Read Online Elsinore by Jerome Charyn - Free Book Online Page B

psychiatrist.”
    â€œI saw Fay’s psychiatrist. And I saw Fay. At Elsinore.”
    â€œYou’ve been having too many wet dreams.”
    â€œWhere is she then?”
    â€œWhere she belongs. Away from you.”
    â€œShould I tell that to Howard Phipps?”
    Paul’s eyes shrank into his head. Holden understood that dark white mask. Paul was planning Holden’s destruction. “Don’t play that card, Sidney, or we’ll all get hurt.”
    â€œThen listen to me, Paul. Somebody put Fay in Elsinore and somebody took her out. Check on it.”
    â€œI don’t have to check. You’re a public nuisance, son. Phipps will wake up to you, and when he does, it’ll be all over. Now get the fuck out of here.”
    â€œJust tell me how she is.”
    â€œHolden.”
    â€œI won’t bother you, Paul. Just tell me how she is.”
    â€œHolden.”
    â€œI’m not leaving. I don’t care if the Algonquin has a house detective. Let him come for me. I don’t care.
    That white mask grew darker still. “She doesn’t even remember you’re alive. You’re a zero to her, Holden, an absolute zero.”
    Holden’s eyes twitched under the Algonquin’s lights. He could have broken the district attorney’s neck, but it wouldn’t have gotten him nearer to Fay. Paul didn’t seem to have the answers to Holden’s riddles. Elsinore.
    He went downtown to Aladdin Furs. The whole market was sensitive to Sidney Holden. He was more than a retired bumper, or a man whose face was inside Vanity Fair . He was the master of his own company, president of Aladdin. He didn’t even know where his accountant was. His cutters and nailers were attending to the skins. His designer, Nick Tiel, was out of his skull, and Holden assumed the men worked from Nick’s old patterns, because Nick had nothing new. Holden never asked. What was a president, after all? He didn’t run the shop. And so far he hadn’t even signed a check. Who would pay Holden if Holden couldn’t pay himself?
    He sat in his office, pondering his own presidency, when Phipps appeared in his favorite cardigan with Mrs. Vanderwelle, little Judith Church.
    â€œYou’re a hard man to find,” Phipps said. “I’ve been calling for days. Aren’t you gonna invite us to sit down?”
    â€œNot until you tell me who signs the checks for this establishment.”
    â€œWhoever you like, Sid. Take it up with Gloria.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Mrs. Vanderwelle said. “The new checks are at the printers.”
    â€œNew checks?”
    â€œYes. With your name on the cover.”
    â€œBut I don’t know what each of my men makes.”
    â€œI’ll give you a salary schedule once the checks arrive.”
    â€œAnd what about me?” Holden asked.
    â€œDon’t lay that on us,” Phipps said. “You’re the boss.”
    â€œBut I haven’t seen the books,” Holden said. “What can we afford?”
    â€œWhatever you’re worth. Now can we sit?”
    The old man and his secret daughter sat on the bed in Sidney Holden’s office. “You’re supposed to be my companion. I can’t talk to you, Sid. You seem preoccupied.”
    â€œIt’s my fiancée. The district attorney stole her again.”
    â€œCan’t you manage to keep your own fiancée?”
    â€œI don’t have badges and Detective Specials. I can’t go to a judge and get some writ. All I have is my reputation.”
    â€œAnd your salary, don’t forget.… All right Where is big Paul?”
    â€œAt the Algonquin,” Holden said.
    â€œDial the hotel, will you, dear?” Phipps asked Mrs. Vanderwelle.
    She got the Algonquin on the line and handed the phone to Phipps.
    â€œPaul Abruzzi, please.… Paul? Howard Phipps here. My man Holden seems to think you’ve been shuffling his fiancée around to