After the FBI men left that morning Charlotte went upstairs to Marins room. The Raggedy Ann Warren had sent for Marins twelfth birthday was on its shelf. The teddy bear Warren had sent for Marins fourteenth Easter was on its chair. The guitar once used by Joan Baez was on the windowseat, where it had been since the night Leonard bought it for Marin at an ACLU auction. The embroidered Swiss organdy curtains were as pristine as they had been the day Marin picked them out. The old valentines beneath the glass on the dressing table were unchanged, the tray of silver bangles and bath oil and eye shadow untouched. All that Marin had removed from the room was every picture, every snapshot, every clipping or class photograph, which contained her own image.
3
ONE IMAGINES A SWEET INDOLENT GIRL, SOFT WITH BABY fat, her attention span low and her range of interests limited. Marin approved of infants and puppies. Marin disapproved of meanness and showing off. She appeared to approve equally of Leonard and Warren, and tailored her performance to please each of them. When Warren came to San Francisco she would appear instinctively in the navy-blue blazer no longer required by the progressive Episcopal day school she attended. For Leonard and his friends she would wear blue jeans, and a dashiki which scratched her skin. On principle she adored madly the presents Warren occasionally sent, although by her fifteenth birthday these presents still ran to the sporadic stuffed animal in a box bearing the charge-plate stamp of whatever woman he was living with at the time. In principle she was tolerant of Leonards efforts on the behalf of social justice, although in practice she often found the beneficiaries of these efforts weird and their predicaments unnecessary. That Episcopal day school Marin attended from the age of four until she entered Berkeley had as its aim the development of a realistic but optimistic attitude, and it was characteristic of Charlotte that whenever the phrase realistic but optimistic appeared in a school communiqué she read it as realistic and optimistic.
That was Charlotte.
Not Marin.
Marin would never bother changing a phrase to suit herself because she perceived the meanings of words only dimly, and without interest. Perhaps because of her realistic but optimistic attitude Marin was easily confused by such moral questions as were raised by the sight of someone disfigured (would a good God make ugly people?) or the problem of dividing her Halloween candy with the Episcopal orphans (do six licorice balls for the orphans equal one Almond Hershey for Marin, if Marin dislikes licorice?), and when confused could turn sulky, and withdrawn.
What else do I know about Marin.
I know that her posture toward all adult women was agreeably patronizing.
I know that her posture toward all adult men, toward Leonard and toward Warren and toward any man at all who was not disfigured, was uncomplicatedly seductive. Her mind was empty of grudges and hurts and family malice. Her energies were simple and physical and in the summertime her blond hair had the cast of pale verdigris from the chlorine in swimming pools. Charlotte adored her, brushed her pale hair and licked the tears from her cheeks, held her hand crossing streets and wanted never to let go, believed that when she walked through the valley of the shadow she would be sustained by the taste of Marins salt tears, her body and blood. The night Charlotte was interrogated in the Estadio Nacional she cried not for God but for Marin. Gerardo told me that. I prefer not to know who told Gerardo.
4
I SEE, LEONARD KEPT SAYING FROM WHEREVER HE WAS on the day the FBI first came to the house on California Street. I see.
I dont see, Charlotte said. Frankly I dont see at all.
There was a silence. Youre calling from the house.
What difference does it make.
Charlotte could hear only the faint crackle on the cable. Actually she had forgotten that she was never supposed to call Leonard from the house if she had anything important to tell him. She was supposed to lose any possible surveillance and place the call on what Leonard called a neutral line. During the Mendoza trial in Cleveland she had called Leonard every day from a pay phone in Magnins and once she had taken a room in a motel on Van Ness just to call London and tell Leonard that she missed him, but now that she had to tell him that Marin was said to have bombed the Transamerica Building she was calling from the white Princess phone in Marins room.
I mean what difference could it possibly make if theyre listening, since Im only telling you what they told me in the first place.
Still Leonard said nothing.
I mean, Charlotte said, I cant leave the house.
I want you to leave the house. I want you to stay with Polly Orben in Sausalito. I want you to call Polly Orben right away
I dont want to stay with Polly Orben. Polly Orben had been Leonards analyst for eight years. Charlotte did not know what Polly Orben and Leonard had been talking about for eight years but Polly Orben frequently reported that they were within a year or so of terminating, or ending. She seemed to mean finishing the analysis. I dont want to leave the house.
Its Wednesday, Polly counsels at Glide on Wednesday, call her at Glide
I have to be here when Marin calls.
My point is this. Leonard spoke very carefully. You dont know where Marin is.
Thats exactly why I have to be here.
And if you dont know where Marin is, then you cant tell anyone where Marin is. Under oath. Can you.
Charlotte said nothing.
If you see my point.
Still Charlotte said nothing.
Get in touch with Warren. Tell him exactly what I just told you. Tell him he doesnt want to hear from her.
I guess Ill just wait here and perjure myself, Charlotte said finally. And then hire you.
Charlotte did not call Polly Orben at Glide. Charlotte did not get in touch with Warren. For the rest of that day Charlotte only lay on Marins bed, staring at the black-button eyes of the Raggedy Ann Warren had sent for Marins twelfth birthday. Charlotte did not see how Marin could have played any useful role in flying an L1011 to Wendover, Utah. Marin could not even drive a car with a manual transmission.
Charlotte did not call Polly Orben at Glide. Charlotte did not get in touch with Warren. For the rest of that day Charlotte only lay on Marins bed, staring at the black-button eyes of the Raggedy Ann Warren had sent for Marins twelfth birthday. Charlotte did not see how Marin could have played any useful role in flying an L1011 to Wendover, Utah. Marin could not even drive a car with a manual transmission.
Marin could not fly an L1011 so Marin must be skiing at Squaw Valley.
Marin had called her great-grandmothers wedding bracelet dead metal.
Marin had been in bed with the flu on her twelfth birthday and as if she were four instead of twelve had slept all night with Warrens Raggedy Ann in her arms.
When it began to rain at six oclock Charlotte wrapped herself in Marins blanket but did not close the windows. She went downstairs only once, when two of the FBI men came back to ask if she had a recent photograph of Marin.
I dont know. In a drawer upstairs she had three recent photographs that Marin had overlooked but there was some quite definite reason why she did not want the FBI men to have them. She could not put her finger on the reason but she knew that there was one. Id have to look.
She made no move to look.
She realized suddenly that she was still holding the Raggedy Ann, with its dress pulled up to show the red heart that said I LOVE YOU.
One of the FBI men cleared his throat.
I dont suppose youve heard from her, he said finally.
Im sure youd tell us if you had, the other said.
She wanted to slide the Raggedy Ann behind a pillow but she was sitting in one of Leonards Barcelona chairs and there were no pillows.
Actually I wouldnt, she said finally.
Mrs. Douglas
Actually Id lie. Id lie to you and Id perjure myself in court. You know that. You heard me tell my husband that on the telephone.
The two FBI men looked away from each other.
Or if you didnt hear me someone in your office certainly did, you should compare notes down there. She did not want to talk to the FBI this way but she could hear her own voice and it sounded bright and social and it did not stop. Someone down theres been listening to me on the telephone for at least five years, you should know me by now. Id lie.
Im sure you know that under the law a parent has no special
The other FBI man held up his hand as if to silence his partner.
Maybe youd like someone to stay with you tonight, Mrs. Douglas. Keep an eye on things.
I have someone keeping an eye on things. I have all those people you moved into the apartment across the street. Havent I. I mean I didnt see you move them in, but I know how you operate. She could not seem to stop herself. It was the Raggedy Ann. She resented their catching her with the Raggedy Ann. One thing I dont know. I dont know if you kept tapes of all those telephone calls.
Neither man spoke.
I mean it could be very useful if you did. If you could sit down now and listen to those telephone calls youd probably know more about Marin and me and Leonard and Warren than I even remember. You could probably figure the whole thing out.
One of the men closed his briefcase. The other reached for his raincoat.
You must have six or seven hundred hours on Marin and Lisa Harper alone. Doing their algebra. Charlotte smoothed the Raggedy Anns dress over its red heart and did not look at the FBI men. Lisas at Stanford this year. In case you missed the installment when Lisa got into Stanford and Marin didnt.
Were not on opposing sides, Mrs. Douglas.
Marin cried when the letter came from Stanford. You probably remember that. Marin crying.
The next morning when Charlotte woke in Marins bed the rain was streaming down Marins organdy curtains and puddling on the parquet floor. Charlotte knew as she woke why she could not give the FBI a recent photograph of Marin. She could not give the FBI a recent photograph of Marin because any photograph useful to them would show Marins eyes, and then Marins eyes would stare back at her from newspapers and television screens, and she was not yet ready to deliver her child to history.