Under the Lake

37

When I got back from Korea, Joyce and I got engaged. We knew Donal objected to us getting married, but I was doing all right and expected to do even better. Eric Sutherland had taken an interest in me when I was in high school, and when I got out of the Marines, he fixed up the deputy sheriff’s job and told me that one of these days I’d be sheriff. But Uncle Martin had shot Mama by this time, and that reminded Donal that I was valley and always would be. Still, he let me see Joyce, and just about every night we were out on the front porch swing necking, but necking was all she’d do, and I was about to go crazy. I was engaged to a girl who wasn’t going to do anything until we were married, and her papa didn’t want her to marry me. That’s when Kathleen came into it.

When I left for Korea, she was just a skinny little girl, but when I got back, it had all happened. God, she was something! She was a tiny thing, but even at twelve, she had a shape. She’d sit in my lap and move around and, believe me, she knew what she was doing. I’ve never known anybody so… completely sexual. She couldn’t turn her head without it being a come-on. She’d come riding with me in the patrol car when I was making rounds, and she’d have her hand in my lap. Pretty soon, we were spending more time in the back seat than in the front. Nobody ever made me feel the way she did… nobody. She could look at me and I’d be on fire, and she knew it. She could pull my string, and I’d jump.

I wanted the thing with Kathleen to be over, but I couldn’t stop; Kathleen wouldn’t let me. Oh, hell, I guess I didn’t want it to stop all that bad, but I reckoned when Joyce and I were married, Kathleen would find a boyfriend to drive crazy and let me alone.

Then, Donal pulled her out of school, and when I came out to the house, Kathleen wouldn’t be there. She’d be sick upstairs or something, always something. This went on for a long time, and I thought Donal had found out about us and was trying to keep her away from me.

One day Donal sat me down and told me he didn’t want me to marry Joyce. Said he’d always liked me, but I was valley, and that was that. I asked Joyce straight out, and she said that was the way she wanted it. Donal had finally gotten to her.

I left there, and I’ve never been so wrecked, before or since. My life was ruined – I couldn’t marry Joyce, and she was valley; if she wouldn’t have me, then nobody would. In school, the kids had shunned us, and now the only valley girl I wanted wouldn’t have me. I didn’t know what to do. And then I started getting phone calls from Kathleen.

She’d talk about the things we’d done to each other in the back of that patrol car. She said she loved me, and she wanted me to take her away. We’d go to California, or someplace where nobody knew us. She looked older than her age, she said; we could do it. She really was getting to me. I began to think that if I couldn’t have one O’Coineen girl, I might have the other one. I began to think about leaving everything – my job and the idea of being sheriff, Eric Sutherland’s help – everything. I was tempted, but I knew it was a crazy idea. I liked hearing from Kathleen, though, so I never told her I wouldn’t take her away.

The thing between Eric Sutherland and Donal O’Coineen had heated up pretty good by then. Donal wouldn’t budge, and the water was rising. I knew Eric wouldn’t flood him out, but Donal didn’t know that. They were at an absolute stalemate, and I knew that before long, something had to give.

Then one night Kathleen called me.

“Hey, Bo.”

It was the way she knew how to say that. Bo’s guts turned to water.

“Listen,” he whispered, already breathing hard, “I can’t talk right now, the sheriff ”ll hear me. I’m fixing to go out on patrol, anyway.“

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “Just listen. I talked Daddy into selling.”

This was some sort of trick, Bo thought immediately. She just wanted to get him out there.

“No,” she said, anticipating his thoughts, “Daddy really said he would sell. He’s already signed that paper Mr. Sutherland sent out here. He says for you to come out here and get the paper and take it to Mr. Sutherland. He wants Mr. Sutherland to put the money in his bank account in the morning.”

“Let me talk to Donal,” Bo said.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” Kathleen replied. “He’s already packing everything up. He means to leave here tonight and take us all somewhere else.”

Bo hesitated, trying to think.

“You better come out here quick, Bo, before he changes his mind. Mr. Sutherland would be awful mad if you gave Daddy a chance to change his mind.”

“All right,” Bo said, at last. “All right. I’ll be out there in about half an hour.” He hung up, told the dispatcher he was going on patrol, and left the station. In the car, though, he had second thoughts. Instead of heading for the valley, he made a U-turn and started toward Eric Sutherland’s house.

“You mean it?” Sutherland asked, pacing his study. “You think he’s finally decided to sell?”

“That’s what Kathleen said on the phone,” Bo replied. “I think you ought to go out there.”

“No, no,” Sutherland said quickly, “Donal hates the sight of me by now, and, anyway, he said for you to come. We’ll do as he says. You go out there, get the paper, and tell him I’ll deposit the money in his account in the morning, just as he wants.”

“But Eric, I’m on patrol tonight,” Bo pleaded. “I can’t go running out there in a patrol car; the sheriff’ll have my skin.”

Sutherland dug into a pocket. “Here,” he said, tossing Bo some keys, “take my car. Don’t worry, I’ll fix any problems with the sheriff that might come up. Just get out there and get those papers.” He kept pacing. “I can’t believe it; Donal’s finally caved in. We can start filling the lake again tomorrow!”He stopped and looked at Bo. “Well, don’t sit there, boy, get going!”

Bo left the house and got into Sutherland’s old Lincoln Continental convertible. He put the top up so nobody would see him in his uniform in the car, then started for the north valley road. He turned left at the crossroads and started down into the valley. It was a glorious night. Ahead of him, down the road, the house was lit up like a Christmas tree. The moon flooded the valley, casting a glow over the surface fog that covered the lake, right up to the roadway that held the water from Donal O’Coineen’s farm. Bo thought it looked like the floor of Heaven.

Bo swung the car through the gate and drew up next to the front porch. Donal’s truck must be behind the house; he was loading it there, Bo thought. She met him at the door, slipping her arms around his waist, moving against him. He plucked at her arms, moved her away. “Are you crazy?” he whispered.

“It’s all right,” she said. “They’re all upstairs, packing.” She led him toward the table in the front hall. “Here,” she said, handing him a pen and leading him toward the paper there. “Daddy wants you to witness it. There’s a place there for a witness to sign.”

Bo looked at the paper. Donal O’Coineen’s name was written at the bottom. Bo signed it. Kathleen hugged him again.

“Now it’s done,” she said. “Take it back to Mr. Sutherland, and then we can go anywhere we like, you and me.”

He held her back. Something was wrong. It was dead quiet in the house, not a sound. There was always some sound, he remembered, Joyce playing the piano or Donal and Mary listening to the radio, but it was strangely quiet. “Where’s your folks?” he asked. “Where’s Joyce?”

“They’re all upstairs packing,” Kathleen said, taking his hand and leading him toward the front door. “Now you take the paper to Mr. Sutherland, then come back for me. I’ll be all ready to go.”

Bo held her by the shoulders and looked at her. “Don’t talk crazy, Kathleen,” he said. “Something’s wrong here.” He was beginning to be frightened. He started toward the stairs. “Donal!” he called out.

Kathleen grabbed at his sleeve and pulled, but Bo swept on down the hallway toward the stairs. “No, Bo, don’t go up. He doesn’t want to see you, I told you.”

“Donal!” he called again as he put a foot on the stairs.“

“Bo, let’s go now,” Kathleen cajoled, climbing the steps beside him, tugging at him.

He shook her off. “Joyce!” he yelled, louder, now. He turned at the landing and continued upward, Kathleen begging still.

“Joyce!” he said once more as he reached the top of the stairs, and the name died in his throat. Halfway down the upstairs hallway, at the door to her room, Joyce lay, sprawled in an unnatural position, her legs crossed oddly. Her chest was a mass of blood, and most of her face was gone. She had been shot at least twice with a shotgun, up close, a part of Bo registered, the deputy part. The dark glasses she always wore lay twisted near her head. Her golden hair was scarlet, how, spilling over a pool of her own blood.

Bo’s mouth worked, but nothing would come out. He made himself continue down the hallway, toward Donal and Mary’s room. Kathleen was quiet, now. She had stopped begging. Bo came to the door, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it and it swung freely with a loud squeak. Donal and Mary were in bed, sitting up, or, at least, they had been. Donal was twisted sideways, both his arms flung to the same side of his body. Mary’s head, what was left of it, lay across his leg, and a great deal of her blood had soaked his trousers. The wall behind the bed held gobs of red and gray matter; bits of hair was stuck to it.

There was a pump shotgun on the floor beside the bed. Bo picked it up and worked the action. Empty.

Kathleen spoke for the first time since they had reached the top of the stairs. “I took the plug out,” she said, matter-of-factly.

The gun would have held eight shells without the plug, the deputy part of Bo thought. That part tried to reconstruct what had happened.

“Daddy and Mama were in bed listening to the radio,” Kathleen said, in the same calm voice. “I shot them first, twice each. I heard Joyce call out, and I went into the hall and shot her twice when she came out of her room. Then I came back in here and shot the rest of the times at them.” She paused. “Then I turned off the radio,” she said, finally.

Bo dropped the shotgun, walked back down the hallway past Joyce’s body, and sat down on the top step. He was very tired, it seemed; he felt numb, almost drowsy, and the feeling didn’t square with the beating of his heart, which was rapid and hard.

Kathleen sat down beside him and put her head in his lap. “You see,” she said, “It’s all right, now.” She stroked his thigh the way she had done in the car so many times. “I practiced Daddy’s signature from his cancelled checks for a long time, then I signed the paper.” Her voice was soothing. “Nobody in the world would think it wasn’t his signature, believe me.”

Bo held her wrist to stop the stroking. It astonished him that he was becoming excited, even now, after what he had just seen. Her power over him was that great.

“Now, here’s what we do,” Kathleen continued. “There’s some dynamite out in the shed,” she said, still in her soothing voice. “Daddy used it in the well digging. What you do, is you put some dynamite under the road. We’ll get my things in the car – I’m all packed – and when we drive off you’ll blow up the road. You did that stuff in Korea, so you’ll know how to do it. Then the lake will come in, and the house will go under.” She raised her head. “Oh, I nearly forgot. We’ll put Daddy and Mama and Joyce in the well. There’s some cement bags in the shed, too. We’ll put them in the well on top of them; that way, when the lake comes in they won’t float up. Bo, you’re hurting my wrist.”

Bo was surprised that he was gripping her wrist so tightly. He tried to hold it more gently. It was hard.

“We’ll take Daddy’s little typewriter with us,” Kathleen continued, resting her head in his lap again, nuzzling his crotch. “I’ll write letters to people from him saying we’ve all moved away. I always typed his letters, I’ll know what to say. We’ll take his checkbook, too. I can write the checks just the way he did. And I’ll write letters to people from Joyce, too. I’ve always written her letters for her, nobody will think that’s funny. Remember how I used to write letters to you from her when you were in Korea? It was me put in the sexy parts. Bet you didn’t know that, bet you thought it was Joyce all the time.”

Bo nodded dumbly. He had thought it was Joyce, but when he thought about it, it made sense; it would have been Kathleen saying those things, wouldn’t it? It made sense. He had to make some sense, now. He had to.

“We’re going to be so happy, Bo,” Kathleen said, rubbing her ear against his crotch. “We’ll get us a nice house on a beach out there. There’s lots of beaches in California. At night, we’ll take a blanket out on the beach and lie out there naked, and I’ll do nice things to you, really nice things.”

“Kathleen,” Bo managed to say. He had to make some sense.

“I’ll do things you never even dreamed about,” she continued. “I’ll…”

“Kathleen, shut up,” Bo said. He put his hand on her neck and held her still. “And stop doing that. I’ve got to talk to you, and I can’t talk to you if you’re doing that.”

“All right, Bo,” she said quietly, keeping her head perfectly still. “Talk to me.”

“This is all completely crazy,” Bo said, keeping his hand on her neck, hold her head still. “Nobody will believe any of this, and there isn’t enough money. Houses and things cost a lot more in California than they cost here. The money would be gone in no time, it just isn’t all that much.”

“I figured it all out, Bo,” she said. “Don’t you worry, it’ll be wonderful.”

“No, you can’t figure it out,” Bo replied. “It can’t be figured out. I can’t disappear on the same night that your whole family does. They’ll come looking for us, and they’ll find us, and they’ll bring us back.”

They were both quiet for several minutes now. Then Kathleen tried to move her head, but Bo tightened his grip a little and held her still.

“Bo,” she said, “we have to go away tonight. We have to do it just like I figured it out. If we don’t, they’ll put you in the electric chair.”

“What?” he said. “No, that’s not what will happen. They’ll send you away for a few years; you’re only thirteen, they won’t put you in the electric chair.”

“Not me, Bo,” she said. “You.”

Even before she spoke, Bo thought he knew what was coming.

“I never touched the shotgun,” she said. “I wore a pair of Mama’s gloves. But you touched the shotgun. You picked it up and you pumped it. They’ll find your fingerprints all over it, not mine.”

Bo made a small whimpering noise.

“I’ll tell them you did it, Bo,” she said, and her voice took on an edge he had never heard. “You better take me to California, or I’ll tell them you did it, and they’ll believe me; I’ll make them believe me, you know I can do it.”

Bo felt a great sadness. He knew she could do it, this little slip of a girl, she’d tell them every sort of lie, and they’d believe her. She’d sit in a courtroom and deny she’d ever called him and asked him to come out there. She’d say he’d made her do the things they’d done in the patrol car. She’d say it, and they’d believe her.

“You know what I could tell them, Bo.” Kathleen said.

He knew. She had always known what he was thinking. Bo knew everything in another moment. He knew the fix he was in and what he had to do to get out of it. After all, she had laid the whole thing out for him. Not the money, of course, he couldn’t do anything about the money. But the rest of it made perfect sense.

“Bo?” she said. It was her last word.

He tightened his grip, put his other hand on the back of her neck to help. He took a deep breath and did it. It didn’t take long, only an instant. She didn’t feel much, no more than a chicken felt when you wrung its neck. The crunching noise transmitted itself up his wrists and reached him through the air, and she was limp, gone. He sat there and stroked her hair for a few minutes, running through it all in his mind. Then he got up and did the things that Kathleen had told him to do.

A little under an hour later, he stopped the car near the top of the hill, got out, and waited. He had timed it nicely. There was a “whump”! not much of a noise really, and a flash, and the fog moved on the water as it ran through the gap in the roadbed. Soon, the gap widened, and a rushing noise reached him. After a few minutes, the rooftops had vanished. Donal O’Coineen and his family were under the lake.