Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209) (6 page)

“You're right. That would make things worse. Did you at least catch the department name on your friend's uniform?”

I shook my head. It hurt and I winced with it. I got the feeling I'd be wincing with it for weeks to come. That was an impressive kick.

I said, “No. Now that I think about it, though, the uni was too clean, like maybe he'd just unwrapped it, and I'm starting to think the badge was some kind of kid's toy. It all happened kind of fast.”

“And you've never seen him before?”

“I think I'd remember. He had a face even Mother Mary would love to hit.”

“I know I will, I ever catch up to him.” He paused a moment to think. “This thing, you think you can just walk away from it now?”

“That's the idea. Run away from it, actually,” I said. “Just as soon as I make a final report and get what's been promised to me.”

“Noted. Maybe some good will come out of it.”

“I'm hoping.”

“Be nice for you and Anci.”

“It would.”

“How is she anyway?”

“Changing topics.”

“Changing topics.”

“As wonderful and terrifying as always,” I said.

“Nice to know.”

“You know,” I mused, warming to the topic, “I was thinking the other day about her getting older and maybe moving away one day soon.”

“No offense, Slick, but you always were too sentimental for your own good.”

“Well, there's gotta be a right time for sentimentality sometimes, right?” I said. “Anyway, I was thinking about that, and how I might be looking at some time alone soon . . .”

Jeep said, “And you started to wonder whether asking whatshername to move in with you might have something to do with fear of being by yourself in that old house of yours.”

I looked at him, slightly amazed. “How'd you guess?”

“Mostly because I've known you all my life, and I know you better than I know pretty much anyone,” he said. “You're a worrier and an overthinker. Like that business with Dooley-Bug last year.”

“That keeps coming up these days.”

“Well, you fretted about it, didn't you?”

“I think something like that's worth fretting over. There was like to be trouble.”

“Bad men, drugs, money, and guns, hoss. That always equals trouble. And what'd I tell you at the time?”

“You told me I'd end up doing it. I told you you were nuts.”

“And?”

“And I ended up doing it.”

Jeep nodded. “Because it was the right thing to do, whether Sam knew it or not.”

“Doesn't mean you're not nuts, though. I just want to point that out.”

“How's she doing anyway?”

“The girl? There've been some bumps along the way, but I hear she's getting along okay. Trying a little college these days.”

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“More like satisfied it wasn't all for nothing.”

Jeep nodded again. “And that's just the way you are, but there's always a downside. You're a tough guy, Slim, and in a pinch there's no one I'd rather have around, but you've got a lonely man's heart and you always will.”

“Lonely? What's lonely got to do with doing the right thing?”

Jeep shrugged. “It's a tough old world. To be honest, you must live outside the law.”

“You got the line backward, I think.”

Jeep said, “Whichever. Works both ways. Anyway, good people are always kinda lonely, because almost everyone else is either full of wickedness or just full of shit. And that's your fate.”

“There's a happy thought.”

“I didn't bring it up.”

“Fair enough,” I said, but I didn't feel particularly good or virtuous. “Maybe I'll change the subject now.”

“Fine by me.”

“How's Opal?”

At this mention of his wife, Jeep smiled as much as Jeep ever smiles, which is not much. He said, “Beautiful. Mean. Beautiful.”

“You said beautiful twice.”

“I did.”

“Couldn't help noticing the mean, either.”

He nodded, but didn't say anything. We sat there a moment. Finally, I said, “Peggy's fine, too.”

“Who?”

“Whatshername.”

Jeep grunted. I never knew why, but Jeep and Peggy didn't like each other. Not that they didn't get along, really. And they'd never come to blows or anything like that, but there was ice between them that had never melted. It was just one of those things: two people you love don't love each other, but you're never sure why and neither of them will, or can, explain. We went out into the parking lot and shook hands.

He said, “You want to borrow Betsy?”

“I'm hoping that won't be necessary.”

“Might as well, though,” he said. “I brought her.”

“I had a feeling you might.”

He went to his truck and opened the door and brought out Betsy. He put her walnut stock in my hand, and I felt the cross-hatching on the grip rub my thumb and palm. She felt solid and powerful. I felt more like an American. I broke her in half and stowed her and some ammo in the saddlebag on the bike.

Jeep asked, “You need a lift home?”

“No,” I said. “My head's clear now, and the doc says my eyes are working okay. Besides, I don't want to leave the bike anywhere up here overnight.”

Jeep shook his head disgustedly and said, “You know, didn't used to be folks had to worry about stuff like that. You could leave your car up here with the keys in the switch and the doors unlocked, and when you came back the next day the most that would have happened is someone had washed it and filled your tires.”

“I don't know about that,” I said. “I remember correctly, there was a lot of crime back then, too. Maybe even more than now. Plus a lot of other awful stuff that maybe wasn't illegal at the time, but sure as hell was uncivilized. I'm not sure any generation has a monopoly on lawlessness or general assholism.”

“Maybe not, but look, man, back then there was at least some kind of wall between folks and the assholes. Look at that building across the street there. It used to be a restaurant. Nothing fancy, but a local family owned it. Italians. It was there for thirty years. Say you're there one night, having a nice meal inside, and some shithead thinks to try to make off with your wheels. You caught him, you could shoot his ass, and that was that. Nobody would turn you in, and you couldn't even pay the local cops to look at you cross-eyed. Guys like Luster and Galligan, we had the unions to push back against them, keep them in line, and maybe even stop them killing a few of their employees. Nowadays, though, that place across the street is a pawnshop. Does better business than the restaurant ever did. You shoot the guy stealing your car, you'll not only go to jail, the car thief will probably sue you and win. He'll get emotional damages, too, all the harm you did him. He can't sleep at night. Has nightmares, like that. And Luster and Galligan? We kowtow to them because they're all we have left, and when they go there's not one of us knows what'll keep these towns from drying up and blowing away for good, pawnshops and all.”

“You paint a pretty picture.”

“But you know I'm right.”

“I don't know,” I said again, but the truth was I wasn't so sure he wasn't.

Jeep tipped his hand and climbed in his truck and roared away. I stood watching him a moment, then climbed on the bike and rode home toward a royal chewing-out.

I
'll ask you again.”

“Okay.”

“Are you out of your goddamned
mind
?”

“Hey, there's a child present.”

“No,” Anci said. Surprisingly, she ignored my remark about the child and forked some potatoes into her mouth. They were the way she liked them, extra creamy with chopped scallions sprinkled on top. She was the only one eating. “She's right. Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

My food was getting cold. And warm. Besides the potatoes, I'd made pork chops and fried okra and green salad. There was ice cream in the fridge, too, and some of Anci's favorite orange soda. Also, a box of those fancy lemon cookies Peggy liked so much. I was overcompensating.

“Why on earth would you ever do anything so . . .” Peggy paused, searching for the exact word. “. . .
asinine
?”

Anci said, “What's that?”

This was a teaching moment. Peggy hit pause on her lecture and put her hand on Anci's shoulder. “It's a bad word that means stupid.”

Anci nodded. She liked bad words fine. She said, “Ass-nine. That works.”

“That's good, darling, but it's not
ass-nine
. It's
ass-i-nine
. There's an extra little stop in the middle.”

“Ass-i-nine,” she said, trying it out. She looked at me. “You are
asinine
.”

Peggy said, “That's it.”

I said, “You two are something else.”

“Don't change the subject,” Peggy said. She turned back to me. Her eyebrows bunched, and she had that little knot between her eyes she got when confronted with unacceptable levels of idiocy. “You could have been hurt.
Seriously
hurt.”

“I know.”

“And for what?” she said, waving her hands. “Because you wanted to ride your bike in the rain?”

“I like the rain,” I said. “It reminds me of your beautiful . . .”

“Darlin', don't press your luck.”

“Sorry. Anyway, it wasn't really raining when I left. I thought I could beat it in.”

“Well, you didn't,” Peggy said. “It beat you. You lost control of your bike on a slick road and went into a ditch. And without your helmet, too.”

“Yup,” I said. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

“Stupid doesn't cover it. It's . . .”

She paused. Anci said, “Asinine.”

I turned to Anci. “Guilty as charged. Never do anything like that, squirt.”

“I won't.”

“I'm serious now. Ever.”

“Okay.”

Peggy wasn't satisfied, not by a good distance, but after a while she gave it up and turned her attention to her food. The rest of the meal was fairly calm, if not exactly gladsome.

P
eggy didn't sleep over that night. She was still upset with me, so there was that, but something else seemed to be bothering
her. There was no reason she'd know I'd lied to her, but her mood darkened throughout the rest of the evening until it turned itchy and nervous, and pretty soon it was even getting to Anci. When she announced she was leaving, I think we were all a little relieved.

I spent the rest of that evening reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
with Anci for school and making phone calls to what must have been every hospital in the tristate. No one had logged anyone claiming to be Guy Beckett, and I wasn't able to locate any anonymous victims of violence or John Does matching Beckett's description. I called an ex-miner buddy with the Williamson County sheriffs to ask whether anyone had used Guy Beckett's cell phone or one of his credit cards, but that came up empty too, and cost me a valuable favor for nothing. Really, I don't know why I was doing it. I'd already decided to let the whole thing go. On the other hand, it was like poking a dead snake with a stick. Something about you just didn't want to stop.

After a while, I gave up idly playing private detective. I went to bed and lay there worrying over everything, aching in my head and neck and missing Peggy. By the time I was drifting off to sleep an hour or so later, I'd resolved to talk to Luster in the morning and quit. After that, things could shake out however fate or the disappointment of a rich old man wanted them to shake out. I could always get another job. Maybe. I fell asleep with Betsy on the pillow beside me and visions of the phony round-faced cop sliding through the wet grass in my brain. Let me tell you, sleeping next to a loaded gun will do wonders for your restfulness.

In the morning, my thoughts were clearer. I'd come to peace with my decision and wherever it might lead. I got out
of bed, went into the kitchen, scooped some coffee into the pot, and got out some breakfast stuff for Anci. The weather was rumbling again, the gray winds switching the branches and spitting noisily against the windowpanes. The spine of stiltgrass along the sandstone monument overlooking the Vale brandished and billowed. It was a day full of threat.

After a while, Anci came down and ate. She had an appetite but not much to say, so instead of talking we listened to a radio program she liked. When she went back up to shower, I thought about giving Peggy a ring, but I changed my mind suddenly and instead screwed up my resolve and dialed Luster. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered, so I called the mine and spoke to the lady with the dog on her head.

“He's home today, Slam,” she said.

“Slim.”

“No, honey, Slim's dead. We talked about this.”

“I guess I forgot,” I said. “May his beautiful soul rest in peace. Anyway, I just called up there to the house and nobody answered.”

“Well, that place is roughly the size of Soldier Field. Sometimes they miss the phone. I know for a fact he's there today, though. He's got a meeting with the police this morning and he insisted on having it at the residence.”

I told her again how sorry I was about Slim and hung up. I knew what I had to do: go up to his house and resign in person. That was the adult thing to do. I rounded up Anci and, much against her will, set her off to wait for the bus. This was one of her least favorite things. Even for rural parts, we live in an out-of-the-way spot, and the way these county buses run you could basically go to the Oort Cloud
and back in the time it takes them to drop you off at home. I drove her to school myself when I could, or Peggy did. I promised to pick Anci up later, save her the agony of the bus ride home. She seemed to think I'd forget, so I put in a call to Peggy. I was almost relieved when it went through to voicemail and I was able to leave a message. If I wasn't there, Peggy would run Anci back to the Vale. Whether Peggy would stick around long enough to see me was a question I couldn't yet answer. I didn't have time to answer it anyway.