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“Yes,” I whispered

“Well, well” The Beast remembered “Prohibition over but we ran the booze in froh the to Half of the party on the graves, half in the filirls, stars, extras I only half reht You ever think how raveyards? The silence! Think!”

I waited while he moved remembrance back in years He said:

“He caught us Christ, there a the tombstones Graveyard keeper’s ha! He ran with her I ran screa after They drove I drove, God And the smashup and, and—”

He sighed, waiting to slow his heart

“I re me to the church, first! and the priest in a frenzy of fear, and then to the raves! And the nextto fix what couldn’t be fixed Poor bastard Groc Lenin was luckier! Myto say cover up, do it! Late Empty streets Lie! Say I’m dead! My God, my face! No way to fix! My face! So say I’m dead! Emily? What? Mad? Hide Emily! Cover up Money, of course Lots of uess? And a shut-coffin funeral, withmy face, e!’ Fritz did! A et him out! Emily, poor, lost, mad Constance! And Constance walked her off to the Elysian Fields What they called that row of drunk/mad/dope convalescent sanitariums, where they never convalesced and weren’t sanitary, but there they went, E Fritz said shut up, and the frorinder I could see , and I said, like hell! and there was Doc the butcher and Groc the beautician, trying at repairs, and J C and Fritz at last said, ‘That’s it! I’ve done all I can do Call a priest!’ ‘Like hell!’ I cried ‘Hold a funeral, but I won’t be there!’ And all their faces turned white! They knew I meant it Froht: If he dies, we die For you see, Christ Alreatest film year in history Mid-Depression, but we had made two hundred million and then three hundred million, more than all the other fil a thousand over the fence Where would they find a replaceers-on? You save him, I’ll fix him! Groc told the butcher, Doc Phillips They midwifed me, rebirthed me away from the sun, forever!”

Listening, I reht he was born!”

“So Doc saved and Groc sewed Oh, God! but the faster he ht, If he dies, we sink Andthere under all the toroin itch for poon And after so back, afraid to ever touch one! Hide et me well! Keep the tunnel open, bury Sloane! Bury , God, Monday I report for work What? And every Monday from now on and on And no one to know! I don’t want to be seen A murderer with a smashed face? And fix an office and a desk and a chair and slowly, slowly, over the months, I’ll come closer, while someone sits there, alone, and listens to the h the beah the cracks, shadow the h your ear, through your head, and out You got that? Got it! Call the papers Sign the death certificates Box Sloane Putwell Manny Yes? Fix the office Go!’

“And in the days before ot quiet and nodded and said yes

“So it was Doc to save my life, Groc to fix a face that could never be fixed, Manny to run the studio, but with ht and was the first to find ed the cars, made the crash look accidental Only four people knew Fritz? Constance? In charge of cleaning up, but we never told theot five thousand a week forever Think! Five thousand a week, in 1934! The average wage then was fifteen lousy bucks So Doc and Manny and J C and Groc were rich, yes? Money, by God, does buy everything! Years of silence! So it was all great, all fine The fil profits, and me hidden away, and no one to know The stock prices up, and the New York people happy, until—”

He paused and gave a great moan of despair

“So”

Silence

“Who?” I dared to ask in the dark

“Doc Good old surgeon general Doc My time was up”