Mildred Pierce

  Bert now turned toward Mildred, his eyes flashing. "He's going to marry her, that's what he's going to do. After he's given her child a name, then he can do his run-out. He better do a run-out, and do it fast, before I catch up with him. He can go to hell, for all I give a damn, but before he does, he'll march up beside her and say 'I do.' I'll see to that."

  "It's the only thing, Bert."

  Mildred drove along, and presently had a hollow feeling they were right back where they started. It was all very well to say the boy had to marry Veda, but how could they make him do it? Suddenly she burst out: "Bert, I'm going to get a lawyer."

  "It's just what I've been thinking."

  "You and I, we can't do a thing. Precious time is going by, and something has to be done. And the first thing is to get that lawyer."

  "O.K. And get him quick."

  When Mildred got home, Veda was just getting up. Closing the door, she addressed the tousled girl in the green kimono. "I told your father. We had a talk. He agrees that we need a lawyer. I'm going to call up Wally Burgan."

  "Mother, I think that's an excellent idea. . . - As a matter of fact, I've already called him up."

  "You—what?"

  Veda spoke sleepily, and a little impatiently. "Mother, can't you see that I'm trying to arrange things myself, without putting you to all kinds of trouble about it? I've been trying to spare you. I want to make things easy for you."

  Mildred blinked, tried to adjust herself to this astounding revelation.

  Wally arrived around three. Mildred brought him to the privacy of the den, then went and sent Letty on an errand that would take her all afternoon. When she got back to the den, Veda was there, in a simple little blue frock that had cost Mildred $75, and Wally was looking at the pictures of Bert attending the banquets. He said things certainly did look familiar, and casually got down to business. He said he had done a little inquiring around, and the situation was about what he figured it was. "The kid comes into dough on his twenty-first birthday, that's the main thing. How much I don't exactly know, but it's well up in six figures. He's got to inherit. There's no way the mother, or the stepfather, or any of them can juggle the books to keep him out of it, and once he dies, whoever is married to him at the time cuts in for her share of the community property. That's what this is all about, and it's all it's all about. That's why they're breaking their necks to head it off. It's got nothing to do with their being too young, or loving each other, or not loving each other, or the different ways they've been brought up, or any of the stuff that mother has been dishing out. It's nothing but the do-re-mi—the old army game."

  When Wally stopped Mildred drew a deep breath and spoke slowly, raising her voice a little: "Wally, I'm not interested in whether he inherits, or how much he inherits, or anything of that kind. So long as I'm here, I don't think Veda will be in want. But a situation has been created. It's a terrible situation for Veda, and the only thing that boy can do about it is marry her. If he's a decent boy, he'll do the right thing on his own initiative, regardless of what his family says. If he's not, he'll have to be made. Wally, that woman had a great deal to say that I haven't told Veda, but that I have witnesses to substantiate—about law, and what she'll do, and other things. I'll go just as far as she will. If it's the only way, I want that boy arrested—and you can tell him he can be very glad it's only the police he has to face, instead of Bert."

  "Arresting him may be a little tough."

  "Haven't we got laws?"

  "He's skipped."

  Wally shot a glance at Veda, who considered a few moments, then said: "I think you'd better tell her."

  "You see, Mildred, just happens we already thought of that. Two, three days, maybe a week ago, I took Veda over to the Sheriff's office and had her swear out a warrant for Sam. No statutory rape, nothing unpleasant like that. Just a little morals charge, and same afternoon, couple of the boys went over to serve it. He wasn't there. And so far—"

  "So that's what she meant by officers!"

  Veda stirred uneasily under Mildred's accusing eyes. "Well Mother, if you're talking about what I said last night, I didn't know at that time that any officers had actually been there."

  Mildred turned on Wally. "It does seem to me that on a thing of this kind, a matter as serious as this, I should have been the first one you would have talked to about it. Why the very idea, of legal steps being taken without my knowing anything whatever about it!"

  "Now just hold your horses a minute."

  Wally's eyes became very cold, and he got up and marched up and down in front of Mildred before he went on. "One thing you might consider: I've got a little thing called legal ethics to consider. Sure, I'd have been willing to talk to you. We've talked plenty before, haven't we? But when my client makes an express stipulation that I not talk to you, why—"

  When Mildred turned, Veda was ready. "Mother, it's about time you got it through your head that after all, I, and not you, am the main figure in this little situation, as you call it. I'm not proud of it. I readily admit it's my own fault, and that I've been very foolish. But when I act on that assumption, when I try to relieve you of responsibility, when I try to save you unhappiness, it does seem to me you could give me credit for some kind of decent motives, instead of going off the handle in this idiotic way."

  "I never in all my life—!"

  "Now, Mother, nobody was asking any help from you, and as Wally has taken my case as a great favor to me, I think the least you can do is let him tell us what to do, as I imagine he knows much more about such things than you do."

  As Mildred subsided, a little frightened at Veda's tone, Wally resumed in the casual way he had begun: "Well, so far as his doing anything goes, I'd say the next move was up to them. Way I look at it, we've taken Round 1. When we got out that warrant, that showed we meant business. On a morals charge, all the jury wants to know is the age of the girl—after that it's dead open and shut. When they got him under cover quick, that shows they knew what they're up against. And what they'Ee up against is tough. So long as that warrant is out against him, he dare not come back to the state of California, he can't go back to college, or even use his right name. Course there's a couple of other things we might do, like suing the mother, but then we're in the newspapers, and that's not so good. I'd say leave it like it is. Sooner or later they got to lead to us, and the more we act like we don't care, the prettier were sitting."

  "But Wally!"

  Mildred's voice was a despairing wail. "Wally! Time is going on! Days are passing, and look at this girl's condition! We can't wait! We-.—-"

  "I think we can leave it to Wally."

  Veda's cool tone ended the discussion, but all that day and all that night Mildred fretted, and by next morning she had worked herself into a rage. When Tommy reported, at noon, she had him drive her over to Mrs. Lenhardt's, to "have it out with her." But as they whirled up the drive, she saw the house man that had let her in, that morning long ago, talking to the driver of a delivery truck. She knew perfectly well he would remember her, and she called shrilly to Tommy to drive on, she had changed her mind. As the car rolled around the loop in front of the house, she leaned far back, so she wouldn't be seen. Then she had Tommy drive her to Ida's, and telephoned Bert. Leaving Tommy in Beverly, she again picked up Bert at Mrs. Biederhof's corner, and headed up to the hills.

  Bert listened, and began shaking his head. "Gee Mildred, I wish you'd told me you had Wally Burgan in mind. I'm telling you, I don't like, the guy, and I don't like the way he does business. Telling him to step on the gas is like—well, he's been liquidating Pierce Homes for eight years now, hasn't he? And they're not liquidated yet. He's not trying to get Veda married. He's just running up a bill."

  They rode along, each trying to think of something, and suddenly Bert had it. "To hell with him! What we want is to find that boy, isn't it? Isn't that right?"

  "That's it! Instead of—"

  "What this nee
ds is a private detective."

  A hot, savage thrill shot through Mildred. At last she knew they were getting somewhere. Excitedly they talked about it, and then Bert told her to get him to a drugstore, or any place where he could get to a phone book. She stopped in San Fernando, and Bert hopped out before the car stopped rolling. He was back in a minute or two, a slip of paper in his hands. "Here's three, with phone numbers and addresses. I'd say let's go first to this Simons agency. I've heard of it, for one thing, and it's right there in Hollywood, not too far away."

  The Simons Detective Agency was located in a small, one-story office on Vine Street, and Mr. Simons turned out to be a friendly little man with bushy black hair. He listened attentively as Bert stated the problem, and refrained from asking embarrassing questions. Then he tilted back in his chair and said he saw no particular difficulty. He got jobs of this sort all the time, and on most of them was able to show results. However, since time seemed to be of the essence, there would be certain expenses, and he would have to ask for an advance. "I'd have to have two fifty before I can start at all. First, to get the young man's picture and other information I'll need, I'll have to put an operative to work, and he'll cost me ten dollars a day. Then I'll have to offer a reward, and—"

  "Reward?"

  Mildred suddenly had visions of a horrible picture tacked up in postoffices. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Pierce." Mr. Sunons seemed to divine her fear. "This is all strictly confidential, and nobody'll know anything. Just the same, we work through our connections, and they're not in business for their health. I'd say, on this, a $50 reward should be ample. Then there's the printing of our ifiers, and the pay of a girl to address a couple thousand envelopes and. .

  Bert suggested that half the advance should be paid now, the other half when the boy was found, but Mr. Simons shook his head. "This is all money I'll have to pay out before I can start at alL Mind, I haven't said anything yet about my services. Of course, other places may do it cheaper, and you're perfectly welcome to go where you please. But, as I always say, the cheaper the slower in this business—and, the riskier."

  Mildred wrote the check. On the way home, both of them applauded themselves handsomely for what they had done, and agreed it should be between themselves, with nothing said to Wally or Veda until they had something to "lay on the line," as Bert put it. So for several days Mildred was ducking into phone booths and talking in guarded tones to Mr. Simons. Then one afternoon he told her to come in. She picked up Bert, and together they drove to the little frame office. Mr. Simons was all smiles. "We had a little luck. Of course it wasn't really luck. In this business, you can't be too thorough. We found out that when he left town, the young man was driving one of his stepfather's cars, and just because I was able to put that information on the flier, now we've got something. Here's the itemized bill, and if you'll just let me have the check while the girl is typing out the address for you...,,

  Mildred wrote a check for $125, mainly for "services." Mr. Simons put a card in her hand, with an address on it. "That's a dude ranch near Winslow, Ariz. The young man is using his right name, and I don't think you'll have any trouble locating him."

  Driving back, they stared at one of Mr. Simon's fliers, bearing the weak, handsome face of the boy they had chosen for a son-in-law. Then, nervously, they discussed what was to be done, and came to the conclusion, in Bert's phrase, that they had to "go through with it." When Mildred dropped him off, they agreed that the time had come to get action out of Wally, and rather grimly Mildred drove home. Going to the kitchen, she sent Letty on another protracted errand. Then, when the girl had gone, she hurried into the den and called Wally. Shrilly, she told what she had done, and read him the address furnished by Mr. Simons. He said hey wait a minute, till he got a pencil. Then he made her repeat the address slowly, and then said: "Swell. Say, that's a help. It's a good thing to have, just in case."

  "What do you mean, in case?"

  "In case they get tough."

  "Aren't you calling the sheriff's office?"

  "No use going off half-cocked. We've got them right where we want them, and as I said before, our play is to make them come to us. Just let it ride, and—"

  "Wally, I want that boy arrested."

  "Mildred, why don't you let me—"

  Mildred slammed up the receiver and jumped up, her eyes blazing, her hat slightly askew. When she turned to dash out, Veda was at the door. At once she launched into a denunciation of Wally. "That man's not even trying to do anything. I've told him where that boy is. I had a detective find out—and still he does nothing. Well that's the last he'll hear from me! I'm going over to the sheriff's office myself!"

  Quivering with her high, virtuous resolve, Mildred charged for the door. She collided with Veda, who seemed to have moved to block her path. Then her wrist was caught in a grip like steel, and slowly, mercilessly, she was forced back, until she plunged down on the sofa. "You'll do nothing of the kind."

  "Let go of me! What are you pushing me for? What do you mean I'll do nothing of the kind?"

  "If you go to the sheriff's office, they'll bring young Mr. Forrester back. And if they bring him back, he'll want to marry me, and that doesn't happen to suit me. It may interest you to know that he's been back. He sneaked into town, twice, and a beautiful time I had of it, getting him to be a nice boy and stay where Mamma put him. He's quite crazy about me. I saw to that. But as for matrimony, I beg to be excused. I'd much rather have the money."

  Mildred took off her hat, and stared at the cold, beautiful creature who had sat down opposite her, and who was now yawning as though the whole subject were a bit of a bore. The events of the last few days began ticking themselves off in her mind, particularly the strange relationship that had sprung up, between Veda and Wally. The squint appeared, and her face grew hard. "Now I know what that woman meant by blackmail. You're just trying to shake her down, shake the whole family down, for money. You're not pregnant, at all."

  "Mother, at this stage it's a matter of opinion, and in my opinion, I am."

  Veda's eyes glinted as she spoke, and Mildred wanted to back down, to avoid one of those scenes from which she always emerged beaten, humiliated, and hurt. But something was swelling 'within her, something that began in the sick jealousy of a few nights before, something that felt as though it might presently choke her. Her voice shook as she spoke. "How could you do such a thing? If you had loved the boy, I wouldn't have a word to say. So long as I thought you had loved him, I didn't have a word to say, not one word to blame you. To love is a woman's right, and when you do, I hope you give everything you have, brimming over. But just to pretend you loved him, to lead him on, to get money out of him—how could you do it?"

  "Merely following in my mother's footsteps."

  "What did you say?"

  "Oh, stop being so tiresome. There's the date of your wedding, and there's the date of my birth. Figure it out for yourself. The only difference is that you were a little younger at that time than I am now—a month or two anyway. I suppose it runs in families."

  "Why do you think I married your father?"

  "I rather imagine he married you. If you mean why you got yourself knocked up, I suppose you did it for the same reason I did—for the money."

  "What money?"

  "Mother, in another minute I'll be getting annoyed. Of course he has no money now, but at the time he was quite rich, and I'm sure you knew it. When the money was gone you kicked him out. And when you divorced him, and he was so down and out that the Biederhof had to keep him, you quite generously stripped him of the only thing he had left, meaning this lovely, incomparable, palatial hovel that we live in.,,

  "That was his idea, not mine. He wanted to do his share, to contribute something for you and Ray. And it was all covered with mortgages, that he couldn't even have paid the interest on, let alone—"

  "At any rate, you took it."

  By now, Mildred had sensed that Veda's boredom was pure affe
ctation. Actually she was enjoying the unhappiness she inificted, and had probably rehearsed her main points in advance. This, ordinarily, would have been enough to make Mildred back down, seek a reconciliation, but this feeling within kept goading her. After trying to keep quiet, she lashed out: "But why? Why—will you tell me that? Don't I give you everything that money can buy? Is there one single thing I ever denied you? If there was something you wanted, couldn't you have come to me for it, instead of resorting to—blackmail. Because that woman was right! That's all it is! Blackmail! Blackmail! Blackmail!"

  In the silence that followed, Mildred felt first frightened, then coldly brave, as the feeling within drove her on. Veda puffed her cigarette, reflected, and asked: "Are you sure you want to know?"

  "I dare you to tell me!"

  "Well, since you ask, with enough money, I can get away from you, you poor, half-witted mope. From you, and your pie-wagon, and your chickens, and your waffles, 'and your kitchens, and everything that smells of grease. And from this shack, that you blackmailed out of my father with your threats about the Biederhof, and its neat little two-car garage, 'and its lousy furniture. And from Glendale, and its dollar days, and its furniture factories, and its women that wear uniforms and its men that wear smocks. From every rotten, stinking thing that even reminds me of the place—or you."

  "I see."

  Mildred got up and put on her hat. "Well it's a good thing I found out what you were up to, when I did. Because I can tell you right now, if you had gone through with this, or even tried to go through with it, you'd have been out of here a little sooner than you expected."