by Ed Gorman
This time the laugh was on me. “You should work for the railroad like your uncle. Honest work.”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it. Now let’s go back to the living room.”
I led the way. Mainwaring was helping Nicole to her feet. I said, “You owe this man a sincere apology. And you’re going to pick up his E.R. tab. And unless you can make some kind of settlement, he’s going to sue your ass off.”
“He’s an abortionist.”
“Now you’ve slandered him, too.”
“I told you, Dad, Mr. Ryan’s been very nice to me. He didn’t know what I was talking about when I said I needed help.”
Mainwaring’s eyes roved from hers to mine. “This is true?”
“No, we’re making it up because we’re all scared you’ll go crazy again. Now apologize to him and then give him a ride to the E.R. and then come to an agreement about how much money you’re going to give him.” I glanced at Ryan. “I’m his lawyer.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“I’ll drive myself home, Dad.”
“Can I trust you?”
“How about you? Can I trust you?” This was one of those questions carrying a load of history with it-Eve, open marriage, wife swapping, and alienating his two girls.
“Just go straight home.”
“You’re forgetting something,” I said to him. “I don’t have a car here. I’ll have to ride with Nicole.”
She took the keys from her purse, zipped the purse shut, and then looked at me. “Maybe you should drive, Sam. I’m still shaking.”
“Just hope that Mr. Ryan doesn’t have any serious injuries, Mainwaring.”
“Oh, great, now I’m the villain.”
“Yeah,” I said, “as a matter of fact, you are.” If I’d been a sadist I would have used the moment to tell him what I’d learned from the Wilhoyt investigators about his wife. But as much as I disliked him, he had more than his share of grief. I didn’t want to add to it.
Nicole, in her peasant skirt and blouse, led me out of the Ryan home. As we walked to her car she said, “Maybe he’s learned his lesson. Maybe he’ll change.”
I didn’t want to give her odds on that but I said, “Yeah, maybe.”
I drove at about half the speed Mainwaring had a bit earlier. For a time neither of us spoke. “Van and I used to play a game. We used to sit in the back of the car when Mom and Dad would take us someplace and look out the back window at license plates. For weird ones, you know. One time we saw one that read ‘I’m cute.’ We laughed about that the whole way to Cedar Rapids.” Her voice was wistful but pained.
After a time she said, “He wants to send me to my aunt’s house till I have the baby. Then we’ll adopt it out. That’s what he says now, though. I’m trying to imagine having a baby and giving it away.”
“You want to go to your aunt’s house?”
“Yeah. Even Sarah said I should go away, I mean before she told me about Windom. She said I should go away to school for a year. Try to forget everything.”
“She told you about Windom?”
She patted her face as she sometimes did. Maybe she was hoping that her acne had magically disappeared. I used to have moments like that-daydreams-about being taller. “She’s my best friend. When I told her that Neil and I snuck around and saw each other for a month, and then I told her I was pregnant, she said I should see this Windom and get an abortion and go away to school. And try to forget everything. I think the whole thing made her mad. She said that Tommy was going to beat Neil up for her but she stopped him and said she’d take care of it.” Then, “Poor Tommy. He was kind of a little boy in a lot of ways. But he was so sweet.” Her eyes glistened. “And Van and Neil-it’s just all so screwed up.”
“You don’t hold anything against Neil?”
“I want to but I can’t.” Her gaze was distant now. “I knew he was with me just to make Van jealous. I even told Van about it. But she didn’t care. She thought it was funny. She didn’t know I was p.g. though. But it was my fault as much as his. I always saw all these really handsome guys around Van. I guess I just sorta wanted one for myself. You know, with my face and all. He was a lot of fun, too. Took me places and made me think about things I never had. He was brilliant. He really was.”
“You need to see a doctor right away.”
“I know. I’ve been afraid to go. I’ll probably go to Iowa City, where nobody knows me.”
“Fine.”
“You know, I have a little crush on you. Not a big one. But a nice little one.”
“Well, that’s funny because I have a little crush on you, too. Not a big one. But a nice little one.” Her laugh made us both feel better.
I pulled up next to my car in the small lot behind my office building.
She reached out and took my hand. “I hope I see you again.”
“Me, too. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re wrong about not meeting any more handsome guys. I have the power to see into the future and from what I can see there’re a lot of them waiting to take you out.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
I slid out of the car and started toward my door. Behind me she said, “Thanks for everything, Sam.”
By the time I reached the commune a hot rain was storming across the prairie with mean intent. Humans and animals alike rushed to shelter. Lightning walked the land on glowing spider legs and thunder shook the earth. I pulled as close to the houses as I could and then started my own rush to get out of the rain.
With everybody inside temporarily the voices were almost as loud as the music, this time the Beatles’ best album, Rubber Soul. I had to use a fist on the door to get any attention. A white kid in something like dreadlocks came to the door. I told him who I wanted to see and he gave me a thumbs-up. Maybe in a past life he’d been a WWI ace.
I took one of the two broken-back metal chairs on the porch and had myself a smoke. The laughter from inside was clean and young, and I felt envious of them. Crazy and pretentious as some of them were, at least they were questioning the conventional wisdom of growing up, entering the nine-to-five, and setting aside money for your funeral when you turn forty-five.
I watched the rain drill the flower-power bus and the other wrecked-looking vehicles. A sweet dog face could be seen underneath the bus, all wide-eyed and floppy-eared.
Then she was there. “God, this rain doesn’t even cool things off, does it?”
“I wonder how old Cartwright is doing up there waiting to hear from God.”
She took the chair next to me. “Sometimes I feel sorry for him, Sam.”
“I would if I didn’t know he was such a con artist. Hair tonic and diet crap and all that.”
In her denim work shirt and jeans she was tomboy comfortable and purposeful. That was my impression, anyway. Except for the eyes. She couldn’t hide her anxiety. I guessed she knew why I was here.
“Mainwaring and I followed Nicole this morning. She was under the impression she was going to have an abortion.”
The old confrontational Sarah scoffed at me. “You’re not exactly being subtle. As far as I’m concerned, I gave her good advice and I don’t give a damn if you like it or not. I’ve seen too many girls her age ruin their lives by getting pregnant.”
“So have I. But that’s not what this is about.”
She leaned away from me. “Oh? So what’s ‘this’ about?”
“I think you know.”
She was quick, starting for the door before I got out of my chair. I’d never get her out of the ruckus inside. But then she turned and came back. I had the feeling she was as surprised by her move as I was.
She sat down again. I started to speak but she held up a hand for me to stop.
“I can’t get over Tommy killing himself.”
“Why do you think he did it?”
“Because of me. Because he was in love with me.”
“And you weren’t in love with him?”
She dropped her head, was quiet. “I loved him
enough not to marry him.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She sat back and ground the chair around so she could face me. “He wanted to run away and get married. Not even finish high school. I told him he was crazy but Tommy-Tommy got obsessed easily. Plus he just wanted out of his house. He used to cry like a little kid when his parents had had one of their battles. I hated them for what they’d done to Tommy. But I still wouldn’t ruin his life by marrying him right now. I told him he should take one of the scholarships-he had three or four colleges offering him full rides because he was such a good football player. If we got married his life would be ruined. I loved him too much for that.”
“So Tommy killed himself because you wouldn’t marry him?”
“I don’t like your tone there. You trying to say I’m lying?”
“Not at all, Sarah. I believe you. But maybe there was another reason Tommy took his life. In addition to you not marrying him, I mean.”
“Well, then I sure don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about him knowing that you killed Neil after you found out that he got Nicole pregnant. You knew Neil had killed Vanessa but you decided to keep his secret. But then when Nicole told you about her pregnancy-” I tried to take her hand. She slapped mine away. “Nicole told me how angry you were when she told you about sleeping with Neil. But I noticed you didn’t speak up for Neil quite the same way even before you found out about Nicole. It wasn’t anything obvious, but your tone definitely changed. I knew then that you were sure that Neil had killed Vanessa. I can’t read your mind but I think it was probably then you realized that your brother was out of control and that he was going to keep right on doing what he’d always done. I cut him a lot of slack for what he saw in Nam, Sarah, but I suspect if you’re honest you’ll tell me that he was always this way growing up, smashing things and smashing people. That’s the way it was, wasn’t it?”
“You don’t have any right to talk like that. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend, Sarah. I care about you. I just think you’ll feel better if you tell the truth. There’s been too much lying already.”
She raised her head and stared at the ceiling of the porch. A whimper became a small sob. “He was my brother. He’d had a hard life. I loved him.”
“I know you loved him. But you saw that he needed to be stopped. And when you found out about Nicole, you decided you didn’t have any choice. You killed him and tried to make it look like suicide.”
She picked up my package of Luckies from the arm of my chair. I handed her my matches. When she got her cigarette burning she handed them back.
“You don’t know any of this for sure.”
“I do now. And you know it, too.”
“He attacked me.”
“I don’t believe that but it’ll make a good defense.”
“I don’t want you for my lawyer anymore.”
“That’s a good decision.”
“I thought you were my friend,” she said again.
“I am. That’s why I’ll get you the best criminal defense attorney I can.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“It can be worked out.” I had no idea how at the moment but there on that porch at that moment it was the right thing to say.
“I didn’t plan on doing it.”
“All right.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes. But you’ll have to work this through carefully with your lawyer.”
She exploded from her chair as if she’d been blasted out of it. She stalked to the east end of the porch and lowered herself onto the railing. She inhaled hungrily. The tip of the cigarette was an evil little red eye. “You don’t know what it was like with Neil. All our lives. He was always in trouble. He was in a fight or he’d stolen something or he’d smashed up something. I used to feel sorry for him because I loved him so much. He always said that people wouldn’t accept him for who he was and that’s why he was always in trouble. He was just paying them back. For a long time I believed that. But when he got into so much trouble in the service-”
“You mean what you told me about Saigon?”
“No. When they got back stateside he started stealing stuff from the other soldiers. Watches and jewelry they’d bought for their girlfriends and wives. One of them caught him at it and Neil nearly killed him. They had him see a shrink. The shrink said that he should get a dishonorable discharge but no time in the brig. He came to my little apartment off campus. He was so angry about things he scared me.”
“He’d always taken advantage of people before-I was able to see that then-and he got some kind of thrill out of stealing and fighting and conning people. But I thought that with everything he’d gone through-I thought maybe he’d want to straighten out for the first time in his life.”
“And at first when he came to the commune he was really laid-back. Really cool in a way he’d never been before. I’d see him out back of the barn planting along with some of the others and I’d get tears in my eyes. I really believed that God had granted him another chance. Neil always laughed when I told him that I prayed a lot. But I didn’t care. I kept right on praying for him. And everything was fine until he fell in love with Van. She was so beautiful I couldn’t blame him. But by then Nicole and I were friends and she told me how Van used guys to hurt her father. She wanted to humiliate him by being a whore. I tried to tell him that but he just accused me of being jealous. I just couldn’t deal with him anymore.”
She was more silhouette than person perched there on the railing. I said, “But you knocked me out so he could escape.”
“I was afraid for him. I was thinking maybe he really did kill Van. I didn’t want him to go to prison.”
“But then you couldn’t take it anymore when he got Nicole pregnant.”
She flipped her cigarette into the air, a blazing rocket ship against the moon-bright night. “Nicole is a kid. That’s why I liked her right away. She’s kind of innocent. We had lunch in the city park one day and she brought along a bunch of Archie comic books and talked about how Veronica reminded her of Van in a lot of ways. I laughed about that for a week. She was like this goofy little kid sister I never had. And when he got her pregnant-he couldn’t at least have used a rubber?”
I stood up. “Don’t tell me any more. We need to get you that lawyer first. I’ll start calling as soon as I get home.”
“You going to take me in yourself or have the cops come out here?”
“You got a preference?”
She came over and slid her arms around me. “I’m really scared.” She seemed to fight her tears at first but then she was crying so hard her fear and sorrow came in great spasms.
We said very little on the drive back to town. There wasn’t much point in talking, I guess.
22
I’d gone to law school with David Brunner. He was now a prominent criminal defense attorney in Chicago. You can correctly assume he was a whole lot smarter than I’ll ever be. I explained the case to him and told him that we could cover his fees. The largesse was coming from one Paul Mainwaring. As Marsha explained to me over the phone, Nicole was near a breakdown worrying about her friend Sarah. Mainwaring had saddled her and her sister with a sneering, duplicitous wife and an open marriage so he now saw that he needed to save his daughter. Marsha also told me that Paul and Eve had had two warring days of shouting at each other and that Eve had suddenly packed three suitcases and had taken a room at the Drake in Chicago.
Brunner was in the middle of a trial but promised he’d have one of his assistant attorneys on a train within two hours, which he did. John Silverman was in my office by late afternoon. I briefed him and then took him to the police station to meet Mike Potter and Cliffie. He and Potter got along in a reassuringly professional way. A way that was spoiled when Cliffie came in and began to pontificate about the case and warn John that “out-of-town lawyers” never did well in Black Rive
r Falls. He also reminded me several times that he said from the beginning Neil was the killer. Potter and Cliffie left us then to wait for somebody to escort us to a room where we could talk with Sarah. “I can’t fucking believe that guy,” Silverman said. Twice. A mild reaction compared to some when Cliffie was the subject.
The good Reverend Cartwright was presently housed on the fourth floor of the Protestant hospital, where he was making a fraudulent saga of being struck by lightning. He had been pronounced fine by the emergency doc and fine by his own doc, but the Rev insisted he was suffering from terrible but unspecified health problems that only hospital rest could cure. He bravely broadcast from his hospital bed, where he announced a “Fund Drive for the True Friends of Jesus.” He said that God had told him he would recover at the same rate that money poured into church coffers. He never runs out of gimmicks, and damned if most of them don’t work.
Four nights after taking Sarah to the police station, I got home late and weary. I’d been in court all afternoon and the central air there had worked only intermittently. Everybody in Court B was in a surly mood, me included. During lunch, assistant prosecutor, Hillary Fitzgerald, stopped on the step where I was eating my burger from the courthouse menu and said, “I feel sorry for your client, McCain. I’ve never seen Judge Hammond this nasty. Your guy is facing a DUI and I think Hammond is going to give him the chair.” She had a winsome smile.
When I was coming up to the house, I saw that something was wrong. I hadn’t been able to contact Wendy by phone. Now the lights were out and the house had a deserted look. Where had she gone?
Her car was in the garage. Had a friend picked her up?
I hurried to the back door and walked inside. We never locked up until we went to bed.
Refrigerator thrum. Air conditioner whoosh. All those inexplicable sounds of a house talking to itself.
Downstairs empty. Upstairs-
I went straight to our bedroom and there with the bloody sunset filling the window like a wound she lay in a tight fetal position in the center of the bed. Her blue walking shorts and white blouse were badly wrinkled, something she would ordinarily not have allowed.
