Memorial Day: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Novels)

by Harry Shannon

  "Yes ma'am," I said. "You surely do."

  "You ever think how it was between us? How we were together?"

  "Sometimes," I said, and winked, "especially lately."

  "I never forgot," Annie said. "Not even with two loser husbands. You were always on my mind."

  I backed up a step. "I don't know what to say to that."

  "You don't have to say anything," Annie murmured. "Just take the compliment. Hell, Mick, you were smart, tough, pretty, and out of your damned mind. You were a genuine bad boy. There isn't a young girl in the world that can resist a combination like that."

  We both laughed. "You were pretty wild yourself," I said.

  Annie looked glum. "Yeah," she whispered, "a little too wild for my own good." She looked up, smiled sadly. "Could be I still am."

  "I'd bet we're both older and wiser, now."

  Annie's eyes sparkled. She cocked her head. "Wiser?" She moved closer and brushed her fingers up the crotch of my jeans. My body noticed. "Then just say yes."

  I swallowed. "Slow down. A lot has happened in twenty years, Annie."

  "Don't I know it?"

  "Maybe a bit too much."

  Her expression changed. She stepped away from me abruptly, as if another woman had entered her mind. "I'm sure we've both got our share of war stories."

  "Mine are a matter of public record," I said. "It's going to be hard to live them down."

  She gathered her thoughts. "You want to hear one of mine?"

  "You want to tell me, I do."

  I already knew the early stuff. Annie had grown up in a trailer park outside town. It was a broken home, and her redneck mother drank too much and found something wrong with nearly everything she did. So Annie had the kind of personality that both craves and mistrusts intimacy. She fucked and then fought, broke up and made up. Her heart was forever saying both 'come here' and 'go away' at the same time. She gathered herself, clearly uncomfortable with what she was about to say.

  "I told you I lost a baby, right?" She cleared her throat. "It was an abortion."

  "I see."

  "You remember I used to talk about what I'd do, how I'd feel about having an abortion, if it happened maybe I got pregnant?"

  I touched her face. "I remember."

  "We were just kids then," she said. Her eyes went moist. "Then I didn't know if it was right that people were killing babies just for birth control. You recall that conversation?"

  "I do."

  "Well, the time came when I had to do that very thing myself." She sniffed and wiped her nose. "I was all alone, Mick. I didn't figure there was any way I could care for a baby. I was so young and stupid. But you see, you never know what's going to happen. It turns out the abortion messed me up. I can't have children. That was it, just that one time."

  I stroked her hair. "Annie, I'm sorry."

  "Me too, now," she said. "Sorry as hell." All the heat was gone. I gently put my arms around her. We rocked slightly to the left and right. After a moment we let go and she looked up and chuckled. "Just when I start to think you're a prick, you do something like that."

  "Huh?"

  "You're a strange guy, always were." She moved closer. My pulse started to tap dance, my knees shook. Annie surely did have my number. "I never knew which Mick Callahan I was going to get. You went from cool and calm to hellfire and brimstone in a heartbeat."

  "That's probably a bad thing."

  Her breath was warm against my face and it smelled of fresh strawberries. "No, I like it," Annie said. "It makes you even more interesting." She quickly kissed me. And then, before I could respond, stepped around and behind. She slapped the seat of my jeans with an open palm. "You go on now," she said. "Do your business."

  "Oh. Right."

  In the restroom, I studied my face in the chipped mirror. I looked as confused as I felt. I splashed my face with water from the sink. I peeked back through the door for one last look. Annie went out onto the back porch. I followed the swing of her hips as she began to wring out the mop. Her clothes were soaking wet.

  I flushed the urinal and washed my hands. The pipes were old and rickety and they banged and hissed, so I didn't hear anything. I walked back into the little diner and stopped dead in my tracks.

  There were two of them, the Hispanic and the big one with the fuzz on his chin; the kid called Donny Boy. He and Mex had made short work of Jerry. My friend was on his hands and knees, trying to use his baseball cap to dab the blood from his lower lip. I felt oddly peaceful and enraged at the same time.

  "Good afternoon, gentlemen," I said, smoothly. "Nice to see you again."

  Panting. Jerry's low and muffled moan: "Damn. What the hell did I do?"

  "For starters," Mex said, looking down, "you messed around with somebody else's pussy. Not a cool move."

  "Yeah," Donny Boy said. "Say you're sorry, pizza face."

  "Thorry," Jerry said. He lisped because of the swelling and the blood.

  "And then," Mex said, "you started hanging around with Mr. Showbiz here."

  "I guess that's my cue," I said pleasantly. "It seems like I'm the one you ought to be talking to."

  "Not us," Mex said. "Bobby wants to see you. He's waiting outside."

  "Okay. I'll be along shortly, as soon as I tend to my friend here."

  My attitude confused Donny Boy. "The fuck?"

  "He thinks he's really hot shit, because he was like a Green Beret or something," Mex said.

  "Navy Theal," Jerry lisped.

  They left. Annie came back in from the alley, where she had just finished dumping trash. She looked at Jerry with concern.

  "What the hell is going on?"

  "My friend could use a mother's love," I said. "Me, I've got some business outside."

  I looked out the window. All the townspeople had vanished. People in Dry Wells sure knew when to disappear. I was completely on my own. Annie knelt by Jerry and handed him a paper napkin. "Oh, damn that's ugly. Hold your lip between two fingers," she said. "Let me get some ice on there."

  "You think Sheriff Bass is in his office?" I asked.

  "I doubt it, not this time of day."

  "Then Jerry, soon as you feel up to moving around, it might be a good thing if you went looking for him."

  "Hokay," Jerry said, into the napkin. He sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles. "Sure you don't you need some help?"

  "Help with what?" Annie asked. "Will somebody explain?"

  "Thanks anyway, Jerry," I said, ignoring her. "I can handle this by myself. Maybe I've even got it coming."

  "Got what coming?" Annie said. "I don't understand."

  "That makes two of us," Jerry said. "Let's go find Bass." He struggled to his feet and stumbled to the door. Annie noticed blood on her fingers. She wiped them on her jeans, nodded quickly and left.

  I stepped out onto the porch, facing Main, where the three boys waited. Their harem wasn't far away: the hippie girl and the skinny brunette wearing beads were up on the sidewalk by Doc Langdon's clinic. The thin one, Jerry's sometime girlfriend, seemed upset.

  Bobby Sewell was the theatrical sort. He had taken his shirt off to parade his six-pack and was strutting like a peacock. I looked around. Still not a sign of the citizenry of Dry Wells, as if this had all been neatly arranged. I shaded my eyes and looked south. A large, blue Mercedes was parked at the end of the block with the engine running. A young man with dark hair was inside, enjoying the air conditioning. He sat watching the street through a dust-streaked windshield that barely reflected the noonday sun. The man moved suddenly, and I saw the flash of clean, white teeth and a small puff of smoke.

  Will Palmer.

  I inclined my head in tacit acknowledgment. Not a bad play, I thought. Let someone else to do your dirty work. I turned towards Sewell. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman's face suddenly appear next to Palmer's. Her head had been buried in his lap. Palmer pushed it back down again.

  I approached Bobby Sewell, my face pleasant. "Good afternoon," I sai
d. "I hear you've got a problem."

  "Don't go around asking questions about me and my friends. You got something to say, you say it straight to my face."

  "Okay, Bobby," I said. "That's reasonable enough. Here goes. I think you're an asshole and you had something to do with Sandy Palmer's death."

  The football players always charge at you, going for the tackle. Sewell screamed out a curse and rushed straight at my waist. I used my quickness, stepped to one side. Sewell was good; he caught himself and spun just in time, deflecting the fist headed for his jaw with an upraised elbow. We both backed away to take measure. I saw Donny Boy edging around behind me. "You plan on fighting me fair, Bobby, or you so scared you need to stack the deck?"

  "Donny? Back the fuck off."

  "Sure?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure. Back off."

  Donny Boy shrugged. I dodged a right cross, heard a man say: "Sounds like a good idea, Donny." It was Sheriff Bass, walking slowly across the street. Had Will Palmer summoned him? Bobby Sewell seemed confused for a moment, but then Bass said, "This looks to me to be a fair fight. Let's just let them work this out alone."

  "You got it, Sheriff," the one called Mex shouted. "Whatever you say."

  Annie's voice: "Why, Sheriff! Aren't you going to stop this?"

  "Naw, I don't think so, Annie," Bass drawled. "Thing is, I don't care too much for neither one of these boys. Wouldn't break my heart to see it go either way."

  Bobby charged again, and a half-second faster. He slammed me into the wall by Annie's front window and started trying to batter my rib cage with his big, work-hewn fists. I tightened my belly and tried not to breathe. I grabbed Bobby Sewell by the hair and yanked, then brought one fist down sharply on the side of his nose. Blood spurted. Sewell shook his head and tried to bore in again, but I was down in the street, looking for room to maneuver.

  "How about it, Bobby?" I taunted, although shouting made my ribs hurt. "Did you beat Sandy Palmer because she dumped you? Did you kill her?"

  "Fuck you!"

  Bobby charged. At the last possible moment, he realized his mistake and pulled back, narrowly avoiding a kick to the face. He circled more warily, panting. He hadn't expected this much of a fight. Frankly, neither had I.

  A growling sound: At the end of the block, Will Palmer gunned the engine of the big Mercedes. He was obviously growing impatient. The girl reappeared. She edged closer, sliding her bottom across the leather front seat, but Palmer shoved her away. I saw her head bounce against the door and then the dash. She turned her face, as if crying. Palmer blew another plume of smoke.

  Bobby and I danced around in the dirt as Donny Boy cried: "Oh boy, oh boy, come on! Somebody do something!"

  What finally nailed me was an educated combination. Sewell bore in, jabs and crosses in a tight pattern, and the sudden shift to formal boxing threw me. One right struck home, and I found myself on one knee, rubbing my aching jaw. Frankly, I half expected Sewell to attack when I was down, but the boy held back.

  "That all you got man?' Sewell screamed. His nose was running bloody gruel. "You ain't nothing!"

  I got up slowly and moved my chin around. "You hit like a mule."

  I charged and knocked Sewell backwards. The sidewalk caught the boy by the heel, and I used my two hundred and twenty pounds to crunch down hard, slamming Sewell against the concrete. I twisted my torso and brought a forearm down into his vulnerable neck, stunning the windpipe. Bobby thrashed like a fish out of water, nose bubbling with pink foam, unable to catch his breath. I remembered when Danny Bell had laid me out in exactly that way and how frightened I'd been. I softened, leaned in and whispered, almost kindly: "You can get some air, kid. It just feels like you can't. You won't die."

  I let him go and got up, knowing I would be sore as hell in a couple of days. I turned away. In my mind it was over. Then Annie called out something unintelligible. Jerry hollered: "Look out, Mick."

  Bobby smashed my skull from behind. For some reason, I thought of the dead man in the alley and his head wound. Time crawled, the way it does when you take one to the head. I heard my breathing grow absurdly loud and oddly slow. The entire world seemed to whistle and moan. My stomach rolled over, and lunch started to come back up. I was staggering, trying to stay on my feet. I looked down the street, towards the blue Mercedes. I managed to focus. Will Palmer was now laughing and pointing. The girl was still crying.

  Bobby Sewell hit me from behind, this time in the kidney. The hovering sky went bright white for a moment. Now, I felt sleepy and warm and peaceful. I just wanted to give up and take a nap. Another blow whistled by the back of my head, this one missing by inches, but I didn't care.

  Fight him you little bastard, Danny Bell cried from the depths of my mind. This isn't a goddamned dress rehearsal. Don't you fucking quit on me, not now, not ever! You fight!

  I gathered myself; dropped low and spun around. I grabbed the crotch of Sewell's jeans with both hands and twisted. Bobby Sewell started making little yelping noises and bent over double. I freed one fist, yanked on his right ear. I tightened both grips and used them to run Bobby's blonde head into the outside wall of the diner, then dropped him on the sidewalk. Instinctively, I drew back my right boot to kick.

  "Let's get him!"

  Mex tackled me on the left side, Donny Boy from the right. They slammed into me at roughly the same time. A rib slid, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I slid to my knees, weary arms at my sides. Donny clubbed my jaw, Mex kicked at my chest. The world began to slip away. I dropped and curled up to protect my face and groin.

  "Whoops," Bass called. "You'd best back off, boys."

  Mex kicked again anyway. Donny drew back his fist, debating where to pop me. I opened my eyes, tracked the concrete. I saw a long trail of dust and sand and followed it to the rear wheels of Palmer's Mercedes. The car was leaving town, turning back out towards the lonely highway. I guess Will was satisfied.

  "I said break it up!" Bass shouted. Donny Boy stopped the blow just in time. The sheriff walked over with one hand on his weapon. "We can't have fighting right out here on the city streets, can we?"

  "No, sir," Donny Boy snickered.

  "Mr. Callahan?"

  "Why, of course not, Sheriff," I panted. I got to my feet and stood, swaying and shaking my sore hand. "We're all law abiding citizens, here."

  "Truly glad to hear that," Bass said. "Mr. Callahan, I do believe you said you'd be out of Dry Wells shortly. Can I assume that to be no later than the end of this holiday weekend?"

  "You can."

  He looked at Sewell with contempt. "Can you get up?" Bobby just grunted. Bass eyed me with what might have been a grudging respect. "You going to be okay?"

  "Oh, sure," I lied. "They didn't lay a finger on me."

  "Once you catch your breath, you come on over to my office. Maybe you can sign those two statements."

  "Okay."

  Jerry's lower lip had stopped bleeding. It looked like a flattened grape, slightly swollen and bruised. He kept trying to wave to the skinny girl, but she ignored him. I limped towards Annie, bone tired and feeling a bit immature. The ribs and knuckles hurt and my elbows and knees were all scraped and dirty.

  Annie was standing near Jerry, wringing her hands. She was trembling. "I thought those bastards were going to kill you."

  "They damn near did."

  "Jesus, Mick. Did they hurt you bad?"

  "I'm okay, Annie. Really. You go on back to work. Maybe I'll stop by and see you later on tonight."

  "I'll hold you to that." She gave Bass a wicked look and walked to the diner. In the doorway, she glared at him again. "Sheriff, my ass," Annie said scornfully. She went inside.

  Donny Boy, Mex, and the girls were now attending to Bobby Sewell. He was sitting up and croaking like a bullfrog about his broken nose and the pain in his balls. Donny Boy kept muttering oh boy, oh boy; the one called Mex was calling me names in Spanish.

  "You work pretty hard for five bucks," Jerry said.

  I n
eeded some rest. I smiled broadly at the Sewell gang and waved as we limped away. "Well, that ought to stir things up."

  Fourteen

  Sunday Afternoon, 2:35 PM

  "Sorry I woke you up," Doc Langdon said. "But you probably shouldn't have gone to sleep anyway after a hit upside the head, just in case of a concussion."

  "I know."

  "Listen, you in some kind of contest to piss people off?"

  I groaned as my bruised knuckles entered the bucket filled with ice cubes. The plastic container said Dry Wells Nevada, UFO Country on the side. It featured some garish slot machines and a little green man wearing a cowboy hat. The alien was strumming an electric guitar.

  "Nothing got broke," Doc said. "I'd be careful of those ribs, and there might be some swelling in your hand, but this ought to help. Glad you got a little sleep right away, your body will need it."

  "Who sent you over?"

  "Why, Glen Bass," Doc said cheerfully. "Told me to fix up Bobby's nose and then get my sagging country butt over here. He thought you might go take too long a nap or something, or maybe just plumb forget to drop by his office. You got some statements to sign, and he wants to have a little talk with you."

  I moved my throbbing fingers around in the ice. "God, I love this town. I can't get over how friendly you all are."

  "It's your warm personality," Doc said. "We're usually not all that impressed with television stars, but we sure do like a boy who can mix it up a little."

  "Have the State Police called about picking up the bodies for autopsy?"

  Doc shrugged. "There's some hard-core biker gang convention going on out to Ely, and it just may blow up on them, so they can't spare anybody until after Memorial Day. ME said to keep them both on ice. He'll be over early Tuesday morning to pick them up, maybe poke around the park and the alley a bit."

  I leaned back with the bucket. "Doc, do you think somebody killed Sandy on purpose, yes or no?"

  Doc looked amused. "Hell, who knows? I only work the livestock around here. I'm just your lovable old country vet."

  "Yeah, but you're also quite a lot smarter than most of the people who live around here. What is your considered opinion?"