by Mark Pepper
‘Afternoon, Larry. How did you sleep?’
‘Like the dead,’ he said, sitting down. ‘Is there any aspirin in the cupboard?’
‘And coffee in the pot.’
Used to Connie being the perfect hostess, he waited for her to fetch them.
‘You know where the kitchen is,’ she said.
He paused, then got up and went back inside. Connie’s apathy was out of character, but he supposed he didn’t know her character since she’d become a widow. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral. The truth was he had been avoiding her. Hayley had been round several times but he wouldn’t go with her. He didn’t want to be reminded, have his grief compounded. Connie without Frank – it wasn’t right. What made it worse, she was still an attractive woman. If she wanted, in a couple of years, she could easily make a life again with someone new. But she wouldn’t. She and Frank had been soul-mates, a connection he had never known with Hayley. Mere love wasn’t the same, it didn’t go as deep. Frank would never have beaten his wife, and Larry was ashamed of how different he was to the man he had most admired in life.
He brought his coffee back outside and sat down again. He was aware of Connie looking at him with a faint squint, as though trying to work him out, and he was struck by a horrible thought: in his drunken stupor he had opened up to her and revealed everything. The drugs bust, the business with DeCecco, attacking Hayley. Connie knew it all. He didn’t recall any such confession but that meant nothing. Beyond the opening hour of his bender there wasn’t much that he did remember.
‘Connie, did we ... talk last night?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did I mention I may have done something, uh ... regrettable?’
‘You mean something that’s not been in the newspapers already?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why, have you, Larry?’
Larry still couldn’t tell if her being offhand was simply a remnant of grief or if she was playing games with him. ‘Please, Connie, tell me. Did I?’
‘And if you didn’t, would you have the guts to tell me now? Now that you’re sober?’
She was taunting; he wasn’t stupid. She knew. ‘Connie, we go back a long way. If you think I’m an asshole, just tell me.’
‘If what you told me last night was the truth, Larry, you are a crown prince among assholes.’
He wasn’t going to argue. How could he? He stood up. ‘Thanks for the bed, Connie. Sorry I imposed.’
‘Larry, sit down. If you didn’t want to have this out with someone, why did you come here?’
‘Evidently, I was drunk.’
‘Yes, and now you’re sober you want to bury it all again and hope I’ll do the same?’
Larry’s heart missed a beat. ‘What are you saying, Connie?’
She easily read his fear, and her disgust for him was evident. ‘God’s sake, Larry, sit down. I have no interest in the legal implications of your stupidity. If you don’t care that you got Kevin Mallory killed, that’s a matter for your own conscience. I’m not about to call Gilchrist, if that’s what you’re thinking. My concern is Hayley. She’s my friend.’
‘And what am I?’ Larry asked. ‘I thought we were all friends.’
‘And I thought you were a good husband to Hayley. Clearly a lot’s happened since Frank died.’
‘But I want to put things right, Connie. Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘Not in my book,’ she said. ‘You know, when Frank used to tell me about his day, there was always one type of incident I hated hearing about above all others. I never told Frank because I knew he needed to let it out, because he hated them as well. You see, I could never understand the mentality of these people. Drug dealers, bank robbers, muggers, they’re all despicable, but they have a reason for what they do. They do it for the money. Even rapists – it’s a power thing. It makes them feel in control of their pathetic little lives. It’s a reason – if a warped one. But wife-beaters I could never fathom. It was always beyond me. Not the violence per se, but the fact that they do it to the people they’re meant to love most in the world, and then expect love and forgiveness in return, time and time again. Bank robbers don’t return to the bank the next day in tears asking to be forgiven. They know they’re assholes who don’t deserve a break. So why don’t you, Larry? Why aren’t you that self-loathing?’
‘I am,’ Larry moaned. ‘But I have to try. I love her so much.’
Connie shook her head. ‘Love and violence are mutually exclusive. Whatever you feel for Hayley, it’s not love.’
‘But, Connie, it will never happen again.’
‘Sure, until the next time it happens. No, you keep away from Hayley. She deserves better.’
‘Come on, in all the time we’ve known each other, have you ever thought I might be violent?’
‘No.’
‘So?’
‘But Frank did.’
It hurt John seeing Virginia’s face when they entered her father’s hospital room. It looked like she had been suddenly bereaved, though Dodge wasn’t dead, wasn’t even unconscious. John took it badly himself, a proud man like Dodge strapped to his bed, the side rails up like a baby’s crib. Dodge smiled at his daughter, but it was Quealy who spoke first.
‘Good morning, Dodge. Will I be okay to take the restraints off now?’
‘Hey, knock yourself out.’
Quealy raised one eyebrow impatiently. Virginia went to the bed, kissed her father on the forehead, then turned to scowl at Quealy.
‘You mean will the crazy man attack his own daughter?’ Dodge asked. ‘No, and John’s safe, too. I don’t reckon either of them’s gonna call me a nigger, do you?’
Quealy bowed to the pressure of six staring eyes and released his patient.
‘Hit the wall buzzer if you need anyone,’ he told the visitors, then finally accepted he really wasn’t welcome in the room and bowed out, leaving John to close the door he had left open.
‘How was Oregon?’ Dodge asked cheerily, rubbing his wrists.
Virginia was not impressed by such glibness. She tutted, dropped one of the guard rails and sat on the bed. Dodge took her hands and adopted a more sincere attitude.
‘Ginny, I’m okay. Sore in a couple of spots but I’ll live.’
‘And that might be some comfort to me if this was a regular hospital and you were in here because of a straightforward accident.’
Dodge didn’t reply to her. ‘How was Oregon, John?’
‘Interesting.’
‘Dad, you will hear all about our trip to Oregon, believe me. First things first, though. Very simple question: do you want to get out of here, yes or no?’
Dodge was wearing a quizzical smile like he didn’t know what the problem was. He added a clueless shrug to complete the façade. Virginia released his hands and stood up.
‘Dad, open your eyes! You’re in a bughouse, and if you don’t fess up to someone real quick you’re gonna wind up in the State Pen! I mean, what the hell were you thinking keeping an automatic weapon and frigging grenades?’
Dodge shrugged, and Virginia spun around to face the meshed window. Dodge glanced sheepishly at John, who felt compelled to speak.
‘I don’t think Virginia intended the conversation to run quite this way, Mr Chester. I think she’s annoyed because she’s so worried about you, and ... well, she hoped you might be a little more ... co-operative? Tell me if I’m speaking out of turn.’
John waited to be told just that, but Dodge had been cowed by his daughter’s outburst and shook his head. Hearing no objection, Virginia turned round.
‘Dad, you are in serious trouble and the only possible way out for you is to talk. Tell me what happened. Why it happened.’
‘If my being here is the problem, Mr Chester, I can leave,’ John said.
‘It’s not. And call me Dodge, for Christ’s sake. Virginia, Donnie died. Period. Isn’t that enough?’
Virginia bowed her head briefly. ‘Dad, he was my brother as well as your s
on.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I didn’t go off the deep end over his death.’
‘No, you went on vacation.’
It was a cheap shot but her head bowed once more, and this time stayed down. John felt his arbitration services were required again.
‘Mr Chester – Dodge – you can’t make Virginia feel any worse about leaving you than she already does. She shouldn’t have gone. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked her. And I think you understand exactly the point she’s making about going off the deep end; why you did and she didn’t.’
‘I take it you two had sex on your travels,’ Dodge said.
John was struck dumb, while Virginia looked up.
‘Good for you,’ Dodge said. ‘I’m pleased. You make a nice couple.’
The lovers exchanged glances.
Dodge winked at John. ‘I’ve never seen my daughter let anyone speak for her like that. She must think a lot of you.’
‘Nice sentiments, Dad,’ Virginia said. ‘And I do. But quit changing the subject. You being in here is not just down to Donnie. This has been building for years. So now it’s time to offload a little.’
‘I got nothing to say, Ginny. You want me to describe every day I spent in Vietnam? All the moral insults that ate away at me, bit by bit? The process of dehumanisation, seeing things no human being should see, doing things only an animal would do.’
‘No. I just want that one day from your nightmares. The one that encapsulates the whole four years.’
‘No such day.’
Then the extent of her knowledge registered. He got out of bed and put his back to them at the window.
‘Four years …’ he whispered. ‘Son-of-a-bitch read you my file.’
‘Dad, you have to accept: your past has caught up, and not just with you. Don’t you think I’m affected by all this? Dad, turn around, look at me.’
He wouldn’t.
‘I’ve grown up with it. My whole life, watching that distant look come over you and knowing you’ve gone someplace I can’t reach you, can’t help you. Hearing you shout out in your sleep. Even now, have you noticed how few nights I spend at my own apartment?’
‘I’ve never asked you to stay,’ Dodge said coldly.
John saw Virginia welling up, went over and put his arm around her.
‘Dad, I do it because I want to, because I love you. And I never asked for anything in return. Until now. Just talk to me.’
‘Ginny, I … I can’t.’
Virginia turned her face to John, who had been waiting for a signal. He could see in her teary eyes it was now. Her words had failed to work the oracle; it was time to confront Dodge with his own words, written over four decades before. John slipped a hand inside his jacket to retrieve the letters, but Virginia pre-empted the handover.
‘Dad, Harry had a daughter.’
Larry was reeling, winded, as though from a gut punch. Connie had to be lying. Why would his trusted partner have been badmouthing him on the quiet? As far as he was aware, he had never used unnecessary force in front of Frank. If anyone had a hand problem, it was Frank himself.
‘That’s not true, Connie. You must have misunderstood what Frank meant.’
‘He didn’t say you had been violent, he said he thought you could be.’
Larry felt the niceties depart. ‘Connie, you can fucking well explain that or take it back.’
She maintained her composure. ‘Frank said he occasionally caught a glimpse of someone inside you he hoped he’d never meet. Now, only you know what that might mean, or if it has any meaning at all.’
‘But you think, in light of recent events, it must be true. Jesus, Connie, thanks for the vote of confidence.’
She made a falsely apologetic face before standing up and clearing the table. While she was in the kitchen, Larry arrived at a way of stopping her subtle onslaught. He would shift the focus; draw a few storm clouds over what he assumed must be her sunny memories of her husband. Connie returned but didn’t sit down.
‘I have groceries to get,’ she said, a plain invitation for him to leave, but Larry only slouched more comfortably in his chair.
‘I know what this is about, Connie. All of this. Your … righteous indignation. It’s not about Hayley, or Kevin Mallory, or that asshole DeCecco. It’s about you. Because the things I’ve done ... they’re not the greatest testament to Frank’s memory, are they? If I’m a bad cop, Frank’s character may also be called into question because we were like two peas in a pod, me and Frank. And that reflects on you. How well did you know your husband? If you knew he was bad, you were colluding; if you didn’t, you were blind.’
‘I have to go to the store,’ Connie said, and disappeared inside.
‘And let me tell you something, Connie!’ Larry shouted, getting up and following her to the bedroom door. ‘You have been blind,’ he finished smugly.
Connie emerged with her purse. ‘You think?’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Everything I know, I learned from Frank.’
To his surprise, she began to laugh.
‘What the fuck is so hilarious?’ Larry said. ‘You think I’m shitting you?’
‘No, Larry, not at all. I just think it’s funny you thought that might be news to me. Was that supposed to rip into me, tear my heart out or something? Do you think I don’t know the man I was married to for thirty-two years? That I thought he was some kind of a saint? Frank was a bent cop from day one. As a law enforcement official he was seriously flawed. But I loved him in spite of that, because as a man, as a husband and a father, he was the best. Kind, gentle, loving, protective.’
Her emphasis was not lost on Larry, who was buckling beneath the truth again. She went to the rear of the house to lock the French windows, then came back. She opened the front door and he obediently stepped outside.
‘You, Larry,’ she said, closing the door behind them, ‘you don’t make the grade on any level. To call you simply a bent cop would be an insult to bent cops the world over. You’ve joined the other side. You’re up there with America’s Most Wanted. And as a man, and a husband to that sweet and lovely girl you married ...’
She showed a look of disdain and Larry got the message. She set off briskly for her car, leaving him to ponder where exactly he might turn next.
At the mention of Harry’s name, John saw Dodge jolt minutely, his spine stiffen. Virginia waited for her father to turn round, but Dodge was keeping his face to the window and keeping his counsel.
‘Marie named their daughter Hayley,’ Virginia said. ‘Marie is Harry’s wife, if you didn’t know. We came across a letter to Harry’s father.’
‘I don’t appreciate you digging in my past, girl.’
‘We weren’t. Dad, this is something to do with Harry Olsen, isn’t it? Sergeant Olsen? He died saving your life, right?’
When Dodge finally graced them with eye contact, his emotions appeared fully in check.
‘I take it you’re expecting some kind of breakdown right about now, like Rambo at the end of First Blood? Oh, you got the right wound, I’ll give you that. But it’s not the wound, it’s the infection that got in through the wound.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Virginia said.
‘And I won’t enlighten you.’
‘Then I hope you like this place. In fact, no. You won’t get to stay here. You’ll go to jail.’
Another impasse for John to referee. If he had known how many ghosts he would have to lay to rest apart from Donnie’s, he would never have left England.
‘Dodge, wouldn’t you like to meet Hayley? Find out if she’s okay. Maybe tell her about her father. You’re the only one who can do that.’
‘John, I don’t feel guilty because some kid grew up without her pop. Many times I could have died hauling someone else’s ass out of trouble. It went with the territory. In those four years I saw a lot of kids made fatherless, wives made widows, on both sides. Harry knew the risks; we all did. He made a sacrifice, but nothing
I wouldn’t have done for him. I don’t lose sleep over it.’
Virginia blew a fuse. ‘Then what the fuck do you lose sleep over, Dad? Because something in your head sure as hell keeps me awake nights.’
When Dodge didn’t answer, she grabbed the letters from John, threw them at her father, and left the room.
For a long while, Dodge stared guiltily at a blank wall. John felt privileged that he wasn’t asked to leave, and hoped that might be Dodge leaving a door open back into the past.
Finally breaking his gaze, Dodge rubbed a big hand across his bald dome and looked at the floor. Then his eyes narrowed and John knew why. He stooped and picked up the envelope bearing his own handwriting, slowly extracted the letter, and began to read. John watched his eyes slowly track line by line to the foot of the page and stop there, and stay there.
‘Must be odd seeing that again,’ John said, to snap him from his reverie.
‘Explain something, John. If Quealy only just showed you my file, how the hell did you know four days ago to go all the way to Oregon to track down Harry’s old man?’
‘We didn’t.’
‘You’re asking me to believe you found him by accident?’
‘No, we were looking for him.’
Baffled, Dodge said, ‘John, is it me, or is this conversation going in circles?’
‘We were looking for him, but not in relation to you.’
‘Son, either you’re talking a bunch of crap or I must be more screwed up than I thought, because I can’t make sense of a word you’re saying.’
John pulled out his wallet and took Hayley’s photo from its slot, then bent and scooped Marie’s letter from the floor.
‘Actually, the story’s very simple,’ he said, and handed both items to Dodge.
Dodge looked at the photo. ‘This is Hayley, right? Harry’s kid?’
‘Yes, and it came with that letter. If you read it, you’ll see Marie sent that picture as a final keepsake before she cut all contact.’
‘Why did she do that?’
