Stone Rain (28 page)

“Why?” I asked Jeff.

“Just do it. I dare ya.”

Well, that was all I needed to hear. So Jeff hung back as I went deeper into the store to the display of mass-produced pastries, examined the offerings, and then said, “Mr. Ted?”

We didn’t know his last name, but knew it was a mistake, at our age, to call him just by his first name.

Ted, a man in his sixties, round-shouldered, wearing an old cardigan and wire-rimmed glasses, had been reading the
Enquirer
. He looked up, peered over the glasses in my direction, and said, “What?”

“I haven’t got enough money for a whole package of Hostess cupcakes, so like, can I buy just half a pack?”

“You outta your mind?” He went back to reading his paper.

I met Jeff back outside on the sidewalk. “That was great!” he said. “You were perfect! I almost peed my pants laughing, but I held it all in!”

“Why did you ask me to do that?”

Jeff produced a Milky Way from each jacket pocket. “Look what I got! When Ted looked over at you, I grabbed these.” He handed me one, and at first I tried not to take it, but he forced it into my hand.

“You stole these?” I asked.

“Jeez, could you say it a bit louder so Ted can hear?” Jeff said. He grabbed me by the arm and led me down the sidewalk, walking briskly. “It was so easy!”

Once Jeff felt we were a safe distance from Ted’s, he dragged me into an alley and ripped the wrapper off his Milky Way. He bit off a huge chunk, his cheek bulging out like a chipmunk’s.

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” he asked.

I handed my bar to him. “You eat it. I’m not hungry.” Not only did I not want to eat it, I didn’t want to hold on to it.

“Go on, eat it! I got it for you!”

“I don’t want it.” I felt short of breath and a bit nauseous. Sweaty. I thought I might throw up right there, in the alley. I was not cut out for a life of crime.

“God, you’re such a baby,” Jeff said, grabbing back the second Milky Way and stuffing it into his pocket. “Oh well, more for me.”

“You have to go back and pay for those,” I said. “You could say it was like a mistake, you picked them up and then walked out, like you forgot to pay and you remembered when you got down the street.”

I peered around the end of the alley, expecting to see Ted, accompanied by the riot squad, charging down the sidewalk. I was listening for sirens. But there was no one looking for us.

“Yeah, right,” said Jeff, trying to talk through a mouthful of Milky Way. He seemed determined to dispose of the evidence as quickly as possible. “Shoulda got a Coke too, wash it down.” I couldn’t believe Jeff had done this. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of such a thing.

I’d never had a thief for a friend before. It was a new feeling, and not an exciting one. It took more than a week of sleepless nights for me to realize that Jeff and I, his unwitting accomplice, were going to get away with this. We were not going to be caught.

I never went into Ted’s again.

This thing with Trixie, well, I’d have to say this was bigger than the Milky Way incident. I couldn’t recall anyone ever confessing to me that they’d shot, and killed, three people. I’m sure I’d have remembered something like that.

“Say something,” she said as we stood out there, alone, in the field. A light breeze blowing from the direction of the Bennet farmhouse carried the smells of chicken and the sounds of a child’s laughter.

“I’m sort of at a loss for words,” I said.

Trixie placed the palm of her right hand on my chest. “You need to know the whole story.”

“Will that make me think it’s okay that you killed three people?”

Trixie pulled her hand away. “Probably not. But I’d like to tell you anyway. All that I’ve put you through the last few days, I think you’re entitled to the truth, no matter what you think of me after hearing it.”

“Sure, then. Go ahead.”

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans, turned her back to me, and took a step away. “You heard a bit, inside, from Claire, about what it was like. With Merker and the rest of them.”

“I got a taste.”

“I didn’t turn tricks for them. Some of the dancers, they hooked too. Made a lot of money that way. Guy sees you onstage, wants a piece of you real bad, he’s willing to pay. And a lot of the girls, they were happy for the extra cash. I won’t tell you I never did things I shouldn’t have. I’d be lying. Especially at first. But I was good, taking clothes off, doing the moves, and I was still a good warm-up for the business upstairs, even if I wasn’t one of the girls going up there. I was still good for getting them in the mood, you know?”

“Sure,” I said.

She turned back to face me. “But once I started giving Merker suggestions, how to make more money, worked my way into the back room and started helping with the books, I didn’t have to flash my tits anymore. But the thing is, with that crew, no matter how smart you are, no matter what other talents you might have, when it comes right down to it, if you’re a woman, you’re just a whore.”

I closed my eyes for a second.

“After Eldon, Katie’s dad, died, they started looking at me differently. No one would have touched me as long as he was around. He’d have beat the shit out of them, killed them, probably. But once he was gone, there’d be comments, little cracks, like ‘Hey, ledger lady, I’ve got six inches for you to calculate.’ Or, ‘Let’s multiply.’ Clever stuff, you know?”

And then she told me about the night of November 18, 2001. The night they took turns.

“They held me down. Like fucking dogs. Everyone except Leo. He just stood off in a corner, shaking his head, whimpering like. Fletcher was first, then Gary, then Smith and Heighton. One after another.”

She waited, wondering whether I wanted to react, whether I had anything I wanted to say, but all I could do was listen.

She told me about Gary’s visit to her apartment two days later. Finding her with her eleven-month-old girl in her arms. Hands her a “Come Back to Work Soon” Hallmark card with $110 inside.

I listened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hawk circling.

“You know the part I can never figure out?” she said, looking at me again. “The ten bucks. A hundred, and
ten
. Was that the tip? Was the ten bucks for expenses? What the fuck do you think the ten was for? Baby formula, maybe?”

All I could offer was a shake of the head.

“But you know what I did? I went back to work. Went back and did my fucking job. I’d already been planning my move, I was moving the money around, into accounts, skimming off cash where I could, and I wasn’t done yet. I still needed more. I was putting together getting some new ID, in the name of Trixie Snelling. I was putting things into place, to make a new life for myself and my daughter. But I didn’t have enough. So I had to go back there, go back and sit in that room, day after day, putting on my smiley face, with a pack of rapists.”

Softly, I said, “I don’t know how you could do that. It must have been…I don’t know. I can’t imagine.”

“And I carried on, making like nothing happened, like a hundred and ten dollars and a Hallmark card was all it took to make the memory of a gang bang go away. And for a while, they were even a little sheepish. Getting me tea, being real sweet, you know? Like, hey, sorry about turning you inside out, but here’s a cup of Earl Grey.”

“So,” I said, “that wasn’t the night it happened.”

“No. Gary, round about this time, I thought maybe he was starting to get suspicious. I was scared shitless that he’d start asking questions, about the books, questioning the totals. The club owed money everywhere, but he didn’t know. But I did my best to snow him, buried him in numbers. So he’d buy it for a while, but I knew I was running out of time.

“I could have used another week at least, but things sometimes have a way of unraveling. Gets to be April 9, 2002. Gary and Leo, they’re out getting pizza.”

And the ones left behind, Heighton and Smith and Fletcher, decide it’s time for a repeat performance.

“No matter how much money I’d stashed away, even if it wasn’t enough, I’d made a vow to myself that what happened that other night, that was never going to happen again.”

Back at the house, Claire was on the porch, waving to us. “Five minutes!” she shouted.

Trixie waved, turned back to me.

I said, “Your sister and Don. You’ve told them this story?”

Trixie nodded. “They know.” She ran her hands through her hair, gave her head a shake. “Fletcher puts his hand on my shoulder, spins my chair around, puts my face up to his crotch. The others, they’re starting to laugh.”

She rolled the chair back so she could get her purse, get the gun.

Fletcher took a couple of steps back, couldn’t believe it, barely had a chance to say “What the fuck” before the first shot went into him.

“Then Smith and Heighton, they were on their feet, not sure whether to get the hell out of the room or come at me, but I was between them and the door, so they pretty much had to run at me regardless. I fired again, got Smith, then Heighton, and they both fell, almost on top of each other. I’d managed to shoot all three of them square in the chest. Eldon, he’d taught me a few things, and one of them was how to use a gun, and how to aim it. They were moaning, telling me to call an ambulance, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I knew I had to get out of there as fast as I could, pick up Katie from the sitter’s, get out of town as fast as I could. Gary and Leo, they’d already been gone half an hour, they’d be coming back at any moment, and someone might have heard the shots, already called the police.”

She put her hands on her hips, took in a deep breath. I saw the hawk swoop down; a moment later it was back in the air, something small and lifeless in its talons.

“But you weren’t quite done, were you?” I said.

Trixie’s eyebrows went up a notch.

“There was something about the way you shot them,” I said. “Something…distinctive.”

Trixie smiled. “Fletcher was already on his back, so it was easy to shoot him in the balls. Payne was on his side, so I had to push him over with my foot, and then I shot him there too. Heighton, he was crawling for the door, reaching up for the knob, and then he just kind of flipped over on his own. And I shot him in the balls too. And then I walked out, thought I could hear Merker and Leo coming up the stairs, and I snuck out the back way, down the fire escape.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“But I feel bad, you know?” Trixie said.

“Sure,” I said. “Of course you do. Even though it was self-defense, even though they deserved it, even though they had it coming, you can’t take people’s lives away from them and not, I don’t know, live with the regret, one way or another.”

Trixie smiled at me, patted my shoulder. “Oh, Zack, you’re just so sweet. That’s not why I feel bad. I feel bad because I didn’t get Gary. I play it over in my head, over and over and over again, and I see myself shooting him, then leaving a little get-well card for him, with a hundred and ten dollars tucked into the envelope.”

Those stolen Milky Way bars didn’t seem like that big a deal anymore.

HEADING BACK TO THE HOUSE,
I said, “A couple of years back, when I came to your house unexpectedly one night, in a bit of a pickle, you sent me to a neighbor when I needed a gun.”

“I remember,” Trixie said.

“But I’m guessing you already had one.”

“Yeah. And if you’d used it, and if they ever matched the bullets you fired to the ones that killed those three in Canborough, by now one of us would have already served a year or two in jail for that.”

“Well, thanks for that, then.”

Katie was on the porch, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting, “Dinner!”

Trixie smiled. “Coming!”

“It’s chicken!”

“Okay!”

Katie ran back into the house.

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

“Yeah. I might be able to take some of the credit for her looks, but it’s Claire and Don who are raising her. And they’re doing a hell of a job. She’s in kindergarten now, smart as a whip.”

We were taking our time walking back, allowing ourselves more time to talk things out. But I didn’t know what to say. I was feeling a little shell-shocked.

“So, now what?” Trixie asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You still think I should go to the police, tell them everything?”

“I don’t know.” I paused. “But you can’t keep running. You can’t live this way. Maybe, I don’t know, you’ve got something to trade? What do you know about the drug trade, that other biker gang in Canborough? Maybe, you tell the cops everything you know, help them clear some cases, you can cut some sort of deal.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll have to give that some sort of thought. Regardless, I have to move on. I stay here one more night, and I’m gone.”

“Trixie,” I said, stopping and taking her elbow, looking her in the eye. “Face up to it. Do what you have to do, try to start over.”

She pulled away from me, gently. Katie burst out the door, jumped off the porch, and ran toward her mom, shouting, “Chicken chicken chicken chicken!”

Trixie scooped her up into her arms, rubbing noses with her daughter, and the two of them disappeared into the house, the screen door slamming behind them. I stood outside a moment, alone, wondering how this would all play out.

I
took the couch.

Trixie had a double bed in the third bedroom upstairs, and she’d whispered to me that if I wanted to share it with her, she’d be a perfect lady if I could be a perfect gentleman.

I thanked her for the offer, but told Claire the couch would be fine. She got out some sheets, even though I told her not to bother, tucked them into the sofa cushions and found me a cushy pillow. I was upstairs, coming out of the bathroom, when I heard Trixie in Katie’s bedroom. The door was open an inch, and the room was dark but for a bedside lamp, and Trixie was sitting on the edge of the bed, up close to Katie, who was under the covers, her head pressed into the pillow, her eyes wide.

“Tell me more about the princess,” Katie said.

“Well,” said Trixie, “once upon a time, there was a princess, with very curly hair, who was only five years old, and she could do anything she wanted.”