Memorial Day: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Novels) (21 page)

Hal said, "I suspect there is more to this story."

"Bass, Doc Langdon and Jerry were waiting, so I took some chances. I asked him if he thought he had been strict enough with his kids. Hal,
he thought about it
. He allowed as to how he had probably been too loving and lenient with them. He took that question and turned it into a statement about his superiority as a parent."

"How does it all add up now, son? Do you think that Will beat Sandy and then went over the edge? What happened?"

I lay there wishing I hadn't quit smoking. Or drinking, for that matter. "We'll probably never know. I think it's likely that she was arguing with, or perhaps about, her brother. If it was Will who beat her, then that's what he felt guilty about. But he had a lot of other things on his mind."

"Such as?"

I gathered my thoughts. "Here it is. I have an evil old bastard who is apparently terminally ill. Both of his adult children are dead. I did not see him under professional circumstances, but I have no witness to what he said. So why bother?"

"Bother with what? You've lost me."

I squirmed. The springs squeaked, and my mind gave me some more unpleasant sexual images. "Incest. Palmer wants to believe he's progressive in some way, but he's just a damned pedophile. He said kids should be encouraged to play with one another, and that adults should be allowed to 'pleasure their own kin.' His words."

Hal sighed. "That's foul."

"Let's just say I'm satisfied that there was enough mental illness in this family to account for a mysterious and devastating pregnancy, a homicide, and the subsequent suicide of the victim's brother by hanging. And ironically, none of that has to tie in to that first body to make sense."

"What a weekend."

"Tell me about it. And if there is any more psychopathology in this stinking town I don't want to know about it."

"I don't blame you," Hal said. "But the important thing here is that you have tried to do the right thing. Have you given this enterprise your best effort?"

"Yes, but it all seems to have come to a dead end. I can't tell you how much I want to leave this place. I am half-tempted to pack up tonight."

"Perhaps you should."

"It's late. I think I'll go for a run, get some sleep, and drive to the airport early in the morning. I can still make my meeting on time."

"Darin Young? That's still on?"

"He wouldn't let me reschedule."

"He is a penis."

"He is indeed. How is the weather in Zurich?"

"The sun will be shining on the Banhofstrasse shortly, and I intend to take a stroll. I will indulge in a dab of fresh yogurt, a hot buttered croissant, and
eine milch café
to start my day. You have a pleasant jog and a decent sleep, young man. I believe you have done an important thing here."

I snorted. "What the hell have I done?"

"You have allowed yourself to truly care about someone, to grapple with the circumstances of her suffering. That is an important step. Responsibility may be the bane of a boy's existence, but it is the true content of a man's. And you know I am fond of saying all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for a good man to do nothing."

"Is it that simple? I can say I tried?"

"Perhaps."

"We'll see. Have a good morning, Hal. I will call you again from L.A."

"Do that, please. Now repeat after me. I never had it so good."

"I never had it so good."

"
Shalom
."

I changed, went outside. The evening air was surprisingly brisk. I tried to hold myself back and jog lightly, but the emotional pain was too great. I felt angry, weak, and ineffectual. My shame drove me into a full run perhaps a mile too early. I burst around the corner, jumped across the railroad tracks and raced through the park, panting, under an impassive night sky. The skyline was black velvet, rimmed with dark blue and speckled with silver stars.

My breathing grew ragged. I rounded a tree and loped along beside the creek where Sandy had drowned.

I could not bring myself to stop there.

I increased my pace yet again, right side stabbing with pain, stride becoming a stagger. When I could no longer bear the hurt, I slowed to a jog and then, panting, walked down Main Street. I heard someone coming. I froze, sweat dripping from my face, and once again flashed on the dead man in the alley. Instinctively, I stepped back into the shadow of the storage bin behind Doc Langdon's office.

Doc Langdon and Bass were strolling up Main from Caldwell, moving towards the sheriff's office. The sheriff was smoking a cigar. They were arguing. When they were on the opposite side of the street, across from Annie's closed diner, I heard what they were saying.

"I don't like it, Glen."

"You don't have to like it. Just do what you're told."

"And then?"

"And then this little problem we got will work itself out."

"You think this is a
little
problem?"

"Of course I don't," Bass snarled. He bit down on his cigar and the orange tip sprayed miniature fireworks. "But I don't have any good choices here, Doc. Neither do you."

Doc stopped, almost directly across from where I was hiding. Bass took a few steps and then turned. Doc raised his arms up in frustration; lowered them slowly as if surrendering. "How you feeling, Glen? You sleeping okay these days?"

"Fuck you."

"No," Doc said, "fuck the both of us."

Bass resumed walking, and eventually Doc followed. When they resumed their conversation, they were out of earshot. I turned back towards the bar. Tap's place seemed warm and inviting, and the addict voice in my mind whispered:
What's the difference, man? You can't change the world. It has always sucked and it always will suck. May as well party, right?
I looked down and found my hand on the ancient, dented brass doorknob. I had no idea how long I had been standing there, or how I had gotten so close to a relapse.

I yanked myself away, moving almost comically, and began to jog again. I deliberately added another mile to punish myself, and then finally limped back into the motel parking lot. The office was closed. Jerry's red scooter was missing. I felt exhausted, emotionally and physically; it was a welcome release. I stopped at the bottom of the steps, searched for the room key.

Someone was crouched above me in the darkness.

I jumped back, my hands balled into fists. The figure stood, stepped forward out of the shadows. The old gray cat hissed, meowed, ran a few steps and crouched down again.

"I knew you were scared," Annie Wynn said. "But this is ridiculous."

I sagged. "You really spooked me. I didn't stop by. Sorry."

"Why didn't you?"

"I'm not having a great night."

"Maybe I can improve it some," she said. "I came by to officially invite you to be my escort to the fireworks in Starr Valley tomorrow."

"Unfortunately, doesn't look like I'll be in town," I said. "I'm flattered, though. Maybe you'll give me a rain check?"

"You're leaving?"

"For California. It's business."

"Shit."

She sat down on the porch and lit a cigarette, offered me a drag. I shook my head. "One of the many things I've given up." I sat next to her on the top step, still slowing my breathing. I was enjoying her presence.

"You smell like a horse," she said.

"Sorry."

"No," she said, edging closer. "That's okay. I like horses." And then she kissed me. Her lips were full and soft, and the first I had tasted in more than a year. I felt myself hardening. It took all of my willpower to not take her right there, on the porch, under the stars. Finally it stopped. She blew her breath out and giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Chemistry," she said. "No way to explain it, but it's there or it isn't. You and me, we always had bushels. I've missed you, Mick. I don't want you to go."

"I have to," I said. "And the truth is I don't know as I belong here any more."

"Truth is, I didn't want to come back to Dry Wells either," Annie said. "Mom needed me, though. Getting old alone is a sad thing." The cat strolled by her feet, on the way to somewhere mysterious. She scratched his tattered ears. "He's your cat, Callahan," Annie said. It wasn't a question.

"What makes you say that?"

"He's all beat up but still a stud and he doesn't have a regular place to live. Seems like a fit."

"I guess you're right," I said. We held hands and looked up at the night sky. The blues singer howled again, and a second coyote joined in. A few wordless moments slipped away.

Annie grew pensive. "You ever think about lost chances?"

"Sure. An analyst friend of mine calls it 'the road not taken.' We ponder that old sweetheart, the career mistake, the big investment opportunity we missed. Everybody does that."

Annie lowered her head. She smiled a wry smile and said, "Mine was you."

"I'm honored."

I hugged her. Stark images of her trailer-park childhood, alcoholic mother, and abandoning father flooded my mind. I remembered how we had been as troubled teens; how we'd counted on and idealized one another. The sexual magnetism had been, and still was, intense. But I wasn't a kid any more, and neither was Annie. And I couldn't unlearn what I knew; not even for a second chance.

"Callahan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What was that fight with Bobby Sewell all about?"

"Boys will be boys," I said, dismissing her concern. "It was one of those size-of-the-dick kind of things."

"Come on, I'm serious," she said. "Just what are you up to, and why are you pissing everybody off?"

I searched for safe words. "I wanted to try to put things right."

"Past tense?"

"Most likely."

"You said you were sticking around because you knew something about Sandy's death. And then I heard you say those nasty things to Bobby Sewell. Tell me the truth, do you think somebody drowned Sandy Palmer?"

I sat for a long moment before I answered her. "We may never know for sure, one way or the other."

"What happened yesterday? I wasn't there."

I shrugged. "Sandy talked to me, I walked away. She died a few minutes later."

Annie shook her head in the darkness. "How'd you ever get tangled up a mess like that?"

"That's a long story."

She snuggled in close and stroked my arm. "I've got nothing but time," she said. Her body fit mine so comfortably I trembled. She knew. "Tell me all about it," she said. "Don't bullshit me. I mean, if something bad
did
happen to Sandy, why would anybody be all that surprised?"

"A few townspeople have told me they saw trouble coming."

Annie chuckled dryly. "The world has changed a lot since the pill, but not that much. There's still a huge double standard. Women can't get away with things that a man does every day."

"Yeah."

"And those Palmer kids? They always were trouble. Look, I even made the mistake of dating poor Will a while back."

I straightened. "You're kidding."

Annie nodded ruefully. "Unfortunately I'm not. I knew his reputation, but I thought . . . I really liked him. And then I got my ass kicked. Sometimes you got to learn things the hard way, right?"

I thought about my own history. "Right again."

"Sandy never learned, though. Look here, Mick, a girl who chases down every man a little town has to offer is just asking for a world of hurt. One of them is bound to go loco on her, sooner or later. And that's probably what happened."

"She made me feel sad," I said, abruptly. "I remembered her as a child. I felt sorry for her."

"I can understand that," Annie said. "But a slut took my last husband. Callahan, think about it. She was little Miss White Sunflower Dress, twitching her cute little butt all over the park, making men fight over her day in and day out."

"What are you driving at, Annie?"

"You shrinks are supposed to be big on taking responsibility, Mick. Isn't she to blame too, in a way? What did she expect?"

"Yeah," I said. I felt intensely uncomfortable, all of a sudden. "You're probably right."

"Damn straight," Annie said. "Sandy wrote her own story."

"What about you?" I asked.

"What about me?"

I slowly inched away. I was still trying, but failing, to keep sex out of this conversation. "Are you back in Dry Wells for a reason this time, or did you just have no place else to go?"

"No place else to go," she said, honestly. "My first husband was a deadbeat, so I dumped him. Like I said, the second one, he was a dumb-ass rodeo cowboy, kept fucking around on me. He made me crazy denying it, but I knew. So I followed him around one night. I caught them together."

"Ouch."

"No shit."

"He's still breathing?"

"Actually, yes. But she was bleeding when I left," Annie laughed. "Anyway, I found myself suddenly single. I waited tables in a casino for a while, but you got a brain, you get sick of it pretty quick. There's good money in those tips, but you have to get used to strange men groping your ass."

"Strange being the operative word."

"Maybe ass being the word," Annie said. "Now, 'strange' you get to take for granted, after a while, when it comes to men."

"Present company included?"

She didn't answer. I could smell her perfume and something else. It was the musk scent of the two of us together. I swallowed and edged further away. Annie noticed. "What's wrong," she said. "I got fleas or something?"

"No," I said. "It's not you."

"Didn't think so, not the way you kissed me a minute ago. Can I get me another one of those, cowboy?"

I ran my fingers through her hair. She reached for me, but I turned my head and kissed the tip of her nose. "I just can't. Not right now."