by Patrick Lee
“Sure, I’ll be here. See you then.” He walked into the bathroom and talked to the smoke-damaged mirror, “You bet old lady. I’ll be here at ten.” He laughed and relieved himself at the cigarette-filled urinal. After another Jim Beam highball, Sednick entered the dark alley and climbed into his truck. His watch read nine o’clock. The engine fired up and David adjusted his rear view mirror. Thoughts of his current life worked their way into drunken thoughts. “Maybe I’ll run by and see my daughter. I gotta right to do that. Give her grandpa somethin’ to think about. I’ll be long gone tomorrow anyway. Ya, I’ll go see my little girl.”
Katya opened the front door, “David. What you doin’ here? You’re, you’re drunk! You can’t be here.”
He slurred his words as he spoke, “Katt, I want to say goodbye to my little baby girl.”
She blocked the doorway and stuttered as she searched for the right words, “Anna’s been asleep for an hour. There’s no—”
He forced his way into the front room, “I gotta right to see her. Let me see her.” He elevated his voice, “Anna! Baby girl! It’s your daddy.”
With all her strength, Katya pushed him toward the opened door. “Get out, David! Come back tomorrow when you’re sober. She can’t remember you like this! Get out!” She continued to shove him. He tripped and fell awkwardly into the new table lamp and end table. The lamp crashed to the floor and the table collapsed under his weight. He struggled to stand up but fell back down on the splintered wood.
From the back bedroom Anna’s sleepy voice penetrated the mayhem. “Mom, is that Daddy?”
Katya streaked toward her daughter’s bedroom and stopped in the doorway; she gathered herself and breathlessly spoke, “No. Go back to sleep, sweetie. Everything’s okay.”
The wall near the door allowed David to regain his feet. He staggered toward Anna’s bedroom and knocked over another new table lamp. David slurred his words as he spoke, “It’s me. I’m here for you little girl. I love you so much. It’s Daddy.”
She closed the door to her daughter’s bedroom. With three quick steps, Katya met David in the middle of the front room. “You ain’t seein’ her. Get out!”
He swung his right fist as hard as he could and punched her directly in the nose. Blood exploded from her broken and now disfigured nose. She went down hard on her left side and narrowly missed the edge of the coffee table.
The bedroom door squeaked opened. Anna stood in the doorway and clung to her Raggedy Ann doll. She started to breathe deeply as she looked at her mother lying unconscious on the floor. David swayed back and forth as he attempted to stand still. He slowly glanced back and forth between his daughter and his motionless wife lying on the floor.
From the open doorway to the outside, a booming voice broke the ugly scene, “What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” Bud Reynolds stood and held the dog leash in his hands. His playful golden retriever puppy pounced into the room. Bud stepped toward Katya as David brushed by him and fell down the step that led to the sidewalk. He managed to get to his feet and staggered to his truck. Bud used the wall phone and called the operator, “Get the ambulance over here right now. A woman is hurt bad.” He waited for the operator’s question and then answered, “1800 Columbia Drive. Send Doc Green too.” He hung up the phone and went into the bathroom. Bud talked calmly to the crying and wheezing Anna as he returned with two towels, “It’s going to be okay, honey! I’ll take care of your mom. The doctor’ll be here in just a minute. You best go put on your oxygen mask.”
In the distance, he heard a faint siren. Katya moaned as Bud gently applied the corner of the towel to the front of her bleeding nose. Her eyes rolled as she felt the firm hand cradle her neck. Bud squeezed her nostril in an attempt to stop the flow of blood.
He looked up as he heard Anna crumble to the floor. Bud placed Katya’s hand on the towel. He rushed to Anna, picked her up, and hurried into her bedroom. The nightlight revealed the portable oxygen mask and tank. He gently laid her down on the bed and propped her pillow to support her head. The oxygen mask slipped on easily over her head. Bud pushed the white button on the tank and thanked God once the sound of air pushed through the tube into her mask. “Come on, honey. Breathe. Breathe.” Anna coughed. Her face lost its blue hue. She coughed again and started to breathe. “Good girl. Easy does it now. Easy does it.”
The siren roared louder. Through the bedroom window, Bud saw the blinking red lights. The siren stopped, and he heard the medics out in the living room. He smiled at Anna, patted her arm, and went to the living room. “This lady here most likely has a broken nose. The little girl back here is upset and back on the oxygen. Go slow with her. Her name is Anna. She’s scared.”
One of the medics knelt over Katya with his open first aid kit. He stuffed both of Katya’s nostrils with cotton pads. With his support, she sat up and leaned against the front of the couch and laid her head back. Bud and the other medic went into the bedroom with Anna. Both of her hands squeezed her doll. Bud introduced the medic. “Honey, this man is kind of like a doctor. He’s here to help. Okay.”
After Dr. Green and the police left, Sara and Bud made coffee and prepared to stay the night. Dr. Green reset Katya’s nose and gave her something for her pain. Bud called the quonset hut at the Dam, “Ya Jack. Bud Reynolds.”
“Hey Bud, what’s goin’ on?”
“Do me a favor. Tom Anzich is up top workin’. Probably near one of the towers. Will you get him to come home early? Just tell him to come to his sister’s house. We had some trouble down here.”
After Bud’s friend Jack dropped him off at his dad’s car at the quonset hut, Tomas drove to Columbia Falls and sprinted up the driveway and burst into the living room. Out of breath he spoke, “What happened? What’s goin’ on?” Bud and Sara sat on the couch with coffee cups in their hands.
“Take it easy. Everybody’s okay, now. Sit down and I’ll fill you in.” Bud set his coffee cup down on the coffee table. “We had some trouble here a while ago. Your sister got a broken nose. And little Anna got pretty upset, but she’s good now. Your—”
Tomas stood up again and started for the bedroom, “How did it happen? What—”
“Your brother-in-law came in here drunk and punched Kat. He—”
Tomas peeked in and saw the large bandage that covered his sister’s nose. The front door opened and slammed in one swift
movement. Tomas gunned the engine and spun the tires as he
roared away from the curb. The 1949 Chevy peeled around the corner and into the main street of Columbia Falls. The words of
the policeman in Butte after his fight at Clark Park jumped into his
mind, “Be careful of that temper. You could hurt somebody sometime. You don’t know your own strength.” Tomas ground the
gears as he hit third gear. He ran the red light near the Catholic Church and passed two cars a block later. He yelled as he swerved to miss a third car, “You’re right. I’ll hurt somebody sometime. Tonight! I’ll hurt him real bad for what he did to Kat and Anna.”
Roy Devers watched David park his pickup in the small pullout in the trees behind the Dew Drop Inn. A big smile came over his face as he watched his target stumble and fall as he walked the seventy-five yards to the back door of the Dew Drop Inn. “This is going to be so easy. I’ll set up and drop him when he comes back to his truck. Drunken bastard.” Devers found a small abandoned road in the trees. He parked his car and gloated over locating such a clear view of his target. The trunk opened with a solid click. He flapped the blanket back. The leather rifle case housed his rifle. From a wooden box he pulled out a small tripod and a box of 30/30 shells. Devers placed the tripod on a stump near the front of his car. He laid down the blanket and assumed the killing position. The scope focused on the front of David’s pickup. “Now I’ll wait. No wind. Nobody around. This will be like taking candy from a baby.”
As Tomas roared through Berne Park on his way to Martin City, the FBI agents passed him going the opposite direct
ion toward Columbia Falls. Agent Hughes commented on the speed of Tomas’ car. “That guy’s really flying. Probably doin’ sixty miles per hour. I wonder if Sednick passed us too. We better find him in Columbia Falls or he won’t see morning.”
Moore agreed and increased his own speed. “He sure isn’t in the Canyon anywhere. We checked every bar and Mabel’s. He has to be back in Columbia Falls. We’ll find him. For his sake I hope so.”
After a quick sweep of the bars in Hungry Horse, Tomas continued up the Canyon to Martin City. He drove by all thirteen bars and slowly searched through the alleys behind each one. From there he roared up Sugar Hill and checked out the area near Mabel’s. No sign of David’s black pickup. And then Tomas remembered. “He’s going to the Dew Drop to see his girlfriend.” The five-mile drive seemed to take forever. His blind anger grew with each passing mile. The red lights of the Dew Drop sign came into view. Tomas slowed and turned into the parking lot. No sign of David’s pickup. He circled around the front of the bar. Still no sign of the black Chevy truck. He impatiently tapped on the steering wheel.
His peripheral vision caught the sight of a man staggering toward the trees. In the trees he spotted David’s pickup. Tomas popped the clutch and fishtailed toward David. Gravel splashed up against a parked car. He slammed on the brakes in front of the Black Chevy pickup and jumped out. His brother-in-law attempted to stop as he neared Tomas. Tomas never said a word; he unleashed a powerful right hand that caught David on the side of his head. His feet stayed glued to the gravel while his dead weight sent him crashing face first toward the ground. The front of his head slammed the front bumper with a deafening thud. His neck snapped back and then in slow motion, his body crumbled to the gravel. His hands hung near his sides as his face met the ground and bounced twice.
Roy Devers rose up from his sitting shooting position. He scratched his head as he attempted to figure out what he just witnessed. What the hell? You just killed my target. Now what do you expect me to do? Devers returned to his sitting position and refocused his scope on the young man kneeling over his victim. The cross hairs lined up perfectly. He moved his index finger closer to the trigger and took a deep breath.
As requested, Mikhail and Hannah sat at a private table on the north wall of the restaurant. A convenient window provided them with a view of Big Mountain, an up and coming ski area for the adventurous of heart. Cloth napkins, real silverware, delicate wine glasses, and very fine china table settings covered the table.
Within minutes a waitress appeared and asked, “What can I get you folks to drink?” Folks again, thought Mikhail.
“Please, I’d like a draft beer, very cold, a glass of water without ice, and coffee, very hot with cream,” answered Hannah.
“All at the same time?” came back a very puzzled waitress. Uh-huh.”
“And you sir, what assortment of beverages would you like?” “Just coffee.”
The waitress left to fill the order and barely shook her head and muttered under her breath, “It takes all kinds.”
He broke with a short laugh, “Do you usually order that many drinks at once?”
“Not usually, but then I usually don’t have a handsome man, warm bed, and wild sex waiting for me after dinner either. Just trying to save time.”
“O.K. then, you’ve got thirty seconds to decide. Here she comes.”
After she shuffled the table decoration, salt, pepper, and the unnecessary wine glasses, the waitress found six places to set down the drinks. She was about to ask if they were ready to order or if they needed more time. “Can I—”
“We’ve decided. Can we order now?” interjected Mikhail before Hannah could even look at the menu. She shook her head yes and reached for her pad and pencil.
“What will it be, then?”
“I’d like grilled shrimp with wild rice,” stated Hannah as she assumed every fancy food establishment had shrimp. “If I get a salad with that, please put bleu cheese dressing on the side. You have bleu cheese, right?”
Mikhail cleared his throat, “The chicken fried steak dinner is fine for me. Same on the salad.”
Hannah and Mikhail struggled to disguise their laughter as the waitress looked at them more oddly than before. At this rate, drinks, dinner, and coffee will be concluded within an hour thought the waitress. She wondered what the tip would be, if any. They didn’t look like the high rollers who frequently ate at the Cadillac.
They made the necessary small talk, appropriately commented on the good food, and anxiously anticipated the evening before them. Mikhail paid the bill and left a generous tip. He needed change but just didn’t want to waste any more time in this environment when he really wanted the one upstairs.
The waitress reappeared and met them on the way out stating the obvious, “I guess you don’t want dessert, huh?” They grinned knowing what was mentally planned for their desserts.
After he returned his tripod and rifle to the trunk of his car, Roy Devers walked over to the motionless body in the trees. A few minutes earlier, he watched the man who hit Sednick drag him into the trees. He saw no point in killing the young man. Sednick probably deserved it. Besides, no fee promised for killing anybody else. Devers checked the man’s pulse and breathing. Accustomed to testing downed men for signs of life, he made a definite decision that the man on the ground was dead. The powerful punch probably knocked him out, but the pickup bumper broke his neck and made sure of the work. Devers calmly walked back to his car and prepared to drive away. What a beautiful night for a drive. In a matter of a few hours, I’ll wait in the restaurant of the Davenport Hotel in Spokane. I’ll enjoy a wonderful breakfast with Old Slick. He turned on the radio and once again cursed the static from the local station.
John Nolan sat at the bar in the Bucket of Blood. He munched on some beer nuts while he listened to the disjointed story his best new drinking buddy told him. Tomas walked the length of the bar and stopped behind Nolan. The image of Tomas in the bar mirror snapped Nolan from his mindless attention to the story about some lost dog. Nolan spun around and detected the apparent torture in Tomas’ whitened face. “What’s wrong, Kid? You look like shit.”
His red and tear-swollen eyes bulged out from his colorless face. “I, I need your help. I, I—”
The sound of a silver dollar slapped on the bar top. “Good night lads. I’m off.” Nolan slipped his arm under the elbow of his godson and they walked out of the bar. Once outside, he poised his face in front of Tomas and asked, “Tell me. What happened?”
“I killed David,” he sobbed and walked around in small circles. He tore his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. “I killed David!”
“You what?”
Tomas leaned against his father’s Chevy, “I hit him and he fell against the bumper. He’s dead! I murdered him.”
Nolan held out his hand, “Give me the keys, Tommy. He ain’t dead. Most likely he’s just knocked out. Take me to ‘em.”
On the drive back to the Dew Drop Inn, Tomas attempted to explain what happened. His incoherent words showed the cloudiness of his thoughts. Nolan screamed as he drove, “Goddamn it! I told you to stay away from him. You wouldn’t listen would you? I hope you did kill the son of a bitch. Because if you didn’t, I will. I should of done it years ago. Dirty bastard!”
Tomas guided Nolan across the abandoned parking lot into the trees where he laid David’s body. “There. In the trees behind his truck.”
Nolan bent down and checked David for any signs of life. He slowly returned to the car and paused before he spoke. He handed the keys to Tomas and calmly said, “Drive back to the barracks and stay there. I’ll take care of him.”
“But I should tell the police.”
With both hands, Nolan grabbed Tomas firmly by the shirt, “Goddamn it! Do as I tell you! I’ll take care of it. Don’t say nothin’ to nobody! Nobody. Not never. No matter what happens. Nobody, you follow!”
“What, what’ll ya do with him? We gotta call the police! I killed him.”
John Nolan closed his fist and slammed it into Tomas’ chest. “Get in that fuckin’ car and drive back to the barracks. Don’t talk about it. Don’t do nothin’!”
He cupped his hands on the unshaven face of his godson, Tommy. “You do as I tell you. I’ll take care of all of this. Understand?”
Tomas hugged him and walked around to the driver’s side of his father’s car. His shaky fingers fumbled as he stuck the keys into the ignition. “Oh my God, what’ve I done? Oh God, please help me.” The engine killed as he attempted to pull away from David’s pickup. He opened the front door and vomited on the gravel. Tomas restarted the car and drove toward Martin City. His better sense told him to go to the sheriff, but the look in Nolan’s eyes and his words drew him to follow his instructions. He parked the car behind the barracks and walked into his room and sat on the hard chair in the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"Thanks for dinner, Mikhail. You can trail me up the stairs, if you want. Have the time of your life. Then I get to do what I want.”
The stirring in his groin revved up again. They quietly entered the room that felt a bit too warm. Hannah lifted the window a few inches. She gestured for Mikhail to join her at the round table even though the chairs were somewhat too little for someone of Mikhail’s size. Hannah reached across the table to secure both of his hands and clung rather tightly. “Mikhail Anzich” she began, “I am not very experienced when it comes to sex. My fourteen-year marriage was pleasant enough but never what I would call exciting. For many years I imagined lovin’ and bein’ loved with a passion as deep as the reservoir you and your crews dammed up. I know it’s possible. My romance novels and movie love stories tell me so.”
Mikhail squirmed in his uncomfortable chair as Hannah continued talking about her sexual experience.
