All The Bells on Earth (31 page)

“Then the Devil got stiffed,” Walt said, “because Argyle’s soul wasn’t worth a glass of milk, even back then when it was fresh.”

Bentley looked hard at him.

“Sorry,” Walt said. “I didn’t mean to make a joke out of it.”

“I’m not philosophizing here,” Bentley said. “I’m talking about
what happened
—as if I said that Argyle signed papers to buy a house. I mean to say he made a bargain with Satan. Money, power, what have you.”

“I get it,” Walt said, picturing the transaction—the Devil in natty clothes, snazzy hat, probably driving a Lincoln Town Car and offering Argyle a twenty-six-percent return….

“Murray LeRoy sold his soul, too, at the same time.”

“Then you’re right,” Walt said. “It’s not very funny.”

“And if you’re with me this far, then I’ll tell you something worse. Simms is dead on account of it. You can take that to the bank. All of this is my fault.”

“I don’t see how,” Henry said, leaning forward in his chair. “So far you’re in the clear. Let these other men
go
to the Devil. That’s their choice. That avenue’s always open to a man, buyer beware.”

Bentley waved him silent. “What I’m telling you is that I’m the man who brokered the deal, paper contract and all. Signature in gold ink.”

“What do you mean, ‘brokered’?” Walt asked.

“Middle man. I set it up—the mumbo jumbo. I made a few dollars, too; I can tell you that, although I won’t tell you how much. I was even fool enough to think that some good could come of it—taking their dirty money. Maybe it did, too. I used it hard enough. It bought more lunches than you’d believe, and it paid a few bills, too. Both of those scoundrels worked for the Church. It’s a good joke, eh? Don’t you think? Their money was a means to an end, never mind where it came from. To this day they don’t know who I really am. They don’t know who they did business with.”

“Actually,” Walt said, “if I understand what you’re telling me, it was a
hell
of a good joke. Let me get this straight. You set up this phony soul-selling scam and made them
pay
for it?”

“Oh, they paid for it,” Bentley said. “But paying
me
was the least of it. Now they’re paying the piper. It’s come full circle. Murray LeRoy was consumed by the fires of Hell—spontaneous human combustion!”

Walt nodded. Bentley was apparently off his chump after all, and just when it was looking like he had a first-rate sense of humor. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You conned a couple of monsters out of a few bucks over the years. They can afford it.”

“And so I thought. I had the best intentions. That much I’ll claim. But the road to Hell is paved with that commodity, friend.”

“I guess,” Walt said skeptically.

“You don’t grasp this,” Bentley said. “I
used
them, didn’t I? I played a hoax, a joke. And now I discover that the joke is on me. I was just larking around, slipping the wallets out of the pockets of a couple of prize idiots. But what I found out is something I already should have known:
the Devil doesn’t kid around
. He’s
got
no sense of humor. He’s in
deadly
earnest.” He looked at Walt, letting this sink in.

“Still …” Walt started to say.

“Still nothing. You’re with me about halfway. You want to think that all this talk is some kind of tomfoolery. You’re a good man, so you don’t laugh at it, but you don’t
believe
it either. You’re thinking, what’s this got to do with me?”

“Okay,” Walt said. “What’s this got to do with me? If you want to know the truth, I don’t care if Robert Argyle goes straight to Hell. He can take the express. I’ll pay to upgrade his ticket.”

“You make sure you don’t go with him,” Bentley said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This thing in the jar that I asked you about, that you and Henry threw in the bin?”

Walt nodded.

“Robert Argyle must not have it.”

“I tossed it out,” Walt said, feeling himself flush with shame at the lie. And to a minister, too …

“Because if …”

A car was pulling up at the curb just then, moving way too fast. Hell, it was Jack’s T-bird! Jack banked the tires off the curb and shut the engine down, leaving the car angled into the street. The door flew open and he heaved himself out, coming around the back of the car, taking big steps, loaded for bear. He cut it too close, though, and his hip bumped the fender hard. He staggered, caught himself, and stepped up onto the curb with exaggerated care. He was drunk, all right, but he was trying hard not to look drunk.

“Hey, brother,” Jack said, nodding at Walt as he came up the walk.

“Hello, Jack.”

“You got the kids ready to go?”

Walt shook his head. “They aren’t here. I told you that over the phone.”

“Hi, folks,” Jack said, nodding to Henry and Bentley. “This man’s stolen my children, and I’m here to get them back.”

“Jack, the kids aren’t here,” Walt said. “You might as well run along.”

“
You
run the hell along,” Jack said, getting mad suddenly. “I told you I wanted my kids. So you get my kids.”

“And I told you the kids aren’t here. As long as you’re drunk, they
won’t he
here, either.”

“I’ll by God
see
who’s here,” Jack shouted, lunging suddenly at the door.

Walt stepped into his way, and Jack swung hard at him with the back of his hand. Walt ducked away from it sideways, and Jack’s forearm slammed into his shoulder, knocking him into the Reverend Bentley, who was just then trying to stand up. Jack grabbed the handle of the screen door and swung it open, and just then the end of a broom thrust through the open door, the corn bristles shoving hard into Jack’s chest and neck.

“Ow!” he shouted, stumbling backward, and Jinx stepped out onto the porch, carrying the broom with both hands like a rifle with a bayonet, her face set like a stone mask. She swung the broom sideways, hitting him in the chest with the flat of it, and he turned around and stepped off the porch, missing the second step entirely and sprawling down onto the lawn, knocking down Walt’s trash can full of leaves. Jinx followed him, getting clear of the porch roof so that she could use the broom more effectively. She said nothing, just raised the broom straight into the air and pounded it down onto Jack’s head as he scuttled toward the sidewalk yelling, “Hey! Hey! Hey! Watch it!” He stood up, covering his head and angling around behind the T-bird, keeping it between them.

Jinx waited at the edge of the lawn now that she’d driven him off, ready for him if he made a move toward the house. Walt turned away so that Jack wouldn’t see him smile. There was no vise humiliating him any more than he’d already been humiliated. The man would come back with a gun and kill them all.

The phone rang inside, and Henry stood up and made for the door. “I’ll grab it,” he said. “Watch out for Jinx.”

Jack shook his fist, breathing in big gasps. “I’ll be back!” he shouted. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find anything good enough.

“That’s right,” Walt said, coming down to where Jinx stood with the broom. “We’ll see you when you’re sober, Jack.” He put his arm around Jinx’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded.

“Who
was
that man?” The Reverend Bentley came down off the porch just as Jack tore away in his car, running straight through the stop sign at the corner of the street.

“That man is a
husk
,” Jinx said, breathing heavily. “He isn’t fit to be those children’s father. Thank God he’s
not
their father.”

“He’s the weak brother,” Walt said.

Bentley nodded. “He’s been drinking.”

“Indeed he has,” Walt said.

Finished with her task, Jinx headed for the house again, just as the screen swung open and Henry stepped out. Somehow Henry looked hammered, worse off than Jack, as if he’d just been given some kind of terminal news. He smiled weakly at Jinx and patted her on the shoulder, but she pushed on into the house, not really looking at him, still fired up from the confrontation.

Henry glanced at Walt and shook his head.

“Bad news on the phone?” Walt asked.

“Lord, lord, lord,” the old man said, sitting down heavily. He craned his neck, looking back in through the window as if to make sure Jinx wasn’t lurking by the open door.

“What is it?” Bentley asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the Biggs woman.” He gestured feebly, putting his hand to his face. “It’s very bad. The only good thing is that I answered the phone and not Jinx.”

“Biggs?” Walt asked. “Who … ?”

“From the All-Niter,” Henry said, gesturing up the street. “Maggie Biggs.”

Walt sat down. This was it, just as he’d feared—the hula-hula woman. Trouble, and quicker than he would have thought possible. She was sixty-five years old if she was a day, so at least there wouldn’t be any paternity suit.

“Talk to us, Henry,” Bentley said, forgetting for the moment about himself. Walt found that he liked Bentley suddenly, just like that. There was something okay about him, something that Walt hadn’t seen before, probably because he’d never been able to get past the tracts and the preachery.

“I’m in trouble,” Henry said. ‘Jinx deserves better than me.”

“Nonsense,” Bentley said. “Let’s have it. Whatever you’ve done, it can be fixed.”

“Not this time.” He shook his head, denying it. “It’s broken this time. I … I’ve been seeing too much of this … this Biggs woman. I guess you knew that, Walt. You tried to warn me. Well, she got her
mitts
on me. I guess you could say that and you wouldn’t be far wrong.”

Bentley scowled, as if he didn’t quite buy the mitts business.

“She claims I … had my way with her,” Henry said, “and she’s threatened to go to Jinx with it.”

“Had your way?” Walt asked. “You’ve only known her for what?—two or three days?”

Henry shrugged. “It’s a dirty lie. It was
harmless
, I swear it. But Jinx won’t see it that way, not anymore. She’ll go to Goldfarb, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“There’s no need to swear,” Bentley said. “We both believe you. My advice is to go to Jinx yourself. We’ll stand behind you, by golly. Let’s do it now!” He stood up.

“Good heavens, no!” Henry said. “Sit down. And keep your voice down, for heaven’s sake. After last winter …” He shook his head. “I’ve been a damned fool. Why
should
she believe me?”

“Just tell her it’s over with this Biggs woman,” Walt said in a low voice. “It won’t be easy, but you’ve got to come clean with her. Stop the trolley right here and get off.”

“That’s the ticket,” Bentley said. “If you’ve made a mistake, own up to it. As for this Biggs, do the manly thing—tell her it’s over, it’s all been a mistake.”

“That’s what I did,” Henry told them. “That’s the whole trouble. Maggie Biggs lives out past Satellite Market, out on Olive. I went over there this morning and called it off, told her this whole thing was a mistake. But she wouldn’t take no. She wouldn’t listen. Now she’s tracked me down. She’ll tell Jinx some kind of lie just as sure as …” His voice trailed off.

“Did you … did you have your way with her?” Bentley asked.

Henry shook his head. “I don’t claim to be innocent in this,” he said, “but by God I didn’t touch her.”

“Then I think we can talk to her,” Walt said. “She’ll see reason.” This struck him as the empty-headedest thing he’d ever said. Clearly she wouldn’t see any such thing. Maggie Biggs was doom in a muumuu.

“I’d be happy to go along,” Bentley said. “I can be a persuasive prick when I want to be.”

“Thank you, boys,” Henry said. “I’m on thin ice.”

Walt looked at his watch. It was still early. “She called from home?”

Henry nodded.

“Will you take a look at that?” Bentley said suddenly. He pointed at the sky. Off to the west a plume of black smoke rose into the sky. There was the sound of sirens just then.

“Looks like the Plaza,” Walt said.

Bentley stood up. “Let’s go,” he said. Suddenly his voice was full of urgency, as if this smoke in the sky had something to do with what he’d been talking about, with what he feared.

Jinx came to the door just then, carrying her purse. “Gladys is coming by to pick me up,” she said to Henry and Walt. “We won’t be late, but remember that I won’t be cooking dinner.”

Henry nodded vaguely, and Jinx disappeared back into the house.

Bentley headed down the steps and made for the car without another word, as if he were going right now, with or without them.

T
HE FIRE IN THE
Plaza was out by the time Bentley pulled into a parking space near the Continental Cafe. There was smoke in the air, but only a thin blue-black haze blowing eastward in the wind. A fire truck and a paramedics unit sat at the mouth of the alley adjacent to Nelson and Whidley, and behind a barrier of yellow police tape a crowd of onlookers stood around silently, their arms crossed, a couple of them breathing through handkerchiefs.

Bentley climbed out of the car and hurried away, leaving the door open, his face stricken with fear and doubt.