Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

truth.”
    “How well do you know her?” asked Mary Ann.
    “Not very.” DeDe laughed bitterly. “I made a confession to her once, but that’s about it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She has these luncheons,” explained DeDe. “She calls it The Forum—very grand. Everyone sits around with a visiting celebrity and bares their souls. Consciousness-raising for social climbers. Pretentious and awful. I went to the one she did on rape. ‘A rap about rape,’ she called it.” DeDe shook her head in disgust. “Jesus.”
    “But … you said you confessed.”
    “I told her I’d been raped.”
    “When was this?”
    “Oh … five years ago.”
    “I didn’t know you’d been raped before Jonestown.”
    “I hadn’t been,” said DeDe. “I just told her that.”
    “Why?”
    DeDe shrugged. “Social pressure, I guess. I’d also just been to bed with Lionel, and I needed somebody to blame it on. Pretty revolting, huh?”
    “Was Lionel …?”
    “You got it. The twins’ father.”
    “The grocery boy,” said Mary Ann.
    “Not anymore. He owns the store now, according to Mother. In the meantime, I got raped for real in Guyana by Prue Giroux’s goddamn boyfriend.”
    “We don’t know that for sure,” said Mary Ann. She had already decided that somebody had to play devil’s advocate in this crisis.
    “C’mon,” said DeDe, “I need your help on this one.”
They found out less than they had hoped.
    “I told you,” insisted Prue, “all he said was that he was an American stockbroker living in London. We were on a cruise, for heaven’s sake. You don’t really ask much more than that.”
    “Sean Starr,” repeated DeDe.
    The columnist nodded but avoided DeDe’s eyes. “He appeared to be crazy about the children, and everyone liked him, and I think it was perfectly natural for your mother to entrust the children to him. He was quite polished … good-looking … an elegant man.” She shook her head woefully, her eyes still red from crying. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
    Mary Ann sat down next to Prue. “Look,” she said gently, “it isn’t that we don’t believe you.” (Not entirely true, of course; DeDe appeared extremely distrusting.) “It’s just that it would help us a lot if you could remember details … any details.”
    “Well … he was in his late forties, I guess. He dressed nicely.”
    “How nicely?” asked DeDe.
    “You know. Blazers, silk ties … that sort of thing. Understated.”
    “Do you have any pictures of him?” asked Mary Ann.
    “The ship’s photographer took one or two.”
    Mary Ann glanced excitedly at DeDe, then turned back to Prue. “Can we see them?”
    “I didn’t buy any,” said Prue. “They’re on the ship.”
    DeDe looked as if she might slap the columnist at any moment. “And you noticed nothing unusual in his behavior? Nothing at all?”
    Prue shook her head. “He didn’t start acting funny, really, until we reached Juneau.”
    “Funny how?”
    “I don’t know … moody, distracted. We took a float plane trip over the glaciers, and he didn’t talk to me once. He spent the whole time mumbling to the pilot.”
    “About what?” asked DeDe, almost ferociously.
    “He kept saying dire needs,” said Prue.
    Mary Ann’s eyes widened. “Maybe they left by plane!”
    “Dire needs,” repeated DeDe, ignoring her colleague’s brainstorm. “Plural?”
    Prue frowned. “What?”
    “He said dire needs, not dire need? That’s the usual expression. In dire need.”
    Prue looked confused. “I think so. I heard the pilot repeat it. There was lots of plane noise, though.”
    “And that was it?” asked DeDe.
    “What?”
    “Nothing else peculiar?”
    “Not until Sitka,” said Prue, her face contorting to a look of naked terror. “Not until … he took them … and …” She clamped her hand against her mouth, choking on her sobs.
    “And what?” demanded DeDe.
    “The … rabbits.”
    DeDe exploded. “The rabbits?”
    “Your mother didn’t tell you?” Prue stared at her aghast.
    “No.”
    “Oh, God,” said the columnist.

A Delicate Matter
    W HAT RABBITS?” ASKED DEDE.
    Prue looked away, her lower lip trembling violently. “When he took the children we were in a restaurant not far from here. I went to the little girls’ room and … when I came out, he was gone.”
    DeDe nodded impatiently. “Mother told us that already.”
    “Anyway,” continued the columnist, “I looked up and down the street …”
    “And you