Sleeping Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

you that.”
    “But I haven’t really talked to Laurel for several days. She’s been staying at her grandmother’s. She likes to use the tennis court there. She says it’s good therapy for her.”
    “Does she need therapy, Mrs. Lennox?”
    “I was using the term rather loosely.” She turned and looked quite openly at the cousin, then back at me. “I really prefer not to discuss this matter under the circumstances.”
    Gloria got the message and stood up. “I’ll finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Can I get anybody anything?”
    Mr. and Mrs. Lennox grimaced and shook their heads. They seemed appalled by the idea of eating or drinking anything in Tom Russo’s house. They were like astronauts artificially sustained on an alien planet, careful but contemptuous of the unfriendly environment and its unlikely inhabitants.
    The cousin went into the kitchen. Mrs. Lennox got up and moved back and forth in the limited space in front of the fireless fireplace. She was tall and rather gaunt, but she moved with a certain nervous youthfulness. She flapped her gloved hands in front of her face.
    “I wonder what perfume she uses. It smells like Midnight in Long Beach.”
    “That’s an insult to Long Beach,” her husband said. “Long Beach is a good oil town.”
    I supposed that they were trying to be light, but their words fell heavy as lead. Mrs. Lennox turned to me:
    “Do you suppose she’s living here with him?”
    “I doubt it. Tom says she’s his cousin. What’s more important, he seems to be in love with your daughter.”
    “Then why doesn’t he look after her?”
    “I gather that she takes some looking after, Mrs. Lennox.”
    She went into a thoughtful silence. “That’s true. She always has. Laurel’s been an unpredictable girl. I was hoping that her marriage—”
    “Forget about her marriage,” Lennox said. “It’s obviously on the rocks. They haven’t been living together for weeks. Russo says he doesn’t want a divorce; but he’s just holding out in the hope of some moola. I know these types.”
    “You may be mistaken about him,” I said. “He seems to care about her just as much as you do.”
    “Really? Bear in mind that I’m her father. And I resent being bracketed with that druggist.”
    He was in a mood to resent almost anything. His face hadflushed up red, and then gone gray. His wife was watching the changes in its color as if they were familiar signals to her. There was a certain distance in her look, but she leaned over him and put both hands on his shoulders.
    “Calm down, Jack. It may be a long night.” She turned to me. “My husband suffers from tension. Under the circumstances, you can understand why.”
    I said, “I don’t understand exactly why you came here, Mrs. Lennox.”
    “We thought Laurel might be here. Her grandmother said she’s been talking about coming back to Tom.”
    “You must have been concerned about her.”
    “I’ve been concerned about her all my life—all
her
life.”
    “Do you want to tell me why?”
    “I wish I could.”
    “Does that mean you can’t, or you won’t?”
    She looked at her husband again, as if for a further signal. His face had turned a mottled pink. He pulled his hand across it in a wiping motion which left it quite unchanged. But his voice had changed when he spoke.
    “Laurel is very important to us, Mr. Archer. She’s an only child, the only child we’ll ever have. If anything happened to her—” He shrugged and slumped in his chair.
    “What do you think might happen to her?”
    Lennox remained silent. His wife stood looking down at him as if she was trying to read the thoughts in his head. I asked them both:
    “Has she attempted suicide before?”
    “No,” her father said.
    But her mother said, “Yes. She has in a way.”
    “With drugs?”
    “I don’t know about that. I caught her once with her father’s revolver. She was playing Russian roulette in his room.”
    Lennox moved from side to side in his chair as