“Hello, Mrs. Hood,” Flix said.
There was a lull in the afternoon. No activities had been scheduled. Flix was sitting in the shade of a very large tree, taking advantage of any hint of breeze that might waft across the lawn.
“There you are! I am trying to get a game of bridge together. Flix, are you in?”
“Bridge? Oh, madam, I am afraid I do not know how to play. Thank you, but I must decline. My interest has always been in other things. My work, I am afraid. It is all consuming. No time for games.”
“There is always time for games! What kind of work do you do? It must be very backbreaking, common labor, or you must be employed by a very hard taskmaster. Do tell me what interests you so that you have no time for cards.”
“Lepidoptery.”
“Oh, Flix, that sounds positively evil. Perhaps, I should try it.”
“I assure you, there is nothing evil involved.
My life’s work is studying butterflies and moths. In particular, I am studying the white-lined sphinx moth. It is a fascinating creature, able to hover over the blossoms of delicate flowers. It sips nectar with a long curled tube at its mouth called a proboscis. Because of its ability to hover above the blossoms, it is often mistaken for a hummingbird. Thus, it is known as the hummingbird moth.
Its wingspan is quite large. And its body is thick. I can see how it could easily be mistaken for a hummingbird.”
“Totally underwhelming. Lepi . . .”
Mrs. Hood’s tongue simply refused to wrap itself around so many syllables. Why, to her, the very word seemed uncivilized.
“Oh, but it is not, Mrs. Hood. Those creatures are as varied and as interesting as humans. I assure you. We can learn so much from Nature, if we will but open our eyes and observe.
And I am also enthralled by the plants of this world. So many. So varied.”
“How on earth could such boring subjects take up all your time? You’ll never get a floozy to love you troozy with such tedious hobbies! A chippy wants to hear sweet nothings whispered in her ear. Not a lecture on bed bugs and stink weeds!”
This last remark came from George, who was being pushed passed the two in a wheelchair by a sparkling, white-clad orderly.
“George!” Mrs. Hood pleaded. “Please. You can be so appalling!”
George was laughing gleefully. He loved nothing better than to stir Mrs. Hood’s dander.
“Oh, Little Red Riding Hood-Hoodle-Whoo! Don’t let the needle whet your wheedle. Doodle-doo! Ha! Ha!”
“Sorry, sir. Excuse us, madam,” mumbled the orderly.
“Your friend has quite a unique way with phrases, Mrs. Hood,” Flix said.
“Oh, George is no friend of mine, I can assure you. I mean, they say he is a war hero, but there’s hardly anything heroic about him!
Look at him! Poor creature. Stuck in that chair.
We try to make exceptions because of his condition, but sometimes, he goes out of his way to be unpleasant. Depending on his mood, his barbs can seem especially wicked and cruel.
I think the poor man despises women!
If you think what he just said is particularly base, you should hear the vicious things he says to Avery!
I do not care for the girl either, but the things he says to her are especially nasty. I am no saint, Flix, and I enjoy throwing out a cutting barb as much as the next, for the shock value, you know, but even I am stunned, at times, by what comes out of George’s mouth.
I will have to give Avery her due, though. She gives as good as she gets.
I sometimes think those two despise each other.
Avery comes from very good stock, you know. I wonder if George is smitten with her, but being a cripple, he couldn’t possibly hope to win her.”
“He has much to be embittered about,” said Flix.
“And Avery!” Mrs. Hood said. “That girl can be just as bad as George!
She can be beastly towards us!
And the stories that girl contrives!
Told me some rubbish about being related to the Queen. She’s no more related to royalty than I am the Virgin Mary!
Nevertheless, she taunts George without mercy.
Dr. Quintland says George is a hero. Fighting the Huns. Coming home an invalid. She should try, once in a while, to cut him a bit of slack. But she never does. Always baiting him with those names she calls him. Crimple, Crupple, Cromple Man. It is awful!
She despises him. I believe she really does.
There are times when I feel it would be better for everyone if she would make an effort to ignore the man.
But, perhaps, it is impossible. The way Avery talks to George, you’d think she was as damaged as he.
Oh, I don’t mean physically, of course.
But listen to me!
You will think me a perfectly dreadful busybody!”
“Oh, you? No, Mrs. Hood, I think you are delightful,” said Flix, watching the orderly and his charge disappear around a meticulously groomed garden pathway.
“Well, finally! A gentlemen among this horde of infidels! How nice of you to notice! It is refreshing to think that at least one inmate in this place recognizes quality!
Now, what were we talking about?
I have the attention span of a grain of sand, you know. Oh, yes. Flutter-by-beasties and poison ivy. Ha. Ha.
Personally, I think I’d rather spend an evening at a fabulous party, drinking myself unconscious, than grubbing about in some godforsaken woodland or that monstrosity they call a greenhouse.
Can you see me crawling about on my hands and knees in search of a fluttering varmint? Perish the thought!”
“Winged insects that are as graceful as angels, Mrs. Hood,” Flix said. “And much more colorful, I might add.”
“If you say, Flix. But whatever is so fascinating about bugs that you could work yourself down to a frazzle? Of course, you know, I mean no harm, but wouldn’t it be better to waste yourself on something wicked and sinful? Or at least, enjoyable?
Oh, I don’t know!
An orgy or absinthe!
Even opium!
Ha! Ha!
But somehow, you don’t seem to be the type to revel in a drunken orgy. Too timid, I fear.
Life is short, and why not experiment on the wild side!
I shock you, I see. And that gives me great pleasure.
You know, Flix,” here Mrs. Hood’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, “there are really no words to describe your first experience with something taboo. It’s like ice skating at blinding speed right over the rim of the moon!
Thrilling.
Titillating.
You really need to experience life on the edge. But, I believe, you will never be a convert to the hedonistic lifestyle!
I am wasting my breath!
But do not despair.
Life’s a fête!
There may be hope for you, yet! Though I fear, Flix, you, my dear man, are destined to be one of its wall flowers! Ha! Ha!
Perhaps, I am too blunt?”
“No. I enjoy honesty in any conversation, Mrs. Hood.”
“Honesty is a bitter pill, at times, isn’t it? Oh! Oh! Dabney! Dabney! Dabney, darling! Wait up!
Excuse me, Flix. I simply must find out where she gets those adorable little handbags she carries. Dabney Glendinney is smack-dab in the middle of a vicious divorce. Tried to commit suicide because of it! That’s why she’s here!
So, you see, there’s no time to waste! I really must find out where she gets them!
Who knows?
She might be successful next time!
Ha! Ha!
Dabney, dear! Wait up!”
“A most amazingly, peculiar woman,” Flix muttered to no one in particular.
“That she is, old boy. That she is! Park me here, Aimes,” George said. “Then, leave me to my vices!”
The orderly did as he was told, positioning the wheelchair near Flix.
“Now, Wolly, scoot your boots to another side of the playground! This fellow, Flix, and I have a lot of important matters to discuss. Top secret! Ha! Ha! And you are not welcome to hear what I have to reveal,” George said, as Wolcott approached.
Abercrombie Wolcott looked perturbed, but he held his tongue.
“Take your gossip rag, or whatever you call that drivel of a newspaper you insist on reading daily, and run along,” said George. “I wish to visit with our newest member of the asylum! Now, go. Go away. Scat! Scat! Before I get really nasty and tell you off!”
Wolcott’s face was purple with rage, but he did as he was told, walking to a bench in a far corner of the park.
“And so,” George said, “the black widow scampers away, withdrawing her venomous fangs from another would-be victim.”
“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, sir,” Flix said.
“Oh, surely man, you know exactly what I am talking about. I mean unless you’ve had your head in a hole.”
“Well,” Flix said, “my head has not been too long out of a trench. And to answer you honestly, no, I do not know what you are talking about.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. I am not.”
“She’s Inez Hood. THE Inez Hood. Her father invented Reddy-Rite. Made a stinking fortune! Loaded! That stuff’s in nearly every home in America. Housewives can’t get enough. Filthy rich. Filthy! And our little Inez is the sole heir to it all!
Had four husbands. Four! Although with all that money, why bother marrying when you can buy whatever you’re in the market for? I mean, why bother chaining yourself to a husband, when you can buy a paramour?
But our little Inez is special! A barracuda when it comes to men. A real man-eater. Other women’s men, exclusively!
I hear she’s the reason Dabney and her husband split, you know. Though why Dabney gives a flying flip what her husband does is beyond me. Anything that smart looking has to have left a thousand broken hearts in her wake. Don’t you agree? Dabney’s definitely the bee’s knees in my book! In spite of those clumsy bandages that she has on her arms.
But, back to Inez!
Four hubbies and all dead!
They say she’s gotten away with murder, our little Inez! Multiple times! But jeez, with all that money, I guess you can grease enough palms to slip your neck out of any noose!
Her last one, Frederick, drowned in a sailing accident in the Caribbean. Only our friend, Inez, and a hired South America crew member will ever know what really happened.
Latin lover? Most likely. Especially if the crewman was married. But who can say?
The other three?
Well, let us say, a cloud of suspicion hangs over her wherever she goes. Those other three left this earth under fishy circumstances, too. So now, I suppose, she is on the prowl for husband number five.”
“Interesting.”
“I’ll say. She’s got to be pushing fifty, but she’s preserved herself amazingly well. Had some facial enhancements, I’d dare to wager. Looks a bit stretched around the eyes, but perhaps, that’s a familial thing. You know, high cheek bones, widely set eyes. Can’t say.
Doesn’t drink. At least, not very much, from what I’ve observed.
Nerts! I’d give my eye teeth for a good, stiff brandy this second, but Aimes is a goody-two-shoes and stubbornly refuses to let me have any booze while I’m his charge. Doesn’t matter! The wait makes it all the more rewarding.
I’ll down a few later when I’m out of Aimes’ reach.
And no, if you’re about to ask, Quintland doesn’t mind. In fact, the good doctor encourages a little snoot. Relaxing. Therapeutic. All that rot.
He’s got a cellar stocked with the good stuff!
Got friends in high places, no doubt.
Must have cost him a fortune to buy off the local lawmen. But that doc’s got a good head of his shoulders. Knows what’s good for business, that one!
Quintland wouldn’t think of cutting off the hooch. Half this place would disappear before nightfall if the bootleg stopped flowing.
Therapy schmairapy.
I say, it’s just damn good.
But I digress.
What were we discussing?
Oh, yes.
Stiff drinking.
Not our friend, Inez.
Not that she’s a teetotaler by any stretch of the imagination. Our Inez does like her poison, only not from a glass. She prefers hers at the end of a needle. That’s why she’s forever hold up in the john!”
Flix paled.
“Aughhhhhhh!”
A high, piercing scream broke George’s reverie.
Flix jumped up from his seat and ran toward it.
“Wait! You! Take me with you!” George ordered. “Aimes! Aimes! Where in the hell is that man when I need him?”
Flix yelled an apology to George, who was struggling with his wheelchair, and ran in the direction where the scream had originated.