A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  “Yeah, well, they weren’t very nice about it and kept asking. My mother was scared shitless. Dad, too. My mother made them stand on the porch. She wouldn’t let them inside. Jeez, Marly. Your relatives are not nice. Now my mom’s furious. She says we can’t be friends anymore.”

  Marly stared out the window. “I guess I can’t blame her.”

  “I’m so sorry. Mom thinks we should be living in Avalon and not stuck down here. She hates the Springs. She wants my dad to get the principal’s job up in Avalon.”

  “That’s okay, Claire. I get her point. I’d get away from here and my family too if I could.”

  “I’m still your friend, Marly. But I can’t help you anymore.”

  “Yeah. I know that.”

  Marly’s mood darkened. Just as she had feared, Del’s disappearance hadn’t improved anything.

  * * *

  At the end of the day, she stepped off the school bus and trudged down the road to her house, deeply absorbed in her own thoughts. She jerked back to high-alert status when a car came to a squealing stop in front of her.

  Two hulking figures, Louise Harris and her son, Troy, jumped out. Louise was taller than most men, with a solid, beefy build. Troy was her mirror image, but taller and run to fat. For as long as Marly had known her, Louise had only shown two emotions: pissed off and furious.

  Now Louise was smiling. Marly realized that she was about to be hauled off and beaten to a pulp.

  Troy grabbed her, but Marly managed to kick him in the groin. He bent over and slumped against the car. Marly ducked a punch from Louise but caught a backhand on her right eye. Louise grabbed Marly’s school backpack and tossed it into the front seat of her car.

  Before she could recover, Marly found herself in the backseat of an old Corolla, where she continued to kick and struggle with Troy. Out in the open, Troy had the advantage of his enormous bulk and strength, but in the backseat of a small car, Marly was able to maneuver better. She had only one thought—don’t go easy.

  Louise slammed on the brakes, throwing Marly hard into the backs of the front seats. Louise leaned over the seat and gave Marly a sharp rap on the top of her head.

  “Troy, you keep that bitch quiet until we get to Rosie’s.”

  Switching tactics, Marly went limp.

  We’re headed to Rosie’s. Rosie wants me alive. For now.

  Troy yanked Marly up beside him and wrapped his right arm around her neck.

  Louise put the Corolla in gear, leaving a cloud of stones and dust in their wake. She paid no attention to the double yellow lines and didn’t seem to worry about oncoming traffic. Several times Marly worried that she might die in a car wreck rather than from a beating.

  Louise slowed down and turned into Rosie’s yard. Louise and Troy pulled Marly out of the car. She forced her muscles to relax and sag heavily. When Troy turned to close the car door, she twisted, broke free, and dashed for the woods. For a few seconds, she saw freedom, but she slipped in the deep mud. That gave Louise a chance to catch up and tackle Marly. Louise and Troy dragged her by the hair and arms up to the house.

  Marly found herself sitting on a hard chair in the first-floor side parlor. Louise and Troy stood against the wall in back of her, breathing hard. Louise’s twin, Larry, leaned against the wall to her left. Rosie stood in the center of the room, staring.

  Marly forced herself to appear quiet and defeated, but she looked around for an opportunity to bolt.

  Vernon Harris rolled into the room in his wheelchair, pushed by his son, Elliot. Vernon was Zeke’s younger brother and they were as physically different as oil and vinegar.

  Zeke had been a bigger-than-life presence, tall and broad with a large paunch. Vernon was whip thin and considerably shorter, although it was a bit hard to tell since he always sat in his wheelchair.

  Marly hadn’t understood the connection, but the word was that childhood diabetes combined with a hard life had somehow caused Vernon to lose the lower part of his left leg when he was younger, followed by his right foot. He was now in his late fifties, and his face was wizened and his complexion an odd shade of yellow. If Zeke and Del were the operations part of the Harris business, most said that Vernon was the brains.

  Elliot was vain and considered to be a pretty boy, like Del. Everyone said he was just waiting to step into a bigger role.

  Rosie slapped Marly.

  “Why’d you give Louise and Troy a hard time?” she asked.

  Marly narrowed her eyes and tried to glare, but her voice came out in a sob. “Why did they jump me? I would have come if they’d just asked. I was so scared. Girls are getting killed around here.”

  Vernon cleared his throat. Rosie backed away.

  “Did you kill Del and Zeke?” Elliot asked.

  “What? Of course not. I would never do anything like that. Del is my stepfather. Zeke is family.”

  “Tell us again,” Louise said. “What happened on that night?”

  Between tearful gasps, Marly retold her story. “I went to the dance. The Halloween dance. Claire dropped me at the Rock, but Del wasn’t there. The bartender will tell you. He saw me and told me to leave because I’m underage. I waited for a bit outside and then I walked home.”

  As Marly ducked her head to avoid another blow from Rosie, the door opened and Zeke Harris walked in. No, it was Carl, Zeke’s youngest brother. Carl looked so much like Zeke that Marly thought Zeke had returned from the dead. She noticed the others jumped as well.

  “What’s this?” Carl asked.

  “Just a few questions for Marly,” Rosie said. “Why are you here?”

  “Are you fucking crazy? Picking up a girl in broad daylight? How do you think I found out? The police might already be on their way.”

  Carl stepped to the middle of the room and everyone moved back. He studied Marly’s face.

  “Okay. You go upstairs to the back bedroom. Elliot, you take her and lock the door. Once that’s done, you come back.”

  On her way upstairs, Marly turned to face Elliot. “I need the bathroom. Now.”

  “Fine, but I’m leaving the door open.”

  Marly used the toilet and washed her hands. She snuck a quick look in the mirror. Her right cheek was bruised and she’d have a black eye for sure, plus her upper lip was swollen in two places. Her ribs were sore too.

  The back bedroom sat directly over the room where she had been held downstairs. Elliot made her sit on the bed and locked the door behind him.

  Marly had never been upstairs in this house. The room was smaller than the one below, tucked in under the eaves. It was just big enough for an old iron bed and a battered pine bureau. Faded floral wallpaper had peeled back to reveal strips of lath and plaster. Outside, dusk had settled around the house and provided a dim, watery glow through the one small window.

  A bare bulb dangled from the ceiling. Marly flicked the switch by the door several times and heard the ancient wiring crackle before the light turned on.

  All she could think of was how to escape. She searched the dresser drawers, hoping to find something that might be used as a weapon. Nothing. The door was locked and the window was painted in place. Even if she had been able to open it and squeeze out, she would have a long drop to the ground.

  Marly calmed down enough to realize that she could hear the argument in the room below through the heating vent. She left the bed to lie on the braided rug, her ear next to the opening.

  Some parts of the discussion were clearer than others. Rosie’s voice dominated. “That little bitch has been a thorn in our side since day one. Her father was a Shaw, not a Harris. She always hated Del and disrespected him.”

  Carl’s laugh gave Marly a glimmer of hope. She didn’t know Carl well. She knew he kept his distance from Harris family politics most of the time. She wasn’t sure that his opinion would carry any weight with Rosie.

  “By ‘disrespected,’ I assume you mean Marly refused to let Del sleep with her,” Carl said.

  “She accused Del of sle
eping with Charlene.”

  “That was true, as far as I know. You’re saying it wasn’t? And she didn’t complain to the police. She complained to Zeke.”

  Louise took up the argument. “Marly was the last one to see Del and Zeke.”

  “As far as I know, Harry at the Rock was the last one to see them and he backs up Marly. And that girl, the principal’s daughter, she says the same thing.”

  The shouting subsided. The conversation was still heated, but not as loud. Marly couldn’t make out much. She squeezed her knees to her chest to keep from shaking.

  Carl spoke up again. “Just what did you have in mind? Do I need to remind you that two high school students have been found in ditches this fall? We’re already in the crosshairs of the police.”

  “Laurie was a mistake,” Louise said. She mumbled something else.

  Carl’s voice was sharp and loud now. “Shut up, Louise. Thanks to you, a very simple complaint from a stupid teenager turned into a disaster. You could have just ignored Elaine Fardig. No one else was paying any attention. But no. You had to beat her up and send her to the hospital. Then you went after Laurie for reasons I don’t quite understand or want to. Your own daughter, Louise. And she died. I can assure you that the cops won’t ignore one more.”

  Someone laughed.

  “Careful, Elliot. The word is that Del and Larry are going to be indicted for killing that ATF agent. You could be going away too. Which brings up my next point. How do we know Del hasn’t just skipped out ahead of that indictment?”

  Doors slammed. What did that mean?

  Marly scrambled back to sit on the bed.

  The lock turned and Carl came in. He turned her left cheek to face the light, and then turned her face to the other side. His touch was not gentle or affectionate, but at least he did not seem inclined to hurt her.

  “I suggest you have a good story in mind that doesn’t involve Louise or Rosie. Come on. I’m taking you home.” He handed her a plastic bag filled with ice wrapped in a dirty towel.

  The downstairs seemed deserted although cooking smells oozed from the kitchen. Rosie, Louise, Troy, and Larry must have been in there, but they did not come out. Marly was not inclined to ask what was for dinner. It did not smell very good. She picked up her backpack where it had been dumped at the foot of the stairs. She and Carl left by the front door and got into Carl’s Lexus.

  The car’s soft gold finish showed no signs of winter rust. Inside, Marly settled into a cushy leather seat and sniffed the new-car smell. Carl stared ahead at the rutted driveway and turned the ignition.

  Carl had come to her rescue, but Marly wasn’t sure where she stood with him, or where he stood with Rosie, Larry, and Louise. She remembered that Del had always snorted whenever Carl’s name came up. He had referred to Carl as The Loser. Still, he apparently had some pull. Whatever his agenda was, she needed to make certain Carl viewed her as his pawn, not Rosie’s. Perhaps she knew something he might value.

  “Mark and Pammy aren’t Del’s kids,” Marly said.

  “What?”

  “Mark and Pammy. They aren’t Del’s kids. They’re Johnny Martinson’s kids.”

  “So?”

  “Johnny is your stepson, right? Or he was before he disappeared. Your wife, Betty, is Johnny’s mother. She’d be their grandmother.”

  Carl did not check for traffic, she noticed. He made a smooth turn at the end of the long driveway as if he owned the road into town.

  “As far as we all know, Johnny’s still alive on the West Coast,” Carl said. “He wrote letters. He could show up anytime. But I’ll bite. How do you know that?”

  Marly knew Johnny was dead, just like her father was dead. However, this was not the time to argue that point. She needed to keep Carl as an ally.

  “It’s basic biology, Mr. Harris. Of course Charlene said they were Del’s, but last year in biology I figured it out.”

  “High school biology?”

  “Sure. You can learn a lot of good stuff in high school.” Carl shot her a look. “Watch the lip, Marly.”

  “Okay, okay. Mark and Pammy have cleft chins. That’s a genetically inherited characteristic. Think Kirk Douglas and Michael Douglas. The cleft chin gene is dominant, the smooth chin gene is recessive. It would be very unlikely that Mark and Pammy could have cleft chins since neither Charlene nor Del have one. But Johnny had a cleft chin, plus they do have his coloring with the same dark hair and blue eyes. Besides, they aren’t the right blood type.”

  Carl let off on the gas and pulled to the shoulder.

  “Fine, Miss Smarty-Pants. Tell me about the blood.”

  “It’s not that complicated, Mr. Harris.”

  “Just explain and don’t be a smart-ass.”

  Marly leaned across the burl wood console separating their seats. “You don’t need fancy DNA testing for the basics. It is all forensics had for most of the twentieth century. It’s really easy and cheap to test for blood types and you don’t need much blood. We had a homework assignment and I tested everyone at home. Del wasn’t exactly pleased, but I got blood from him, too.”

  “And?” Carl tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Del couldn’t have been Mark’s or Pammy’s father based on blood type. Del is Type B. Type B is recessive. That means that he can only pass along Type B. Charlene is Type AB, like me. We can only pass along Type A or Type B. If the kids were either AB or B, Del might be their father. But Mark and Pammy are Type O.”

  Marly wondered if Carl was following this. The Harris clan wasn’t known for being very educated.

  Carl nodded. “Type O.”

  Marly saw her opening. Carl was listening.

  “Type O is a dominant blood type. If your Mom gives you an A gene and your Dad gives you an O gene—or vice versa—Type O always wins. I don’t know for sure what type Johnny was. Maybe Betty would know. One thing for sure is that Del couldn’t be the father of Mark or Pammy if Charlene is AB. They’d have to be B or AB.” Marly leaned back and faced out the front window.

  Carl put the car in gear. “Plus the chin.”

  “Plus the chin.”

  They drove in silence. Marly relaxed, wiggling her backside down into the heated leather. She decided Carl wasn’t going to hurt her or turn her over to Rosie, and her face felt better thanks to the ice.

  Carl took his foot off the accelerator and let the car drift to a stop.

  “You need to get away from here, Marly.”

  Marly sat still and stared at the road.

  “You’re a good kid. But Rosie and Louise won’t forget. You need to leave.”

  “I graduate in the spring.”

  “You might consider leaving early. I assume you want to go to college?”

  Marly thought of the gold sitting in Andrea’s garage.

  “My mom wants me to stay here and get a job in Fayetteville or Syracuse. School is expensive.”

  “Where were you thinking of going?”

  “I’m going to apply to SUNY Binghamton and New Paltz. And Syracuse.”

  “Those are nice and close to home. Too close to home,” Carl said.

  “Brown wants me to apply. I visited last summer with my friend Andrea and her parents.”

  “Where’s that? Boston?”

  “Providence, Rhode Island.”

  “Providence. That might be far enough.”

  “It’s a lot of money, so it had better be,” Marly said. “Even if I get in, student aid won’t cover everything.”

  Carl leveled a flat stare straight into Marly’s eyes. “I’m talking about your life, kiddo. What is your life worth? You think I don’t know this is hard? I had to send my own boys away to keep them from harm.”

  Marly blinked and slid away until the passenger-door armrest pushed into her back. Perhaps Carl was more like his brother Zeke than she gave him credit for.

  “I didn’t realize you had sent them away. They were a lot older than me and I didn’t see them much. I am really sorry.”
<
br />   Carl swiveled back to study the road, his face hard to read in the reflected glow from the dashboard and the headlights hitting the asphalt ahead. “I do not need your sympathy. I was making a point about what it takes to survive in this family.”

  Marly focused on her lap where her fingers twisted the ice pack rag. “I guess I know something about that too.”

  “It’s your call. If you do stay, you had better lie low, graduate high school, take out some loans, and get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”

  “Not ever?”

  Carl pushed on the accelerator. “If you’re asking my advice, then the answer is no.”

  Carl pulled into Marly’s muddy driveway and turned the car around so its nose faced out toward the road.

  “Get out, Marly.”

  Marly clambered out of the car and headed to the house.

  Denise was sitting at the kitchen table with Charlene. Both women had been crying, their faces blotchy and red. Denise burst into tears when she saw Marly.

  “Oh, my Marly. My baby. I thought they’d kill you. Look at your face. Oh dear. I’m so sorry.”

  The taste of loathing filled her throat like bile. Marly raised her right fist and took a step toward her mother.

  In that moment, Marly despised her mother even more than she hated Rosie. All of her terror and desperation were wrapped between her fingers, aching to be released against Denise.

  Her mother closed her eyes and her face crumpled inward, waiting for Marly’s blow.

  Charlene’s voice broke the spell. “Marly, don’t.”

  Marly turned her back on her mother, clutching her hand against her gut.

  “Shut the fuck up, Denise! You’ve never been any good to me. You knew they were going to grab me and you did nothing. You knew Del was crawling into bed with Charlene and you did nothing. They killed Beanie and you did nothing. They killed Johnny and you did nothing. You just drink and do nothing. You’re no mother to me and I’m no baby to you.”

  Charlene got up to stand at the sink and looked out the window into the foggy black night. Denise sat back down and sobbed.

  Marly wobbled on unsteady legs. She wasn’t finished. “If the police ask me what happened, I’m going to tell them that you did this. When they come to talk to you, I dare you to say it was Rosie and company.” She stopped, wishing she could withdraw her empty threat.