Neighbors: A Novel Read online

  He was silent for a moment, and then he said: "Just bear with me for a few minutes. I'll run you to Allenby, but I don't dare leave at this moment. The moving van's already pulled in next door. Please!" He took Elaine's hand. "Promise you'll stay right here."

  "Well, if it's really that important—"

  "It is, believe me."

  "All right, then, I'll stay."

  Keese kissed her forehead, which looked cool but was actually so warm it may have been feverish, but he had no time to worry about that now. He climbed the stairs, marched to the door of the master bedroom, and was about to rap on the door when Enid emerged. She was fully dressed. She gave him a piercing look.

  "I'll bet you didn't even try to sleep."

  "How could I?" Keese asked accusingly.

  "Yes, blame me. That makes sense."

  "Have I your permission to address your girl friend?" Keese asked.

  "No," said Enid, "the poor little thing needs her rest."

  Keese grunted huffily, turned the knob, and pushed in. There was a strong odor of dog, but all in all it was a pleasant, homely smell. The wolfhound lay on an oval scatter rug below the foot of the bed. It had curled its large body so that it fitted the rug precisely.

  Keese went to the left side of the bed, properly his own, and looked down at Ramona, who was apparently sleeping. He had been in the Army, and he had never seen a sleeping human being without being sensible of an overwhelmingly sympathetic emotion, even if the person when awake was despicable.

  "What the fuck do you want now?" Ramona asked while in the act of opening her eyes. No doubt she had been playing possum. "Throwing me out again?"

  "Not really," said Keese. He would never become inured to her foul mouth. Her features looked more delicate in her current attitude, but her lank hair adhered unpleasantly to her skull, as though wet. "I thought you should know," he said, "that Harry's pulling out."

  "Of whom?" Ramona asked idly, yawning cavernously. She didn't seem to have a filling in her large and savage teeth.

  "Harry is leaving, moving away," said Keese. "The van is there already. I thought you would want to know."

  "Why?"

  "Isn't it your home too?"

  "I can't see it was much of anybody's home in that short a time," said Ramona. "I certainly wasn't looking forward to it as mine."

  "I know," said Keese, "you miss the city. I've been through all that with Harry."

  Ramona scowled. "I hate the city! What I love is the country—the real country, not this. I mean the Mountains or the Desert or the North Woods."

  "Or the Lake Region?" Keese asked sardonically. He wanted to deride her, but as usual he felt she was actually winning.

  "Is that the only reason you woke me up?" she asked in disgust.

  "All right," said Keese, "if you really want to know: Harry told me he was leaving you here."

  "That sounds like him," said Ramona, rubbing her nose.

  "Actually he said I could have you."

  She raised her eyebrows and let them fall.

  Keese said: "Does he have the power to give you away?"

  "Why not?" said Ramona, stretching under the covers. "Isn't that exciting?"

  "I think it's appalling," Keese said solemnly, "if you're being serious."

  "That's because you are thinking ethically." She smiled sweetly. Suddenly she slipped from view beneath the bedclothes.

  Keese had been bested again. He impotently addressed the covers: "Well, I've done my duty."

  "Like hell you have," said Ramona from within the bed. Her head reappeared. "I'm not going to let you get away with that!"

  Keese was amazed by her passion. "You mean I am giving up too soon?" It was the only thing he could think of.

  Ramona said: "Your version of neighborliness is a farce, Earl."

  Keese did secretly feel a kind of contrition with respect to the figure he had cut, but he retained enough of his old indignation to serve. "Your performance as a neighbor newly arrived leaves much to be desired, too," he said, "but I don't want to relive last night. For your information, I told Harry I wanted him to stay. I pleaded with him."

  "He probably recognized your hypocrisy," said Ramona. "I do."

  "Then you don't understand me. I'm very sincere in this. I realize we didn't hit it off last night, but I say give it a chance! It was different with the Walkers: in all the years we scarcely knew them. I forgot what it was like to have neighbors as real friends."

  Ramona's expression softened. "If you'd only give a guy a chance—"

  "All right," said Keese, "I know I've made mistakes, but I don't think all the fault was on my side."

  Ramona's face was working. Suddenly she opened the bedclothes at the side towards him. She was naked. She said: "Get in here, Earl."

  "For God's sake, Ramona."

  "Don't worry," she said soberly, "we only want you to be happy."

  Keese avoided looking at her ivory body in the warm stratum of bed. "I can't do that sort of thing! It isn't the kind of thing that is done. Do I have to explain it?"

  "I am just extending the hand of friendship," said Ramona. "Can't you see that?"

  "You're making me very nervous," said Keese. He walked around to the other side of the bed.

  Ramona shook her head and dropped the covers. "Well, there you are again. You say you have turned over a new leaf, but you haven't changed one iota, Earl. You repel any offer of affection, any attempt at neighborliness."

  "Neighborliness?"

  Ramona sighed. "Are you a freak of some kind, Earl? Must you have dead chickens or the smell of pee? Can't you simply and honestly be with a woman in the natural way?"

  What was the use? The situation had got so warped that nothing would really serve but for Keese to confirm her assessment, as the only means by which he could persuade her to let him alone.

  "I guess that's my trouble, all right."

  Ramona nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I knew that. I was just being cruel now, I couldn't help myself."

  "You 'knew that'?" Keese said furiously. He removed his clothes in a trice, threw back the covers, and climbed in beside Ramona's nudity.

  But no sooner had this happened than a pounding came at the door and a voice crying: "Earl! Earl!" It took a repetition for him to identify Harry.

  Moaning to himself, he scrambled from bed. These trash had tricked him into the old badger game! He seized up his clothes from the floor and stole into the bathroom, where he dressed quickly in the old "work" pants and shirt and unlaced shoes, omitting underclothes and socks. Harry was still pounding and shouting. Why didn't he enter the bedroom?

  At last Harry shouted: "Sorry, Earl!" The door could be heard to open.

  Keese instantly glided from bathroom to hall and then, soundless on the runner rug, stole around the corner. In a moment he heard Harry come back into the hall and shout: "Earl, Earl!"

  Keese could have concealed himself in the former guest room, amidst the extra furniture, but he was determined to face the music. He swung around the corner and came marching down the hall.

  "Harry," he said, "I thought you'd be moved out by now."

  "Earl," said Harry. His face was streaked black, as if from soot, and his hands were filthy, his clothes torn and apparently singed here and there. "Please, Earl," he begged, "none of your cruel humor at this point. My house is burning down."

  "I assume you've called the fire department?"

  "I don't have a phone and yours is out of order!"

  Keese said: "All right, Harry, all right. I'll do something." He felt amazingly competent in a general way, but he had no particular idea of what to do. "You'll see," he added. He descended the stairs.

  Enid and Elaine were roaming about the front hall, apparently distraught. Keese decided he'd better look at Harry's house, to see whether his neighbor might be lying or at least exaggerating. He went to the dining-room windows and looked.

  He could see nothing amiss, not a wisp of smoke, let alone a flame. The mov
ing van was gone.

  He returned to the front hallway, where Harry had joined the two women. Indeed, they seemed to be supporting him, each under a shoulder.

  "Let him go," said Keese. "It's another of his hoaxes."

  "Earl," Harry croaked out, "have you no humanity at all? For the love of God, man, drive to the fire department. I couldn't find your ignition key."

  "Aha," cried Keese, "you thereby reveal yourself, Harry old boy. Why didn't you use your own car? It has been recovered, you know."

  "Because—" And here Harry went into a racking cough, for all the world as if he had inhaled too much smoke.

  "Earl," said Enid, "an axle is broken on his car. It won't run."

  That idiot Perry Greavy! He had tested only the engine. Damn! Now Keese was in for a nice bill. An axle! He had a feeling this day, too, was going bad.

  He opened the little triangular door beneath the stairs, reached inside the space, found the telephone plug, and inserted it in the jack. He straightened up and took the phone off the cradle.

  "Here," he said to Harry, "I'm calling your bluff. Get the fire department."

  But Harry waved him off, coughing violently.

  "I saw what you did, Daddy," said Elaine, with reference to the telephone plug, "and I'll never forgive you."

  Keese bared his teeth at her and dialed the fire-department number, which he saw on a little label affixed to the base of the instrument, along with the numbers of the police and ambulance service. Then he went out the front door to await the arrival of the firemen. He eagerly looked forward to fingering Harry as the person who had entered the false alarm.

  As he stood at the curb a window suddenly collapsed on the second floor of Harry's house, and a burst of red-and-orange flame billowed from it.

  He ran back into the house and shouted at Harry: "You're right! It is on fire!"

  Harry was still gasping, but he managed to shake a fist at Keese and gargle out a word of abuse.

  Soon afterwards the volunteer fire department arrived in two trucks, with, except for a discreet bell, a strange lack of noise. The company consisted of local lads. They made a recreational club of the firehouse in the village, gave dances, and marched in parades. Luckily Keese regularly bought chances in their raffles. They now immediately wetted down the roof of his house. The brawny fellow manning the nozzle of the hose turned out, under the leather helmet, to be Perry Greavy.

  But while this was being done, Harry's house burned ever more furiously, and when the firemen finally turned to it, their chief, a pudgy man wearing a white helmet, necktie, and red felt jacket, pronounced the case to be hopeless and therefore a foolish extravagance for the full department, and he sent the larger truck away.

  Keese was all alone in the yard. Neither Harry nor the women had emerged. Keese walked over to the fire chief and recognized him as Doc, the village pharmacist. Doc looked markedly different without his glasses.

  "Not going to bother with it?" Keese asked Doc.

  "She's kaputt," said Doc. Even at this distance the radiated heat was uncomfortable. Doc commanded some of his men to return to the wetting down of Keese's house.

  Keese fought against being hypnotized by the fire and almost lost the struggle: it was utterly fascinating to him. He could understand the emotional rewards of arson. But duty called. He must go inside and console Harry. With a last fond glance at the flames, he went inside.

  He found Harry and Enid in the kitchen. They had apparently been having an animated conversation, which stopped suddenly when his step was heard.

  "Harry," Keese said on entering the room, "your house is a total loss, I'm afraid. But at least you got out alive. What happened?"

  Harry's face was still sooty, though he had had plenty of time to wash it. Here and there were burn-holes in his knitted shirt of royal blue, yet there was no evidence of his body's being burned. The flesh seen through these apertures (he wore no undershirt) looked hale enough.

  Harry squinted at Keese through his good eye. "All right, Earl," he said, "you can drop the act."

  "And what does that mean?"

  "It didn't just burst into flame of its own accord," said Harry. "Come on."

  "No," said Keese, "I'm sure it did not."

  "Then are you admitting you set the fire?"

  Keese smacked his hands together, almost in glee. "I might have known! But you set the fire, didn't you? You burned down your own house!"

  Harry looked at Enid. They were sitting side by side at the table. "Didn't I tell you?"

  Enid appealed to Keese. "I think he's got you this time, Earl."

  "He's got nothing." To Harry he said: "All right, don't tell me how you set fire to your house. Tell me how your clothes were burned while they were on your body, without your skin being hurt!"

  Harry grinned ruefully at Enid. "He's like a cornered rat!"

  "You have no explanation?" asked Keese.

  "He's clutching at straws," said Harry.

  Keese could hear the water from the firemen's hose falling on the roof of the kitchen, which had no second story above it. "We were just lucky that they came quickly enough to protect this house," said he. "I suppose that didn't occur to you, Harry? That you would endanger us as well?"

  "He doesn't miss a trick," Harry said to Enid.

  "If I did it, then when?" asked Keese.

  "While we were distracted by the moving," Harry said.

  "All this aside," said Keese, "I hope you were able to get some of your furniture out. I noticed that the van was gone when I first looked over there, before the flames had burst out the window."

  "Not a stick!" Harry cried bitterly. "You've wiped me out, Keese!"

  "Just stop that, Harry!" Keese shouted across the table. "I had nothing to do with the fire. If you think about it for one minute you'll realize that I had nothing to gain. And furthermore, by that time you and I had become friends."

  Enid asked: "Would that be enough to restrain you, Earl?"

  Keese said: "Look, to continue to accuse me is misguided, and it's also unproductive. Let's see what we can salvage from this catastrophe. Surely the house was insured. Now, forgive me for saying this, but if you did set the fire, I hope you left behind no evidence that would affect your insurance claim—"

  "God, how you can twist the knife," Harry moaned. "You're really a sort of fiend, Earl." He whimpered at Enid, who took his hand and patted it.

  "All right," said Keese. "I'm sorry, Harry. Maybe it was spontaneous combustion in the straw used to pack the dishes. Or maybe the moving men carelessly threw down a cigarette butt or something."

  "I didn't see either of the Greavys smoking," said Harry. "And the dishes weren't packed in straw!" He seemed to see the failure of these theories as a personal triumph.

  "The Greavys! Were they your movers?"

  "Of course," said Harry. "They rent out the U-Haul, and I couldn't do the job by myself, so I hired the two of them."

  "And how did they work out?" Keese slyly asked.

  "Not well. The old man agreed to one price down at the station, but he upped it once he got here."

  "Did you quarrel with him?"

  "We had a difference of opinion, and they left. That's why nothing was saved."

  "There's your fire," said Keese triumphantly. "They set it in revenge. Guess who's a fireman? Perry Greavy." He was greatly relieved to have solved the mystery. He and Harry could be greater friends than ever.

  "Well, Earl," said Harry, "nobody can fault your ingenuity."

  "Think I am inventing this explanation to conceal my own guilt?"

  "You said it. I didn't."

  Enid asked with concern: "Earl, have you had any breakfast?"

  "No!" Keese said passionately. "Nor no decent dinner last evening, nor no sleep at all!" He turned to Harry. "I thought you were going to make blueberry pancakes and little pig sausages."

  Harry raised his eyebrows. "Forgive me, Earl. It's really outrageous of me to neglect breakfast, to be distracted by a fi
re that destroyed everything I owned." He laughed bitterly for Enid's benefit.

  "Well, I've got you there as it happens." Keese too appealed to Enid: "Breakfast was supposed to have occurred long before the fire. In fact, there wouldn't have been a fire at all if he had kept his promise to make breakfast—if, instead of hiring the Greavys to move him out, he would have bought pancake mix and little pig sausages and come back here promptly and cooked them!"