"Steve I 've never met such a candid fellow as Christian.''
"Howard you think a fellow is candid because he tells you to your face that he is a liar and a cheat. And sweated away in a funeral parlor guiding people to their final resting places. And with a little background music he starts to spout beautiful utterances. Howard, don't be so naive. Christian here could dazzle you all night with slogans each one better than the last."
"Wouldn't it be sad then, Steve, to ignore this talent."
"It just so happens I'm acquainted with Christian's background. And by the way Christian, just want you to know, that Charlotte, she's one great kid. Don't you ever sell that girl short.If you do you 'll have me and my son Stan to reckon with.''
"I thought Christian was an unknown quantity to you Steve."
"Not when he sees my girl Charlotte. I've had Christian checked out. I loved that girl's mother. Charlotte's like my own daughter. And I want to know anytime she's in with the wrong kind of crowd."
"I think Mr Mott I ought to be going.''
"Aren't you going to abuse us a little before you leave, Christian. Call us vulgar stuffed shirts.''
"What makes you think you're in a position to say that, Mr Mott. Because you think there is nothing I can do about it."
"Don't threaten me."
"I 'm not threatening you.''
"Hey Steve, please. Let me in on this."
"And I suppose Christian you thought that if you used a frontal assault, just walking in on us here we'd think we were blessed. That we'd be afraid to go into this little background. But what happened between yourself and your wife is your own business. Only you haven't paid the shipping company yet. But that's your affair.''
"Thanks."
"But what you do Christian where I'm personally concerned."
"Steve, Steve, isn't there a sunny side to this situation. Christian didn 't tell me he was married.'
"He's not"
''How does a wife come into it.''
"She's out of it. For keeps.''
''You mean she threw a seven.''
"That's how Christian here got into the undertaking trade."
"Steve I hope I'm not disrespectful. This is way over my head."
How taking off and wiping his glasses. Christian turning to contribute a communication.
"I think Mr Mott wants to avoid unnecessary contacts with ghouls and charlatans, Mr How.''
"That's enough Christian. You're already up in court subpoenaed for being a wise guy.''
"Mr Mott I came here genuinely looking for a job to make money."
"And thought that I didn't have the guts to tell you to your face that I know the whole score on you. You know Howard, Christian happens to be pretty tough."
''O boy Steve you're way ahead of me.''
"He's knocked people's teeth down their throats. Even won a few titles in the ring.''
"Steve I mean what harm is the manly art.''
"Plenty when he thinks he can sock his way out of trouble wherever he goes."
''Preposterous rot, Mr Mott.''
"Don't go all British with me, boy.''
"Don't call me boy."
"Steve, Steve. Can't we galvanize this into a new situation from which it might be possible to evolve a solution. "What about that. I think, despite the terrible things that have been said here, that underneath it all we're good hearted people. That there is still something that could be considered constructive determined from."
"Determined to be a solve it all, are you How. Make Christian sweet for us to digest with your hired honey."
"Nobody has ever talked to me like that before, not in the three and a half years I 've been working here."
"All right, all right, Howard, this is an emotional moment."
Christian in this alabaster glowing light. Slowly rising to his feet. Brush from one's person the crumbs cast of twit, niggle, gleek and fleer. Ought to mump and jump like that subway nigger on the boil. Cut a swath through this white trash. But for the sake of How, twinkle a little. With the bland. Gets you a little further till you really have to fight.
"Meanwhile I've been insulted but thank you Mr Mott for speaking the truth."
Howard How elevating a tiny torch of understanding. A finger pointing at the domed, voice echoing ceiling.
"Now there's something we can start with. If the truth was spoken, well don't we feel the better for it. Hasn't the air been cleared. Maybe. Just a little. Isn't it just a case where personal history has intruded needlessly, personal lives dragged in and personalities giving vent to feelings that have just become too emotional for words.''
"I have never laid a hand on my wife when she was deceased Mr Mott."
''Stop being candid and embarrassing."
"It's only right that you should know. My wife's death was a blow and I might have drifted into a peculiar area of sorrow following it."
"Steve I was really proud of the impression Cornelius made on me. And I know the things you've said were tempered by some fact that could just as easily be fiction.''
"Why weren't the facts laid bare, that's all, Howard. Naturally what can you expect if you attempt to obscure the facts. A funeral parlor can knock the hell out of real estate values.''
"I'm sorry Steve."
"Well maybe Howard I was a little sudden myself. Sorry to drag in your personal background like that, Christian."
"Maybe Mr Mott I said some things I shouldn't have said.''
"Well, even as board chairman, I guess I know I did.''
"Steve, we all did."
Christian taking backward steps from this royal industrial presence. Flicking ash from the cigar held behind his back.
''Well I guess I better be going.''
Mott's glinting eyes. Silk black socks. Just like Vine's. As he shoots from the hip. Towards the slender Christian. A voice opening up the future.
"There's a place here for you Christian."
How joining his hands beneath a glad smile.
''Construction from confusion.''
Christian half way towards the sliding doors. Out on this slippery floor of glass. Taking a step into commerce. As Mott clears his throat for an utterance.
''We can use you Christian."
How shaking his raised squeezed tight fist.
"Steve, I 'm glad you said that.''
''Howard, I 'm glad I was king enough to say it.''
And
For all our royalty's
Sakes
That's saying
Something
20
Christian passing through a flock of fluttering pigeons and mounting the wide grey steps up between the monstrous pillars of this hall of justice. Where everyone needs a face wash. Wearing all the dirty looks they do.
This sunny day. With no reason at all why the world should go on. Except that I've squirted an astringent under the arm pits and up between the legs for masculine freshness. To make me smell good in court. After two sweaty weeks in the employ of the Mott empire. Scribbling words which made me laugh and How cry. Who'd come into my little cubby hole with his plaintive complaint. Gee whizz Cornelius, come on, cut out the kidding, my five year old daughter could do better than this.
Taking an elevator upwards with gents carrying briefcases. The locust swarm of lawyers ready to descend on any green dollars clutched in the hands of plaintiffs or defendants. Coming down on the subway heard a man say to another that he lived next to a neighbor for twenty five years and didn't know him and the man said, well I'm living next to my neighbor forty two years and don't know him. And last night at midnight a female across the street sat for an hour with the cheeks of her ass stuck out of her window. Just getting aquainted. With her neighbors.
Clarance Vine in all his gleaming impeccabilities, black shining shoes and a black homburg hat in his hand. Twisting his neck in his stiff collar and twitching his shoulder. Leaning against the green wall, turning to smile and hold out his hand to Cornelius Christian.
"C
ornelius you've sure had us worried. Where have you been. My lawyers wanted to brief you."
"Mr Vine I 'm sorry. You know me.
''I know you Christian."
"What do you want me to say."
"Best thing is to tell the truth. After Mrs Silver you might be the first on the witness stand.''
"Holy cow."
"And this woman Cornelius has got her whole bridge club behind her. Frankly I don't think we have a chance."
"I 'm really terribly sorry.''
''Forget it. Thing to do is fight.''
The courtroom filling. Two teams of lawyers exchanging papers across the benches tables and chairs. Mrs Silver along with the rest of her bridge partners, glaring at me. A shuffling of feet on the floor boards. Be up standing in court,, Judge entering from his panelled door. Climbing up to sit on his oak throne, yawning into his cupped hand and peering out over the assembled faces through his glasses. Vine with his lips compressed. As the sallow faced clerk says will Mrs Silver please take the stand.
Mrs Silver in her black tight dress she wore at the funeral. A corsage of pink orchids pinned at her neck. From which came her head and hair upswept in whorls of glistening blue rinse. Each heel click she makes across the floor. Is a thousand dollars she's going to put me in debt.
"Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God.''
"Boy you bet I do."
"State your name and address.''
"Harriet Silver, Hotel Apthorpe, Central Park West."
A gent approaching the witness stand. In his blue shiny suit.
His eyes sunken in his grey jowled face.
"Will you tell the court Mrs Silver what happened on the day of March twenty eighth."
''Herbie was dead a day and I was in deep mourning.''
"You were bereaved."
"Of course, it was no joke, he died before I knew what happened. Only two days after his physical for life insurance. I was knocked out. My girl friends said, don't, why should you stress yourself with the funeral. They said stay at home and have a rest in bed. So I was sentimental. I wanted a treasured last look to remember. It was dark in there. My eyes had to get used to the light."
"You refer to the Vine funeral parlor Mrs Silver."
"Of course. But when finally I could see, I hardly could see straight. That's not my Herbie, I said. Lipstick and rouge, his cheeks puffed out where they used to be caved in. I thought what's this, his business enemies, they can't leave him in peace, pulling a body switch. I said to the attendant, excuse me. Who is that. He said it was my husband. I said no, I am in the wrong room. Give me the right room. He said lady that's what we collected out of your apartment. Imagine, collected, he said."
"Is that same attendant present in this courtroom."
"Yes there he is, sitting over there.''
Her fat falling in folds as Mrs Silver raises her arm to point a finger. Not nice when everyone turns to look at you. And the judge moves his glasses down his nose to peer over the rims.
"Now Mrs Silver, will you continue for the court.''
''Could I have a drink of water.''
"Of course, take your time Mrs Silver.''
"It's my heart."
''Continue only when you 're ready.''
"I'm ready."
"What did you think you were seeing reposed there in that room that day in the Vine funeral parlor, Mrs Silver.''
"I thought I was seeing some broadway side show. The attendant told me to shut up.''
"And did you."
"I certainly did not. I demanded where's my Herbie. Then I see the nose. I'd know Herbie's nose anywhere, I go to take a closer look. And then I see that.''
"You of course refer to that, as being Mr Silver the deceased."
"That's right. My legs were wobbling. I went dizzy. It was Herbie. A complete and total stranger like somebody on the subway. Already I could feel warts coming. I was so shocked.''
"And then Mrs Silver, what happened."
"I said what did you do to him. The attendant said it was deluxe. I said deluxe. You think you did deluxe. You whorerized him I said. It was then he offered me a refund."
''And what did you reply.''
''I said no to such an insult.''
"Did the attendant apologise."
"No."
"What did he say."
"He said I'll pump you till you bust full of formaldehyde and sell me as a monster, and to shut my ass you god damn fucking bitch."
''Did Mr Christian do anything then."
''Do. It was what he already did.''
"Did he make any menace."
"He could have been making doughnuts never mind menace. All I know is I fainted. And woke up in hospital covered in warts. Under sedation.''
"And how have you been feeling since.''
"If you call feeling torture. That's what I've been feeling. I fell over eight times. Once right into the refrigerator. My head aches. I have nervous trembling condition the warts left. My heart is involved. Herbie's face haunts me so I can't sleep at night. My new kidney condition I got as a result makes me go to the bathroom twenty times a day. When before I got this shock I went only twice, or three times if I was extra nervous.''
Christian looking up. Grey sky out the window. Man sits court center playing his hands over the keys of a machine. Taking down all the words. On file forever. What did you do to my Herbie. I botched him. Pray for some monstrous holocaust to come erase this recent nightmare. Like a time on one of his binges, my father said he loved eating eels. Even when they wiggled on the plate. Said he'd show my mother that he could provide. And came back in the middle of the night. With eels. Boxes of them squirming and slithering all over the place. Woke me out of my sleep to show me. As I stood with my little brother screaming at the horror. And my mother beating my father's face with her fists.
"Will Cornelius Christian take the stand."
Christian mounting these worn steps, brushing back his delicate strands of hair. Peel itchy. Must be fleas jumping in this legal chamber. Counsel is scratching too. Fart's the only thing that scares them away. Be further accused of launching a lethal gas attack. On the dignity of the court.
"Do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God.''
"I guess so."
"Yes or no."
"Well do I have to be specific.''
"Yes."
"Well isn't there something about my democratic rights here. I just heard a whole slew of lies."
A gavel slamming the desk of the judge. As he turns and pushes his glasses down on the end of his nose. To peer at this witness. And ask.
"Do you swear, or not, please answer yes or no to the clerk's question. And do not make another remark like that in my court. Who are you in this case.''
"I don't know, I guess the embalmer, your honor.''
"Then answer the question, do you swear to tell the truth.''
"Yes your honor. I swear to tell the truth.''
''State your name and address.''
"Cornelius Christian. I'm not sure about my address at the moment. You see the landlady got shot and there's a hunchback coming round collecting the rent and the landlady's nephew was charged with the crime.''
"Answer the question, what is your address."
"Gee judge, that's what I mean I don't want to lie. I'm not living where I was because they're harassing me."
"I'll harass you into prison if I don't get some straight answers out of you soon. Counsel please don't scratch and you better get your witness here to behave, I'm not going to tolerate this kind of nonsensical conduct in my court, do you understand."
"Yes your honor. But please may I point out, that Mr Christian is a very unusual young man. He suffers from being over courteous as a matter of fact. And not wanting to give any offense."
"Counsel do you want me to have you both up for contempt."
"No your honor.''
"Then have a word with your
client. He is your client.''
"Well I think so, I just met him only a minute ago.''
"And yet you're able to say he suffers from being over courteous."
"My client Mr Vine supplied that information your honor.''
"I can see we're getting no where. Now Mr Christian. Is that your name."
"Yes your honor. Cornelius Treacle Christian. Bom in Brooklyn raised in the Bronx.''
"You needn't supply your pedigree. Where do you live now."
"Could that be confidential your honor. You see there's this steam ship company, they packed up my wife's body.''
"Good god, will you please stop this. What on earth is the matter with you. What steam ship company. Whose body. How does your wife's body come into this.''
"Your honor she died aboard ship. That's how I guess I got Mr. Vine into this whole mess. I had to pay off her bill at the funeral parlor."
"I object your honor, I object. My opponent's client is using up this court's time blathering irrelevantly like this. I ask your honor to elicit this witness's address.''
"Take it easy counsel. Don't tell me what to do in my court. The court will get to that. And will you too please stop scratching."
"I 'm sorry your honor."
"All right Mr Christian, calm yourself. We understand that you may have personal reasons why you do not want to divulge your address but the court demands that you do."
"Yes your honor. I live near the Museum of Natural History. You just go down Central Park West, you know where they've got the City of New York Museum. They've got a lot of pictures of Hudson River steamers on a wall downstairs. Well if you head down that way."
"Mr Christian, don't continue to waste the court's time. It's my last warning.''
"I was only saying how you can pleasantly get to my place."