JACK KNIFED

by Christopher Greyson

  “Okay,” Replacement breathed out. “Terry Martinez. He’s a teacher?”

  “High school art. Widower. Wife died five years ago. No arrests. Finances in order.”

  “I do all the talking, right?” Replacement leaned in.

  Jack moved his fingers in a horizontal zipping motion across his mouth.

  As they got out of the car, a middle-aged man opened the front door and walked outside. His black hair was streaked gray at the sides. He was short and his blue T-shirt revealed a bit of a paunch. He tipped his head to the side, stopped halfway down the steps, and then waited for them to approach.

  “Terry Martinez?” Replacement smiled as she held out her hand. “I’m Alice Campbell. This is Jack Stratton.”

  Replacement’s nose crinkled as she said her own name, but it was the look Terry gave him that caught Jack’s attention. Terry’s eyes traveled around Jack’s face like someone would examine a painting. His eyes moved to look at his mouth, nose, chin, and finally his eyes. Jack held out his hand, and Terry hesitated for a moment before he shook it firmly.

  “How can I help you?” Terry’s mouth curled up at the corner.

  “I was wondering if we could speak with you about some people you went to high school with?”

  “High school.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “That was a long time ago, but I’d be happy to. Uh…do you want to come in?”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Replacement nodded.

  Terry turned around and went back in the house; they followed. Inside was not at all what Jack had expected from an art teacher’s home. It was a very neat and tidy, conservative house. The front door opened to a staircase, a dining room to the left, and a traditional living room on the right.

  Terry motioned them to a small couch. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Replacement answered and Jack shook his head no.

  Terry moved over to sit in a worn but comfortable-looking blue chair.

  “How can I help you?” He put his hands on his thighs and leaned forward.

  “We were wondering if you knew a Patricia Cole?” Replacement folded her hands on her lap.

  Terry leaned back, frowned, and nodded his head.

  “Patty. I knew her. She grew up over on Winston. No brothers or sisters.”

  “Can you tell us a little about her?”

  Terry took his glasses off and cleaned them on his shirt. “What’s this all about?”

  “We’re doing some family research, and it would be very helpful if you could fill in some information we need.”

  Terry’s eyes went wide; he leaned in to stare at Jack. He tilted his head, and pursed his lips.

  “I never thought…Patty is your mother.”

  Now it was Jack’s turn to look surprised. “How did you know?” he asked.

  Terry smiled and patted the arm of his chair. “The resemblance. I’m an artist. I’ve got a thing for faces. I knew you must be Steve’s son—”

  Replacement gasped. Terry looked nervously at both of them.

  “You knew that, right?” he blurted.

  “Yes.” Jack nodded. “At least, I look a little like him.”

  “A little? Not identical, but almost. The whole shape of your face. The eyes are spot-on. Indistinguishable.” He clucked his tongue and held up a hand. “One second.”

  Terry hurried out of the room and returned a moment later carrying a framed photo. “Here.”

  Jack took the frame, and Replacement slid closer so she could see it, too. Four boys in shorts held up fishing poles with tiny fish at the end. They were all smiling. Steven was in the middle. He must have been in his early teens.

  Replacement pointed. “He looks just like you.”

  Terry sat back down and sniffed. “I’m sorry. I, um…I didn’t know he had…I didn’t know about you. I’m so sorry about Steven. You couldn’t have known him, right?”

  Jack shook his head. “I didn’t even know his name before this week.”

  “Is this you?” Replacement pointed to a boy in the photo.

  “Sure is. I was a little chubbier then.”

  Jack looked back at the fat kid in the photo with the curly black hair and a giant smile.

  “Were you friends?” Replacement asked.

  “The four of us were best friends. Same Boy Scout troop. We all knew each other since diapers.”

  “Who are the other boys?”

  “Trent Dorsey and Dennis Wilson. Trent passed ten years ago. Car accident in Baltimore.”

  “And Dennis?”

  “He’s the police chief. He lives on Davidson. Big gray colonial.”

  Jack held up a hand. “Wait. Dennis Wilson? Dennis Wilson was chief when Steven died.”

  “That was Dennis Senior. He was the chief then. His son became chief maybe twelve years ago.”

  Steven’s friend is now chief. I have a much better shot at the police reports now.

  Terry frowned as he looked at Jack. “Steven was a good guy. I don’t know if anyone…Mrs. Ritter. Jack, your…Steven’s mother still lives in town.” Terry’s eyes filled with concern.

  Jack looked down at his hands, and Replacement shook her head.

  “You knew Patricia?” Replacement cleared her throat.

  Terry looked down at the floor for a moment before he continued. “I called her Patty. I knew her. It’s a small town, so everyone knows everybody. She was in my class…three times in elementary school, and we went to middle and high school together.”

  “Did you ever…date Patty?”

  “Date? No. I had a huge crush on her in middle school. I wouldn’t go near her then because of her father. Mr. Cole’s as mean as they come. He’s a drinker, too. I thought about it in high school, but she’d gotten a…well.” Terry started to clean his glasses again, but this time he didn’t look up.

  Jack broke the awkward silence. “I’ve heard. She was…she had a reputation.”

  Terry exhaled. “In high school she did. Something changed in her. It was after her mom died. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was her father. I don’t know. She just seemed to fly apart. I didn’t know Steven dated her.”

  “You didn’t know they dated?” Replacement stared at the photo.

  “No. But…boy, just thinking about it. On one hand, it was twenty-something years ago, but on the other it feels like yesterday.” Terry smiled sadly. “Steve was getting over a bad breakup before he was killed. I didn’t think he started dating again.” Terry smiled sideways at Jack. “I was always jealous of your dad.”

  Jack’s jaw clenched at the word.

  “Steve was such a good kid. He was a Boy Scout. Back then, Patty’s reputation wasn’t that good. Steve wasn’t the type of guy to go with—”

  Jack finished the sentence, “A girl like that?”

  Terry nodded and continued. “When I came back and found out that Steve—”

  “Came back?” Jack blurted out.

  Replacement took Jack’s hand.

  “My parents divorced right before my senior year. My dad stayed in Hope Falls, but I had to move to Bradington with my mom.”

  “You weren’t around when he was stabbed to death?” Jack’s shoulders slumped.

  The teacher’s eyes went wide, and he sat back.

  “Wait a minute. Are you looking into it? Me? Why would you think I had anything to do with it?” His voice got higher the more agitated he became.

  “Settle down.” Jack stood. “I don’t think you had anything to do with it.”

  Replacement jumped up. “Why not?”

  “I didn’t.” Now all three were on their feet. “Steve was my friend.”

  “I believe you.” Jack sighed.

  “I don’t,” Replacement snapped.

  “What?” Terry held up his hands.

  “Well…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. You show us a picture and act all nice but it could be an act.”

  “Why would you think I had anything to do with it?”


  “Patricia,” Jack snapped.

  “Patty said I had something to do with it? She wouldn’t. Now I don’t believe you.” Terry stood up straighter.

  “She’s in…she wasn’t specific.” Jack ran his hands through his hair. “She said Terry did it. No last name, and since I can’t ask her…” Jack looked down at his clenched fist. “Thank you for your time.”

  “I’m sorry. Wait. There are other guys named Terry. Terry Martin. He was a pain in the ass at school. Martin and Martinez? Two Terry Ms. People always got us confused. Did she mean him?”

  “I talked to him already.”

  “Did he say anything?” Terry paced. “There was also a Terry in the grade above us. Football player. He was a jerk.”

  “Talked to him, too. Thank you.” Jack headed for the door.

  “Would it be possible to talk to you again, please?” Replacement shook Terry’s hand as she glared at Jack.

  “Sure. Jack, if I said anything to offend you, I’m sorry. If you need anything, please let me help.”

  “Thank you.” Jack stomped down the steps to the car, and Replacement hurried after him.

  “What the hell was that? Why are we leaving?” She grabbed his shoulder, but he was too strong for her to turn him around, so he just stopped.

  “What? I didn’t do anything, and now you’re pissed? I didn’t hit him.”

  “He’s the first person who would talk to us. He knew both your parents.”

  “Don’t call them that,” Jack snarled.

  “Sorry, but he knew them both. He might know something that will help.”

  “He had nothing to do with it. Did you see his face? I just know. I’ll talk to him again later. Not now. I held up two out of three of your stupid rules. I want to go back to the inn and sleep.”

  Replacement opened and closed her mouth.

  “Good. You can get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow will be a new day, right?”

  If I make it to tomorrow.

  Drown It

  Jack splashed water on his face and reached for the towel.

  Terry. Terry who? She gets him killed and she can’t even tell me the last name of the guy who killed him?

  After he dried his face, he looked in the mirror, and the towel fell out of his hands. He stared at his reflection and barely recognized himself: pale and gaunt, with dull black eyes set deep in his skull.

  I have to get some sleep. I look like death.

  Jack walked out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Replacement had his phone in her hands and looked as if she wanted to kill him.

  “What? I’m following your stupid rule, and I want to go to sleep.”

  She held the phone up.

  “I went to look at the report for Terry Bradford and saw this. You asked Cindy to run a background check on me?”

  For a moment Jack froze, blinking.

  Damn.

  He shook his head. “No. We got in that fight about not knowing each other, and me not being like a brother to you, so I wanted to find out more about you.”

  “So you had Cindy run a background check?”

  “Yeah, I did. So? How else was I going to find out more about you?”

  “How about asking? You could have…you should…” Replacement burst into tears, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

  Damn.

  Jack’s fist came down on the bureau, and something cracked. He grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door. He stomped down the stairs, out the front door, and straight to his car.

  I’m going to get some sleep. One way or another.

  Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he fought to drive out the thoughts that assaulted him. It didn’t work. Rage seethed inside him. Pain. Hurt. It was useless to fight it now.

  I’ll kill it. I’ll drown it.

  The drive to the bar they’d seen that morning was short. It was a hole-in-the-wall, single-room bar on a side road. Several cars and trucks were parked outside. Jack went straight through the door and paused for a second as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

  He smiled.

  My kind of bar.

  There was one long bar with stools in front and four small tables along the wall. A man in his sixties with pale skin, yellowed teeth, and blank eyes stood behind the bar. Of the seven guys in the room, three looked toward the door but only for a moment. Jack headed to the far stool against the wall.

  “Whiskey. Neat.” Jack slapped a handful of bills down.

  The glass barely touched the wood before he downed it in one swallow.

  “Again.”

  He repeated the process three more times before he paused. The bartender hurried to the other end of the bar. Jack swirled his drink and smiled wryly.

  I’ll sleep tonight.

  No one came near him at the end of the bar. Jack kept throwing bills down, but his glass stayed full only momentarily. He didn’t talk. He didn’t look up. He just drank.

  An hour later, Jack was ready to go. He licked his lips and closed one eye as he tried to figure out how many bills to leave. In the end, he let a few fall from his hands and stuffed the others in his pocket. The door at the front of the bar opened, and three men with green shirts and work boots walked through. Terry Bradford came in last.

  It took Jack two tries to stand. One of the men looked at Jack and tapped Terry on the arm.

  “Hey,” Terry called out. “Lookie who’s here. You lookin’ for me?”

  Jack grinned.

  The perfect end to a sucky day.

  “Yeah.” Jack walked forward. “I’ve got something to ask. You said something about Patty.”

  “Pump-me Patty? Yeah.” He laughed and nudged the guy next to him. “I bet a lot of guys can tell you about her. You want details? How she—”

  Jack’s fist flashed out; blood erupted out of Terry’s nose and he staggered back. Jack kicked him in the chest and out the door. Barstools overturned, and men rushed to get out of the way. Someone tackled Jack from behind, and both of them tumbled outside. Terry had already started to get to his feet.

  Jack hit the guy who’d tackled him in the groin. The man coughed and rolled onto his back. The other guy, who had come in with Terry, stood in the doorway but didn’t come down the steps. Jack struggled to his feet and wobbled in a half circle. Terry stood there, holding his nose.

  Jack took two steps forward.

  Terry pulled his hand down and snarled, “You piece of—”

  The second punch caught Terry on the chin. His mouth closed with a pop, but he remained on his feet. Jack hit him again. His head snapped back, and this time he fell to his knees. Jack swayed and staggered. He grabbed Terry by the collar to gain his balance. The next punch caught Terry in the eye, and his head flopped to the side.

  “Patty is my mother,” Jack snarled and hit him again. “Steven Ritter’s my father.” He hit him again. “Steven Ritter. Remember him now? Did you kill my father?”

  He hit him again. Terry’s body went limp, and Jack had to struggle to hold him in that slumped position.

  He’s out cold.

  Jack hit him again.

  “FREEZE!”

  Jack looked up, and a young cop in his early twenties stood, shaking, before him. The lights from his cruiser made Jack blink, and the siren hurt his ears.

  Am I that loud when I show up? That sucks.

  Jack let Terry fall to the pavement. He staggered but remained on his feet.

  “Hands up. Put your hands up,” the cop ordered, but his voice trembled.

  When the hell did he get here?

  Jack held up his arms and slowly stumbled around.

  “Move away from…that guy.”

  Terry groaned.

  Jack smiled and lowered his arms.

  “Keep your hands up.” His voice went high.

  Lights and sirens blared as another car rushed to the scene. It was a white Crown Victoria with a bubble light attached to the roof.

  Damn. That’s got
ta be the chief.

  “I need to put my arms down.” Jack shook his head.

  A middle-aged cop in a white shirt approached, and Jack tried to keep his eyes focused.

  “Kenny, put your gun away.” The older cop shook his head. “Cuff him while I check on Terry.”

  Jack noticed the emblem on the older cop’s hat.

  It’s the chief. Damn.

  Terry sat up as the chief walked over to him. Kenny approached Jack, pulled him over to the cruiser, and turned him around. Jack relaxed against the cruiser and put his head down on the roof.

  As the young policeman patted Jack down, Kenny suddenly screamed, “GUN!”

  Everyone spun around at the word. Kenny held Jack’s gun and took two steps back.

  “I’m a cop,” Jack muttered.

  Kenny grabbed Jack’s hands and started to put cuffs on him.

  “You didn’t finish patting me down,” Jack pointed out. “You should do that. Not that I’d…do anything. Your boss is watching.”

  “Shut up,” Kenny snapped.

  “I’m just trying to help,” Jack slurred. “You also shouldn’t hold my gun while you cuff me. If I wanted, I could just spin around, get your gun, and blow your head off.”

  “Close your mouth.” Kenny struggled to cuff Jack while he held onto his gun.

  “See, I’m drunk. Have you done this before, Kenny? Let me tell you…what you do is push me up against the car a little. Not like smashing my face, but you push the guy into the car, and it knocks the wind out of them and shuts them up.”

  Kenny shoved Jack into the car, and Jack laughed.

  “I said lightly but not like a daisy.” Jack snorted.

  Kenny gave him a hard shove into the cruiser, which knocked the wind out of Jack.

  “Good.” Jack coughed. “That was much better.”

  “Who?” the chief yelled at Terry, who stayed sitting on the ground, while Kenny and Jack looked back at him. The chief stormed over to Jack. He was about five eight with a large potbelly. Sandy brown hair poked out from under his blue cap. The chief stared at Jack. As he searched Jack’s face, his eyes went wide. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.