Honeymoon for Three

CHAPTER 15

Gary didn’t want to give up his dream, but something was pulling him inexorably back toward consciousness.

“Honey, wake up.” Penny’s hand was on his shoulder.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. They had an inside room at the lodge with no windows.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“Five o’clock.” She turned on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. “I’d like to get up now and get out of here.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“If we leave now, we can shake Alfred.”

Gary stretched his hand to his lamp and switched it on. He tried to wake up enough to think clearly. Alfred. Alfred had eaten dinner with them. He had gone to the ranger show on geology with them. He had even done laundry with them at the lodge. And he had somehow molested Penny, although she had downplayed it.

At dinner, Alfred had asked them where they intended to go in Yellowstone. Penny secretly put her finger to her lips, warning Gary not to be specific. He talked in generalities about their plans. Alfred suggested that they continue driving together. Gary and Penny didn’t respond.

Yes, Penny was right. They should get out of there right now and leave Alfred behind for good. Alfred was a burr; once he stuck to you, he was almost impossible to get rid of. In addition, Gary was afraid that if he saw him again, he would beat him up. That wasn’t appropriate behavior for a honeymoon.

Gary threw off his covers and hopped out of bed, grimacing as his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. “We can be out of here in ten minutes.”

Alfred was livid. He stomped around the parking lot. He picked up pinecones and threw them at trees. Penny had betrayed him. They had a deal, and she’d betrayed him. That bitch. That damned-to-hell bitch.

He had woken up at seven-thirty after a very pleasant sleep. He had dressed and gone to their room and knocked on the door. No answer. He had gone into the lodge cafe to see if they were having breakfast. They weren’t there. He had gone outside and looked for their car in the parking lot. The car was nowhere to be seen.

He ate breakfast at the cafe, hoping against hope that they might be back soon. An hour later they hadn’t come back. They weren’t coming back. Penny had double-crossed him. He paced back and forth the length of the parking lot, looking in vain for the VW and throwing more pinecones. He became aware of people watching him and started feeling self-conscious. Well, he would find her. She couldn’t get away from him.

Alfred drove south toward Yellowstone, because he knew they were headed in that direction. His calves were still sore, but if he were careful, he could drive safely. As he went, savage thoughts flooded his brain. It was Gary who was doing this, not Penny. He had forced her to leave, against her will. He was a domineering, moralistic pig. Gary was the cause of all his problems. There was only one solution. He had to kill Gary.

His money situation was growing desperate. When he stopped for gas in Helena, the capital of Montana, this got his attention like a jab in the gut. After paying for the gas, only a few lonely bills remained in his wallet. Not enough money to eat, pay for motels, and buy gas for the return to Los Angeles, even if he drove back by the shortest route.

What should he do? Alfred parked his car in downtown Helena and walked around with his hands in his pockets. He strolled past the state capitol with its dome on top. The dome had a statue on it. There was another statue in front. Statues of important people. People with money and influence. He had neither.

During his meandering he passed a pawnshop with various items for sale inside the dirty window. He walked another block and stopped. One of the items in the window had been a small gun. That’s what he needed. He walked slowly back to the pawnshop. He had never been inside one before. He stood at the front window for a minute, afraid to enter.

How much did a used handgun cost? If he said he wanted a gun, would the owner interrogate him-ask him what he wanted it for? Expose his ignorance of firearms? He had never shot a gun, except for a BB gun when he was a child. The draft board had declared him 4-F for a minor physical problem-not related to his bellybutton-so he hadn’t learn how to fire a rifle, courtesy of Uncle Sam, let alone a handgun.

What would he say in answer to questions? He would think of something. His need overcame his trepidation, and he opened the door to the jingling of a bell.

They purchased groceries in cold Choteau, Montana. Then they drove from light rain into blue skies as they approached Helena. They crossed the headwaters of the Missouri River at Three Forks where three rivers come together: the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin.

All this time, whether she was driving or riding as a passenger, Penny had been thinking how wonderful Gary was. He was cheerful and attentive to her. He was supportive of her, but not domineering. He enjoyed sightseeing as much as she did. If she had any doubts about marrying him before, they had evaporated.

She filled him in on the details of what Alfred had done to her, now that they were separated from him. She told him she had punched Alfred. He laughed and said that since she had punched him, he didn’t need to. She told him he had asked her to run away with him. Gary became very upset, but Penny assured him that she had told Alfred in no uncertain terms that she would never do that.

She loved Gary too much and told him so. She would give herself to him without reserve tonight. He deserved it.

A half hour after he had walked into the pawnshop, Alfred walked out with a gun in his jacket pocket. He also had some bullets and knowledge of how to load it, how to work the safety, and how to fire it. It had taken almost his last dollar, and he’d haggled to get the price down to one he could afford. He felt surer of himself, more powerful, knowing that he had a weapon.

What he had to do next was to replenish his money supply. He continued to drive south toward Yellowstone. The afternoon wore on. He was getting hungry, but he didn’t have any money to buy food. In one of the towns along the route he spotted a grocery store. He pulled into the parking lot and backed his car into a corner stall where he had a view of the entrance.

He knew grocery stores. He felt comfortable inside them. He sat in his car and watched shoppers go in and out, trying to get up his nerve. He pictured how the interior of the store would look-where the checkout counter would be located, close to the entrance. He knew cash registers. He knew that checkers often placed their large bills underneath the money tray. In order to get all the money, you had to lift the tray.

This was a mom and pop store, much smaller than the one he had worked at in Lomita. It didn’t have as many customers, and it wouldn’t have as much money in the till. He didn’t need a lot of money-just enough to tide him over until he could get back to work.

The sun set, and he began to have hunger pangs. All he’d had to eat since breakfast were some snacks. He kept track of who went in and out of the store, and he was certain that there were no customers inside at the moment. This was the time to act. His stomach started churning, and he wondered whether he would throw up. He swallowed to keep the bile down. He would feel a lot better when he had the money and was far away from here.

Alfred took one bullet and carefully placed it in the chamber of the gun, following the instructions of the pawnshop owner. He had considered leaving the gun empty, but having it loaded gave him more confidence. He wouldn’t feel as if he were bluffing, even though he had no intention of firing the gun.

He left the car keys in the ignition and the door unlocked. He put up the hood of his jacket and sauntered toward the entrance of the store, his hands in his jacket pockets where he could feel the comforting hardness of the gun. He went inside and was glad that the man near the checkout counter had his back turned to him. He was placing some cans on a shelf.

The man was older and thinner. Alfred was heavier and should be able to overpower him, if that became necessary. He was confident that it wouldn’t, but it was comforting to be dealing with somebody smaller.

He wanted to verify that nobody else was in the store. He strolled down one of the few aisles, grabbing a bag of potato chips on the way. He quickly checked the other aisles. The store was empty except for the clerk.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred walked to the checkout counter and plunked his bag of chips down. The man turned away from the cans and came to the counter. He wore glasses and peered at Alfred through the lenses with a slight squint.

“This all for you?” he asked.

Alfred nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The man rang it up and said, “That’ll be thirty-nine cents.”

Alfred still couldn’t say anything. He froze for what seemed an eternity. He felt like an actor who had forgotten his lines. To cover his discomfiture he reached for his wallet.

“Gonna get some rain tonight.” The man waited patiently for him to produce his money.

Alfred had been driving through light rain part of the day. He nodded and fumbled with his wallet. He pulled out his last dollar bill and handed it to the man. He felt a sense of relief. Maybe he would just pay for the potato chips and leave. The man probably ran the store with his wife. He had a family. He wasn’t rich. He couldn’t afford to lose his day’s receipts. He was just trying to keep the wolf from the door.

The man opened the drawer of the cash register. He took out coins for change. Alfred saw the bills stacked neatly by denomination. There was enough money there to last him for a week. He needed that money.

He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll take it all.”

“Pardon?” The man turned his head toward him.

He reached his hand toward Alfred with the coins. Alfred had mumbled, and the man apparently hadn’t understood him-or he had pretended not to understand him. Alfred could still take the coins and get out of there. No harm done. But he was hungry, and it was getting cold outside. He needed to find a place to stay.

He jerked the gun out of his pocket and said, “Give me all your bills.”

The man looked at the gun and then at Alfred’s face. His eyes widened, but he didn’t show any other emotion. He carefully scooped the bills out of each of the containers, his hands trembling a little. He placed them together in a single stack and handed them to Alfred.

That was easy. “Underneath. Lift the tray.” Alfred made a lifting gesture with his hands.

The man lifted the tray. There were checks underneath, but no bills. Alfred didn’t want the checks. He had the cash. He needed to get out of there. But first he would tell the man to lie on the floor and not move for ten minutes, so he wouldn’t see Alfred’s car.

Before he could do that, the man said, “I’ve got more money in the safe under here.”

He stooped, facing the counter in front of Alfred. Alfred hadn’t thought to ask about a safe. He couldn’t see what the man was doing, but he could hear a noise that might be the turning of the dial of a combination lock. He looked nervously at the entrance to the store and hoped the man would hurry.

There was a click and a creak that must be the door of the safe swinging open. The man looked as if he were reaching inside. Then he started to stand up. Alfred leaned forward over the counter and saw a glint of metal. He pulled the trigger of his gun without meaning to. Reflex.

The sharp noise of the shot startled Alfred. His safety had been off. He looked at his gun, not believing that he had really fired it. The man groaned and disappeared from view. For a split second Alfred stood there. Then, heart pounding, he shoved the gun into his jacket pocket. He took two quick steps around the end of the counter and looked down at the man. He was lying on the floor, clutching his chest. Red blood pulsed from between his fingers. His expression as he tried to focus on Alfred was accusing.

Alfred ran for the entrance. He banged his shoulder into the door to open it. He stumbled and then raced for his car, ignoring his sore calves. He opened the door with one hand, slid onto the seat, and threw the bills down with his other hand. He turned the key. The car started with a roar as he depressed the accelerator.

Suddenly he knew he was going to vomit. He opened the door and leaned over the asphalt, heaving his guts out. Some of the odiferous mess didn’t make it to the ground. It ended up in the car. He continued to retch long after his stomach was empty. Sweat poured down his face, and he felt as if he were burning up.

Finally the retching stopped. He sat for a minute, trying to control his breathing and his heartbeat. He closed the door and forced himself to concentrate. He shoved the shift lever into drive and tried to pull forward. The car moved under protest. What was the matter? Damn. The emergency brake was on. He released the brake, pulled out of the parking lot, and roared off into the night.