I was too sore and shaky to dress myself; Joe Bell had to help. Back at his bar hepropped me ielephone booth with a triple martini and a brandy tumbler full ofs. But I couldnt think who to tact. José was in Washington, and I had nonotioo reach him there. Rusty Trawler? Not that bastard! Only: what otherfriends of hers did I know? Perhaps shed been right when shed said she had really.
I put through a call to Crestview 5-6958 in Beverly Hills, the number longdistanformation gave me for O.J. Berman. The person who answered said Mr.
Berman was having a massage and couldnt be disturbed: sorry, try later. Joe Bellwas insed -- told me I should have said it was a life ah matter; and heinsisted on my trying Rusty. First, I spoke to Mr. Trawlers butler -- 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 ah." The oute wasthat I found myself talking -- listening, rather -- to the f Wildwood: "Areyou starkers?" she demanded. "My husband and I will positively sue anyone whoattempts to ect our names with that ro-ro-rovolting and de-de-degee girl. Ialways knew she -hop-head with no more morals than a hound-bitheat. Prison is where she belongs. And my husband agrees ohousand pert.
We will positively sue anyone who -- " Hanging up, I remembered old Doc down inTulip, Texas; but no, Holly wouldnt like it if I called him, shed kill me good.
I rang California again; the circuits were busy, stayed busy, and by the time O.J.
Berman was on the line Id emptied so many martinis he had to tell me why I honing 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, sehe bill,only keep my name anonymous, see. Well, I owe the kid something. Not that I oweher anything, you want to e down to it. Shes crazy. A phony. But a real phony,you know? Anyway, they only got her ihousand bail. Dont worry, Iggyllsprionight -- it wouldnt surprise me shes home already."
But she wasnt; nor had she returhe m when I went down to feedher cat. Having o the apartment, I used the fire escape and gairahrough a window. The cat was in the bedroom, and he was not alone: a man wasthere, croug over a suitcase. The two of us, each thinking the other a burglar,exged unfortable stares as I stepped through the window. He had a prettyface, lacquered hair, he resembled José; moreover, the suitcase hed been pagtaihe wardrobe José kept at Hollys, the shoes and suits she fussed over,was always carting to menders and ers. 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-perable at.
"Where is José?"
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 lanning a powder. Well, I wasnt amazed; or in theslightest sorry. Still, what a heartbreaking stunt: "He ought to be horse-whipped."
The cousin giggled, Im sure he uood me. He shut the suitcase andproduced 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, a as badly forHolly, every iota, as she could feel for herself.