Parting Shot

Twenty-two Cal

“Pack?” Jeremy said, sitting up on the bed.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think the only way to keep you safe is to get you out of here.”

He swung his feet down to the floor. “What should I pack?”

I shrugged. “Your stuff.”

“My mom usually puts everything in my case when we go anywhere.”

“Whatever you brought when you came from home, bring that.”

“How long will we be gone?”

I hadn’t really thought about that. “I don’t know. Two, three days to start. Just pack whatever you’ve got. If you run out of stuff, we’ll get more.”

“Will you get me a phone?”

“No. Give me two minutes. I think your mom’s okay with this, but I just want to be sure.” I hesitated. “Unless you don’t want to go.”

He appeared dumbstruck. “Uh, I guess it’s okay.”

I could hear an ongoing discussion in the kitchen as I was descending the stairs. Gloria had clearly made her way back there from the living room.

“I swear, it’s like you think I’m alcoholic,” she said.

“I didn’t use that word, you just did,” Ms. Plimpton replied.

“You don’t have to use it. I know it’s what you mean. Let me ask you this, Madeline. Has it occurred to you that maybe I drink just a titch more than I used to? And have you asked yourself why that might be?”

“We’ve all been through a lot,” her aunt said.

“Oh yes, what you’ve been through, it’s just been terrible. How many times did you show up during the trial? Was it three? Four?”

“It was more than that and you know it, Gloria,” Ms. Plimpton said defensively.

“And when you did come, you know what was interesting? That we had a hard time finding you at the end of the day.”

“Gloria, stop.”

“But one of those days, I did find you. Didn’t I? But not at the end of the day.”

“For God’s sake, this has nothing to do with anything.”

Bob looked at Gloria pleadingly. “Gloria.”

“There you were, coming out of the hotel elevator at eight in the morning with Grant Finch.”

Ms. Plimpton turned away.

“I guess the good news is women your age still like to get their motor running,” Gloria said. She smiled wickedly at Bob. “That’s certainly encouraging for our twilight years, isn’t it, hon?”

Bob gave Ms. Plimpton a strained look of apology. “It’s the wine.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “She’s never appreciated a damn thing I’ve done for her.”

Gloria waved her arms dramatically. “Oh yes, you came to my rescue after my daddy died. And I should be forever grateful.”

“Can the two of you just stop this?” Bob said. “I swear to God. Or maybe you should just fight to the death. I don’t know that I even fucking care any more.” He turned to leave. “I need to make a call to Galen. There’s something I forgot to ask him about.”

“Galen, Galen, Galen,” Gloria said. “Maybe you should marry him.”

“Damn it, would you knock it off? Galen’s been a great help to us.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Gloria said. “He’s been swell.”

“He’s putting a fortune into our pockets is what he’s doing, letting me in on this deal,” Bob said. “If you don’t want us to be millionaires, just say the word.”

That shut Gloria up, at least long enough for me to make my entrance.

“I have a proposal,” I said. All eyes turned to me. I think they were a little stunned, and embarrassed, that I’d been a witness to their squabbling.

“What might that be?” Bob asked.

“I’ll take Jeremy for a couple of days.”

Gloria said, “Take him where?”

“First, away. I’ve got him packing his bag now. Your number-one concern is Jeremy’s security. Instead of trying to make this place safe so he can stay here, it’s easier to take him someplace else.”

Bob was nodding. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“The whole country knows he’s in Promise Falls. Why not let them keep thinking that? You’re all big enough to look after yourselves.”

Gloria looked unconvinced. “I don’t know. I don’t like letting him out of my sight. I didn’t know this was what you were thinking.”

“I’d take good care of him.”

Gloria set down her wine glass. “Okay,” she said. “I guess it would be okay. I better go help him get ready.”

I held up a hand. “Like I said, he’s on it.”

She looked hurt. “He might forget something.”

“He’s doing great. If we’re missing something, we’ll pick it up on the way.”

“Where will you go?” Bob asked.

“I’m thinking about that. Maybe we’ll do a road trip, keep moving.” I looked at Madeline Plimpton. “You have my number if anyone needs to get in touch.”

She nodded, then said to her niece, “I guess you two can go back to Albany.”

“We can hang in for a few more days,” Gloria said. “It’s always lovely spending time with you, Madeline.”

Whatever stuff Jeremy had, it all fit into his backpack. He dumped it into the trunk of my Honda, which was still parked on the street. He was about to get into the front seat when his mother came out of the house. We’d already said our goodbyes inside, but evidently it wasn’t enough.

She threw her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

“You be good,” she told him. Over his shoulder she said to me, “You take good care of my boy.”

“You bet,” I said.

Gloria put her mouth to his ear and whispered some sweet nothing. I decided to give them a moment of privacy and got into the car. Jeremy joined me in the passenger seat fifteen seconds later. His face was flushed red with what I guessed was embarrassment.

“Have to go by my place first to get a few things,” I said, keying the ignition.

“Like a gun?” he asked.

“Like socks and underwear.”

“Oh. Don’t you carry a gun?”

“Sometimes.”

“My mom got one.”

“Terrific.”

“She got it during the trial. Actually, Bob bought it for her. Because we were getting so many death threats.”

“Did your mom take any lessons in how to use it?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Bob told her all you have to do is point it and shoot it.”

“Where’s that gun now?”

“When we got here, Mom was keeping it in her purse, but that freaked out my grandmother. She made her put it away. It’s in the kitchen drawer right next to the knives and forks. I took it out the other night and was looking at it when they were all in the living room.”

“Is it loaded?”

Jeremy nodded. “It wouldn’t be much good if someone broke in and it didn’t have any bullets in it.”

If the car hadn’t been moving, I’d have closed my eyes while I sighed. It was just as well I was getting the kid out of that house for a while.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Downtown.”

“This town’s kind of the pits, isn’t it?”

“It’s seen better days. Some people say it’s on the comeback. We’ve got a new mayor. Actually, he was the mayor a long time ago, and now he’s back in office. Maybe he’ll make a difference.”

“I heard my grandmother talking about him. She said he’s got shit for brains. She said he used to hire underage hookers. Is that true?”

I nodded. These days, it didn’t seem to matter what someone said or did. They’d still get elected.

We drove on in silence for another couple of miles. I glanced in my rear-view every few seconds. A black van had been riding along in my wake for the last few blocks.

“I’m just up here,” I said. I pulled over to the curb in front of Naman’s Books and the van continued on up the street.

“You live in a bookstore?” Jeremy asked.

“I live over it.”

I’d had to move out for a few months, but now I was back. Naman’s place had been firebombed by some racist nutcases last year when unfounded fears of a possible terrorist invasion had gripped Promise Falls. I wasn’t sure Naman could make a go of it again, but he was back in business, and I had my old apartment back.

“We can leave your stuff in the car,” I said, opening the door. Once Jeremy was out, I locked the Honda and led him to a door that fronted onto the sidewalk. There was a small sign on it that read: Cal Weaver: Private Investigations.

“Wow, just like in the movies,” Jeremy said.

I unlocked the door, revealing a set of stairs going up. I extended an arm. “You first.”

When we reached the top, there was a second door to unlock, and then we were in my apartment. A combined kitchen and living area, a bedroom off to the back. The whole place was smaller than his grandmother’s foyer.

“Jesus, you actually live here?” Jeremy asked.

“It’s not much, but it’s pitiful,” I conceded. I pointed to the fridge. “Help yourself to a Coke or something.”

He opened it as I went into the bedroom. I kept a small travel case in the closet. I threw it onto the bed, opened up a couple of dresser drawers, and begin filling it with clothes.

“There’s no Coke,” Jeremy called out. “But there’s beer. Can I have a beer?”

“No.”

“This is going to be a real fun couple of days.”

“You know what? Make us some sandwiches.”

“Do what?”

“In the fridge, down below. I bought a bunch of stuff yesterday. Sliced ham, roast beef. There’s a fresh loaf in the cupboard. Or if you want tuna, there’s a tin in there, some mayo in the fridge. Something to eat now, and then some we can put in a cooler and take with us.”

“Can’t we just stop at McDonald’s or Burger King when we’re hungry?”

“No.”

I went back into my bedroom. I finished putting in enough clothes for three or four days. Then I went to the closet, reached up to the top shelf, and brought down the case that held my gun. I wasn’t that worried I was going to need it, but you never knew. Finally, I grabbed a small cooler I often used when I was on a surveillance job to keep bottled water and snacks fresh.

I zipped up the overnight bag and brought it and the cooler into the main room.

“How’s it going?”

He had everything he might need to make sandwiches out on the counter. Bread, meat, butter, all spread out in no particular order. He had the look of someone who’d dumped all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle onto the table and had only just started turning them image up. “Fine. I’m doing it. But aren’t you being hired to look after me? Shouldn’t you be the one to do this?”

“How can I shoot the bad guys waiting to bust in at any moment if I’m up to my elbows in mayo and mustard?”

The look he gave me suggested he couldn’t tell whether I was being serious or putting him on.

I stood next to him at the counter.

“Okay, let’s get a production line thing going on here. You start buttering the bread, and when you’re done, move it this way.”

He did as instructed. The butter was a little on the hard side, and as he attempted to spread it, it opened up holes in the bread.

I took the butter plate, put it in the microwave on medium for ten seconds, then gave it back to Jeremy.

“That’s better,” he said, dipping the knife into it and spreading some onto the bread. “I used to make sandwiches with my dad.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. “When did your parents split up?’

He shrugged. “Long time ago. They were separated for ages, and then they finally decided to get a divorce.”

“That can be tough,” I said.

“Whatever,” Jeremy said. He slapped some meat onto a piece of bread, lay a cheese slice on top of it, then a second piece of bread. “It’s quiet here,” he said.

“There’s more traffic in the middle of the day,” I said. “It’s noisier then.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’s not all the yelling.”

“Oh, that. You live with a lot of that?”

He shrugged. “My mom and Madeline argue a lot. And then Mom and Bob, too. That’s why I sneak out sometimes.”

“Sure.”

He slid some bread slices my way and I layered on some deli meat.

“Where are we going to go?”

“I thought we’d see all the hotspots of upper New York state.”

“There are some?”

That made me laugh. “A couple. What are you interested in?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you’re interested in?”

“My mom’s always trying to get me interested in things I don’t care anything about.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Like documentaries. The History Channel. I don’t care about that stuff. I like movies. Did you see the new Star Wars?”

“No.”

“It was okay.”

“What else has she tried to get you interested in?”

He shrugged. “She likes to sign me up for sports, but I don’t like sports.”

“Why not?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

“I guess not.”

“There’s one thing, though,” Jeremy said.

“What’s that?”

“You won’t laugh.”

“Of course not.”

“I like art.”

“Art? You like to paint?”

He shook his head. “I hate history, but I like reading about painters. Are there any art galleries we could go to?”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah, I think we could find some of those. You take art in school?”

“I was going to, but Bob told my mom that I should take something else, that I’d never get anywhere taking that. You can’t get a job doing art.”

“Not everything you take has to be aimed at a career.”

“That’s what I said, but Mom agreed with Bob.”

“Would you like to be an artist? I know a little girl — well, she’s not that little, she’d be twelve now, I think — named Crystal who likes to draw all the time. Those things they call graphic novels. She’d like to do those when she grows up.”

“Is she good?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m guessing she’s still interested. I haven’t seen her in a while. She moved out to San Francisco to be with her dad.” I paused. “Her mom died.”

“Graphic novels are cool, but I don’t want to actually draw or anything. I’m not good at that. But I’d like to study it. Like, find out everything about great painters like Renoir and Raphael and Michelangelo and those guys. But not just classic guys. Modern stuff, too, like that dude who just threw shit all over the canvas, dribbling paint like crazy.”

“You talking about Pollock?”

“That’s the guy. Pollock. I’d like to get a job in a gallery or a museum or something like that. Do you think that’s lame?”

“Lame? No.”

“So where are we going? It’s already dinner time. Are we just having a sandwich for dinner?”

“Just thinking on that,” I said. “Whether to go tonight or in the morning.”

The light outside was starting to fade. We could stay at my place for the night, but that would mean putting Jeremy on the couch. Still better than the jail cell he could have ended up in, but I thought maybe he deserved better than that. Jeremy’s admission that he was interested in galleries had me considering a New York destination. We could be there in three or four hours. I’d have to see about a hotel reservation first.

Maybe that was why I went to the window, to see how nightfall was coming together. There weren’t many cars parked along the street this time of day, now that the shops were closed, with the possible exception of Naman downstairs. He often kept his used bookstore open late because he had nothing better to do.

I guess that’s why the black van on the other side of the street stood out. It was the only vehicle at the curb for half a block. I thought it might have been the same van that was riding along behind us on the way over. The windows were tinted, and I couldn’t tell whether anyone was inside.

“Finish up those sandwiches,” I said to Jeremy. “I gotta go down to my car for a second to get something.”

“Okay,” he said emptily.

I went quickly down the stairs and opened the door to the sidewalk. The van, its tail end facing me, was about five car lengths away. As I started across the street, I noticed exhaust coming out of the tailpipe. The taillights flashed on briefly, the van was shifted into drive, and it took off up the street.

Even if I’d been close enough to get a good look at the license plate, it wouldn’t have done me much good. It was smeared with dirt and illegible.

When I got back up to my apartment, I said to Jeremy, “I say we go tonight.”