Blowback

Seven

The sky was a glistening blue now, the rising sun laying veins of raw gold across the lake, the odor of dust beginning to permeate the air. My mouth and throat felt abruptly dry. I had not been bothered by the coughing since yesterday, but it started up again, thin and raspy, as I came back along the side of the cabin. I spat out a glob of shiny gray phlegm, scuffed it into the earth with my shoe. The taste of it lingered bitterly even after the coughing subsided.

To get rid of the taste, I went to the Coca-Cola cooler and swung the lid up-but there was no beer left, nothing except half a dozen cans of soda pop. I picked up one of them and looked at the label. It said the contents were an “imitation citrus flavored dietary artificially sweetened carbonated beverage.” I decided I wasn't that desperate and put the can back and sucked on a piece of ice instead.

Then I remembered that there were several stacked cases of Schlitz inside the shed; I got one of those and carried it out and began loading up the cooler while I waited for Harry to return. I was just putting away the last of the cans when Ray Jerrold came walking into view along the edge of the lake.

He was wearing a pair of white seersucker walking shorts and a flowered silk sport shirt. He had his head tilted down and I could not see any of his face under his fisherman's hat. His stride was quick and jerky; one hand made little fluttery gestures in front of him, as if punctuating a conversation only he could hear.

It seemed like a good idea to get a close-up look at him, an idea of his mental state today, so I stepped away from the cooler and moved toward him at an angle, hurrying a little. He did not seem to notice me until I called out, making my voice friendly and relaxed, “Mr. Jerrold-you got a second?”

He stopped then and swung his head around. When I reached him I saw that his eyes had thinned to narrow slits, like embrasures on the tight oval of his face-either in reaction to the sight of me or to the harsh glare of the sun, I could not tell which. Otherwise he looked no better and no worse than he had yesterday, although I could not see enough of his eyes behind those slits to judge how much of the wildness might be there.

He said “What do you want?” in a voice that was hoarse and flat. The odor of gin was sour on his breath, but not stale. He had been at it again today, early as it was.

“Well, I was just wondering if you're planning to go off somewhere this morning.”

“What I'm planning to do is my own business.”

“Sure,” I said carefully. “Only there was some kind of accident across the lake last night, and I understand the police will be sending someone around to talk to all of us here.”

That got me a long, silent stare. Then: “What kind of accident?”

“I'm not sure. But a man was killed.”

“I don't know anything about it.”

“I guess none of us do,” I said. “I just thought you might want to know about-”

“I've got things to do,” he said, “the hell with the police.”

“They'll still want to talk to you, though.”

“Then they can talk to me later,” Jerrold said, and pivoted away from me and went to where the Cadillac was parked and got into it. He hit the accelerator hard enough backing up to slew the Caddy around in a wide half-circle, billowing clouds of dust, nearly slamming it into the side of Bascomb's Ford. He got it braked just in time, shifted into a forward gear. The Caddy bucked, skidded slightly, came back on a point, and sailed up onto the road in a haze of reddish powder and back-spun pebbles. By the time it vanished into the screening trees, the chrome of its rear bumper glinting sharp reflections of sunlight, he had the speed up to forty and climbing.

I stood for a moment, watching dust particles settle like flakes of gold in the glare. Then I shook my head and went over to Harry's porch and sat on the steps, worrying Jerrold around in my mind, not liking the impression I had just gotten of him.

It was another ten minutes before Harry showed up, and he at least did not appear as grim as he had earlier. He gave me a thin smile and leaned against the railing and took off his fatigue cap; his hands were grimy with dirt and flecks of rust.

“You been back long, buddy?” he asked.

“A while.”

“Yeah, well, I'd have been here when you came in except for that bastard Cody. One of the pipes in his cabin sprung a leak and he had a little water on the floor when he woke up. I had to fix it right away to shut him up and get him off my back.”

I said, “How did it go with Mrs. Jerrold?”

“Well,” he said, “she went for it.”

“What did she say?”

“I laid it on the line, as nicely as I could, and she agreed right away that he's getting out of hand. She wasn't admitting any guilt on her part, but I guess it doesn't matter now whether she's been cheating on him or not. The main thing is, she's going to talk to him and get him to take her home either tonight or first thing in the morning.”

“How sure was she of convincing him?”

“Pretty sure.”

“I hope it's going to be that easy,” I said.

“You think he might not listen to her?”

“Might not, or didn't,” I said. “He took out of here a few minutes ago, and he wasn't in a good mood, or in a good condition either. He'd been into the gin already this morning.”

“Christ.”

“If he refuses to leave,” I said, “we'll have to find another way, even if it means ordering him out or putting him out bodily.”

Harry winced but did not say anything. I could tell he was brooding about the five-thousand-dollar loan.

“Got to be done, if it comes to that. The tension around here is getting out of hand.” I told him about Talesco and the fight he'd obviously been in.

“Maybe it didn't have anything to do with Mrs. Jerrold,” he said, but he sounded grim again.

“Maybe. But I don't like the odds.”

He scraped a hand across his face. “Fight explains one thing, anyway-what I found this morning.”

“Found?”

“Over on the edge of the parking area. It's been bothering me ever since, but this is the first chance I've had to mention it.”

He reached into the back pocket of his khakis, came out with a crumpled piece of cloth and handed it over to me. When I shook it open I saw that it was a plain man's handkerchief, once white but heavily stained now with those familiar red-brown streaks that can only be dried blood.

“One of them must have used it after the fight and then lost it,” he said.

I nodded and said “Yeah” and gave it back to him. He stood staring at it, gnawing moodily on his lower lip; I had the feeling he was thinking the same thing I was in that moment

This has got to be all the blood spilled here at the camp, I was thinking. We've got to make sure this is all…

The deputy Cloudman sent out was a young guy with an old-fashioned crew cut and a brisk, serious manner. He arrived a few minutes before nine, and Harry took him around to the cabins, starting with Cody in Number Two. I had no reason to sit in on the questioning, and the deputy made it clear that he felt the same way, so I left them at Cody's cabin and went to my own and got into my swim trunks. Then I lolled around in the lake and on the beach, waiting.

At ten-fifteen Sam Knox came down alone and drove off in the Rambler wagon. I did not see anybody else until Harry and the deputy returned shortly before eleven. I went over to them, but the young guy had nothing to say to me; he told Harry to ask Jerrold and Walt Bascomb to get in touch with the Sheriff's Department in Sonora when they returned-Bascomb had apparently gone off somewhere on foot, since the Ford was still parked in the circle-and then he nodded briskly and went away in his cruiser.

I said to Harry, “How'd it go with the others?”

“Not too bad. Cody made a few snotty remarks, but the rest of them took it all right. I guess there's not going to be any problem there, at least.”

“Nobody had any information, I take it?”

“No,” Harry said. “Hell, we all expected that last night.”

“Sure, but you never know.”

He sighed. “How about a sandwich? We've got a while yet before we're due for Sonora.”

“One, maybe.”

But I ate three, and paid the price for that with heartburn and gas. It was going to be another long day, all right. Another long damned painful day.