Art In The Blood

Chapter Three

  HE MOANED AS the hall light hit him.

  Walt said, "I was getting some more towels and found him. I thought he was just sleeping one off until I saw he was hurt. He wanted I should get Mr. Adrian to help take him home. "

  I knelt next to him and felt his arms and ribs. Since he didn't yell any objections, I assumed nothing was broken. "Evan? Can you tell us what happened?"

  "Truck with fists," he mumbled. There was a small cut over one eye, but most of the gore was seeping gently from his nose. I borrowed one of the towels, held it to his face, and told him to tilt his head back.

  "There's a bathroom just next to us," Walt offered helpfully.

  We gave Evan another minute to get his breath back, then I all but carried him out. He sank gratefully onto the closed lid of the toilet and sat quietly while Walt and I cleaned off the worst of the mess. In addition to his already-bruised cheek, his left eye was swelling shut. The first real sign of life was his shocked yelp when I dabbed antiseptic on the cut.

  "Who did it?" I asked.

  "Dreyer-what're you trying to do, top him?" He pushed the swab of cotton away petulantly. "One of his boys must have followed me around. I've never known such a sore loser. "

  "I think you're the one that lost. "

  "Walt, be a pal and find me something for the pain. "

  Walt obligingly searched the medicine cabinet until Evan made it clear he wanted his painkiller in a glass with ice.

  I resumed cleanup on his face. "You want to go home?"

  "Yes, I think that would be a very good idea. "

  "What about Sandra?"

  "Oh, God. . . tell her I got an unexpected date and went home early. She'll understand. I hope. "

  "You have a way home?"

  That stumped him, so I offered him a ride, which he woozily accepted. When Walt returned I told him to keep Evan in one place while I went back to the long hall.

  Bobbi was singing "Gimme a Pigfoot" to the raucous delight of the crowd, and Titus Noble's quartet was attempting an impromptu accompaniment. Sandra was still with Adrian, no longer dancing, but standing on the edge of things and clapping in time to the music. Adrian's enjoyment looked a little forced, hut the hesitant smiles he gave Sandra were genuine enough. I elbowed over and passed on Evan's message to her.

  "A date?" she puzzled. "Who with?" shrugged. "He didn't want you to worry about him, he said. "

  "There's a first time for everything," commented Adrian, not too helpfully.

  Leaving them, I scribbled a quick note to Bobbi explaining I was driving home a drunk guest and would be back for her before the party was over. Since I couldn't interrupt her, I opted to give it to the cello player, who wasn't doing too much at the moment. I didn't trust Marza to pass it along.

  Evan was anything but enthused over moving. The bruises were stiffening up, and now he insisted he'd be happy enough spending the rest of the night on the bathroom floor. When Walt offered to check with Reva about the loan of a bedroom, Evan changed his mind. One question would lead to another and eventually involve Sandra. He had no wish to listen to another sisterly lecture on the virtues of moderation and the avoidance of rough company.

  Walt guided us out by a side door and would have helped us the rest of the way to my car except for Jannie's piercing shout.

  The spare towels were long overdue by now. I told him to go back; Evan was a handful, but nothing I couldn't manage.

  I was wrong.

  The pounding on his stomach combined with that last drink ended in a predictable way. The cold night air hit Evan like a bag of cement, he went green, made a green noise in his throat, and doubled over. I was just quick enough to aim him at the flower beds before he lost it all.

  "Ridiculous, isn't he?"

  Adrian was in the doorway watching the show and not quite grinning.

  "I've seen worse," I said truthfully. "I'm taking him home. Dreyer got to him again and he didn't want Sandra-

  "Evan never fails to be considerate of others, at least after the fact. Need some help?"

  "Yeah. "

  When it was over we hauled Evan past the long line of cars and loaded him into the back of my Buick, where he promptly fell asleep.

  "You followed?" I asked Adrian.

  "Of course. Your story to Sandra didn't sound like Evan at all. When he falls in love for the evening, one generally doesn't know about it until the next afternoon.

  He's in no condition to give you directions now, I'll come along if you don't mind. "

  "Hop in. "

  I started it up, carefully backed out, and only remembered to turn the headlights on by correctly read