Free The Houseguest by Thomas Berger Page B

telling for certain. Whatever, it was downright submissive in tone.
    â€œMr. Graves? I’m sorry to hear you got a call from somebody who was nasty, and who gave himself my name. I guess it’s not an uncommon one, though. I just want to say it certainly wasn’t me, but if you’d like, I’ll apologize for anything rotten done since the world began by anybody named Perlmutter. How’s that?”
    â€œI probably just didn’t hear accurately,” Doug said. He saw no reason why he should be grateful to this man for making a silly joke of the incident. He returned the telephone to Chuck.
    The houseguest produced a clicking sound with his tongue, then said a brisk good-bye. This behavior would fit the two-Perlmutter theory: the caller had wanted with some urgency to talk to “Chaz,” but Chuck’s remarks at this end of the wire now had not suggested the reception of any message.
    Chuck returned the phone to its box, and for the first time in his relations with the houseguest, Doug struck a negative note.
    â€œNo offense, old fellow, but that telephone is supposed to be private. There are extensions of the main house line in just about every room.”
    â€œOh,” said Chuck, “that number’s been out of order. Hadn’t you heard?”
    Doug stepped to the desk and touched the oak box. “Then I’d better call the company. But don’t expect anybody to come out on Sunday.”
    â€œOh,” said Chuck, looking him in the eye, “I’ve already taken care of it.”
    Doug moved the wooden box an inch or so from where it sat. When he looked up, Chuck was still staring at him.
    â€œI trust you’re not worrying about the Connie Cunningham matter? I thought I had set your mind at ease.”
    Doug said, “Now that you mention it, I guess I was a little concerned.” He coughed in embarrassment. “This will sound crazy to you, I know, but when you said you’d take care of it, you meant you’d just talk to her … ?”
    Chuck made an expansive gesture. “I’ve got a friend who specializes in affairs of the heart.”
    â€œHe’s a psychiatrist?”
    â€œA professional. Don’t worry.”
    â€œAll right,” said Doug, displaying more relief than he really felt. “Connie’s a nice person. I didn’t want to hurt her, but you know these things come to a natural end. The excitement obviously can’t be sustained forever, and of course that’s the idea.”
    Chuck continued to smile. “You and Audrey have it all worked out.”
    â€œThat didn’t happen overnight. Also, there’s the financial aspect. We couldn’t ever really have afforded to split up. We own everything in common.” Doug raised his eyebrows. “And then she’s as good a wife as any, really.” He frowned. “This is new to me, this sharing of my private life with a male friend. I don’t ordinarily have the least urge to do so.”
    â€œI assure you I don’t care to take your confession,” Chuck said, not smiling. “I’m just curious. Why do you have to fall in love on such an occasion? Because you do, don’t you? Why can’t you just hire women as you need them? Don’t tell me it wouldn’t be cheaper in both money and emotion.”
    The man was diabolically prescient: how could he know this? Doug now did, contrary to what he had just said, feel a need to impart most private information. “The damnedest thing: I can’t perform any more unless I’m in love with the woman, or think I am, anyhow. That hasn’t always been the case.”
    Chuck winked at him. “I think it has something to do with the quality of the stuff you get: it’s not that attractive unless you delude yourself somehow. I could introduce you to some special people who could get it up on a corpse.”
    Doug recoiled in spirit. Since the matter of