by Thomas Scott
“How can you say that?” Virgil said. “Being a mother isn’t being reduced to anything. I believe it’s going to be your greatest accomplishment.”
“Do not try and steer this conversation, Virgil. That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. The only reason you’re upset with me is because I walked into Pam’s house without any backup. It doesn’t have anything to do with anything else.”
“Yes, it does, Sandy. You’re pregnant. Pregnant with our son. And pregnant or not, you had no business going into that house alone.”
“Like you would have waited.”
“Of course I would have,” Virgil lied.
Sandy knew he was lying and let it go. “I thought she was in trouble.”
“All the more reason to wait.”
“I’ll say it again: Like you would have.”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
Sandy shook her head. “Why not? Because you’re a man?”
Virgil was trying to stay calm. Felt it starting to slip away. “No goddamn it, because I’m not pregnant.” He paused. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Sandy sat back, her arms crossed and resting on her belly. “You’ve got that right.”
“I think we’re both just upset about…everything.”
“What exactly, Virgil, is everything?”
Virgil puffed out his cheeks and glanced down the hallway where Jonas was sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms. “You know. Everything.”
“No, I don’t know. Explain it to me.”
Virgil was pacing. He flapped his arms. “Just…everything. Everything was going fine until Pam went off the rails and now she’s dead. What are we going to do? We can’t let Jonas go into the system. Bell said that Child Protective Services is going to be coming out and asking questions. Hard questions. What are we supposed to tell them? That Jonas still has a father out there, except we don’t know who it is? A father, I might add, that Pam wanted nothing to do with and went to extraordinary measures to make sure he stayed out of their lives. Even if we had any control over it…and it doesn’t look like we do, how are we going to stop CPS from doing their job? They’ll find Jonas’ father, and do you know how they’ll do it? They’ll come out here—with a court order, if necessary—and get a DNA swab from Jonas. Then they’ll run that through the system and if Jonas’s father has ever been in the system for anything, or in the military or with the government in almost any capacity whatsoever they’ll know who he is within a matter of weeks. Maybe even within a matter of days. These are bureaucrats were talking about. They won’t care about a struggling marriage and a momentary lapse of judgment, because that’s all it is. She never told anyone except you. I know you believe her, and that means I do too. If they find this guy, Jonas will be his.”
Sandy walked over to Virgil and put her arms around him. “It’s okay. You can say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever is on your mind.”
Virgil’s phone rang. Murton. He’d have to call him right back. He silenced the phone then was quiet for a long time before he spoke. When he did, his voice was ragged and filled with regret. “She had a right to be angry with me all these months. It is my fault that Ed died, and because of that it’s now my fault that Pam is too. All of it. The whole entire thing is my fault, and now Jonas is alone. That’s what my dad was trying to tell me the other day.”
“That’s just not true, Virgil, and you know it. Now listen to me. Things happen. Things that you can’t control. These things are not your fault. They just happen. It’s what we do after they happen that matters.”
“Meaning what?”
Sandy gripped him by the shoulders. “If you won’t say it I will. That’s not all your dad was trying to tell you. He was telling you like father, like son. Jonas is ours now. Every single event since the afternoon of that party eight months ago has led us to this very moment. We are all he has.”
“Are you sure about this? You’ve got to be sure.”
“I am sure. As sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” Then she gave Virgil a kiss. “And I do mean anything.” She turned and walked toward the bedrooms.
“Where are you going?”
“To lie down with Jonas.”
“It’s still a little early.”
“You heard what Bell said. We shouldn’t leave him alone.”
“And what do we do if his biological father turns up?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Sandy said. “We’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
Sandy stopped. She had her back to him, and when she answered, Virgil found himself relieved that he couldn’t see the look on her face. “Any way we have to, Virgil. Any way at all.”
Virgil walked down to the pond and sat in one of the chairs by his father’s cross, thinking about what Sandy had just said. Or more to the point, what she had meant. She was going to have her way, that much was clear. Virgil was fine with it. More than fine, in fact. He wasn’t exactly sure how they’d pull it off, only that they would. But there was a problem and Virgil had no one to talk to about how he felt.
He had always considered himself his father’s son through and through, not only because he was exactly that, but because of the way their lives had blended together and mirrored each other’s. They were an amalgamation of sorts. It was like a line graph, Virgil thought. If you charted Mason’s life and projected it on a screen, then overlaid his own, their paths were virtually identical. Mason had been in the military…so had Virgil. Mason had been a cop…so was Virgil. After Mason retired, they ran the bar together before he died, thus cementing that part of Virgil’s life. They both had wives who were strong, independent women, and Virgil, as an only child was about to have a child of his own.
He’d never told anyone—not even Sandy—of his secret fear. The fear that his life so mirrored his father’s that he might one day lose Sandy to some tragedy. Maybe not cancer, like his own mother had suffered, but…something. Something completely out of his control. He’d lie in bed at night and stare at the ceiling thinking of all the similarities between himself and his father, all the while knowing that like his father, he’d ever only have one child, a boy of course, and then somewhere down the line at some undetermined time, Sandy would be gone, taken from him. He’d almost convinced himself that he was full of shit, that fathers and sons everywhere led similar lives, boys growing up and following in their dad’s footsteps…it happened all the time. He was ready to let it go…until Jonas came along.
The truth of the matter was this: Virgil wasn’t an only child. His parents had taken Murton in when he was a young boy and raised him as their own. Now, with Jonas in the picture, it frightened Virgil to no end. Somewhere deep down inside, he had the feeling that if they brought Jonas into their lives and raised him as their own—just as his parents had with Murton—something terrible would come of it. Something he didn’t think he could handle. He’d lose Sandy to some type of accident or disease just like his father had lost his wife. Even if he was right, how could he say no to Sandy, much less Jonas? Was he so fearful that he’d let one of his best friend’s child go into the system, a friend who’d died helping him protect some of the people who were most dear to him? What did that say about him as a man, or a friend?
And even if he let Jonas go, what about Sandy and what she wanted? He knew in his heart that he could never persuade her to let go of Jonas. She’d just said as much. Even if he did manage to convince her, would it cause a rift between them, one that could ultimately lead to their undoing or Sandy’s death? Accelerate it somehow? He didn’t know.
“You have to listen to your spirit…your soul,” Mason said.
Virgil had been sitting forward in the chair, his forearms resting on his thighs, staring at the grass. When he looked up, his father was there. He had a forefinger pressed against the very top of the cross and he walked a complete circle around the monument before stopping.
<
br /> “What are you doing?”
“Just admiring your handiwork,” Mason said.
“I’m stuck,” Virgil said.
“No, you’re not. You’re just a little confused.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a way forward.”
Mason laughed. “There is always a way forward, Virg. The question is, are you willing to move down that path?”
“When I was on the pills you told me that I was losing Sandy.”
“That’s because you were. You just didn’t know it. I seem to recall that you didn’t believe me, either.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I am now. I don’t know what to do. If I put my foot down and say no to Sandy about Jonas—”
Mason laughed again. “Let me stop you right there. How many times did you see me put my foot down with your mother?”
“Plenty of times.”
“Right. Now think for a minute and tell me how many times that worked out for me.”
This time Virgil laughed. “Not very many, I guess.”
“Not very many at all. I’ll tell you something, Virg, your mother and I had a rule that served us well over the years.”
“What was it?”
“It was simple. ‘No’ always wins.”
Virgil tipped his head. “Care to explain that?”
“On big decisions, each of us had veto power. It’s a good rule for married life. Think about it. If you’re both in agreement there’s no problem, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“But if you’re not, then the person who says no has the last say in the matter. I remember once when you were little…this was before Murton came into our lives, I wanted to buy a new car. There wasn’t anything wrong with the car we had. I just wanted a new one. But your mother knew it wasn’t a good idea at the time…money was tight and all that, but I really wanted that car. We talked about it, argued a little, but in the end she said no and we didn’t get the car. It’s also how we came up with the rule.”
“That’s great stuff, Dad. So it’s as easy as just going up there and saying no to her about Jonas, huh?”
“Not exactly. You only use the no rule when you really need it…for the big issues.”
Virgil felt his jaw go slack. “And this doesn’t qualify as big?”
Mason shook his head. “Nope. This one is a no-brainer.”
“I guess I don’t quite see it that way.”
“That’s because you’re not doing what I told you. You’ve got to listen to your spirit and your soul, Virg. When you do, everything that doesn’t matter falls away and your path becomes clear…and simple. Try to manipulate things to achieve a certain outcome, or protect a way of thinking and it’ll all fall apart.”
“I guess I don’t know how to do that. To listen to my spirit, my soul.” When he said it, it reminded him of what Sandy had said to Jonas…that he had to listen with his heart.
“Of course you do. You’re doing it right now. I couldn’t control cancer, Virgil, and I couldn’t control what happened with Murt’s parents, especially his dad. All I could do was the right thing. That’s all you can do now, and I know you know what the right thing is. Are there similarities to our situation? You bet. Just don’t overthink it.”
“Let me ask you something, Dad.”
“Sure.”
“Last time we spoke, when Sandy and Jonas were in the yard, you said, ‘Here comes a beautiful soul.’ Which one of them were you talking about?”
“Why does it matter?”
Virgil pointed his finger at him. “See. That’s what I mean. Why does everything have to be a puzzle with—”
Virgil’s phone buzzed at him. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Murton again. He’d forgotten to call him back. When he looked back up at the cross, his father was gone and he was instantly pissed. He pressed the answer tab and said, “What?”
“How soon can you get over to my place?”
The sound of Murton’s voice helped the anger fade. “What’s wrong?” Virgil said. “Is Becky okay?”
“Yeah, she fine. She’s still at the shop. I just got home. Delroy seems pissed off at you about something, by the way. Can you get over here or not?” Murton was tense. Virgil could hear it and it was something he didn’t hear very often.
“I’ll be there inside a half hour. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine…but I’ve got a problem.”
20
Virgil turned into Murton’s drive—the house where they’d both grown up—and found Murton sitting on the front porch, a beer in one hand, and his Smith .45 in the other, hanging down between his knees.
“You shoot somebody again?”
Murton stood up, tucked the gun away, and downed the last of the beer. “Not yet, but I’m a little rattled. I just had to clear my own house.”
“What?”
Murton came down off the steps. “Come on, let’s go around back. There’s something I want you to see.”
They made their way around the side of the house and into the backyard. Murton walked up next to the backdoor and stood off to the side. “Notice anything?”
Using Murton’s position as a tight perimeter, Virgil looked around without speaking until he got to the door and saw the taped glass. “How long has that been broken?”
“Good question. The honest answer is I don’t know for sure. But what I do know is this: I sit at that kitchen table every morning and drink my coffee and stare out that back door, just like Mason used to. That cracked pane sticks out like a sore thumb. I noticed it right away when I got home tonight. Walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer, turned and glanced that way…just glanced, and I saw it. If it had been broken this morning, I don’t see how I could have missed it. My best guess is sometime earlier today while Becky and I were out.”
“Maybe Becky—”
Murton cut him off. “That was my first thought. But after what happened before, you know with Pate and Sigara, I wasn’t taking any chances. I decided to clear the house right away.”
Virgil had just been through this with Sandy. “Jesus Christ, Murt. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did. Twice. But for whatever reason you didn’t answer the first time.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. Sandy and I were in the middle of something.”
“How’s Jonas holding up?”
“Bell says he’s in for a rough ride. He’s probably right.” They walked inside and Virgil looked back at the door. “I assume when you cleared the house no one was here.”
“Yeah, and I talked to Becky. She was out all day and doesn’t know anything about this, which means I’ve got a problem and a busted window pane ain’t it.”
“Tell me.”
“They got my dog.”
Virgil knew about the watchdog. Murton joked that it only barked once…per intruder. “The .38 under your nightstand?”
“That’s the one.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope. I carry everything else. The long guns are in the safe in the basement and they’re all still there. I’ve got a couple grand in the top dresser drawer, Becky’s got some minor jewelry, and it’s all there too. This wasn’t your typical robbery. They just took the dog.”
Virgil walked over to the kitchen sink and stood with his hands on the counter, his back turned. “You’re right. This wasn’t a robbery, Murt. This is a setup.”
“No shit.”
They stood in silence for a moment before Virgil turned around. “Is it registered?”
Murton nodded. “Yep. I picked it up at a gun show. Licensed seller. I knew I wasn’t going to carry it though…just wanted it for easy reach in the bedroom. I wasn’t looking for a throw-down.”
“That’s a problem. You know where that gun is right now, don’t you?”
“I’m not a psychic, but I’m guessing it’s sitting in an evidence bag downtown. You know, the one with big red letters that says Donatti-comma-Pam on the side.
How long before they trace it back to the seller, you think?”
“They probably already have. How long it takes to track him down and get a look at his records to see who he sold it to is another matter. Could be a couple days if he’s a show-me-a-warrant type…or a couple of hours if he’s cooperative.”
“Ah, he’ll cooperate. He’s a good guy.”
“You know him?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve dealt with him before.” Murton said. “And you can tell about people, you know? Just one of those guys. One of the good ones.”
Virgil took out his phone. “What are you doing?” Murton asked.
“Calling the crime scene tech. I’ll get them to read me the serial number from the weapon.”
“Why bother? I’m being set up, man. You know it as well as—”
“Yeah, Lou, it’s Jonesy. Yeah, yeah, I know, sorry. Do you have your case notes with you?”
Lou did, and told Virgil to hang on. A minute later he was back. “The caliber and serial number of the gun,” Virgil said. “Yeah. No, that should do it…for now anyway.”
Virgil listened, trapped the phone between his ear and his shoulder and wrote something on his palm. “Thanks, Lou. I owe ya. Dinner on me next time you’re in.”
“What’d he say?”
“It was a .38 done up with jacketed HP’s.”
“Uh huh.”
“Would you know the number if I read it to you?”
“What do you think?”
Virgil knew he would. He read off the number and saw Murton’s shoulders slump.
“Shit.”
“You’ve got to report it as stolen.”
“I know that. I also know it won’t make a damn bit of difference. I’m about to be hung out to dry for the murder of Pam Donatti.”
“No, you’re not. And one thing at a time, okay?”
Murton waved him off. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Let’s take a look around,” Virgil said.
“Why?”
“They took your dog.”
“We’ve already established that,” Murton said. A little harsh.
