The So Blue Marble Page 5

1

  Bette was Saturday cleaning, moving furniture, spreading that nice-smelling polish on the floor. Griselda looked at the clock. Ten-fifteen. She called, “Bette.”

  “Yes, Miss.” Soft-spoken, sweet-faced, she was in the door.

  “Would you be an angel? Hand me my juice and the coffee. I’m lazy.”

  Bette’s smile was twinkles. “Yes, indeed, Miss.”

  She thinks I’ve been on a party. “And the papers,” she called.

  Bette brought them. Her smile liked serving a pretty woman in bed. Good as the pictures it was. She handed over the glasses case without being asked. Then she was the cleaner again. “Did you know the little rug’s not in the living room?”

  Griselda opened the paper, shut her face away. “Yes. Someone spilled-a drink-on it last night. He took it to be cleaned.”

  Bette understood parties. She worked for Con. She said, “I hope the stain will come out. Sometimes they’re hard to get out.” She returned to the polishing.

  Griselda drank her juice, turning pages of the paper. There they were again in the tabloid. “Old friends of the continent meet in Manhattan. Montefierrow twins and companion tour night spots.” Missy, of course. “Missy Cameron, daughter of the Princess del Artiaggio of Rome, Italy, and the late Dr. T. W. Cameron of Park Avenue, who arrived yesterday on the Queen Mary, toured the Manhattan night spots with the Montefierrow twins last night The picture taken in the Stork Club…” And so on. No mention of Hollywood’s Griselda Cameron Satterlee, thank God. She had a distaste of publicity amounting almost to mania. The heart break of her divorce and her picture slathered in the tabs, knowing how Con must have writhed with his newspaperman’s scorn of such things. And after that the movies, all the tawdry stunts the studio had done on the front pages to build her, she too numb then to care. Always publicity beating against her name. She had only been a little girl but she would never forget her father’s sick eyes in the newspaper when her mother divorced him. She wouldn’t let it soil her again. She’d stay away from the twins. No mention of Mrs. Arthur Stepney of East Seventy-ninth Street either. Ann would be annoyed.

  The phone. She was afraid to answer but it was Ann.

  “Have you seen the News? Olga brought her copy to me. Missy’s picture with those fascinating twins you were telling about. She said she didn’t know them, you know…”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But it seems she did. She just didn’t know our pronunciation. Isn’t that amusing? The Italian of their name is so different. She told me what it was. Are you meeting us for lunch?”

  “I can’t, you recall.”

  “Oh, yes. Dinner?”

  “I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t face Missy. Not until she knew what to do. “I’m afraid I can’t make it”

  “I’m so sorry too. Missy has promised to try to bring the twins. At any rate you’ll come for cocktails tomorrow afternoon, just a few intimates to meet Missy. Bring Gig if you wish.”

  She got rid of Ann. So her sister had taken up the young one. But of course. For society Ann would do anything. But what if she knew the truth? She wouldn’t believe it. Missy and the twins could out-lie any truth-tellers.

  Bette said at the door, “Miss Satterlee, poor Mrs. Grain, the wife of the superintendent you know, is so worried. Mr. Grain went out about nine o’clock last night to see about something and he’s not back yet You didn’t see him, did you, Miss Satterlee?”

  She didn’t look at the maid. She swallowed trying to make words come. She had to speak false ones that must sound false. Not for herself, for Con. Keep him from danger. Her voice to her was surprisingly even. “Why, no, Bette. I had dinner at my sister’s and didn’t return here until after ten. Then some friends came in.”

  Bette half-apologized for being presumptuous. “I didn’t think you would have, Miss. I only asked because I found this under the couch.” Griselda didn’t move. She was frozen. “It’s that penny he always carried on his watch chain, his lucky penny-”

  Griselda turned in the bed. Her eyes were wide. Bette had the coin on her hand. “Are you certain it’s the same one, Bette?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss.” She was as serious as a nun, holding the copper coin. “It’s a foreign one, Mex he called it. It’s bigger than our pennies, you see, and that little hole in it-see? I’d know it anywhere.”

  Griselda saw. She wondered if Bette knew how hard it was to keep her face real. She repeated, “I didn’t see him.” Words, stupid words. “He must have dropped it here some other time.” That wasn’t right. “I wonder how long it’s been there.” That was wrong.

  The woman said, “He was never without it. I was behind that couch Wednesday, Miss Satterlee, it must have been since then. Maybe he brought in a package last night before you come home.”

  She answered, “There was no package. I didn’t see any,” and knew again she had spoken wrong words.

  Bette kept turning the coin. “Shall I give it to Mrs. Grain, Miss?”

  “Please.” She couldn’t stay in bed, in this apartment. “Tell her if I can help in any way-”

  “That’s good of you. She don’t know where he could have gone. He’s never stayed away all night in the forty years they been married. A steady man, Miss. There’s not many of them.” Then she turned abruptly and went out, slipping the coin in her pocket.

  She didn’t suspect anything, Griselda knew. She was worried about the poor man, and his wife sleeping alone after forty years. He would never sleep with her again. He-but she didn’t know where he was. Maybe he’d never be found again. Only his lucky coin would be found. She was trembling in the hot shower. If the lucky coin hadn’t rolled away would his luck have held? She’d join Ann and Missy for dinner if the twins would be there. She’d find out. They couldn’t do this, let her in for it.

  2

  She dressed quickly. It looked dank out, grim. She put a clean handkerchief with a round thing inside it into her bag. She sat on the edge of the bed, ruffled the hotels, dialed.

  “I should like to speak to Missy Cameron.” She held the wire. She was afraid Missy would be out but she wasn’t. “This is Griselda.”

  “Griselda.” Missy’s voice sounded as if she’d never heard the name.

  “Are the twins dining with you tonight? With Ann and Arthur?”

  “Why?”

  Griselda spoke with impact. “I must see them. If you are all dining together I will join you. Otherwise I won’t.”

  Missy said, “Wait.”

  The wire was quiet Griselda was nervous, her back to that double-bolted back door. She turned on the bed to keep it visible. No need to be frightened with Bette cleaning in the next room.

  Missy’s voice said, “You could see them now.”

  “I couldn’t. I’ve a business engagement Will they be at dinner tonight?”

  Without hesitation came the answer, “They will.”

  “Tell Ann I’ll join you. I’ll find out where later.”

  Missy suggested, “We’ll call for you.”

  She was cold. “I’d rather not. I’ll speak to Ann later.” She rang off, went into the living room. “I’m going now, Bette.” She laid the week’s money on the mantelpiece. She couldn’t help repeating, “Tell Mrs. Grain I’ll help in any way.”

  “Yes, Miss. Like as not he’ll be back before long.” She leaned on the mop handle. “Maybe an accident. She’s been calling the hospitals.”

  She had to say it, was surprised that she urged it. “And the police-of course, the police.”

  Bette said, “She don’t want to call in the police, Miss. Not unless there’s a need to. She don’t want to be in the papers. They’re decent people, never had any trouble-and it gives the apartment a bad name, the police.”

  “Yes.” She went out, leaving the door ajar until the elevator came. No one seemed to want the police. Except herself. And she couldn’t call them. Not now. Not and risk having them go after Con; worse, set the twins after Con.

  It was relief to be bouncing down
town, out of that neighborhood. It was joy to meet Joie Eisenhorn with his bristle jowls and spats, to finger velvets of candy colors, jewel-smooth satins, starchy brocades. Lunch in a noisy unheard-of restaurant with strange, Kosher foodstuffs was reality. And then it was time to return to fear.

  She walked up Fifth, stopping at Best’s, thinking of Ann’s Cornelia, kept in with threatening weather and a cold. She saw a doll, golden yarn curls, pink organdie ruffles. It was a Cornelia doll. “I want this.”

  She carried the package. On up the Avenue. The new Kresge’s. A fascinating place to dally, and always things needed at the ten cent store. She stopped at one counter, needles, thread. She remembered, more ash trays for the apartment. She bought heavy chain locks; at least when she was inside at night no one could enter. She could get up mornings and let Bette in.

  Now she had too many bundles. And she would have to find something for Allen. She couldn’t take presents to Cornelia and not to Allen. She crossed the street took a Fifth bus to Schwartz’s. A lovely game with marbles-not marbles, no! There was a barnyard, better. And a funny tiny stuffed donkey Nana would adore for a pincushion. Laden she went out, hailed a cab. “Seventy-ninth and Madison.”

  Olga told her, “Mrs. Stepney is at the masseuse. The children are asleep, I believe.”

  She handed her coat and hat to the maid. “I’ll be in Mrs. Stepney’s room. Tell Nana to let me know when the children wake. I’ve presents.”

  Safe behind Ann’s bedroom door. The twins wouldn’t bother Ann; they didn’t want anything here. With nail scissors she ripped a seam. The tiny blue ball into the very center of the cotton-stuffed doll. Replace the rip with tiny matching stitches. No one would ever know; no one would dream. After this was over, as soon as the twins realized she didn’t have it and went away, she could return it to Con. No one would touch the doll until then; Cornelia at two years was jealous of her possessions.

  Three o’clock. Ann wouldn’t return until four. The babies would probably sleep that long on a park-less day. She had time to relax.

  3

  Dinner in the Persian Room. Ann, lovely, correct, masseused, in Mainbocher because of Her Royal Highness, sherry satin with something white shocking it. Arthur, knife-pleated in tails. The twins, uniforms of tails. Missy in pale lemon chiffon, Alix of course, color of her hair. You wouldn’t think it was becoming but it was; everyone in the room looking at her. Griselda in black sheer, daring cut, startling, her own model.

  David said, “It’s strange how different three sisters can be, and how separately beautiful and distinguished.” He and Danny were any two young men about town, well bred, educated, monied. They had accepted introductions to Griselda.

  Ann asked, “What do you mean?” Her eyes challenged, languorous. She was between Danny and Arthur, Griselda on Arthur’s left between him and David. Missy, of course, between the twins.

  Missy spoke rather crossly, “David’s always being poetic. I want to dance.” She caught Danny’s hand and they danced as if they were sculptured together.

  Ann was eyeing David. Griselda said to him, I’d like to dance, too.” Ann didn’t like it when they moved together.

  She didn’t want to be close to him but she had to talk. “My cleaning woman found the superintendent’s lucky charm under the couch.”

  He was surprisingly angry. His face was dark as shadows. He was exclaiming but not to her. “Stupidity! That’s what comes of hurrying. Stupide! Stupide! He remembered her there in his arms. “And what did you say?”

  She recited.

  “That’s what comes of hurrying. He is always impatient Have you told him?”

  “Who? Danny?”

  The music had stopped. They walked so slowly back to the table. “Yes.”

  “I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t seen anyone. I only came here tonight to tell you about it. I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want to see any of you again. Murder-“

  He laughed gently. “You still think we killed him.”

  Then they were at the table, seated again.

  Ann laughed, not too kindly. She had been waiting for the moment: “Griselda, why did you pretend you didn’t know the boys? You surely have had more than the one meeting with them.”

  If Ann had been wise, she would have noticed how Danny, how Missy, how David, how Griselda all looked quickly at her. Maybe she did notice. Maybe even dull Arthur did. Her laugh was less real.

  “Griselda told us about you joining her the other evening. Such a priceless thing!”

  “Wasn’t it?” Danny laughed. He looked at Griselda without any expression.

  She was afraid. She wanted to make it definite what she had repeated. Her laugh was nervous. “Yes, I was telling about it at dinner last night.”

  Arthur came in from his fog. “What about this marble you were talking about? What was all that about?”

  Nobody said anything. It was only for a moment but it was stark. Griselda shivered when David spoke, spoke so easily, so sweetly.

  “You mean the very blue marble?” He leaned slightly across Griselda to Arthur and she could see his pulse beating in his throat.

  Arthur was hearty. “I suppose it was a blue one. I don’t remember. Griselda seemed to think it was important. Sounds silly to me.”

  Missy had lighted a cigarette, one with a small gold M. She said, “It is important.” Her mouth was something harsh and her eyes frightening, like the twins’, without expression. “If Griselda would but give us the marble we would go away.”

  Danny said under his breath, “Quiet,” and David, “Too late!”

  But Danny added aloud, “What Missy says is true.”

  Ann was troubled; she wasn’t that stupid. Arthur, always the host, laughed, “Then I hope she won’t give it to you. We’d hate to have you leave just when you’ve arrived. Wouldn’t we, Ann?” But he broke off, uncertain, seeing Ann’s face, looking now at the others.

  Ann whispered, “Why don’t you give it to them?”

  Griselda spoke to Danny’s face, “I don’t have it. And if I did I wouldn’t give it to you. You know why.” Then she remembered; she was safe, in the Persian Room, ordinary surroundings. She could be normal, herself. “What makes you think I have it? What makes you think I know anything about it?”

  David said, “It was in Con Satterlee’s hands. He’s had it-how long we do not know. But we have definitely traced it to him. We came at once but he was gone.”

  Griselda told him. It was as if no one else was at the table. “I was Con’s wife for three years. I have been divorced from him for four years. I haven’t seen him in four years. Why don’t you get it from Con?”

  David answered, “He doesn’t have it now. It isn’t with him on the border.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He has been searched.”

  She was cold. She spoke absurdly, eagerly, “Maybe he left it some place on the way.”

  “He didn’t stop on the way. He flew out.”

  “Maybe he gave it to the pilot-to someone…”

  “It is too important to give away.” His head bowed just a little as he spoke.

  Arthur was impatient. “Why is it so important? Marbles aren’t so important. What’s there about this particular one?”

  Danny and David and Missy looked at each other. Griselda watched them. Danny was spokesman. He was angling for words, words that would not say much.

  “The blue marble belongs to us. It was stolen from us five years ago. It isn’t really a marble, you see; it looks like one. It contains something important to us. That is why we want it.”

  Arthur was literal. “If it’s something belongs to you I don’t see why you don’t just ask Con for it instead of searching his things and that sort of stuff. Con wouldn’t keep something that didn’t belong to him. Would he, Griselda?”

  She said no, then she smiled half at David, half at Arthur. “Maybe it’s one of those Finders Keepers things. Maybe it did belong to the twins and now it belongs to Con.”
>
  David’s eyes were glittery. “Maybe,” he admitted. But Danny was angry, hiding it but angry. “You’re wrong, Griselda. We came by the marble honestly.”

  David laughed now. “Yes, we traded a cabin plane, two-seater, perfectly good except petrol-less and a broken wheel, for it.”

  They had Arthur on their side again. “Must be a pretty valuable curio to you.”

  “It is-to us.”

  Griselda baited, “To no one else?”

  David shrugged, “I do not know why it should be to anyone else.”

  She said, “Then Con wouldn’t want it. He probably doesn’t even know he has it.” Her eyes narrowed, “Why is it so valuable to you?”

  Missy broke in, “What does it matter? It isn’t yours. Why don’t you give it to us?”

  Griselda asked blandly, “How do you come into it, Missy?”

  The girl was furious. Dan put his fingers about her upper arm. David smiled, “Missy is our petite amie.” Danny said, “She is one-third of us.”

  Missy started to say something but she didn’t have a chance.

  Someone shrieked in a too British accent “Griselda, my dear! Griselda Satterlee!” She bent over Griselda, leaving her young man posing foolishly alone. It was Nesta Fahney, not on the screen, in person, but with the double length eyelashes, the crimson mouth, the porcelain teeth, the daring cream lace gown embroidered in real gardenias. “But, Griselda, this is too fortunate. I didn’t know where you were and you must dress me! I’m going to London next week and I must be dressed!”

  Griselda told her, “I’ve no one here to work for me.”

  “But darling, your taste! You must shop with me.”

  Griselda introduced, “My sister, Mrs. Stepney, Mr. Stepney, Miss Fahney.” She remembered Missy was a sister, too. “And my younger sister, Miss Cameron, Miss Fahney. The Messrs. Montefierrow.”

  She knew now. Nesta had come over to meet the twins, not to be dressed. But she would probably insist on that too. She turned in her chair, “Hello, Jasper.” She introduced the beautiful hero, “Jasper Coldwater.”