by Bill Crider
I couldn't quite make out her meaning. "I guess I'm not following you exactly," I said.
"What do you remember most about when you were young? Most about the Island, I mean, not about yourself."
I thought about that for a minute. "I don't really know," I said finally. "Times seemed better then, but maybe I was just younger."
"No," she said. "Times were better then. And they were even better before that. When my family came here, Galveston was the largest city in Texas, the most civilized. The first electric lights in the state? The first telephones? We had them here. Why, Houston was nothing more than a mudhole--not that it's improved much. But time has passed the Island by. And people like me, people who can remember the old days, we hide in our houses so that we won't have to go outside and see what the Island has become." She paused and drained her wine glass.
"But the preservation that's begun--"
"Most of it by people who weren't even BOI," she said. "Or who at least have not lived here for quite some time, who made their money elsewhere."
She extended her glass. I refilled it. "But Dino?" I said.
"Dino is like me, in a way, I think. He knows better than anyone how much his uncles meant to this town, how much money they brought in with their women and their nightclubs and their casinos. For him, those are the Island's glory days; just as for me those days are farther in the past. He can no more bring them back than I can, and he is just as afraid to try. How can anyone live up to a legend? He would only doom himself to fail. And so he lives his life in his house, as I do."
"He wasn't always like that," I said.
"No," she said. "Once he was young."
"He still is," I said, thinking of myself.
"In a way, perhaps. Much younger than I, at any rate. And both of you may live to see the return of some of this place's former glory. I'm afraid that I never shall, however. But never mind. You were asking for other information, and I've rambled on like the old woman I am. Where were we?"
I wasn't sure that she had been rambling at all. In fact, I was almost certain that she believed that in some way her words were a pertinent part of our discussion. And maybe they were.
"We were talking about a girl named Sharon Matthews," I said. "And about why Dino is so worried about her."
"Yes, of course. How could I forget? Well. I suppose you know that an old woman like me, who lives alone and keeps to herself, does have some visitors who might tell her a thing or two."
She smiled. She knew that I was counting on her hunger for gossip. Let the town decay as fast as it might, she would try to learn every detail of its decadence.
I smiled too. "Yes," I said. "I know."
"Of course. Now think about it. How old is this girl?"
I told her again.
"Which means that she was born when? In relation to Dino's career?"
"Just about the time he graduated from college. But--" Then I saw where she was going. I set my still nearly full wine glass down on the tray. I was afraid my hand would shake and spill some of the wine. "It's not possible," I said.
"Of course it is. Anything's possible."
"But Evelyn Matthews told me she was on the circuit when she got pregnant." Something else came to me then. I was getting soft in the head. "But that's not what Dino said. He said she'd stayed here on the Island after the houses closed down. Damn. They didn't even have their stories straight."
"I don't know for sure," Sally said. "It was only a vague rumor, at best, even when it was fresh. I haven't heard a word about it in years and years."
"So you can keep a secret."
"That's why so many people like to talk to me," she said, and smiled.
10
When I stepped back out into the twentieth century, the day had turned dark and sour. Heavy, dark clouds had pushed in from somewhere, and a thin, drizzly rain was falling.
I had to talk to Dino, which meant that I wouldn't be calling Vicky Bryan. I also wouldn't be talking to my other source, who wouldn't be out in this kind of weather. That part was all right, but I really wanted to talk to Vicky, and not necessarily about the case. Maybe tomorrow.
I wasn't angry with Dino, not exactly. I've been lied to enough times in the past to more or less expect it. It always complicates things, though. It alters the feeling about the case, and it opens up new directions when things should be settling into an understandable pattern. The truth is always easier, if not more agreeable.
Ray met me at the door. "He's been trying to call you."
"Yeah. Well, I have a few things to say to him, too." I walked into the living room, hardly limping at all. I would never let Dino see me using the cane.
The video equipment was silent, perhaps because there was another person with Dino in the room. Evelyn Matthews. I was a little surprised to see her, and the surprise must have showed on my face.
"I gotta tell you a couple of things," Dino said. "You better sit down."
"I think I know what you want to say," I told him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I looked at Evelyn, who was smoking, sitting near the coffee table so that she could tap her ashes into a cheap metal ashtray that Ray must have rounded up from somewhere.
Dino watched me watching Evelyn. "So you know. I should've known you'd find out. I knew you were good when I hired you."
I sat down. "You should have told me."
"I know," he said. "I was dumb. I just thought you didn't need to know."
"That's why there was all the urgency," I said. "I knew you weren't the most humanitarian guy on the Island."
"It's more urgent now than it was then," he said.
"Why?"
"You tell him," Dino said.
Evelyn stubbed out her cigarette. "At first we thought it was just one of those things that Sharon left because of what she found out about me. But it wasn't that. If it were, Sharon would have gotten in touch by now. She hasn't. Someone else has."
Damn, I thought.
"Let me tell it," Dino said. "There was a phone call today. Came here, to the house--"
"Wait a minute," I said. "We're going to have to begin at the beginning. Sharon's your daughter, right?"
"That's right," Dino said. "I--"
"And how many people know that?" I said.
Evelyn lit another cigarette. She was right. She did smoke too much. "Hardly anyone," she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"How did you find out, anyway?" Dino said.
"Never mind that. Obviously it's not a complete secret. There was talk at one time, at least, according to my source. How much contact have you had with Evelyn and Sharon over the years?"
"None," Dino said. "Well, hardly any. It wasn't like Evelyn and I were in love or something."
"So where did Sharon come from?"
"Evelyn and I ran into each other one evening after I got out of college. I was remembering the old days. You know. Evelyn wasn't in the game anymore, but we'd both had a couple of drinks--"
"--and that's all there was to that," Evelyn said. "I got careless, but I've never regretted it. And I've never accepted a penny from Dino. Not a penny." She jabbed the air with her cigarette to emphasize her point.
"Evelyn's never even been to this house before," Dino said. "I called her now and then, and I kept up with the kid. But that's all. And now someone wants me to pay for it. Goddamn it, how did anyone find out?"
"This is a small island, and a small town," I said. "People talk. I imagine you were a hot topic, nineteen or twenty years ago when you came back here. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The question is, does the girl mean anything to you? Would you pay to get her back?"
Dino didn't look at Evelyn. "Of course I'd pay. I've got money."
"That's why someone called you, then. They wait a few days to get you on edge, and then they call. What was the message?"
"Ray!" Dino said.
Ray appeared from some other room.
"You answered the phone," Dino said. "Tell him."
"Whoever it was wouldn't talk to me," Ray said. "It was a funny, deep voice, like someone was trying to disguise the way he talked. He said 'Let me talk to Dino.' I said, 'Who is this?' The guy said, 'Let me talk to Dino, or you'll both be sorry.' So I let him."
Dino took over. "He told me that he had a girl named Sharon Matthews. That nothing had happened to her yet, but that something would if I wasn't real careful. He said that if I called the cops, he'd kill her. Then he said he'd call again."
The warning had not been necessary. Coming from the background he had, Dino would never call the cops. But I felt I had to try to persuade him.
"You know that the police, especially the FBI, are equipped for dealing with this kind of thing. You know they can handle it without creating any publicity. I think you ought to consider calling them."
Dino just looked at me.
"I've never worked on a kidnapping before," I said. "I could make some wrong moves. I could get her hurt."
"You don't have to worry about any wrong moves," Dino said. "I'm going to pay the money. They don't want you in it, either."
I felt a definite twinge in my knee. "They mentioned me?"
"They said something about keeping the snooper out of it, too." Dino was apologetic. "I won't ask you for any of the advance money back."
"Look, Dino, can't you see what's going on here? I think--"
"I'm sorry about this, Tru," he said. "But this is the way it's gotta be. I know I've been a pretty lousy guy, especially about Sharon, but I can't take a chance on killing her. I got to do what they say." Dino looked at Evelyn. "We've talked it over, and we think it's the best way."
Evelyn nodded her agreement.
I was frustrated, but I could see they'd made up their minds. I tried once more anyway. "Dino, there's more going on here than you think. There's been a murder, and it's tied in some way. You've got to let me do something."
"Just a second ago you said you never worked on a kidnapping. Now you're an expert? Thanks, Tru, but no thanks. I'll do this their way. It's the way it's got to be."
I stood up. "OK, if that's what you want to do. I hope it all works out." I started out of the room.
"You're limping," Dino said. "The knee all right?"
"Sure," I said. "It's just the rain. Change in the weather." I didn't wait to see if he believed me. I went on out.
Ray was waiting by the door. "You out of it?"
"I'm out," I said.
"See you around."
"Sure," I said.
~ * ~
I sat in the Subaru for a few minutes and tried to think about what I was going to do next. The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared a bit, but the late afternoon had turned to night. I could see stars between the ragged edges of the clouds, and a thin sliver of moon.
I told myself that in Dino's place I'd do the same thing he was doing, but it seemed obvious to me that the kidnapping was being orchestrated by someone I'd recently met, namely Chuck Ferguson. Where had he gotten the money he'd used to pay off Hargis? Did he need more? Why had he lied about knowing Sharon and Terry? How had the voice on the phone known about me? Dino didn't want to talk about things like that. After nearly twenty years of neglect, he'd finally decided to play Daddy and save his daughter the only way he knew how, with his money.
Knowing all that, I thought I should probably go to Gerald Barnes and lay it out for him. Somehow Ferguson had to be tied into the murder of Terry Shelton, who, after all, was out walking around free as the air while his girlfriend was being held somewhere by kidnappers. Had Shelton been in on it, too? Barnes could figure it all out, and I could go back to painting houses. That was what I was good for, after all.
But if I went to Barnes and he fouled up Dino's pay-off, then I'd really be in trouble with Dino, and maybe even be risking Sharon's life. So telling Barnes was out. I'd let Dino handle it his way. What the hell. I still had most of the thousand dollars, and I hadn't done much more to earn it than to take a pretty good beating. And the knee wasn't bothering me that much now. So I could go home with a clear conscience, which is what I finally did.
Still, it pissed me off.
~ * ~
I fed Nameless, who sped right back out again in pursuit of whatever it was that he pursued all night, and got up the stairs without the aid of the cane. Then I looked up Vicky Bryan's number in the phone book and called her. One thing about being off the case--my time was now my own.
She answered on the third ring, but when I told her who it was she didn't sound impressed. In fact, a weak "Oh" was all that she said.
"Hey," I said. "I know I'm no Tom Cruise, but I'm taller than he is. And I can wiggle my ears."
She warmed up just a little. "I bet you can't."
"Sure I can. Let me take you to dinner, and I'll prove it."
She was still hesitant. "I didn't go in to work today. I was a little shook up over . . . you know."
"I know. I was too." I wasn't going to tell her anything about my involvement in Terry Shelton's life and death. After all, I was out of it. If the police had told her I was a guy trying to collect a bill, let her believe it. If they hadn't, I'd tell her something else. "There's no better way to get over a shock than to eat a good meal. I bet you haven't eaten all day."
She said I was right. Sort of. "Hardly anything, though. Just an apple and a piece of bread. And a glass of milk."
"Then you need something substantial. Don't dress up. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"Well, all right. But give me an hour."
In exactly fifty-nine minutes I was knocking on her door. She lived in a small apartment over a garage on 0-1/2 Street. More stairs, but I hardly noticed them. I realized that I hadn't been out with a woman since I started looking for Jan. A year is a long time.
She opened the door and stepped out. I like someone who's on time. She was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. There was no little alligator or polo player on the shirt, so it probably wasn't expensive, but you could never tell about that.
"Are you sure you're taller than Tom Cruise?" she said.
"Of course I am. Trust me."
"OK. So wiggle your ears."
"I'll wait until we get somewhere that the light is better. You'll be more impressed."
She said she could wait, so we went down the stairs. She didn't wince when she saw the Subaru, which was another point in her favor.
"You don't exactly drive Tom Cruise's car, either," she said as I helped her in.
I went around to the other side and slipped under the wheel. "Or have his income. Let's face it, this is reality."
"You do have enough money for dinner, I hope."
"If you don't get carried away," I said.
She laughed. "I'll try to watch it."
I started the car and we drove up to the seawall, to the Gaido's. "I have a craving for shrimp Creole," I said.
She opened her door. "Sounds good to me."
Gaido's is one of the best seafood restaurants in Galveston, which means it's one of the best anywhere. The waiters wear tuxes, but that doesn't mean the diners have to. We talked, and I found out that Vicky had an interesting story. She'd come to Galveston on spring break from Southwest Texas State University six years before and decided to stay, for reasons practically opposite those Dino had given for going to Texas Tech.
"I'm from West Texas," she said. "Where it never rains and where people complain if the humidity gets over 30 percent. If it gets to 90 percent, they think they've had a flood." Everything about the Island, from the climate to the people, was so different from everything she'd known before that time; she wanted to be a part of it. "So I just went looking for a job instead of going back to school. My parents couldn't figure it out. I didn't try to. I just knew that I wanted to live here for a while. So far I haven't been sorry, but I am thinking of going back to school next fall."
"To Southwest Texas?"
"No, to A&M." She smiled. "I think I'll study marine biology."
I liked to see her s
mile. She had white, even teeth, and a way of turning her head that gave her a slightly quizzical look. "I'm glad A&M has a branch here in Galveston," I said.
"Me too," she said.
The shrimp Creole came about that time, and we ate. I had no trouble cleaning out the white oblong bowl, and neither did Vicky. When we got back in the car, she asked about me. I told her about Jan. Then I told her a little about Terry Shelton.
I'd promised myself I wouldn't, but the more I thought about things, the worse I felt. Dino was being taken, and I thought I could have helped. Besides, I thought I could have found Sharon Matthews, which might in some way have made up for not finding Jan. So I told Vicky a little of it.
"You're not a bill collector, then?"
"Only sometimes." I was driving along Seawall Boulevard, past the new Holiday Inn and the huge San Luis. Soon we'd be beyond the seawall, on the western part of the Island.
"And you think that Terry's death might have something to do with this girl you're looking for?"
"That's right, but I'm not sure what. Did you ever see a girl with him? Did one ever visit him at the store?"
"I don't remember," she said. "I don't think so. We didn't talk much, and mostly he just talked about his parents' beach house on Bolivar. I think he might have wanted me to visit him there, but he was too shy to come right out and say it."
I wouldn't have blamed him for wanting Vicky to come for a visit, but I was more interested in the beach house itself. "Why did he live there? Why not with his parents?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think they liked his friends, the Heavy Metal bit. Like I said, he was a little old for that sort of thing. So I guess he just moved out to be on his own. After all, he was old enough."
Sure, I thought. On his own. With his parents still providing him with a rent-free house and probably spending money besides. "Do you know where the house is?" I said.
"Not exactly. I got the impression it wasn't far from Bolivar, though."
Bolivar, located quite near the ferry landing, was the little town with the same name as the peninsula. Well, it still wasn't any of my business, but I would have liked to get a look in that house.
