The Last Good Kiss (7 page)

to count it."

"That's plenty."

"You give me a bill if it's more, you hear," she

commanded.

"It's already too much," I said. "I'll talk to this

Albert Griffith over in Petaluma and this Mr. Gleeson

here, and see if I can get in touch with Peggy Bain, then

I'll bring back your change. But I'm telling you up

front, it's a waste of money."

"Fair enough," she said, then glanced at the receipt

again. "What's that name? Sughrue?"

"Right."

"My momma had some cousins back in Oklahoma,

lived down around Altus, I think, name of Sughrue,"

she asked. "You got any kin down that way?"

"l got kin all over Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas,"

I admitted.

"Hell, we're probably cousins," she said, then stuck

out her hand.

"Could be," I said, then shook her finn, friendly

hand.

"Folks don't understand about kinfolks anymore,"

she said.

"World's too big for that," I said. "I guess I'd best

head for town to see if my other client is still alive and

kicking."

"Want a road beer?"

"Sure," I said, then went to the john to make room

for it.

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When I came back, she leaned over the bar to hand

me the beer and said, "You're a drinking man yourself.

,

"Not like I used to be."

"How come?''

"Woke up one morning in Elko, Nevada, emptying

ashtrays and swabbing toilets."

"But you didn't quit," she said.

"Slowed down before I had to quit," I said. "Now I

try to stay two drinks ahead of reality and three behind,

a drunk." She smiled with some sort of superior

knowledge, as if she knew that the idea of having to

quit drinking scared me so badly that I couldn't even

think about it. "Would you keep an eye on· Mr.

Trahearne's Cadillac?" I asked.

"Get the rotor," she said, "and I'll let Fireball sleep

in it after I close nights." After I removed the rotor

from the distributor and closed the hood, Rosie nodded

at my Montana plates and asked, "Don't it get cold up

there?"

"When it does, I just drift south," I said.

"Must be nice."

"What's that?"

"Goin' where you want to," she said softly. "I ain't

been more'n ten miles from this damned place since I

went to my momma's funeral down in Fresno eleven

years ago."

"Footloose and fancy-free ain't always all it's cracked

up to be," I confessed.

"Neither's stayin' home," she said, then smiled, the

wrinkles etched into her face softened and smoothed,

some of the years of hard living fell away like happy

tears. "You take care, you hear."

"You too," I said. "See you the first of next week."

As I climbed into my El Camino, a carload of

construction workers in dirty overalls and bright yellow

hardhats skidded into a rolling stop beside me, the

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transmission clanking loudly as the driver jammed it

into park. The men scrambled out, laughing and

shouting at Rosie, goosing each other in the butts,

happy in the wild freedom of quitting-time beers, and

they charged into Rosie's open arms like a flock of baby

chicks.

I knew the men were probably terrible people who

whistled at pretty girls, treated their wives like servants, and voted for Nixon every chance they got, but as far as I was concerned, they beat the hell out of a

Volvo-load of liberals for hard work and good times.

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3 ••••

WHEN I ARRNED AT HIS HOSPITAL ROOM, TRAHEARNE HAD

been sedated into a deep rumbling sleep from which it

would have been a crime to awaken him. I found the

emergency-room doctor who had treated him, and the

doctor suggested that Trahearne would Jive in spite of

himself. He wasn't as sure about Oney and Lester,

though. Mter their wounds had been cleaned and

bandaged, they had split, heading back to Rosie's for

another · beer or two. As the doctor walked up the

hallway, shaking his head, I finally used my dime to caU

the former Mrs. Trahearne collect. As usual, she

sounded distantly reluctant to accept the charges.

"Well," I said more brightly than I meant to-1

blamed it on the whiskey-"! finally ran the old devil to

the ground."

"Finally," she said coldly. "In San Francisco?"

"No, ma'am," I said. "In a great little beer joint

outside of Sonoma."

"Isn't that quaint," she murmured. "In what condition did you find him?"

"Drunk," I said, not specifying which of us.

"I assumed that, Mr. Sughrue," she said sharply.

"What is his physical condition?"

"Right."

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"Yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," I stalled. "He's fine, he's all right, he

should be out of the hospital in three or four days, and

he'll be as good as new."

"It may seem presumptuous of me to ask," she said

smoothly, "but if he is in such wonderful shape, why

then is he in the hospital?"

"It's a long story," I said.

"Isn't it always?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am ."

"You're being unnecessarily obtruse, Mr. Sughrue,"

she said. Her voice sounded pleasant and refined, but

accustomed to command.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So?"

"Well, he had a little accident."

"Yes?"

"He fell off a barstool and strained his back," I said

quickly.

"How absolutely delightful," she said. "Perhaps that

will teach him a much-needed lesson." Then she

laughed, deep and elegant, like the rich susurruses of a

mink coat being casually dragged down a marble

staircase. "But nothing too serious, I hope."

"A minor sprain," I said.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I expect you to

remain by his side until he is released from the hospital,

and then stay with him during his postmortality binge."

- "Ma'am?"

"Violated flesh will insist upon wallowing in flesh,"

she said. "Particularly in Traheame's case."

"Ma'am?"

"He will insist on a drunken debauch as soon as he is

released from the hospital," she said. "You knowwine, women, and song-expensive whiskey, high-class hookers, and finally the same old sad song of regret. I

expect you to take care of him during those few days."

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"I'll do my best," I said.

"I'm sure you will," she said. "And when he is ready

to return home to lick his wounds, I expect you to see

that he does so."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, hoping Trahearne was supposed to lick his wound only figuratively.

"Perhaps if you inform him that his beloved Melinda

is once again in the fold, throwing pots or whatever it is

she does all through the night, then he may want to cut

his debauch short."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, though I didn't have any idea

who or what she was talking about. I didn't have any

idea what Traheame would think about my presence

after his accident. Or my accident. The accident.

"Also, I'll expect a full report upon your arrival,"

she said. "Thank you and good night."

"A report of what?" I asked. But she had already

hung up the telephone. "Only a crazy man works for

crazy people," I told the dead wire, and a harried nurse

hurrying past agreed with a quick nod.

Since it wasn't my money, and since I knew where I

would probably spend the next night, I checked into the

best motel in Sonoma, ordered a huge steak and some

of that expensive whiskey the former Mrs. Traheame

had mentioned. Then I drove back out to Rosie's, got

stupid drunk with Lester and Oney, and slept on the

pool table.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Trahearne

growled as I stepped into his room at ten o'clock two

mornings later.

"A guest of the county," I said.

"Huh?"

"Jail."

"Why?"

"After the sheriff took my statement yesterday, he

held me as a material witness. Just to see if I had a

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different version of the shooting after a night in a cell,"

I said.

"Can they do that?"

"No," I said. "But if I had complained or called a

lawyer, they would have found some minor crap to

charge me with. "

"Bastards. "

"It's okay, I've been in jail before. " Jails are jails,

and there's never much to talk about when you get out.

"Well, now that you're here," he said, "You can run

some errands for me." I reached into my hip pocket

and pulled out a half-pint of vodka. "Oh my god," he

whispered as he took the bottle from me. "You're a

saint, my friend, an absolute saint. " But before he

could break the seal, a tall, nicely rounded nurse came

briskly through the door.

"That will not do," she said as she snatched the

bottle from his huge, trembling hands. "This will be

returned upon your release."

"Now, see there, Mr. Trahearne," I said quickly. "I

told you they didn't allow drinking in the hospital."

Then to the nurse: "I'm really sorry, ma'am, I told him I

shouldn't do it, but you know how it is, since I'm just a

hired hand." Trahearne's face glowed red and greasy

with sweat, and his chest rose half out of bed. He

looked like a man intent on murder.

"Just so it doesn't happen again," the nurse said.

"No, ma'am, it won't," I said as I touched her lightly

on the arm. "And if he gives you any trouble, just give

me a call. I'm at the Sonoma Lodge. " She smiled,

nodded, and thanked me again, then carried her nicely

molded hips out the door with quick, efficient steps.

"Anytime," I said to her back.

"Son, I don't mind you making time, but not on my

time and not at my expense," Trahearne grumbled. I

lifted another halfpint out of my windbreaker pocket

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