in the suite, or around the suite in the hotel, or around the hotel in the town, was reported to Strange by Landers. Landers reported in such detail that it was about as good as Strange being there himself. Sometimes Strange thought it was even better. Not participating had a lot of points in its favor. The reportorial sessions took place usually just before Landers went off to town, right after lunch.
Lunch was what they both called it now. After so much going to town on day passes, Landers had dropped the Army meal designations of dinner and supper, and had gone back to lunch and dinner. Strange had followed his example, almost unconsciously.
But sometimes Strange wondered what Linda Sue called her midday meal, now. Had she stayed with the old, family and country names of dinner and supper? Or had she gone on to lunch and dinner, like her “aeronautical genius” from Long Island must call them?
Linda had not telephoned Strange since he left Cincinnati with the money. And certainly Strange had not called her. Strange wondered sometimes if she was perhaps waiting for him to call, first? If she was, that was tough shit. He wasn’t that interested. He was much more interested in Frances Highsmith.
But repeatedly, day after day, the only news Landers brought about Frances was that she had disappeared. Nobody had seen her in any of the places where the men of the two suites hung out. Neither in the low-down bars, nor the high-class. She had not shown up at any Navy suite parties. He and Strange discussed this, but could come up with no answer of what to do.
Another of the things they discussed at great length was the frequency with which Landers was getting into fights.
Since the day of the breaking of Frances’ nose, Landers had averaged a fight a day with somebody. It seemed to Strange, as Landers said it had to him, that the first fight with the two Navy chiefs and their bunch in the Peabody bar presaged a period of fighting for them both. Landers felt that Strange’s hitting Frances and breaking her nose was part of the same syndrome. Landers said he had felt it, though he hadn’t done it, as far back as his furlough home when he had become enraged at the Air Force sgt on the train.
Strange was inclined to agree. Though he had no answer as to why, any more than Landers had. Strange pointed out one thing, which was that they were both in better physical shape now, more nearly healed, and so were able to fight. At least he himself had been, until his new operation. Landers nodded at this, and accepted it. Landers pointed out that also they were both much closer to going back to duty and combat, probably in Europe, with their accurate foreknowledge of what that implied. Maybe that affected them.
Landers said that he himself did not like to fight and did not want to, but that he was constantly becoming enraged. Landers had never been much of a fistfighter or brawler, and had not wanted to be, though he had learned a little boxing. But he used to go out of his way to avoid a fight, walk around it. Now, the slightest thing, and Landers was not only ready to fight. A fight was just about guaranteed. All they had to do was show the slightest lack of respect for himself, or for any of his overseas buddies, or for his old outfit, or for his branch of service even. And Landers didn’t even care that much, about the Army. Nevertheless, a kind of intense, awful rage that tinged everything in sight with red would leap out from some unknown place in Landers and demand retribution. Landers did not know where it came from, or what was causing it.
One day, for example, Landers had gone alone across the street to the little hashhouse restaurant opposite the Peabody. The suite upstairs had been empty and Landers had wanted something to eat in the presence of other people, without bothering with the goddamned room service. A quick little quiet bite. Standing in the line to go through the cafeteria counter, he had had three soldiers come in behind him.
The leader of the three was a small, muscular man with a cocky, cruel face. Landers had disliked him immediately and turned away. But the small man marched right up to him, and tapped him condescendingly on the shoulder,