cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第25部分

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　　This　telegram　would　put　Tom　Russell　into　a　frenzy；　but　he　would　hold　the　space；　or　rip　out　something　else　already　set　for　a　piece　on　Debierue。　But　he　would　be　so　astonished　about　my　having　an　article　written　on　Debierue　he　wouldn't　know　whether　to　believe　me　or　not。　And　yet；　he　would　be　afraid　not　to　believe　me。　I　gave　the　operator　his　home　address　on　Long　Island；　and　the　New　York　magazine　address　as　well；　with　instructions　to　telephone　the　message　to　him　before　delivering　it。　The　girl　assured　me　that　he　would　have　it　before　midnight；　which　assured　me　that　Tom　would　have　a　sleepless　night。　Well；　so　would　I。
　　The　wire　to　Joseph　Cassidy　at　the　Royal　Palni　Towers；　only　a　twenty…minute　drive　from　Riviera　Beach　at　this　time　of　evening；　was　more　difficult　to　pose。　I　threw　away　the　first　three　drafts；　and　then　sent　the　following　as　a　night　letter；　with　instructions　not　to　deliver　it　until　at　least　eight　AM：
　　
　　EMERGENCY　STOP　URGENT　I　REPORT　TO　NY　MAGAZINE　OFFICE
　　STOP　WILL　WRITE　AND　SEND　PICTURE　FROM　THERE　FIGUERAS
　　
　　There　was　ambiguity　in　the　wording；　but　I　wanted　it　to　read　that　way。　He　would　not　be　able　to　ascertain　from　the　way　the　wire　was　worded　whether　I　would　write　and　fill　him　in　on　the　〃emergency；〃　or　whether　I　would　be　sending　Debierue's　〃picture〃　from　New　York。　If　nothing　else；　the　wire　would　make　him　cautious　about　what　he　would　say　to　the　press　about　Debierue　and　the　fire；　although　I　knew　he　would　have　to　release　something。　Knowing　that　he　didn't　set　the　fire；　and　without　knowing　for　sure　that　I　had　set　it；　Debierue　would　most　certainly　contact　Cassidy。　If　he　suspected　that　the　fire　had　been　set　by　vandals；　Debierue　would　probably　be　afraid　to　stay　at　the　isolated　location　even　though　the　rest　of　the　house　was　only　slightly　damaged。
　　Berenice；　happy　to　have　her　way　about　going　to　New　York；　sat　in　the　car　while　I　sent　the　telegrams；　and；　except　for　humming　or　singing　snatches　of　Rodgers　&　Hart　songs；　confined　her　conversation　to　reminding　me　occasionally　to　dim　my　lights　or　to　kick　them　to　bright　again。　Brooding　about　what　to　write；　and　how　to　write　it；　especially　after　we　got　onto　the　straight；　mind…dulling　Sunshine　Parkway；　I　needed　frequent　reminders　about　the　headlights。
　　The　rest…stop　islands；　with　filling　stations　at　each　end；　and　Dobbs　House　concession　restaurants　sandwiched　between　the　gas　stations；　are　staggered　at　uneven　distances　along　the　Parkway。　Because　they　are　unevenly　spaced；　it　wasn't　possible　to　stop　at　every　other　one　（sometimes　it　was　only　twenty…eight　miles　to　a　rest　stop；　whereas　the　next　one　would　be　sixty　miles　away）；　and　a　decision；　usually　to　halt；　had　to　be　made　every　time。　Berenice　always　went　to　the　can　twice；　once　upon　debarking；　and　again　after　we　had　a　cup　of　coffee。　I　said　nothing　about　the　delay　（as　a　man　I　could　have　stopped　anywhere　along　the　highway；　but　I　would　have　been　insane　to　make　such　a　suggestion　to　a　middle…western　schoolteacher）；　and　besides；　the　rest　stops　soon　became　useful。　Sitting　at　the　counter　over　coffee　with　my　notebook；　I　organized　my　vagrant　thoughts　about　Debierue's　〃American　Harvest〃　Florida　paintings；　and　by　writing　down　my　ideas　at　each　stop；　I　retained　the　good　ones；　eliminated　the　poor　ones；　and　gradually　developed　a　plicated；　but　pyramiding；　gestalt　for　the　article。
　　I　allowed　Berenice　to　drive　between　the　Fort　Pierce　and　Yeehaw　Junction　rest　stops；　but；　finding　that　I　thought　better　at　the　wheel；　persuaded　her　to　put　her　head　on　my　shoulder　and　go　to　sleep　with　the　promise　that　she　could　drive　all　the　next　morning　while　I　slept。　Toward　morning　the　air　became　nippy；　but　by　nine　AM。；　with　Berenice　driving；　as　we　entered　the　long　wide　thoroughfare　leading　into　downtown　Valdosta；　I　knew　that　we　had　to　stop。
　　If　I　didn't　write　the　piece　on　Debierue　now；　while　my　ideas　were　still　fresh；　the　article　would　suffer　a　hundred　metamorphoses　in　my　mind　during　the　long　haul　to　New　York。　I　would　be　bone　tired　by　then；　confused；　and　unable　to　write　anything。　There　were　some　references；　dates；　names；　and　so　on；　I　would　have　to　check　in　New　York；　but　I　could　write　the　piece　now　and　leave　those　spaces　blank。　Besides；　Tom　Russell　would　want　to　read　the　piece　the　moment　I　got　into　the　city。　I　also　had　to　paint　a　picture　before　I　wrote　the　article。　By　looking　at　it　（whatever　it　turned　out　to　be）；　it　would　be　a　simple　matter　to　describe　the　painting　with　it　sitting　in　front　of　me；　and　I　could　tie　the　other　paintings　to　it　somehow。
　　〃Berenice；〃　I　said；　〃we're　going　to　stop　here　in　Valdosta；　not　in　a　motel；　but　in　the　hotel　downtown；　if　they　have　one。　In　a　hotel　we　can　get　room　service；　and　two　rooms；　one　for　you　and…〃
　　〃Why　two　rooms？　Why　can't　I…〃
　　〃I　know　you　mean　well；　sweetheart；　and　you're　awfully　quiet　when　I'm　working；　but　you　also　know　how　it　bugs　me　to　have　you　tiptoeing　around　while　l'm　trying　to　write。　I　won't　have　time　to　talk　to　you　while　I'm　working；　and　I　won't　stop；　once　I　start；　until　I've　got　at　least　a　good　rough　draft　on　paper。　Take　a　long　nap；　a　good　tub　bath…motels　only　have　showers；　you　know…and　then　go　to　a　movie　this　afternoon。　And　tonight；　if　I'm　fairly　well　along　with　it；　we　can　have　dinner　together。〃
　　〃Shouldn't　you　sleep　for　a　few　hours　first？　I　had　some　catnaps；　but　you　haven't　closed　your　eyes。〃
　　〃I'll　take　a　couple　of　bennies。　I'm　afraid　if　I　go　to　sleep　I'll　lose　my　ideas。〃
　　Being　reasonable　with　Berenice　worked　for　once。　Downtown；　we　stopped　at　the　tattered…awninged　entrance　of　a　six…story　brick　hotel；　The　Valdosta　Arms。　I　asked　the　ancient　black　doorman　if　the　hotel　had　a　parking　garage。
　　〃Yes；　sir；〃　he　said。　〃If　you　checking　in；　drive　right　aroun'　the　corner　there　and　under　the　buildin'。　I'll　have　a　bellman　waitin'　there　for　your　bags。〃
　　I　reached　across　Berenice　and　handed　the　old　man　two　quarters。
　　〃If　you　want　out　here；　I'll　carry　your　car　aroun'　myself；〃　he　offered。
　　〃No；〃　I　shook　my　head。　〃I　like　to　know　where　my　car　is　parked。〃
　　He　was　limping　for　the　house　phone　beside　the　revolving　glass　doors　before　Berenice　got　the　car　into　gear。
　　I　wanted　to　know　where　the　car　was　parked　because　I　intended　to　return　for　the　canvas　and　art　materials　after　getting　Berenice　settled　in。　The　bellman　had　a　luggage　truck　waiting；　and　we　followed　him　into　the　service　elevator　and　up　to　the　lobby。
　　〃Two　singles；　please；〃　I　said　to　the　desk　clerk。　A　bored　middle…aged　man；　his　eyes　didn't　even　light　up　when　he　looked　at　Berenice。
　　〃Do　you　have　a　reservation；　sir？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃All　right。　I　can　give　you　connecting　rooms　on　three；　if　you　like。〃
　　〃Fine；〃　Berenice　said。
　　〃No。〃　I　smiled　and　shook　my　head。　〃You'd　better　separate　them。　I　have　to　do　some　typing；　and　we've　been　driving　all　night　and　it　might　disturb　her　sleep。〃
　　〃Five…ten；　and　Five…oh…five。〃　He　shifted　his　weary　deadpan　to　address　Berenice。　〃You'll　be　dreckly　across　the　hail　from　him；　Miss。〃
　　I　signed　a　register　card；　and　while　Berenice　was　signing　hers；　crossed　to　the　newsstand　and　looked　for　her　favorite　magazine　on　the　rack。　Unable　to　find　it；　I　asked　the　woman　behind　the　glass　display　case　if　she　had　sold　out　her　Cosmopolitans。　Setting　her　lips　in　a　prim　line；　she　reached　beneath　the　counter　and　silently　placed　a　copy　on　the　glass　top。　I　handed　her　a　dollar　and　she　rang　it　up　（a　man　who　buys　〃under　the　counter〃　magazines　has　to　pay　a　little　more）。　I　joined　Berenice　and　the　bellman　at　the　elevators　and　we　went　up　to　our　rooms。
　　The　first　thing　I　did　after　tipping　the　bellman　and　closing　the　door　was　to　change　out　of　my　jumpsuit。　From　the　guarded　but　indignant　looks　I　had　received　in　the　lobby　from　the　newsstand　woman；　the　bellman；　and　two　bluesuited　men　with　narrow　ties　（the　desk　clerk's　face　wouldn't　have　registered　surprise　if　I　had　worn　jockey　shorts）；　gentlemen　were　not　expected　to　wear　jumpsuits　in　downtown　Valdosta。　And　I　didn't　want　people　to　stare　at　me　when　I　went　down　to　the　basement　garage　for　my　art　materials。　I　put　on　a　pair　of　gray　slacks；　a　white　silk　shirt；　with　a　whiteon…white　brocade　tie；　and　a　lime　sports　jacket；　the　only　unrumpled　clothes　I　had。
　　By　taking　the　service　elevator　down　and　up；　I　was　back　in　my　room　in　fewer　than　five　minutes。　The　room　was　hot　and　close。　I　stripped　to　my　underwear；　turned　the　air…conditioner　to　〃Cool；〃　and　put　the　blank　canvas　against　the　back　of　a　straight　laddered　chair。　There　was　a　large；　fairly　flat；　green　ceramic　ashtray　on　the　coffee　table。　This　ashtray　served　to　steady　the　canvas　upright　against　the　back　of　the　chair；　and　would　perform　double　duty　as　a　palette。　I　squeezed　blobs　of　blue；　yellow；　red；　and　white　paint　onto　the　ashtray；　opened　the　cans　of　turpentine　and　linseed　oil；　lined　up　the　brushes　on　the　coffee　table；　and　stared　at　the　canvas。　After　fifteen　minutes；　I　brought　the　other　straightbacked　chair　over　from　the　desk；　sat　down　on　it；　and　stared　at　the　blank　canvas　some　more。
　　Twenty　minutes　later；　still　staring　at　the　white　canvas；　I　was　shivering。　I　turned　the　reverse…cycle　air…conditioner　to　〃Heat；〃　and　fifteen　minutes　later　I　was　roasting；　with　perspiration　bursting　out　of　my　forehead　and　clammy　streams　of　sweat　rolling　down　my　sides　from　my　damp　armpits。　I　turned　off　the　air…conditioner　and　tried　to　r