by T. N. Robb
He nodded toward Voice Box.
"I would say you got plenty to worry about."
Slade and his men wheeled around and saw Betts standing near the edge of the backyard, leveling a sawed-off directly at Slade.
"Don't do anything stupid now, kid. You're awful young to die," Slade called to him, a tight smile on his face. Suddenly he dove behind a chaise lounge chair. The thug wheeled about with his .38, and Betts unloaded a round flush into his chest.
The Voice Box squeezed off a sharp burst from his submachine gun at Betts, who ducked for cover behind a nearby eucalyptus tree. Cleary dove for his .45 and rolled over the edge of the pool. He grasped the lip on the side and kept his gun hand above the surface.
The water behind him sizzled with lead, but all the shots were off the mark. Cleary pumped four quick rounds into Voice Box. A mechanical scream escaped the man's throat as the Browning fired wildly into the sky. Then he crumbled to the concrete patio.
Slade rose up from behind the chaise and leveled a .38 at Cleary's head. At the same moment, Betts stepped out from behind the tree, and his sawed-off exploded with a torrent of lead. Slade's body danced horrifically under the impact, twisted about, and was hurtled in a backward arc over Cleary's head, landing several feet behind him in the pool.
Cleary dropped his gun on the skirt of the pool, pulled himself out of the water. A prolonged moment of silence followed as he sat there in the sunlight amid the returning sounds of nature. He stared at Betts, then looked around, the carnage rendering him speechless. He was fully clothed, dripping wet, but alive.
"Damn," said Betts, who was pale as a sheet. "I'm shaking like a leaf. You okay?"
Cleary managed a grim nod.
Betts glanced at Slade, submerged, spread-eagled, face up in the pool. He sucked in his breath. For an instant he had imagined Billy Ray superimposed over Slade's body. "Kind of poetic justice, when you think about it," he said without pleasure.
Cleary rose to his feet, stared at Betts, an awful burden showing in his eyes. "Johnny, Slade was behind everything else, but he didn't kill Billy Ray."
Betts frowned. "If he didn't, who did?"
He lowered his eyes, unable to meet Betts's open, questioning gaze. When he began speaking, his voice was low, almost as if he were talking to himself. "I couldn't remember what I knew about it. I'd never actually seen it before, but..."
Betts walked up to him, a puzzled look on his face. "Never seen what before?" He shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
His head still lowered, Cleary pulled the small gold object from his pocket. "Spotted it right before they came. At the bottom of the pool."
Then looking up, his face haunted by the damage he was about to do, he opened his hand. "Didn't Billy Ray give this to Jesse?" He held out the gold guitar necklace.
Betts took the necklace, stared at it without speaking, not wanting to believe what Cleary was implying. He looked up at him. "No, I mean yes, but just because..." He shook his head. "Damn it, Cleary. What are you saying? That Jesse killed him. That's crap. She loved him."
"Johnny, I remember you asking her outside the record store. You asked her what had happened to the gold guitar necklace."
"So what?"
Cleary stared at him. "She didn't say that she'd lost it. She said she'd buried it with him. Why would she lie to you?"
Betts's temples pulsed. His confusion and disbelief were turning to anger. "Damn it, Cleary," he screamed. "I love her. What are you trying to do?"
He took a swing at him, but Cleary blocked the punch, stepped inside of it, and wrapped his arms around Betts, hugging him, trying to absorb the deep sorrow that was wracking through his friend.
At first Betts struggled, then he went limp. "Damn it, Cleary," he cried out. "What am I gonna do now? It's all over. Everything's over."
"Take it easy, Johnny. You're going to be okay. Where is she?"
Betts remained quiet a moment, collecting himself, thinking about what to do. "What if I don't tell you?"
Cleary lowered his eyes, then looked up at him. "Cops still think you did it. Are you willing to take the rap for her?"
Betts stood there, didn't answer. Then suddenly he turned and rushed away.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Blue Hotel
When he arrived at The Blue Hotel, where he had dropped off Jesse, she was standing near a prewar red gas pump in the dusty parking lot. He pulled up next to her, slamming on the brakes. She was about to open the passenger door, when he jumped out of the car and walked over to her. She looked up at him, startled by the expression on his face.
"What happened Johnny? You okay?"
He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. "You know the cops think I killed Billy Ray. They'd like me to spend the rest of my days behind bars, Jesse. Whataya think about that?"
She looked at him oddly, frowned. "That's why we gotta get out of here. Let's go, Johnny." She reached for the door.
He shook his head, then held out his hand, opened it. "Cleary found this in the bottom of the pool. I guess you didn't throw it in the coffin like you told me.
She looked at him, astonishment lining her features as he waited for her to answer him. He expected her to deny having anything to do with Billy Ray's death. He silently pleaded for her to give him an explanation he could believe. Maybe she went swimming before Billy Ray died, lost the pendant, and didn't realize it for a couple of days. Maybe she threw it in the pool after his death as an offering. She had just told him the coffin story because that's what she wished she had done with it.
Sure, there were reasons, and he would accept whatever it was. C'mon, Jesse, tell me. He wanted to believe she was innocent. She had to be. Jesse was his girl, his lover, his future.
"How did it get in there?"
"They were killing his spirit, Johnny."
"Jesus, Jesse. What has that got to do with the necklace?"
"Pushing him in the pool was the only way to save him," she said, matter-of-factly. "He had to die so the music could live."
"What are you talking about?" He dropped the gold guitar in the dust, stepped back from her.
"The music belonged to us. It's what keeps us young. Don't you see?" she pleaded.
Betts just stared at her. "They were making him change it, and he'd stopped fighting, Johnny. He was joining them, and I couldn't let him do that." She pushed her straw-colored hair away from her face. Tears ran down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes, mixing tears with dust.
"I had this dream last night, Johnny. We were driving, running, but no matter how fast we went, we never got anywhere. We couldn't get away."
He nodded and was silent a moment. "I don't think you can ever get away from yourself." His eyes met hers. "It's like, no matter where you go, there you are."
A highway patrol car pulled into the parking lot and slowly drew up to the '49 black Mercury. Jesse looked from Betts to the patrol car. "Here I am," she said softly.
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
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