. He’s here also. In an adjacent room.”
“I’ll be damned. No wonder he couldn’t be located! Who’s paying his bill?”
“Mr. Shendley - actually Richard’s father -
is paying for all four.”
“Four?”
“Including one Arleigh Jones, rooming with
Mr. Raventuck.”
Uncle George whipped a pencil and a
leather-bound notebook from an inner pocket.
“How do you spell Mastrit?”
In the end he inscribed all four names on the
next blank page of the little book. He
studied them for a moment, muttering unaccountably, “Won’t have her, eh? We’ll see about that!” Turning a page, he wrote a name and address
that he tore out before returning pencil and notebook into his coat.
His eyes pierced the director as he laid the
small loose sheet on the desk. He stood
up. “Please convey a message from me to
Mastrit and Shendley. Tell them to be
at that office in Albany tomorrow afternoon - Friday - at three. Shendley can bring his own lawyer, if he
dares. Tell them if they don’t show up
they’ll find themselves pleading to my choice in judges!”
kellis@dhp.com
Stories at
http://www.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www