Tony and Susan (25 page)

This scared Tony, and again Ingrid objected. ‘How can you catch him? He’s in the woods.’

‘If he’s in the woods we track him with dogs. If he gets out of the woods, he’ll hitchhike. So we catch him before he gets a ride.’

‘He could be anywhere.’

‘No he won’t. There’s only two roads he could get to before morning. If we get out there quick enough.’ He looked at Tony, Tony full of horror. ‘If you go in your car and I in mine.’

‘Hunting for Ray?’

‘Relax.’ It was not a laugh. ‘I want you to go to George Remington’s house. Wake him up and tell him we need his dogs.’

‘Do that yourself,’ Ingrid said.

‘God damn it, woman, I’ve got to see Ambler while he’s still on duty.’

‘Why Ambler?’

His look was one of those secret things. ‘I’d rather report to Ambler than to Miles.’

Bobby Andes went to the table with a piece of paper. He drew a map. ‘Here Tony. Bang on his door until he wakes up. Give him this note and tell him I want his dogs. Tell him a man got away and a man got killed but don’t say anything until he hears from me. Then come back here.’

Ingrid said, ‘Leaving Susan and me alone with him out there on the grass?’

‘I have no choice.’

She didn’t say anything, but he heard it anyway. ‘Fuck you,’ he said. ‘Let’s go, Tony.’

Obedient Tony got up, feeling horrible, and at the door
Bobby turned around and made a speech. ‘The next time you see me I’ll have the guys. I’m gonna tell them how Ray killed Lou. If you don’t like it you can tell them any fucking thing because I don’t give a shit.’

He saw Tony trying to hand him his useless gun.

‘Keep that, if you see Marcus.’

‘Am I likely to?’ He had to tell himself, being in the car there was nothing to fear.

‘If you see him, pick him up. Stick his hands through the front and back windows and handcuff them together.’

Using the gun which he had not been able to use.

‘Where do I take him?’

‘Here. Leave him in the car until we get back.’

‘What if he tries to run away?’

‘Shoot him.’

Tony looked at him.

‘Self-defense,’ Bobby said. ‘Shoot him in self-defense.’ He turned to Ingrid as if she had spoken. ‘It’s only a suggestion. He can do what he likes. If he needs to shoot him, do it in self-defense, that’s all I’m saying.’ He patted Tony on the arm. ‘If worse comes to worst, stay put. We’ll find you.’

Tony Hastings and Bobby Andes went out to their cars. Before they went, Bobby tried to have a farewell scene with Ingrid. She turned away and then submitted. Tony got in his car. Bobby came over and leaned on his window. ‘How do you like that?’ he said. ‘We got the bastard with the beard, that makes two. The one with the teeth, we’ll get him now, you’ll see.’

Trapped Tony saw his urgent last chance taking shape in words, a protest, Don’t make me tell that lying story, but he was too afraid of the violence of Bobby Andes’s scorn to be direct and instead what he said was, ‘Are you in trouble?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t give a shit.’

He sat in his car motionless against an overwhelming resistance. He watched Andes get into his car and start up, lights, then pause, a shout, ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘After you,’ Tony said.

As if not trusting him, the man waited for Tony to start his engine, then drove out. But still not trusting, stopped at the turn and waited for Tony to move. As Tony backed out, the headlights swept across the grass and displayed the body lying by the river, looking small, the gray checked shirt, the black beard and white throat turned up. He wondered why he felt no gratification in that death and what had spoiled his fury and righteousness against the other. The clarity of the night stunned him. He had never left a dead man on the ground before.

Susan Morrow is running out of book. Two, three chapters left at most. The gun goes off like a bomb on the page, and everything swirls down a funnel toward some disastrous end.

Violence thrills her like brass in the symphony. Susan, who is well past forty, has never seen a killing. Last year in McDonald’s she saw a policeman with a gun jump a guy eating a sandwich. That’s the size of violence in her life. Violence happens in the world, in the parks, ghettos, Ireland, Lebanon, but not in her life – not yet.

Knock wood, knock knock. Safe insured Susan lives on the verge of disaster because everything she knows has happened, whereas the future is blind. In a book there is no future. In its place is violence, substituting thrill for fear, like the thrill in a roller coaster. Never forget what’s possible, it says, if you, lucky Susan with secure home and family (so unlike the world), should happen like Tony to meet something vicious in the night. If you had the gun, would you use it any better than Tony?

Edward is coming, so is Arnold. The more the book shrinks, the closer they come, like tigers. The character named after her is a ninny. Susan Ninny, it hurts her feelings. She has no spare feelings to be hurt just now, and she reads on.

Tony Hastings saw Ray Marcus on the mountain road to George’s house. He took shape from the darkness in the flash of Tony’s headlights on a curve, man walking on the shoulder, gray shirt, jeans, reflecting buckle, turning to look, and Tony did not realize who he was until the man was again in the dark behind the car, though the possibility of seeing him had been on Tony’s mind from the start. Seeing him, he thought, that’s not Ray because that would be mind over matter, and then, after the flood of light had left the bald forehead and narrowed jaw and face, it was too late to stop. Tony’s instinct was to hide his face, requiring an explicit assurance to himself in words that there was nothing to fear, he being in the car and it too dark for Ray to make him out. He drove on, only then remembering he was supposed to capture Ray with that gun he had.

Going on up the next curve, he wondered if he should stop and go back and realized if he did the man would run into the woods. Therefore the real reason why he had not stopped was not fear of Ray but that the place was not propitious. He could not have stopped on the curve back there, jamming his brakes and backing up, without giving Ray the alarm and letting him get away. Maybe he could turn around further on and catch him from the other direction.

The road started to descend, and just as he was thinking the curves looked familiar, he noticed something white in the woods over the next curve and recognized in the dark, unlit, the trailer, the horrible deathbed trailer. He had not realized Bobby’s map, which he had memorized, would take him on this road. It shocked him, followed by some chilly thrill of wanting to stop, ghoul, but for his errand and Ray Marcus approaching on foot from the other side of the crest.

He drove more slowly now, still thinking about why he had not stopped to recapture Ray. He did not like to think what Bobby Andes would say, cowardice, sloth. He wondered if it was possible to capture him from a car at any place on this road. The curves, the woods, the night. On the other hand, knowing what to expect, having the gun, being prepared. He was Bobby thinking, Too many excuses. He decided to do it, yes, rectify the cowardice, what he owed. The question was when? Now or eventually. Whether he’ll disappear if you don’t do it now. On the other hand, there’s no place for Ray to go on this road, it’ll be a long time before he gets to another. The question was whether to interrupt his errand to George, so as to catch Ray, or go to George first. He didn’t want to have to catch Ray all by himself, but that did not have to be the reason. He would go first to George because how could he explain his prisoner while talking to George?

Then there was a better reason. He was not a deputy, it wasn’t his job to catch fugitives. More than that. The police themselves had released Ray Marcus, so it wasn’t police work at all. Nor had Tony Hastings murdered Lou Bates, it was Bobby Andes did that. Tony Hastings was not Bobby Andes. Repeat that. It wasn’t his fault Bobby had kidnapped Ray. It wasn’t his fault Bobby had shot Lou Bates. Up to now, he was a bystander, a witness, but not implicated. He hoped he was not implicated. But if he tried to detain Ray Marcus on his own, that would make him accomplice, accessory.

Catch him yourself, he said. Don’t involve me in your dirty tactics. A surge of anger, a certain joy, words rising. Don’t hook me in your terminal rage. Don’t crash your fatality on my head. Astonishment to see how much Bobby Andes took for granted. Assuming everyone made the same connection between grief, loss, and revenge. Assuming no one cared how the man died
so long as he died. Assuming no one minded complicity in murder to avenge murder. Assuming everyone was as desperate as he. Tony thought, it’s my tragedy, who do you think you are?

They would say, We’ll hang your murderers, but we might hang you too. Detectives would probe his story for discrepancies. Courtroom lawyers would cross-examine him. Judges would ask why he allowed himself to get involved. Prosecutors pushing beyond the first excuse would search for the active conspiracy. Bystanders, strangers, and former friends would look for the even worse not yet revealed. In the solitude of the car he spoke, God damn you, Bobby. For a moment Bobby Andes was as unpleasant to him as Ray Marcus. For a moment only, for the thought shocked him, since it ignored the great evil done him and who was trying to pursue that evil and burn it out. Never allow yourself to forget the difference between Ray Marcus and Bobby Andes. Which restored to mind his debt to Bobby Andes, who for Tony’s sake was now jeopardizing his name and his career. It didn’t make Tony like him, but it made him feel ashamed. If he betrayed Bobby Andes now.

The darkened house just passed on the left must be George’s. He backed up and drove in the driveway, a white house without lights. The dogs barking in back would be the dogs he had come for. He remembered other sleeping houses a year ago when he had passed afraid to stop, to be a stranger at a rural door at night. He thought if he could get past the danger of knocking, George would recognize him. If they challenged, he could yell, Bobby Andes sent me.

Repeat the message: He wants your dogs over at his camp. Now, in the night, a man got away. The man himself – Tony just realized this – the man is no longer in the woods, the man is on this road a mile or so back, coming this way. So what do you need dogs for?

The absurdity of the message, Tony Hastings wondered what to do now. Parked here in George Remington’s driveway in sudden embarrassment, what to say if George wakes up? Or what to do instead? Do you go back to Bobby and say, I didn’t wake George because I saw Ray Marcus on the road, no need for dogs? I didn’t pick up Marcus either, but I can tell you where he was.

He remembered George was one of the police who had helped Bobby pick up Ray. Maybe it was all right to tell him. The man you helped catch got away. Bobby wanted your dogs, but since the man is right down the road now, you can recapture him yourself.

A light came on upstairs. A head appeared, silhouette, shadow, hair, no face. A female voice, ‘Who’s out there?’

Tony called from the car. ‘I’m looking for George.’

‘What do you want with him?’

‘Message from Lieutenant Andes.’

A short silence. He thought, I’ll ask George to come down, not to shout across this space. Bobby sent me, the man got away, I won’t say anything about shooting Lou. The woman in the window said, ‘He ain’t here. He’s working the night.’

‘All right. Thank you.’

Thank God, he thought. Then he realized what faced him now, and the stupidity of his relief. Without George. He started the car but hesitated to back out because he couldn’t think what to do next. Two things, the only possibilities. Either he drove back to the camp (passing and ignoring Ray Marcus on the road) and waited there for Bobby to return with his men to pick up Lou, at that time to tell him I saw Ray Marcus on the road an hour ago but didn’t pick him up, he’s probably gone now but that’s where he was. Or he drove back, looking for Ray so as to stop and point the gun at him and make a threat convincing enough to persuade him into the car, putting
his hands through the two open windows handcuffed together so that he could announce to Bobby when he returned to the camp with his men: I got him for you.

He drove slowly back. The gun lay ready on the seat. He searched the farthest reach of his headlights up the road looking for the first sight of a walking man. He did not know what he would do when he saw him, it was in the future, unrevealed, as unknown as someone else’s choice, or as if he were someone else, a stranger.

The previous image of Ray on the road had been the quick flash of a slide upon a screen, glare of light without color. Standing there, watching the car go by without fear, not hitchhiking but not realizing either that he might be pursued, for if he had wished he could have disappeared into the woods well before the approaching light reached him. Tony remembered himself watching the car’s lights, how they swung around, how they came at him, how he had to jump into the ditch. Here they were again, a year later, and now Ray was the hunted, Tony the hunter, and even the car was the same.

He passed the little white church and knew the trailer would appear in a moment and realized this was the first time since the original night he had been on these roads by himself. He imagined having the freedom to revisit alone and from the safety of this distance the places which had scarred his mind so deeply. He was not free yet, though, he was still on Bobby Andes’s errand, though no longer sure what the errand was, and Ray Marcus was approaching along this road. That was the main thing, Ray Marcus approaching on the road. He wondered why he hadn’t met him yet, he ought to have met him by now.

He saw the curve where the trailer would appear, which for the first time would not take him by surprise. Then it was there, he looked at it hard, and then, after checking to make
sure Ray Marcus was not now coming around the curve, he stopped. He saw the dark window which had been lit before with a print curtain. He remembered inside with Bobby and George, where he had slugged Ray, how small it was, the brass bedposts on the little bed, the stove, the trashbox with newspapers. He wondered if he could look inside again now. But it might not be empty, someone might be living in it, someone might be in there. But no one was there because no car was parked. Then it occurred to him, Ray Marcus was there.

The possibility Ray Marcus was there, only a possibility, he said, call it rather not an impossibility. Say only, it was not impossible Ray Marcus was in there. For if Ray had continued walking from where they had passed before, they should have met again, well back down the road before now. He could have picked up a ride, but he had not been hitchhiking when Tony had passed. Almost certainly Ray Marcus was in the trailer. He would have arrived a few minutes after Tony had seen him and slipped inside to rest. It would explain why Tony had not met him again.

If he was there, he was probably looking out the window at the car. Tony picked up the gun on the seat. He fixed the safety so it wouldn’t go off while he moved about. He got the flashlight from the glove compartment. The chances of Ray’s being in the trailer were slight, Tony just wanted to take a look at it because he was by himself, because he had never seen it by himself. Or else, he wanted to check out Ray, make sure he wasn’t here. If he was, he had his gun.

With the gun and the flashlight, he got out of the car, making as little noise as he could. He slipped around the front of the car, into the ditch and up to the front end of the trailer. Pebbles scraping around his feet, he stopped, waiting for silence. He heard the distant roaring of mankind being civilized, but nearby nothing, only the wakeful stillness of the woods in the night. If
Ray was watching, Tony had his gun. There was no way Ray could have acquired a gun of his own. If Ray stopped here to rest, he was probably asleep. Tony said, if Ray is here I will capture him. The reason I am doing this is to help Bobby Andes. Thinking again, Bobby Andes is helping me. Some other reason. He looked for it, this debt he owed. He told himself, it makes no difference if Ray did not kill Lou Bates, or if his arrest tonight was not legal, because he killed Laura and Helen, which I know.

He crept through leaves around the front of the trailer to the door. He thought, probably the door is locked. In that case I shall not pursue this further. I shall assume the trailer is empty and go back to Bobby’s camp. If I don’t meet Ray on the road, which seems likely now, I can report how he eluded me and there was nothing I could have done. Unless, if the door is locked, I might look with my flashlight in the window.

The door was not locked, the latch yielded. A moment’s alarm, too late, as he felt his fingerprints go onto the latch, which would have messed things up if this had been a year ago before they could take the fingerprints placing Lou and Turk here with the crime. He took the flashlight out of his belt with his left hand, the gun still in his right. He thought, if Ray is inside the door, waiting to jump. He cocked the gun again, held it up, nudged the door open with his side. He turned on the flashlight, swept its beam across the room, which was empty. He noticed the light switch by the door, switched on the light, and saw Ray Marcus asleep on the bed.

Who rolled over suddenly, covered his eyes, turned, squinted at Tony, sat up. ‘Christ,’ he muttered. He fell back on his elbow.

‘You,’ he said. ‘Where’s your pal?’

‘What pal?’

‘Ganges, whoever.’

‘Andes. He’s not here.’

‘Your cop friends. Where are they?’

‘They’re around.’

‘Are they here?’ He sat up and pulled back the curtain on the window, tried to look out.

‘It’s just me,’ Tony said.

‘Just you? With that fucking gun? What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Looking for you.’

‘Me? Aw Christ, what the hell for?’