Chapter 6 5 страница

'Where were you all night? '

'With the Corcorans. '

'Not drinking. '

'Of course. '

Till four? '

'They were still going at it when we left. There were five or six cases of beer in the bathtub. '

'I didn't know it was going to be a frivolous occasion. '

'It was donated by the Food King, ' said Francis. 'The beer, I mean. Mr Corcoran and Brady got hold of some of it and brought it to the hotel. '

'Where are they staying? '

'I don't know, ' he said dully. 'Terrible place. One of those big flat motels with a neon sign and no room service. All the rooms were connected. Hugh's children screaming and throwing potato rhips, the television going in every room. It was hell… Really, ' he said humorlessly as I started to laugh, 'I think I could get through anything after last night. Survive a nuclear war. Fly a plane. Somebody – one of those damned toddlers, I guess – got my favorite scarf off the bed and wrapped up part of a chicken leg in it. That nice silk one with the pattern of clocks on it. It's just ruined. '

'Were they upset? '

'Who, the Corcorans? Of course not. I don't think they even noticed. '

'I don't mean about the scarf 'Oh. ' He got another cherry from the jar. 'They were all upset I suppose, in a way. Nobody talked about much else but they didn't seem out of their minds or anything. Mr Corcoran would act all sad and worried for a while, then the next thing you knew he'd be playing with the baby, giving everybody beer. '

'Was Marion there? '

'Yes. Cloke, too. He went for a drive with Brady and Patrick and came back reeking of pot. Henry and I sat on the radiator all night and talked to Mr Corcoran. I guess Camilla went over to say hello to Hugh and his wife and got trapped. I don't even know what happened to Charles. '

After a moment or so, Francis shook his head. 'I don't know, ' he said. 'Does it ever strike you, in a horrible sort of way, how funny this is? '

'Well, it's not all that funny really. '

'I guess not, ' he said, lighting a cigarette with shaky hands.

'And Mr Corcoran said the National Guard is coming up today, too. What a mess. '

For some time I had been staring at the jar of cherries without realizing fully what they were. 'Why are you eating those? ' I said.

'I don't know, ' he said, staring down at the jar. 'They taste really bad. '

'Throw them away. '

He struggled with the window sash. It sailed up with a grinding noise.

A blast of icy air hit me in the face. 'Hey, ' I said.

He threw the jar out the window and then leaned on the sash with all his weight. I went over to help him. Finally, it crashed down, and the draperies floated down to rest placidly by the windows. The cherry juice had left a spattered red trajectory on the snow.

'Kind of a Jean Cocteau touch, isn't it? ' Francis said. 'I'm exhausted. If you don't mind, I'm going to have a bath now. '

He was running the water and I was on my way out when the phone rang.

It was Henry. 'Oh, ' he said. 'I'm sorry. I thought I dialed Francis. '

'You did. Hold on a second. ' I put down the phone and called for him.

He came in in his trousers and undershirt, his face half-lathered, a razor in his hand. 'Who is it? '

'Henry. '

'Tell him I'm in the bath. '

'He's in the bath, ' I said.

'He is not in the bath, ' said Henry. 'He is standing in the room with you. I can hear him. '

I gave Francis the telephone. He held it away from his face so he wouldn't get any soap on the receiver.

I could hear Henry talking indistinctly. After a moment, Francis's sleepy eyes widened.

'Oh, no, ' he said. 'Not me. '

Henry's voice again, curt and businesslike.

'No. I mean it, Henry. I'm tired and I'm going to sleep and there's no way-'

Suddenly, his face changed. To my great surprise he cursed loudly and slammed down the receiver so hard that it jangled.

'What is it? '

He was staring at the phone. 'God damn him, ' he said. 'He hung up on me, ' 'What's the matter? '

'He wants us to go out with that damn search party again. Now.

I'm not like he is. I can't just stay up for five or six days at a '

'Now? But it's so early. '

'It started an hour ago, so he says. Damn him. Doesn't he ever sleep? '

We had not spoken about the incident in my room several nights before and, in the drowsy silence of the car, I felt the need to make things plain.

'You know, Francis, ' I said.

'What? '

It seemed the best thing was just to come right out and say it.

'You know, ' I said, 'I'm really not attracted to you. I mean, not that-'

'Isn't that interesting, ' he said coolly. 'I'm really not attracted to you, either. '

'But-'

'You were there. '

We drove the rest of the way to school in a not very comfortable silence.

Unbelievably, things had escalated even more during the night.

There now were hundreds of people: people in uniforms, people with dogs and bullhorns and cameras, people buying sweet rolls from the concessions truck and trying to peek into the dark windows of the news vans – three of them, one from a station in Boston – parked on Commons lawn, along with the overflow of vehicles from the parking lot.

We found Henry on the front porch of Commons. He was reading, with absorbed interest, a tiny, vellum-bound book I written in some Near Eastern language. The twins – sleepy, ^-, red nosed, rumpled – were sprawled on a bench like a couple of ™ teenagers, passing a cup of coffee back and forth.

Francis half nudged, half kicked the toe of Henry's shoe.

Henry started. 'Oh, ' he said. 'Good morning. '

'How can you even say that? I haven't had a wink of sleep. I haven't eaten anything in about three days. '

Henry marked his place with a ribbon and slipped the book in his breast pocket. 'Well, 'he said amiably, 'go get a doughnut, then. '

'I don't have any money. '

'I'll give you the money, then. '

'I don't want a goddamn doughnut. '

I went over and sat down with the twins.

'You missed quite a time last night, ' said Charles to me. J['So I hear. ' *jt\ 'Hugh's wife showed us baby pictures for an hour and a half. '

'Yes, at least, ' said Camilla. 'And Henry drank a beer from a can. '

Silence.

'So what did you do? ' Charles said.

'Nothing. Watched a movie on TV. '

They both perked up. 'Oh, really? The thing about the planets colliding? '

'Mr Corcoran had it on but somebody switched channels before it was over, ' said Camilla.

'How'd it end? '

'What's the last part you saw? '

'They were in the mountain laboratory. The young enthusiastic scientists had all ganged up on that cynical old scientist who didn't want to help. '

I was explaining the denouement when Cloke Raybum abruptly shouldered through the crowd. I stopped talking, thinking he was headed for the twins and me, but instead he only nodded to us and walked up to Henry, who now was standing on the edge of the porch.

'Listen, ' I heard him say. 'I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night. I got hold of those guys in New York and Bunny hasn't been there. '

Henry didn't say anything for a moment. Then he said: 'I thought you said you couldn't get in touch with them. '

'Well, it's possible, it's just like a big headache. But they hadn't seen him, anyway. '

'How do you know? '

'What? '

'I thought you said you couldn't believe a word they said. '

He looked startled. 'I did? '

'Yes. '

'Hey, listen to me, ' said Cloke, taking off his sunglasses. His eyes were bloodshot and pouchy. 'These guys are telling the truth. I didn't think of this before – well, I guess it hasn't been that long – but anyway, the story's all over the New York papers.

If they really did something to him, they wouldn't be sticking around their apartment taking phone calls from me… What is it, man? ' he said nervously when Henry didn't respond. 'You didn't say anything to anybody, did you? '

Henry made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat, which might have meant anything.

'What? '

'No one has asked, ' said Henry.

There was no expression on his face. Cloke, his discomfiture evident, waited for him to continue. Finally, he put on his sunglasses again in a slightly defensive manner.

'Well, ' he said. 'Um. Okay, then. See you later. '

After he'd gone Francis turned to Henry, a bemused look on his face. 'What on earth are you up to? ' he said.

But Henry didn't answer.

The day passed like a dream. Voices, dogs barking, the whap of a helicopter overhead. The wind was strong and the roar of it in I the trees was like an ocean. The helicopter had been sent from „- the New York State Police headquarters in Albany; it had, we ™ were told, a special infrared heat sensor. Someone had also volunteered something called an 'ultra-light' aircraft which swooped overhead, barely clearing the tops of the trees. There were real ranks now, squadron leaders with bullhorns; we marched over the snowy hills wave upon wave.

Cornfields, pastures, knolls heavy with undergrowth. As we approached the base of the mountain the land took a downward slope. A thick fog lay in the valley below, a smoldering cauldron of white from which only the treetops protruded, stark and Dantesque. By degrees, we descended, and the world sank from view. Charles, beside me, stood out sharp and almost hyper realistic with his ruddy cheeks and labored breaths but further down, Henry had become a wraith, his large form light and strangely insubstantial in the mist.

When the ground rose several hours later, we came up on the rear of another, smaller party. In it were some people I was surprised and somehow touched to see. There was Martin Hoffer, an old and distinguished composer on the music faculty; the middle-aged lady who checked IDs in the lunch line, looking inexplicably tragic in her plain cloth coat; Dr Roland, the blares of his nose-blowing audible even at a distance.

'Look, ' said Charles. 'That's not Julian, is it? '

'Where? '

'Surely not, ' said Henry.

But it was. Rather characteristically, he pretended not to see us until we were so close it was impossible for him to ignore us any longer. He was listening to a tiny, fox-faced lady whom I knew to be a housekeeper in the dorms.

'Goodness, ' he said, when she had finished talking, drawing back in mock surprise. 'Where did you come from? Do you know Mrs O'Rourke? '

Mrs O'Rourke smiled shyly. 'I seen all of you before, ' she said.

The kids think the maids don't notice them, but I know you all by sight. '

'Well, I should hope so, ' said Charles. 'You haven't forgotten me, have you? Bishop House, number ten? '

He said this so warmly that she flushed with pleasure.

'Sure, ' she said. 'I remember you. You was the one was always running off with my broom. '

During this exchange Henry and Julian were talking softly.

'You should have told me before now, ' I heard Julian say.

'We did tell you. '

'Well, you did, but still. Edmund's missed class before, ' said Julian, looking distressed. 'I thought he was playing sick. People are saying that he's been kidnapped but I think that's rather silly, don't you? '

'I'd rather one of mine be kidnapped than out in this snow for six days, ' said Mrs O'Rourke.

'Well, I certainly hope that nothing has happened to him. You know, don't you, that his family is here? Have you seen them? '

'Not today, ' said Henry.

'Of course, of course, ' said Julian hastily. He disliked the Corcorans. 'I haven't been to see them either, it's really not the time to intrude… This morning I did run into the father quite by accident, and one of the brothers as well. He had a baby with him. Riding it on his shoulders as if they were on their way to a picnic. '

'Little one like him had no business being out in this weather, ' said Mrs O'Rourke. 'Hardly three years old. '

'Yes, I'm afraid I agree. I can't imagine why anyone would have a baby along on something like this. '

'I certainly wouldn't have let one of mine yell and carry on like that. '

'Perhaps it was cold, ' murmured Julian. The tone he used was a delicate cue that he had tired of the subject and wished to stop talking about it.

Henry cleared his throat. 'Did you talk to Bunny's father? ' he said.

'Only for a moment. He – well, I suppose we all have different ways of handling these things… Edmund looks a great deal like him, doesn't he? '

'All the brothers do, ' said Camilla.

Julian smiled. 'Yes! And so many of them! Like something from a fairy story…' He glanced at his watch. 'Goodness, ' he said, 'it's late. '

Francis started from his morose silence. 'Are you leaving now? ' he asked Julian anxiously. 'Do you want me to drive you? '

This was a blatant attempt at escape. Henry's nostrils flared, not so much in anger as in a kind of exasperated amusement: he gave Francis a dirty look, but then Julian, who was gazing into the distance and quite unaware of the drama which hinged on his reply, shook his head.

'No, thank you, ' he said. 'Poor Edmund. I'm really quite worried, you know. '

'Just think how his parents must feel, ' said Mrs O'Rourke.

'Yes, ' said Julian, in a tone of voice which managed to convey at once both sympathy with and distaste for the Corcorans.

'I'd be wild if it was me. '

Unexpectedly, Julian shuddered and turned up the collar of his coat. 'Last night I was so upset I could hardly sleep, ' he said.

'He's such a sweet boy, so silly; I'm really very fond of him. If anything should have happened to him I don't know if I could bear it. '

He was looking over the hills, at all that grand cinematic expanse of men and wilderness and snow that lay beneath us; and though his voice was anxious there was a strange dreamy look on his face. The business had upset him, that I knew, but I also knew that there was something about the operatic sweep of the search which could not fail to appeal to him and that he was pleased, however obscurely, with the aesthetics of the thing. r ™ Henry saw it, too. 'Like something from Tolstoy, isn't it? ' he remarked.

Julian looked over his shoulder, and I was startled to see that there was real delight on his face. 'Yes, ' he said. 'Isn't it, though? '

At about two in the afternoon, two men in dark overcoats walked up to us from nowhere.

'Charles Macaulay? ' said the shorter of the two. He was a barrel-chested fellow with hard, genial eyes.

Charles, beside me, stopped and looked at him blankly.

The man reached in his breast pocket and flipped out a badge.

'Agent Harvey Davenport, Northeast Regional Division, FBI. '

For a moment I thought Charles might lose his composure.

'What do you want? ' he said, blinking.

'We'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind, ' 'It won't take long, ' said the taller man. He was an Italian with stooped shoulders and a sad, doughy nose. His voice was soft and pleasant.

Henry, Francis, Camilla had all stopped and were staring at the strangers with varying degrees of interest and alarm.

'Besides, ' said Davenport snappily. 'Good to get out of the cold for a minute or two. Bet you're freezing your balls off, huh? '

After they left, the rest of us were bristling with anxiety, but of course we couldn't talk and so we continued to shuffle along, eyes on the ground and half afraid to look up. Soon it was three o'clock, then four. Things were far from over, but at the first premature signs that the day's search was breaking up we headed rapidly and silently for the car.

'What do you suppose they want with him? ' said Camilla for about the tenth time.

'I don't know, ' said Henry.

'He gave them a statement already. ' *jjjl 'He gave the police one. Not these people. '

'What difference does it make? Why would they want to talk to him? '

'I don't know, Camilla. '

When we got to the twins' apartment we were relieved to find Charles there, alone. He was lying on the couch, a drink on the table beside him, talking to his grandmother on the telephone.

He was a little drunk. 'Nana says hi, ' he said to Camilla when he got off the phone. 'She's all worried. Some bug or something has got up into her azaleas. '

'What's that all over your hands? ' said Camilla sharply.

He held them out, palms up, none too steadily. The tips of the fingers were black. 'They took my fingerprints, ' he said. 'It was kind of interesting. I'd never had it done before. '

For a moment we were all too shocked to say anything. Henry stepped forward, took one of his hands and examined it beneath the light. 'Do you know why they did it? ' he said.

Charles wiped his brow with the back of his free wrist. 'They've sealed off Bunny's room, ' he said. 'Some people are in there dusting for prints and putting things in plastic bags. '

Henry dropped his hand. 'But why? '

'I don't know why. They wanted the fingerprints of everybody who'd been in the room on Thursday and touched things. '

'What good will that do? They don't have Bunny's fingerprints. '

'Apparently they do have them. Bunny was in the Boy Scouts and his troop went in and was fingerprinted for some kind of Law Enforcement badge, years ago. They're still on file somewhere. '

Henry sat down. 'Why did they want to talk to you? '

'That was the first thing they asked me. '

'What? '

' " Why do you think we want to talk to you. " ' He dragged the heel of his hand down the side of his face. These people are smart, Henry, ' he said. 'A lot smarter than the police. '

'How did they treat you? '

Charles shrugged. The one called Davenport was pretty brusque. The other one – the Italian – was nicer, but he scared me. Didn't say much, just listened. He's much more clever than the other one 'Well? ' said Henry impatiently. 'What is it? '

'Nothing. We… I don't know. We've got to be really careful, that's all. They tried to trip me up more than once. '

'What do you mean? '

'Well, when I told them Cloke and I had gone down to Bunny's room around four on Thursday, for instance. '

That's when you did go, ' said Francis.

'I know that. But the Italian – really, he's a very pleasant man – began to look all concerned. " Can that be right, son? " he said.

" Think. " I was really confused, because I knew we went at four, and then Davenport said, " You'd better think about it, because your buddy Cloke told us you two were down at that room for a solid hour before you called anybody. " '

They wanted to see if you and Cloke had anything to hide, '

Henry said.

'Maybe. Maybe they just wanted to see if I would lie about it. '

'Did you? '

'No. But if they'd asked me something a little touchier, and I was kind of scared… You don't realize what it's like. There are two of them, and only one of you, and you don't have much time to think… I know, I know, ' he said despairingly. 'But it's not like the police. These small-town cops don't actually expect to find anything. They'd be shocked to know the truth, probably wouldn't believe it if you told them. But these guys…" He shuddered. 'I never realized, you know, how much we rely on appearances, ' he said. 'It's not that we're so smart, it's just that we don't look like we did it. We might as well be a bunch of Sunday-school teachers as far as everyone else is concerned. But these guys won't be taken in by that. ' He picked up his glass and took a drink. 'By the way, ' he said, 'they asked a million questions about your trip to Italy, ' Henry glanced up, startled. 'Did they ask at all about the finances? Who paid for it? '

'No. ' Charles finished off the glass and rattled the ice around for a moment. 'I was terrified they would. But I think they were kind of overly impressed by the Corcorans. I think if I told them that Bunny never wore the same pair of underpants twice they would probably believe me. '

'What about that Vermonter? ' Francis said. 'The one on television last night? '

'I don't know. They were a lot more interested in Cloke than anything else, it seemed to me. Maybe they just wanted to make sure his story matched up with mine, but there were a couple of really strange questions that – I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if he's going around telling people this theory of his, that Bunny was kidnapped by drug dealers. '

'Certainly not, ' said Francis.

'Well, he told us, and we're not even his friends. Though the FBI men seem to think he and I are on intimate terms. '

'I hope you took pains to correct them, ' said Henry, lighting a cigarette.

'I'm sure Cloke would have set them straight on that account. '

'Not necessarily, ' said Henry. He shook out his match and threw it in an ashtray; then he inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

'You know, ' he said, 'I thought at first that this association with Cloke was a great misfortune. Now I see it's one of the best things that could have happened to us. '

Before anyone could ask him what he meant, he glanced at his watch. 'Goodness, ' he said. 'We'd better go. It's almost six. '

On the way to Francis's, a pregnant dog ran across the road in front oi us.

'That, ' said Henry, 'is a very bad omen. '

But of what he wouldn't say.

The news was just beginning. The anchorman glanced up from his papers, looking grave but at the same time very pleased. 'The frantic search – thus far a fruitless one – continues, for missing Hampden College student Edward Corcoran. '

'Gosh, ' said Camilla, reaching into her brother's coat pocket for a cigarette. 'You'd think they'd get his name right, don't you? '

The picture cut to an aerial shot of snowy hills, dotted like a war map with pinprick figures, Mount Cataract looming lopsided and huge in the foreground.

'An estimated three hundred searchers, ' said the voiceover, 'including National Guard, police, Hampden firefighters and Central Vermont Public Service employees, combed the hard-to reach area on this, Day Two of the search. In addition, the FBI has launched an investigation of its own in Hampden today. '

The picture wobbled, then switched abruptly to a lean, white haired man in a cowboy hat who the caption informed us was Dick Postonkill, Hampden County sheriff. He was talking, but no sound came from his mouth; searchers milled curiously in the snowy background, raising on tiptoe to jeer silently at the camera.

After a few moments, the audio lurched on with a jerky, garbled sound. The sheriff was in the middle of a sentence.

'- to remind hikers, ' he said, 'to go out in groups, stay on the trail, leave a projected itinerary and carry plenty of warm clothing in case of sudden drops in temperature. '

That was Hampden County sheriff Dick Postonkill, ' said the anchorman brightly, 'with a few tips for our viewers on winter hiking safety. ' He turned, and the camera zoomed in on him at a different angle. 'One of the only leads so far in the Corcoran disappearance case has been provided by William Hundy, a local businessman and Action News Twelve viewer, who phoned our TIPS line with information regarding the missing youth. Today Mr Hundy has been cooperating with state and local authorities in providing a description of Corcoran's alleged abductors ' " State and local, " ' said Henry.

'What? '

'Not federal. '

'Of course not, ' said Charles. 'Do you think the FBI is going to believe some dumb story that a Vermonter made up? '

'Well, if they don't, why are they here? ' said Henry.

This was a disconcerting thought. In the brilliant, delayed-tape noontime sun, a group of men hurried down the courthouse steps. Mr Hundy, his head down, was among them. His hair was slicked back and he wore, in lieu of his service station uniform, a baby-blue leisure suit.

A reporter – Liz Ocavello, a sort of local celebrity, with her own current-issues program and a segment called 'Movie Beat' on the local news – approached, microphone in hand. 'Mr Hundy, ' she said. 'Mr Hundy. '

He stopped, confused, as his companions walked ahead and left him standing alone on the steps. Then they realized what was going on and came back up to huddle around him in an official-looking cluster. They grabbed Hundy by the elbows and made as if to hustle him away but he hung back, reluctant.

'Mr Hundy, ' said Liz Ocavello, nudging her way in. 'I understand you have been working today with police artists on composite drawings of the persons you saw with the missing boy on Sunday. '

Mr Hundy nodded rather briskly. His shy, evasive manner of the day before had given way to a slightly more assertive stance.

'Could you tell us what they looked like? '

The men surged around Mr Hundy once more, but he seemed entranced by the camera. 'Well, ' he said, 'they wasn't from around here. They was… dark. '

'Dark? '

They now were tugging him down the steps, and he glanced back over his shoulder, as if sharing a confidence. 'Arabs, ' he said.

'You know. '

Liz Ocavello, behind her glasses and her big anchorwoman hairdo, accepted this disclosure so blandly that I thought I'd heard it wrong. Thank you, Mr Hundy, ' she said, turning away, as Mr Hundy and his friends disappeared down the steps. This is Liz Ocavello at the Hampden County Courthouse. '

Thanks, Liz, ' the newscaster said cheerily, swiveling in his chair.

'Wait, ' said Camilla. 'Did he say what I thought he said? '

'What? '

'Arabs? He said Bunny got in a car with some Arabs'? '

'In a related development, ' the anchorman said, 'area churches have joined hands in a prayer effort for the missing boy. According to Reverend A. K. Poole of First Lutheran, several churches in the tri-state area, including First Baptist, First Methodist, Blessed Sacrament and Assembly of God, have offered up their '

'I wonder what this mechanic of yours is up to, Henry, ' said Francis.

Henry lit a cigarette. He had smoked it halfway down before he said: 'Did they ask you anything about Arabs, Charles? '

'No. '

'But they just said on television that Hundy's not dealing with the FBI, ' Camilla said.

'We don't know that. '

'You don't think it's all some kind of setup? '

'I don't know what to think. '

The picture on the set had changed. A thin, well-groomed woman in her fifties – Chanel cardigan, pearls at the neckline, hair brushed into a stiff, shoulder-length flip – was talking, in a nasal voice which was oddly familiar.

'Yes, ' she said; where had I heard that voice before? The people of Hampden are ever so kind. When we arrived at our hotel, late yesterday afternoon, the concierge was waiting for -'

'Concierge, ' said Francis, disgusted. 'They don't have a concierge at the Coachlight Inn. '

I studied this woman with new interest. 'That's Bunny's mother? '

'That's right, ' said Henry. 'I keep forgetting. You haven't met her. '

She was a slight woman, corded and freckled around the neck the way women of that age and disposition often are; she bore little resemblance to Bunny but her hair and eyes were the same color as his and she had his nose: a tiny, sharp, inquisitive nose which harmonized perfectly with the rest of her features but had always looked slightly incongruous on Bunny, stuck as it was like an afterthought in the middle of his large, blunt face. Her manner was haughty and distracted. 'Oh, ' she said, twisting a ring on her finger, 'we've had a deluge, indeed, from all over the country.

Cards, calls, the most glorious flowers -'

'Do they have her doped up or something? ' I said.

'What do you mean? '

'Well, she doesn't seem very upset, does she? '

'Of course, ' said Mrs Corcoran reflectively, 'of course, we're all just out of our minds, really. And I certainly hope that no mother will ever have to endure what I have for the past few nights. But the weather does seem to be breaking, and we've met so many lovely people, and the local merchants have all been generous in so many little ways…'

'Actually, ' said Henry, when the station cut to a commercial, 'she photographs rather well, doesn't she? '

'She looks like a tough customer. '

'She's from Hell, ' Charles said drunkenly.

'Oh, she's not that bad, ' said Francis.

'You just say that because she kisses up to you all the time, '

Charles said. 'Because of your mother and stuff. '

'Kiss up? What are you talking about? Mrs Corcoran doesn't Wc. f up to me. '

'She's awful, ' Charles said. 'It's a horrible thing to tell your kids that money's the only thing in the world, but it's a disgrace to work for it. Then toss 'em out without a penny. She never gave Bunny one red -'

'That's Mr Corcoran's fault, too, ' said Camilla.

'Well, yeah, maybe. I don't know. I just never met such a bunch of greedy, shallow people. You look at them and think, oh, what a tasteful, attractive family but they're just a bunch of zeros, like something from an ad. They've got this room in their house, ' Charles said, turning to me, 'called the Gucci Room. '

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