Talmage Powell

Uncle Charlie’s Wife

It was part of my plan to gamble everything on the action — and reaction — of a single moment.

Responding to my summons, Madeline, my uncle Charlie’s young wife, came to my apartment alone. I greeted her cheerily and stepped behind her to lift the mink stole from her slender shoulders.

With her blonde hair piled atop her head, her neck was slim and inviting. I kissed her warmly on the nape, my hands tensile and strong on her shoulders, the mink sliding to the carpet.

I felt her stiffen slightly. “Freddy, really!” A faint shiver of pleasure coursed through her. Then she pulled herself from my grip and turned to face me, attempting to bring a spark of outrage to her wide blue eyes. “What’s come over you, Freddy?”

“This,” I said. I pulled her close to me and kissed her on the lips. My plan, I might say, was proving to have its pleasurable aspects.

When I released her, her face was warmed with color. She tried to portray shock, but her slap across my cheek was half-hearted.

“Let me out of here this instant, Freddy!”

I smiled, lighted a cigarette, offered it to her lips, and lighted a second for myself.

I was really making no move to stop her, but she didn’t leave.

Instead, she said, “Are you drunk, Freddy?”

“Delightfully,” I said. “Drunk, soaring, reeling from the sight of you, the perfume you wear, the touch of your lips.”

“You mustn’t say such things. I believe you’re crazy!”

“Driven to distraction,” I said, “by the thought of you. From the moment I met you, Maddy, the day he brought you to his home, a surprise bride, I’ve been able to think of nothing else”

“And your phone call, asking me here to discuss a matter of business, was just a hoax?”

“I had to see you, darling. I couldn’t—”

With adoration in my young and handsome (I speak modestly) face, I drew her to me and kissed her again. She made feeble struggles as a show of propriety. Then she was limp and unresisting against me. And then her arms stole about my neck and the kiss was being returned, with feeling.

Embracing her, I was briefly tempted to throw out my plan and devise a substitute.

She was breathing quickly when we emerged for air.

She took a deeper breath, held it. As she disengaged herself, she managed, “For the sake of family harmony, I’ll not mention this to Charlie. But it mustn’t happen again, Freddy.”

“All right, Maddy,” I said in a broken, miserable tone. “I’ll struggle with myself as best as I can. And I’ll try not to think of the cruel wasting away of your youth and loveliness, shut up in that dreary house with a dull, boring, old man. The nights are so long and empty — but maybe we can manage somehow.”

Biting her lips, she fled toward my apartment door, as if it were now or never.

“Wait,” I said. “You’re forgetting this—”

I scooped the mink stole from the carpet, crossed to her, and put the wrap about her shoulders. Then the stole slithered to the floor again as my arms remained about her.

Each kiss was becoming more interesting. This time, when we murmured with our faces close together there was no more talk of Charlie.

“You’ve only seen me in his house, his presence,” I said. “But the discovery of the real me, I promise you, will be exciting.”

“I’ve been deprived of excitement for so long, Freddy, I’ll probably die of it.”

“That sounds as if a tall, cool drink is in order,” I suggested.

My apartment was small, but tastefully maintained even on my earnings as a not-too-successful real estate salesman. While I mixed the drinks, Madeline explored, looking over the comfortable furnishings, the heavy window draperies, the books and prints of good paintings. I clicked a switch behind the bar and my stereo tape recorder went into action, filling the room with the soft sound of good music.

The music seemed to come from somewhere, out of the softly lighted air itself.

Madeline tilted her head and studied me as I carried her drink to her.

“Like the music?”

“Very much,” she said.

“I glommed it off an FM radio broadcast. I’ve got miles of tapes. I’m a bug on tape recording, fortunately, since I don’t have the money to buy the albums I’d like.”

“You’re not at all like your uncle Charlie, Freddy.”

“And aren’t we glad of that?” I suggested.

Later, in a crowded nightspot, we danced until we were bone-weary. I was able to show her a couple of the very latest dances.

“I used to know them all,” she said as we returned to our table. “But married to Charlie — his idea of real boss music is Lawrence Welk playing a foxtrot.”

“Charlie?” I said. “Who is Charlie?”

She squeezed my hand and laughed. “You’re so right, Freddy. For tonight, at least, there is no old man named Charlie!”

Our next stop was a dim spot which featured a cool jazz trio, vibes, bass, and piano. The drinks were good, the late snack tasty.

“He’ll only be gone a week, Freddy,” she said, a pensive moment coming to her. “Just a week, while he sees that specialist in New York about his arthritis. Then that tomb of a house, that — that nothingness.”

I took her hand, raised it to my lips, and kissed each fingertip.

“Don’t think beyond a week,” I said. “Think of now.”

She looked about her, was in her element, and she thought of now.

“I didn’t know how... how starved I was, Freddy.”

“I did,” I said. “I suspected, at first. Then I knew.”

“What’ll we do tomorrow, Freddy?”

“How about some water skiing in the afternoon, after breakfast, as a starter?”

“You, Freddy? On water skis? Well, of course! It’s perfect for this Freddy I’m beginning to glimpse. But wouldn’t water skiing be a bit public? After all, if Charlie finds out—”

“Who is Charlie?” I reminded. “Anyway, I have a friend up at the lake who has a boat. No one up there knows either of us.”

We glided over the water. We returned to the city, had a dinner, saw a racy show at a nightclub, returned to my apartment for a nightcap.

There were no hors d’oeuvres with the drinks, just kisses.

As we nestled together on the couch, she sighed softly. “If only Charlie wasn’t coming back in a week—”

“Or a month,” I said.

In the silence, a late night rain began beating against the apartment windows. It made the room even warmer and cosier.

“Or ever,” I said.

She stirred slightly. “What, Freddy? What was that you said?”

“I said, wouldn’t it be nice if Charlie were gone forever?”

“Freddy, you mustn’t say such a thing!”

“Why not? You’re thinking the same thing.”

“No I’m not,” she said. “It’s a dreadful thought.” She pondered for a moment. Then, “But he is sick and old, isn’t he, Freddy?”

“And ever so rich,” I said.

“He suffers. The poor dear does suffer.”

“But he might linger for years,” I said. “Until we’re standing on shore and watching the young people water ski.”

“It really isn’t fair, Freddy, that our youth should be wasted when we could be enjoying it.”

“Oh, well,” I said, “someday you’ll be his widow. You’ll have the money.”

She raised slightly to look into my face. “You think I married him only for his money, Freddy?”

“Why else?”

“Well, perhaps I did. But I was keeping my part of the bargain. I was trying to make him happy. But his only happiness seems to be in practically keeping me under lock and key, watching me with those insanely jealous eyes. It’s been— It hasn’t turned out like I thought it would, Freddy. It’s pretty horrible!”

She wept briefly, alcoholically, in self pity.

“We could always run away,” I said. “But then he’d see to it that you never got a dime of his money. I’m afraid this delightful thing we’ve discovered would-go-quite sour in a cold water flat.”

“Freddy, we’re in such a mess!”

“Unless he should go away forever,” I said.

“No, no. Don’t talk about it. Just kiss me, Freddy.”

I kissed her.

The thought lay dormant between us until the night before uncle Charlie’s return. Maddy and I were in my apartment for our now-customary nightcaps when she voiced the looming fact: “Tomorrow he’ll be home, Freddy.”

“I know.”

“It was tough enough before, Freddy, not at all like what I’d once thought it would be. But now — I simply can’t stand the thought of that house and that possessive old man.”

“I know,” I said again.

“What you mentioned the other night, Freddy, about him being gone for good. It could be arranged. Old men do have accidents.”

“We’ll have to give it some thought,” I said.

“A great deal of thought,” she agreed. “We’ll have to plan very carefully.”

“Yes,” I said, “I’m always in favor of the most careful planning.”

Dutifully, I was on hand to greet uncle Charlie when he arrived at his home the next afternoon. I listened with keen attention as he told me of the medical treatment he’d received and how much better he was feeling.

Maddy lacked the acting ability with which I am generously endowed. She could not suppress entirely a slight shudder as the big-knuckled hands of the gaunt, gray old man reached to embrace her.

“Please, Uncle,” I said, “let me have the pleasure of helping to celebrate your return home in better health. I sold a property just today and you simply must permit me a spendthrift moment on this happy day. I’m having a caterer serve a small dinner tonight in my apartment for the three of us.”

Maddy gave me a puzzled look, but Uncle Charlie’s old eyes misted. He patted my shoulder. “You really are a fine boy, Freddy. You can count on us being there.”

Uncle Charlie stepped onto the stair lift that carried him to the second story of his old colonial home. As he disappeared into the upper hallway, trailed by a servant carrying his bags, Maddy gave me a fierce whisper: “What ever did you do that for?”

“The dinner? Why, darling, we’re all going to be much closer from now on as a family. Then if you and I just happen to bump into each other at your country club—”

Her anger was replaced by a secretive smile. “Sure, Freddy, nobody would think much of it. You do think of all the angles.”

“I try to. Until tonight, my sweet.”

I was alone in my apartment when Uncle Charlie and Maddy arrived. I welcomed them, thrust drinks in their hands.

Uncle Charlie looked about. “Where’s the caterer? I want food, not booze!”

“A drink to steady you, uncle Charlie, for a spot of pre-dinner entertainment.” As I spoke the words, I was crossing the room.

I flicked a switch, and the recorder began its planned playback. Voices, mine and Maddy’s, filled the room in stereo sound.

First there were spoken endearments, gusty exclamations of passion.

Violent rage began to suffuse Uncle Charlie’s face as comprehension chased away his initial bewilderment? Maddy choked on her drink, dropped the glass to the carpet.

“Freddy!” she gasped. “Have you gone mad?”

She would have rushed to me, but uncle Charlie grabbed her wrist with those surprisingly strong, big-knuckled old hands.

“Frederick,” he said in a subzero tone, “your explanation had better be good!”

I held up my hand for silence. “The tape will explain itself.”

And from the tape came the disembodied voices:

“...You think 1 married him only for his money, Freddy? Well — Perhaps I did — Just kiss me, Freddy...”

“...Tomorrow he’ll be home, Freddy...”

“...I know...”

“...I can’t stand the thought of that house and that possessive old man...”

“...I know...”

“...Old men do have accidents, Freddy... It could be arranged... We’ll have to plan very carefully...”

There was more, much more, since I’d recorded every word that had passed between Maddy and me in this apartment and then spliced the tape to my satisfaction.

But Uncle Charlie needed no more. With a sound of rage that would have done credit to a scarred old grizzly, he turned on his young, treacherous wife.

I was prepared for his action and sprang instantly: I grabbed him before he could get his hands on her throat.

“No!” I yelled. “Don’t be a fool! Is she worth the trouble you’ll cause yourself?”

I wrestled him back. Maddy complicated things by letting out a sudden screech and lunging at me with the intention of separating my eyes from their sockets.

“You dirty louse!” she screamed. “You tricked me!”

I ducked her clawing fingernails, caught her wrists; She struck the door with her back, slightly disheveled, vulgar and cheap.

“Listen, Charlie,” she said desperately, “I can explain things. If you’ll—”

“Get out,” Uncle Charlie said in a choked voice: “Get out while you have a chance!”

“Charlie—” she wailed.

“My lawyers will take immediate action,” Uncle Charlie said. “You’ve had it, you dirty little chippy. The divorce will be quick. You’ll never get a damn dime!”

Maddy looked from one to the other of us. She recognized the finality of her defeat.

She tried to kill me with one final look. Then a sob ripped through her. She opened the door and staggered out.

The apartment was very quiet. I put my arm about Uncle Charlie’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Charlie. Very sorry.”

“I ought to hate you, Freddy.”

“But you don’t. Because you can see that it was the only way. It didn’t take me long to see through her.”

He sighed heavily. “Just an old fool — with the wool over his eyes.”

I helped him to the couch.

“Don’t berate yourself. It’s over now. You must go about the business of forgetting her.”

“Yes,” he said with a slow breath, “you’re right, of course.”

“How about that drink now, Uncle Charlie?”

“Yes — I need it.” His eyes followed me. I gave him a smile as I dropped ice in a glass.

“You’re all I have now Freddy,” he said. “Just like before. All I have. Lucky for me you’re such a good boy.”

I chunked him lightly on the shoulder as I handed him the drink. I mixed a drink for myself, and we raised our glasses.

The room was warmed with the feeling of comradeship. He had no way of knowing that I was toasting the day in the near future when an unfortunate accident would be arranged for him.

When the divorce was final, when Maddy’s removal was complete, Uncle Charlie’s time would be up.

I’d waited for Uncle Charlie’s money, a long time. I certainly didn’t intend to risk the shock and danger again of another such as Maddy.

Content

Talmage Powell
Uncle Charlie’s Wife