Chapter 24 Breakfast at Tiffany's-24

I was too sore and shaky to dress myself; Joe Bell had to help. Back at his bar hepropped me in the telephone booth with a triple martini and a brandy tumbler full of coins. But I couldn't think who to contact. and I had nonotion where to reach him there. Rusty Trawler? Not that bastard! Only: what other friends of hers did I know? Perhaps shed been right when shed said she had none, not really. I put through a call to Crestview 5-6958 in Beverly Hills, the number long distance information gave me for OJ Berman. The person who answered said Mr. Berman was having a massage and couldn't be disturbed: sorry, try later. Joe Bell was accused -- told me I should have said it was a life and death matter; -- Mr. and Mrs.

Trawler, he announced, were at dinner and might he take a message? Joe Bellshouted into the receiver: "This is urgent, mister. Life and death." The outcome was that I found myself talking -- listening, rather -- to the former Mag Wildwood: "Areyou starkers?" she demanded. "My husband and I will positively sue anyone who attempts to connect our names with that ro-ro-rovolting and de-de-degenerate girl. I always knew she was a hop-hop-head with no more morals than a hound-bitch inheat. Prison is where she belongs. And my husband agrees one thousand percent. We will positively sue anyone who -- " Hanging up, I remembered old Doc down in Tulip, Texas; but no, Holly wouldn't like it if I called him, shed kill me good.

I rang California again; the circuits were busy, stayed busy, and by the time OJ Berman was on the line Id emptied so many martinis he had to tell me why I wasphoning him: "About the kid, is it? I know already. I spoke already to Iggy Fitelstein. Iggys the best shingle in New York. I said Iggy you take care of it, send me the bill, only keep my name anonymous, see. Well, I owe the kid something. Not that I owe anything, you want to come down to it. Shes crazy. A phony. But a real phony, you know? Anyway, they only got her in ten thousand bail. Dont worry, Iggyllspring her tonight -- it wouldnt surprise me shes home already."

But she wasn't; nor had she returned the next morning when I went down to feedher cat. Having no key to the apartment, I used the fire escape and gained entrance through a window. The cat was in the bedroom, and he was not alone: a man washer, crouching over a suitcase. The two of us, each thinking the other a burglar, exchanged uncomfortable stars as I stepped through the window. He had a prettyface, lacquered hair, he resembled Jose; The wardrobe Jose kept at Hollys, the shoes and suits she fussed over, was always carting to menders and cleaners. And I said, certain it was so: "Did Mr.

Ybarra-Jaegar send you?" "I am the cousin," he said with a wary grin and just penetrable accent. "Where is Jose?" He repeated the question, as though translating it into another language. "Ah, where she is! She is wailing," he said and, seeming to dismiss me, resumed his valetactivities. So: the diplomat was planning a powder. Well, I wasn't amazed; or in the slightest sorry. Still, what a heartbreaking stunt: "He ought to be horse-whipped." The cousin giggled, Im sure he understood me. He shut the suitcase and produced a letter. "My cousin, she ask me leave that for his chum. You will oblige?"

On the envelope was scribbled: For Miss H. Golightly -- Courtesy Bearer. I sat down on Hollys bed, and hugged Hollys cat to me, and felt as badly for Holly, every iota, as she could feel for herself. "Yes, I will oblige." And I did: without the least wanting to. But I hadnt the courage to destroy the letter; or the will power to keep it in my pocket when Holly very tentatively inquired if, if by any chance, I had news of Jose. It was two mornings later; I was sitting byher bedside in a room that reeked of iodine and bedpans, a hospital room. She had been there since the night of her arrest. "Well, darling," shed greeted me, as Itiptoed toward her carrying a carton of Picayune cigarettes and a wheel of newautumnviolets, "I lost the heir." She looked not quite twelve years: her pale vanillahair brushed back, her eyes, for once minus their dark glasses, clear as rain water --one couldn't believe how ill shed been .

Yet it was true: "Christ, I nearly cooled. No fooling, the fat woman almost had me. She was yakking up a storm. I guess I couldn't have told you about the fat woman. Since I didnt know about her myself until my brother died. Right away I was wondering where hed gone, what it meant, Freds dying; and then I saw her, she was there in the room with me, and she had Fred cradled in her arms, a fat meanred bitch rocking in a rocking chair with Fred on her lap and laughing like a brassband. The mockery of it! But its all thats ahead for us, my friend: this comediennewaiting to give you the old razz. Now do you see why I went crazy and broke everything?"

Except for the lawyer OJ Berman had hired, I was the only visitor she had been allowed. Her room was shared by other patients, a trio of triplet-like ladies who, examining me with an interest not unkind but total, speculated in whispered Italian. Holly explained that: "They think youre my downfall, darling. The fellow what doneme wrong"; and, to a suggestion that she set them straight, replied: "I cant. They dont speak English. Anyway, I wouldn't dream of spoiling their fun .” It was then that she asked about Jose. The instant she saw the letter she squinted her eyes and bent her lips in a toughtiny smile that advanced her age immeasurably. "Darling," she instructed me, "would you reach in the drawer there and give me my purse. A girl doesn't read this sort of things without her lipstick."

Guided by a compact mirror, she powdered, painted every vestige of twelve-yearoldout of her face. She shaped her lips with one tube, colored her cheeks from another. She penciled the rims of her eyes, blued the lids, sprinkled her neck with4711; attached pearls to her ears and donned her dark glasses; thus armored, and after a displeased appreciation of her manicures shabby condition, she ripped open the letter and let her eyes race through it while her stony small smile grew smaller and unharder. . Took a puff: "Tastes bum. But divine," she said and, tossing me the letter: "Maybe this will come in handy -- if you everwrite a rat-romance. Dont be hoggy: read it aloud. Id like to hear it myself."

It began: "My dearest little girl -- " Holly at once interrupted. She wanted to know what I thought of the handwriting. I thought nothing: a tight, highly legible, uneccentric script. "Its him to a T. Buttoned up and constipated," she declared. "Go on." "My dearest little girl, I have loved you knowing you were not as others. But conceive of my despair upon discovering in such a brutal and public style how very different you are from the manner of woman a man of my faith and career could hope to make his wife. Verily I grief for the disgrace of your present circumstance, and do not find it in my heart to add my condemn to the condemn that surrounds you. So I hope you will find it in your heart not to condemn me. I have my family to protect, and my name, and I am a coward where those institutions enter. Forget me, beautiful child. I am no longer here. I am gone home. But may God always be with you and your child. May God be not the same as -- Jose."

"Well?" "In a way it seems quite honest. And even touching." "Touching? That square-ball jazz!" "But after all, he says hes a coward; and from his point of view, you must see -- " Holly, however, did not want to admit that she saw; yet her face, despite its scosmetic disguise, confessed it. "All right, hes not a rat without reason. A supersized, King Kong-type rat like Rusty. Benny Shacklett. But oh gee, golly goddamn," she said, jamming a fist into her mouth like a bawling baby, "I did love him. Therat." The Italian trio imagined a lovers crise and, placing the blame for Hollys groanings where they felt it belonged, tut-tutted their tongues at me. I was flattered: proud that anyone should think Holly cared for me. swallowed and said: "Bless you, Buster. And blessed you for being such a bad jockey. If I hadnt had to play Calamity Jane I still belooking forward to the grub in an unwed mamas home. Strenuous exercise, thatswhat did the trick. But Ive Scared la merde out of the whole badge-department by saying it was because Miss Dykeroo slapped me. Yessir, I can sue them on several counts, including false arrest." Until then, wed skirted mention of her more sinister tribulations, and this jesting reference to them seemed appalling, pathetic, so definitely did it reveal howincapable she was of recognizing the bleak realities before her. "Now, Holly," I said, thinking: be strong, mature, an uncle. "Now, Holly. We cant treat it as a joke. Wehave to make plans." "Youre too young to be stuffy. Too small. By the way, what business is it of yours?" "None. Except youre my friend, and Im worried. I mean to know what you intend to do." She rubbed her nose, and concentrated on the ceiling. "Todays Wednesday, isntit? So I suppose Ill sleep until Saturday, really get a good schluffen. Saturdaymorning Ill skip out to the bank. Then Ill stop by the apartment and pick up overnight or two and my Mainbocher. Following which, Ill report to Idlewild. Where, as you damn well know, I have a perfectly fine reservation on a perfectly fine plane. And since you're such a friend Ill let you wave me off. Please stop shaking your head." "Holly. Holly. You cant do that." "Et pourquoi pas? Im not hot-footing after Jose, if thats what you suppose. According to my census, hes strictly a citizen of Limboville. Its only: why should I waste a perfectly fine ticket? Already paid for? Besides, Ive never been to Brazil." "Just what kind of pills have they been feeding you here? Cant you realize, you're under a criminal indictment. If they catch you jumping bail, they'll throw away the key. Even if you get away with it, you'll never be able to come home. " "Well, so, tough titty. Anyway, home is where you feel at home. Im still looking." "No, Holly, its stupid. Youre innocent. Youve got to stick it out."