“Why should we?” Charlie's voice bad an edge sharpened by anger or fear. Marti couldn't tell which. She couldn't figure out what was the matter with Charlie. “You conned Tony's mom and got something that didn't belong to you,” Charlie said. “All we're asking is that you give it back.”
A uniformed officer got out of the car and began to walk toward the Lewises’ front door. Marti edged past Charlie atid walked into the entry hall.
Charlie took a step back, surprise on his face. “Where are you going?” he asked.
Marti didn't answer. She Opened the front door just before the officer reached it.
“Marti Lewis?” the officer asked.
“Yes,” she said. She pulled the envelope from her pocket and held it out. As he took it she added, “Thanks.”
“Sure,” he answered. “No problem. I'll put this on Officer Prescott's desk. She'll get it first thing tomorrow morning.” As he began to walk back to his car, Marti shut the door.
She turned to see Tony and Charlie staring at her from the doorway to the living room.
“What did you just do?” Tony whispered. Charlie's face sagged, and he looked as I'll as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
Marti walked past them into the living room and sat on the brocade sofa. “I gave him one of the photographs,” she said. “The one in which the Cuatros are dressed like Western desperados. The one in which Barry's holding a gun. The officer who's helping me thinks it's worth checking into.”
Tony sat on the nearest chair and closed his eyes.
“Oh, Marti.” Charlie dropped beside her on the sofa. His lips moved as though he were trying to speak, but instead he leaned over and rested his head in his hands.
Charlie's shoulders shook, and Marti realized that he was crying.
Apprehensively, Marti said, “I've been truthful with both of you, and you haven't been with me. What's this all about? Why won't you tell me? It's that gun in the photograph, isn't it?”
“Yes,” Tony said.
Charlie raised his head and looked at her. His face was blotchy and red. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and loudly blew his nose. “One of the pictures in the Houston Post showed the gun found next to Barry's body,” he said. “The picture was clear enough so that weJknew it was the same gun as the one in that desperados photograph.”
Marti heard the words, but it took a moment before they registered. “Are you telling me that was Barry's gun?” she whispered.
“No,” Charlie said. “It's mine.”
CHAPTER • 9
Marti could only stare at Charlie. For a moment thoughts exploded and bounced inside her head like flashes of light She'd reach out to grasp them, but they'd slip through her fingers. “Charlie?” she stammered. “Charlie … you didn't—”
“I didn't give the gun to Barry,” he said.
She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the upholstered seat of the sofa. “Who did you give it to?”
“I didn't give it to anybody! When I saw what looked like our gun in that newspaper photograph I-I went right to the place where we'd hidden it, only the gun wasn't there. I don't know who took it.”
“You told me it was your gun. Now you're saying, our gun.”
“It doesn't matter. I'm just trying to explain that—”
“It dose matter,” Marty insisted. “Whoever took that gun killed Barry.”
“Will you get off it!” Charlie snapped “The police-even the medical examiner—said Barry committed suicide. All this snooping around you're doing is making everything worse.”
Marti edged back, away from Charlie. His fear was a damp, crawly thing, and she couldn't let it touch her. “Did you have something to do with Barry's death?” she demanded. “Why are you trying so hard to cover up the gun?”
His eyes widened, and he stammered, “N-now wait a minute, Marti. Don't start thinking that I—”
“What are you trying to keep from me?”
“I'm not. I—”
“Is it Thad? Have you been in contact with him since he was released?”
Tony jumped to his feet. “Thad's out? Since when?”
Charlie's eyes were glazed glass in a chalk-white face as he stared at Marti.
“You didn't know, did you?” Marti said.
Charlie turned his head stiffly and looked up at Tony. “Do you think—” His voice creaked to a stop.
“If he came back—”
“You're talking around me,” Marti complained. “It's not fair. There are things you know that I should be told.”
Tony lowered himself to a chair at Marti's other side. “Maybe we should tell her,” he said to Charlie. “You do it. Start at the beginning. Tell Marti the whole thing.”
Charlie let out a long sigh and leaned over, his forearms resting on his thighs. His knuckles, protruding from tightly twisted fingers, were bloodless knobs, and his voice was low. Marti strained to hear.
“It was when we were putting together that desperado skit, back when we were all in the tenth grade,” Charlie said, “I got a water pistol to use for the gun, but Thad said it didn't look right He thought it would be funny if we used a real gun because Old Billingsly would have a screaming fit if he knew we were up there onstage with a real gun. The big joke was that nobody would know but us. Barry thought it was a great idea and agreed with Thad that we should do it. Tony did too.”
“We alldid” Tony muttered.
“So we drove into Houston and went to a couple of pawnshops,” Charlie said, “but they turned us down because we were only sixteen. We went to an awful rundown neighborhood, where some guys were sitting outside a bar and we asked them if they knew somebody who'd sell us a gun, and they just laughed at us. But one guy followed us down the street to the car and told us he'd come up with a gun for us if we'd make it worth his while. He got in the car with us and directed us to a pawnshop a couple of blocks away. He sat on the front seat between Barry and me—I was driving—and wanted to know our names and what we were going to do with the gun—things like that. Barry made up a name and a lot-of crazy stuff. I could tell that the guy knew Barry was lying.”
“How about you?” Marti asked. “What did you tell him?”
“Like a fool, I had already told him my name. I wish I hadn't.”
Charlie shuddered as though he were shaking off the memories, and went on. “When we parked in front of the shop the guy asked us how much money we had and said it was barely enough to buy a gun, but he'd see what he could do. He took themoney into the shop, and we watched through the window while he bought the gun. In a few minutes he came out and handed it to us. Thad complained that the gun should have been a larger size. The one the guy bought for us was a .22 and kind of small for Western desperados, but he said that was the best we could get for the money. I think the creep pocketed most of it.”
Marti interrupted. “You were lucky to get anything. How could you all have been so dumb as to give that stranger your money? I'm surprised he didn't just go out the back door of the shop with it.”
“We know all that. We realized at the time we were being stupid.” He scowled at her. “Didn't you ever do anything stupid and wished you hadn't?”
“Of course I have,” Marti said. She touched his shoulder in sympathy. “I guess sooner or later everybody does. I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on.”
Charlie gave her a last reproachful glance, then continued. “The guy left, so we went into the shop to see if we could change the gun for something that looked more Western, but the shop owner said no. And while Thad was trying to argue him into it, Tony and I looked down at the handgun register that was still lying open on the counter. The guy who'd bought the gun for us had used my name. He'd registered the gun to me!”
“How could he do that?” Marti asked.
“I don't know,” Charlie said, “but he did it. He'd given a different address from mine and hadn't put down a phone number. I guess the shop owner hadn't asked for ID. Maybe he even knew the guy.”
>
“It could have been their own private joke,” Tony said.
Marti looked from one to the other. “Didn't you say anything about it to the shop owner?”
Tony shook his head. “He just kept yelling at us and tried to get us out of there in a hurry. He was a red big guy, and mean. We were all scared of him.”
“We did use the gun in the skit,” Charlie said. He dropped his voice again. “Knowing it was a real gun wasn't that funny. We kept remembering those guys in Houston.”
“Barry didn't tell me any of that,” Marti said slowly, as thcpgh. idea were thinking aloud.
Charlie looked at her sharply. “Would you have told anybody? Do you have any idea how stupid, we felt?”
“I guess not,” Marti said. She thought a moment. “You said you put the gun away after the talent show was over.”
“That's right,” Tony said. “We hid it in the back of the closet in Charlie's bedroom.”
“Have you got any idea who took it from the hiding placed
Charlie's voice was filled with misery. “It had to be Barry, didn't it?”
“No. It didn't. Didn't all four of you know where the gun was hidden?”
“Hey, wait a minute!” Tony exploded. “Do you think that Charlie or I—”
Marti shook her head impatiently as she interrupted. “Are you positive that nobody touched that gun since your desperados skit?”
Charlie looked down and didn't answer.
Finally Tony urged, “Tell her, Charlie. Tell her the rest of it”
Mom suddenly appeared in the doorway. She was wrapped in her pmk cotton robe and had a couple of rollers in the front of her hair. Her eyes, bare of makeup, looked older and puffy. “I know I sound like a grouch,” she said, “but enough is enough. It's very late, and you all have school tomorrow. I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, Tony … Charlie.”
“Mom!” Marti said. “This is important!”
“Not as important as a good night's sleep,” she answered. “Good night, boys.”
Tony stood up. Charlie followed, and they walked toward the door.
“I have to hear all of the story,” Marti told them.
Charlie nodded. “Meet at my house tomorrow right after school. Don't take too long, because I'm working a five P.M. shift at the Jumbo Burger.”
“I can be there,” Tony said.
“Wait!” They paused on the porch and Marti squeezed past her mother, who was trying to shut the front door. “I've got to meet with Miss Dillard right after school, but it won't take much time. I promise. Just wait for me. I'll get there as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” Charlie said as Marti's mother shut the door.
She turned to face Marti. The hope in her eyes was so obvious that Marti felt guilty. “What s this about a meeting with Miss Dillard?” she asked. “Did you decide to go to her for counseling after all?”
“No, Mom,” Marti said. “She wants me to meet Clement Granberry. He's that psychologist she's going to work with in writing the book.”
Her mother's forehead puckered as she remembered. “If this issomething you'd rather not do, Marti—”
“It's okay,” Marti said. She put an arm around her mother's shoulders, suddenly thinking about the day when she realized she'd finally caught up to her mother in height. Now she was at least two inches taller. Sometimes this new perspective felt a little strange. She wondered how her mother felt about it. Or had it ever occurred to her?
“What were you and the boys so intent about?” Mar-ti's mother asked.
“We were talking about Barry” Marti said. “And Thad. The sudden thought of Thad and what he might do terrified her so much that she shuddered.
For a moment her mother looked at her with concern. Then she pulled away and snapped off the living room light. As she joined Marti at the foot of the stairs she linked arms with her and said. “I know this is a difficult period for you, darling, but it will pass. It inay seem Kke small consolation right now, but believe me, sweetheart, time will heal the pain;”
“Yes, Mom,” Marti murmured, but her mind was on Thad.
Her mother leaned on her as they climbed the stairs, and Marti could hear the catch in her breath. “Hove you, Marti,” her mother said. “You're a dear, good girl.”
“I love you too, Mom,” Marti answered. At the top of the stairs she parted from her mother with a quick kiss on the cheeky shut her bedroom door, and dialed the phone withtrembling fingers.
It was unswered in stereo, Charlie on one extension, a grumbling voice, soggy with sleep, on the other.
“Charlie?” Marti asked.
“Who is this? What time is it?” the deeper voice asked.
“I've got it, Dad,” Charlie said quickly. “You can hang up.”
His father muttered something, and Marti could hear die click as he put down the phone. She said, “It's Marti.”
“I know it's you,” Charlie said. “Listen, Marti, I'm not going to explain this thing over the phone. I said tomorrow afternoon, and that's it.”
“I'm calling about something else,” Marti said. “I thought about it after you left. It's about Thad.”
There was a pause before Charlie spoke, his voice thick with suspicion. “What about Thad?”
“Did Thad know where your gun was?”
“We all did.”
“Then maybe Thad took it Maybe Thad wanted to get even with the rest of you because you testified against him. Maybe Thad killed Barry. So—”
“You're just guessing. We don't know that.”
“Charlie!” Marti gripped the receiver the way she'd have liked to grip Charlie's shoulders, forcing him to listen, to pay attention. Her breathing was ragged and shallow. It hurt to take a deep breath. “Listen to me! What I'm trying to say is, I want you to be very careful. Maybe it would be a good idea if you told the police what you've told me and what you're going to tell me tomorrow.”
“The police?” Charlie burst out.
“Don't you see?” she said, and she was suddenly so overwhelmed with fear it was hard to speak. “If Thad's the one who killed Barry, then maybe he thinks he's got a reason to kill you and Tony too!”
CHAPTER • 10
It was hard to get through the day. Marti needed to talk to Karen and to hear what Charlie had to tell her. She wars nervous when Charlie didn't show up for English lit class.
“He's sick,” Tony said when the class was over. Even though the classroom was emptying as fast as a glass with a hole in the bottom, he kept lus voice low.
She glanced to each side, but only a few people were in the room, and they were busy, not paying attention to Tony and Marti. Mr. Thompson was at the board explaining something to Carol Ann and Donna, and Emmet seemed to be sorting through the papers in his notebook. She figured that they were not even within earshot. “If Charlie's sick, I guess he won't want to meet with us,” she said.
“We'll meet” Tony answered. “I think it would be better for Charlie to tell you what he has to say and get it off his chest. He's scared, that's all, and it's made him sick. He told me what you said when you called last night.”
“I'm frightened for him—and for you too.”
Tony shrugged. “So far, what do we know? It's all guesswork.”
Marti frowned. “How can you possibly think that Barry killed himself?”
“I don't know what to think,” Tony said, “but I'm not going to spend my life in the bathroom upchucking because I'm scared. I'll see you later at Charlie's house.”
“As soon as I can make it,” Marti said, but first there was the ordeal to get through in Miss Dillard's office. The counselor had sent her a reminder note, and Marti knew there was no getting out of the meeting. She just hoped she could keep it brief.
As Marti rushed from her locker, Kim grabbed at her arm, causing Marti to spin around. “Wait for me!” Kim shouted. “Where are you going so fast?”
“Miss Dillard's office,” Marti said.
“I'll go with you.”<
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Marti shook her head. “No,” she said. “Miss Dillard wouldn't like it.”
“Then let's get together afterward. Let's do something. Do you want to go to a movie tonight?”
“I thought you had a date.”
Kim shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “It's not important. I can get out of it. I'd rather spend some time with you.”
“You don't have to worry about me,” Marti snapped. Seeing the hurt look on Kim's face, she leaned against the lockers and said, “Oh, Kim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know” Kim said. A smile wavered at die corners of her mouth and gave up. “Marti, you know that I—”
“Marti?” A voice Mterrupted.
Marti turned to see Karen Prescott She was dressed ma Jaded denim skirt and a white blouse and, with her short, curly Jiair and freckled nose, looked like one of the students at Farrrington Park High. “I was pretty sure I'd find you if I just looked around a bit,” Karen said.
“Karen, this is my friend, Kim Roberts. Kim this is Officer Karen Prescott.”
“Officer?” Kim looked from Marti to Karen and back to Marti, “Officer Prescott?” she repeated.
“I'm on the staff of the Farrington Park Police Department,” Karen said.
“Police?” It all seemed to come together for Kim. Her eyes opened a little wider and she said, “Oh. It's about Barry, isn't it? About Marti not being able to believe that Barry … that Barry—” She leaned forward intently. “Do you think Marti is right?”
“All we're doing is some preliminary informal investigating,” Karen told her. “We haven't reached any conclusions yet. We may never be able to.”
Marti got right to the point. “Why did you come here to End me?”
“I have some information for you,” Karen said.
“What?” Marti asked in a rush. “Will it help us?”
“If you want me to stick around, I can,” Kim said.
Marti shook her head. “I have to meet with the senior counselor,” she said to Karen. “I almost forgot.”
“I'll go with you,” Karen told her.
“Wouldn't you like me to go too?” Kim asked. She moved a protective step closer to Marti.
Secret, Silent Screams Page 9
