High Hunt

by Eddings, David

  I snooped around the Avenue a bit, but I really didn't feel like seeing Jack yet, and the pawnshop had a whole platoon of guys lined up inside, so I took a chance and drove on over to Parkland to see Mike. Surprisingly, he was home, and the two of us went into his living room and sprawled out in a couple of chairs and drank beer and watched it rain.

  "Damn shame about Jack and Marg," he said.

  "Yeah, but it was bound to happen, Mike. It was just a question of time really."

  "I've never really been able to figure out what it is about Jack," he said thoughtfully. "I like him — hell, everybody likes the son of a bitch, but he just can't seem to hang in there the way most guys do."

  "I think maybe Cap Miller came closer to Jack's problem than anybody else really," I said.

  "Oh?"

  "He said that the way he saw it Jack isn't ever really going to grow up. Maybe that's it."

  "Not much gets by old Miller," Mike commented.

  "It's funny, too," I said. "It's the one thing Jack's been obsessed with ever since I can remember — growing up. He used to think about that more than anybody I ever knew."

  "Maybe he tried too hard."

  "I think he tried too soon, Mike. Have you ever seen one of these girls who start going out on dates when they're eleven-lipstick, high heels, the whole bit?"

  "Yeah, but what's the connection?"

  "Have you ever known one of them that ever really grew up? I mean one who wasn't still pretty damned juvenile even when she got to be twenty-three or twenty-four?"

  "I always thought that kind of girl was just stupid."

  "Maybe that enters into it," I said, "but there's a kind of immaturity there, too."

  He shrugged. "I still don't get the connection."

  "Well," I said, "I've got a hunch that the patterns we set up when we first start doing something are usually going to be the patterns we're going to follow for the rest of our lives. Now, if you start out trying to be grown-up — or adult, if you prefer that term — while you're still physically and mentally a child, you're going to start the whole business all wrong. You'll start a pattern of playing grown-up. You'll contaminate all of

  your adulthood with that juvenile pattern. I think that's what happens to the little girl with her gunked-on makeup and wobbly high heels. She spends the rest of her life playing grown-up. I sort of think that the same thing happened to Jack."

  "You mean he's just playing?"

  "The worst part of it is that he doesn't know he's playing," I said. "He just doesn't know the difference. He's impatient, he's flighty, he's self-centered, he's intolerant — he's got all the classic traits of immaturity."

  "Shit, man" — Mike laughed —”you've just described about three-quarters of the people in the whole damn country."

  "Including you and me, probably," I said. "That's another thing Old Cap said. I asked him when anybody really grows up, and he told me that if he ever made it, he'd let me know."

  "Sounds like you and old Cap got along pretty well," he said.

  "I don't think I've ever met a man I liked or respected more," I said, "except maybe my old man."

  "He kinda hits a guy that way, doesn't he?"

  I nodded. "Say, how's Sloane doing? I was going to stop by the shop, but the place was mobbed."

  "Christ" — Mike laughed —”you wouldn't recognize the old fart. He's lost thirty pounds and gone teetotaler on us. He doesn't even drink beer anymore."

  "He got a pretty good scare up there, I guess."

  "It musta been pretty hairy."

  "You know it, buddy. Between him and McKlearey it was a real nervous trip."

  "Lou took off, you know."

  "Yeah. He told me he was going to."

  "That damned trip sure changed a lot of things around here," Mike said.

  "I guess it was sort of a watershed. Maybe we were all due for a change of some kind, and the trip just brought it all to a head."

  "I sure wish I could have gone along," he said wistfully.

  "So do I, Mike."

  We talked for another hour or so, and then Betty wanted Mike to take her to the grocery store, so I took off.

  I went on by the trailer court, but Jack's trailer was gone. That's always kind of a jolt. The damn things look sort of permanent when they're set down on a lot with fences and grass around them, so you forget that they've got wheels on them.

  I dropped down to the trailer sales lot and Jack was sitting in the grubby, cigarette-stinking office with his muddy feet up on the desk.

  "Yeah," he said, grinning tightly at me. "I moved Sandy in with me, and I didn't want Marg to pick up on that with the divorce comin' on and all."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah," he said, lighting a cigarette. "We got things all kinda hammered out to where I don't get nicked too bad for support money, and I don't want her gettin' the idea that she's the aggrieviated party in this little clambake. I'm not about to get screwed into the wall with alimony payments."

  "Where'd you move to?"

  "I'm in a court out toward Madrona."

  "Where'd Marg go?" I asked.

  "She got an apartment out in Lakewood. Not a bad place. I found it for her."

  "Sounds pretty civilized," I said.

  He shrugged. "I didn't want her gettin' the idea she had any kinda claim on my trailer. I guess her lawyer was pissed-off as hell about it. I got her all moved out before he got the chance to tell her to stay put. Now that she abandoned me, it kinda cuts down on her share of the community property."

  "You figure all the angles, don't you, Jack?"

  "I been through it all before," he said. "If a guy uses his head, he don't have to get skinned alive in divorce court. Hey, you want a drink?"

  "Sure." I didn't care much for that particular conversation anyway.

  "Come on." He got up, hauled on a coat and led me across the soggy lot to a fairly new trailer. "Try to look like a customer," he said, leading the way inside. The trailer was clammy, but it was a little more private than the office. Jack went into the little utility room and pulled a fifth of cheap vodka out of one of the heating ducts.

  "The boss can't smell this on me," he explained. "I have a coke afterward, and I'm pure as the driven snow." He laughed flatly.

  We each had a couple of pulls from the bottle and then sat around in the chilly living room talking.

  "Did McKlearey get that business with the gun straightened out with Sloane before he took off?"

  "Yeah," Jack said, "he and Sloane dummied up the paper work and got it all squared away with the police department."

  "Did you see him before he took off?"

  "Naw, I got a gutful of that motherfucker up in the woods."

  "The silly bastard had blood poisoning in that hand," I said. "He claims he was out of his head with the fever and the damned infection."

  "I wouldn't bet on that. I think he just plain flipped out."

  "It's possible," I said. "He was carrying that .38 when I saw him. Had it tucked under his belt."

  "That silly bastard! He's just stupid enough to try to use it, too. He'll get about half in the bag some night and try to knock over a liquor store or a tavern. I hope somebody shoots him."

  "At least he's out of our hair," I said.

  "Yeah."

  Somehow Jack and I didn't really seem to have much to talk about. I guess we never had really. I got the feeling that splitting up with Marg had hit him a lot harder than he was willing to admit to me.

  "Hey," he said suddenly, "you wanna do me a favor?"

  "Sure."

  "When I moved the trailer, I found a bunch of stuff that belongs to the kids. I got it all in a box in the trunk of my car. You think you could run it on over to Marg's place for me? I think it's better if I stay away from there for a while."

  "Sure, Jack."

  "I'll give her a call and let her know you're comin'."

  We went over to his car and transferred the box from his trunk to mine.

  "Hey, Dan,
look at this." He popped open his glove compartment. That stupid .45 automatic was in there.

  "Shit, Jack," I said, "you'll get your ass in a sling if they catch you carrying that thing in your car that way without a permit."

  He shrugged. "I got kinda stuck on it up in the brush, you know? Shit, a man oughta own himself a pistol — home protection and all that bullshit."

  "Maybe so," I said, "but you sure as hell shouldn't be carting it around in your glove box."

  "Maybe," I said. We went back in the office and he called Marg.

  "She'll be there," he said after he hung up. He gave me the address and I took off again.

  It took me a while to find the place. It was one of those older houses that had had the second floor remodeled into a self-contained apartment that you reached by way of an outside staircase. I went on up and knocked.

  "Hi, Dan," she said, smiling blearily at me. She smelled pretty strongly of whiskey. "Come on in."

  "I can only stay a minute," I said, carting in the box.

  "Just set that down," she told me. "The girls are asleep. How about a drink?" She didn't wait for any answer but whipped me up a whiskey and Seven-Up almost before I got the box put down. "Come on in the living room," she said.

  I pulled off my wet jacket, and we went on in and I sat on the couch. She sat in the armchair just opposite me and crossed her legs, flashing an unnecessary amount of thigh at me. "How's school?" she asked.

  I shrugged. "Takes a while to get back into it," I said. "I think I'm doing OK."

  "That's swell."

  "I wish I'd gotten here sooner," I said. "I'd have liked to get a chance to see the kids."

  "They'll be up in an hour or so," she said, leaning back to stretch her arms. She was wearing a sleeveless blouse, cotton, I think, and when she pulled it tight like that, her nipples stood out pretty obviously. Margaret was too big a girl to run around without a bra.

  "Sure has been lonesome around here lately," she said.

  "You have any plans — I mean for after —” I left it up there. Under the circumstances it was kind of a touchy subject really.

  "Oh," she said, polishing off her drink in two gulps, "nothing definite yet. I'm not worried." She got up, went into the kitchen and came out with a fresh drink.

  "You got any special plans for the rest of the day?" she asked, sitting on the couch beside me.

  "I've got to get back across town before too long," I lied, ostentatiously checking my watch.

  She didn't even bother with subtlety. Maybe she was too drunk or maybe the years with my brother had eroded any subtlety out of her. She simply reached out, grabbed my head and kissed me. Her tongue started probing immediately. I felt her hand fumbling at the front of her blouse and then the warm mashing of her bare breasts against me.

  "You wouldn't run off and leave a girl all alone like this, would you?" she murmured in my ear.

  "Margaret," I said, trying to untangle her arms from around my neck, "this is no good."

  "Oh, come on, Danny," she coaxed. "What difference does it make?"

  "I'm sorry, Margaret," I said.

  She sat back, not bothering to cover herself. Her nipples were very large and darkly pigmented and not very pretty. "What's the matter?" she demanded. "Has Jack been telling you stories about me?"

  "No," I said, "that's not it at all. I just don't think that under the circumstances it would be a good idea." I stood up quickly and gulped down the drink. "I've really got to run anyway."

  "Boy," she said bitterly, "you're just not with it at all, are you?"

  "I've got to run, Marg," I said. "Tell the kids I said hello."

  "I sure never figured you for a square," she said.

  "I'm sorry, Margaret," I said. I went out very quickly. Hell let's be honest, I ran like a scared rabbit.

  I stopped at the Patio and had a beer to give myself a chance to calm down.

  Clydine's folks had left when I got back to her place, and she tore into me for being nice to them.

  All in all, I got the feeling that I'd have been away to hell and gone out in front to have just spent the whole day in bed.

  37

  DEAR CAP AND CLINT,

  I've been so busy I kind of got behind in my letter writing, I guess I'm doing OK in school — at least they haven't kicked me out yet.

  I was down to Tacoma a couple weeks ago and saw most of the others. Sloane has gone off his diet a little, but he hasn't started putting any weight back on yet. At least he'll have a beer with the rest of us once in a while, if we all get together and twist his arm. His doctor is sure now that there wasn't any permanent damage, so you can quit worrying about that.

  My brother's divorce should be final about the end of Feb., and I think he'll be making himself kind of scarce around here for a while after that. He'll probably want to go someplace else for a while to get himself straightened out.

  Nobody has had any word about McKlearey. We don't even know where he went. It's probably just as well, I suppose. He wasn't just the most popular guy around here anyway. I can't really say that any of us miss him.

  I haven't seen Stan Larkin for a couple months now, but the last time he was still playing that same silly game I told you about before. It's kind of sad, really, because it's all so unnatural for him.

  I guess we were a pretty odd bunch, weren't we? I'm glad you changed your mind about giving up guiding. You just happened to get a bunch of screwballs the first time out.

  My girlfriend and I made up again. I think that's about the fourth or fifth time since school started. She's a 24-karat nut, but I think you'd like her.

  Well, you fellows have a merry Christmas now, and don't let the snow pile up so deep that it won't melt off in time for me to get through when fishing season starts.

  Well, Merry Christmas again. So long for now,

  DAN

  I write a lousy letter. I always have. I knew that if I read it over, I'd tear it up and then write another one just damn near like it, so I stuck it in an envelope and sealed it up in a hurry.

  It was Wednesday night, and my seminar paper on Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury was due on Friday, but I just couldn't seem to get it to all fit together. I went back and tried to plow my way through the Benjy section again. I knew that what I needed was buried in there someplace, but I was damned if I could dig it out.

  I kept losing track of the time sequence and finally wound up heaving the book across the room in frustration.

  I wondered what the hell Clydine was up to. Lately I'd taken to listening to the news and buying newspapers to check on any demonstrations or the like in Tacoma. I think my most recurrent nightmare was of some big cop belting her in the head with a nightstick — not that she might not have deserved it now and then.

  Maybe that was why I couldn't really concentrate. I was spending about half my time worrying about her. God damn it, as harebrained as she was about some things, she needed a fulltime keeper just to keep her out of trouble.

  I leaned back and thought about that for a while. I thought about some of the creeps she hung around with and decided that most of them needed keepers a whole lot worse than she did.

  I guess it really took me quite a while to come to the realization that I really didn't want just anybody looking out for her. As a matter of fact, I didn't want it to be anybody but me, when I got right down to it. I knew finally what that meant. Of all the stupid, inappropriate, completely out of the question things to get involved in at this particular time! I was still running down the long list of reasons why the whole idea was crazy as I reached for the telephone.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Joan. Is Rosebud there?"

  "Yeah, Danny. Just a minute — Clydine!" I wished to hell she wouldn't yell across the open mouthpiece like that.

  "Hello." Damn, it was good to hear her voice.

  "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Flower Child. I don't want to have to repeat myself."

  "My, aren't we authoritarian toni
ght."

  "Don't get smart. This is serious."

  "OK. Shoot."

  "I want you to transfer up here next quarter."

  "Are you drunk?"

  "No, I'm stone sober."

  "Why the hell would I want to do a dumb thing like that? This isn't much of a school, I'll admit, but it's sure a lot better than that processing plant up there."

  "Education is what you make of it," I said inanely. "I want you up here."

  "All my friends are down here."

  "Not all of them, Clydine."

  "Well, it's terribly sweet, but it's just completely out of the question."

  "Dear," I said pointedly, "I didn't ask you."

  "Oh, now we're giving orders, huh?"

  "Goddammit! I can't get any work done. I'm spending every damn minute worrying about you."

  "I can take care of myself very nicely, thank you," she said hotly.

  "Bullshit! You haven't got sense enough to come in out of the rain."

  "Now you look here, Danny Alders. I'm getting just damned sick and tired of everybody just automatically assuming that I'm a child just because I'm not eight feet tall."

  "That has nothing to do with it."

  "I'm going to hang up," she said.

  "Good," I said. "I'm going to be down there in an hour anyway."

  "Don't bother. I won't let you in."

  "Don't be funny. I'll kick your goddamn door down if you try that."

  "I'll call the police if you do," she yelled at me.

  "The fuzz? You? Oh, get serious! I'll be there in an hour." I slammed down the receiver.

  As a matter of fact, I made it in less than an hour. I saw Joan scuttling down the steps as I climbed out of my car.

  "Good luck," she called. "I'm heading for the nearest bomb shelter."

  "She pretty steamed?" I asked.

  "Don't forget to duck."

  "Thanks a lot, Joan. You're all heart."

  I went on up the stairs. She didn't have the door locked, but she did try to hold it shut against me. I pushed my way on through and we got down to business.