Promised Land

Chapter 8

In the morning I was up and away to New Bedford before eight. I stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts shop for a training-table breakfast to go, and ate my doughnuts and drank my coffee as I headed up the Cape with the sun at my back. I hit New Bedford at commuter time and while it wasn’t that big a city its street system was so confused that the traffic jam backed up across the bridge into Fairhaven. It was nine-forty when I got out of the car and headed for the incongruous front door at 3 Centre Street. There was no doorbell and no knocker so I rapped on the red panels with my knuckles. Not too hard, the door might fold.

A big, strong-looking young woman with light brown hair in a long single braid opened the door. She had on jeans and what looked like a black leotard top. She was obviously braless, and, less noticeably, shoeless.

“Good morning,” I said, “I’d like to speak with Pam Shepard, please.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no Pam Shepard here.”

“Will she be back soon?” I was giving her my most engaging smile. Boyish. Open. Mr. Warm.

“I don’t know any such person,” she said.

“Do you live here?” I said.

“Yes.”

“Are you Rose Alexander?”

“No.” Once I give them the engaging smile they just slobber all over me.

“Is she in?”

“Who are you?”

“I asked you first,” I said.

Her face closed down and she started to shut the door. I put my hand flat against it and held it open. She shoved harder and I held it open harder. She seemed determined.

“Madam,” I said, “if you will stop shoving that door at me, I will speak the truth to you. Even though, I do not believe you have spoken the truth to me.”

She paid no attention. She was a big woman and it was getting hard to hold the door open effortlessly.

“I stood outside this house most of yesterday and saw Pam Shepard and another woman come out, go shopping and return with groceries. The phone here is listed to Rose Alexander.” My shoulder was beginning to ache. “I will talk civilly with Pam Shepard and I won’t drag her back to her husband.”

Behind the young woman a voice said, “What the hell is going on here, Jane?”

Jane made no reply. She kept shoving at the door. The smaller, black-haired woman I’d seen with Pam Shepard yesterday appeared. I said, “Rose Alexander?” She nodded. “I need to talk with Pam Shepard,” I said.

“I don’t…” Rose Alexander started.

“You do too,” I said. “I’m a detective and I know such things: If you’ll get your Amazon to unhand the door we can talk this all out very pleasantly.”

Rose Alexander put her hand on Jane’s arm. “You’d better let him in, Jane,” she said gently. Jane stepped away from the door and glared at me. There were two bright smudges of color on her cheekbones, but no other sign of exertion. I stepped into the hall. My shoulder felt quite numb as I took my hand off the door. I wanted to rub it but was too proud. What price machismo?

“May I see some identification?” Rose Alexander said.

“Certainly.” I took the plastic-coated photostat of my license out of my wallet and showed it to her.

“You’re not with the police then,” she said.

“No, I am self-employed,” I said.

“Why do you wish to talk with me?”

“I don’t,” I said. “I wish to talk with Pam Shepard.”

“Why do you wish to talk with her?”

“Her husband hired me to find her.”

“And what were you to do when you did?”

“He didn’t say. But he wants her back.”

“And you intend to take her?”

“No, I intend to talk with her. Establish that she’s well and under no duress, explain to her how her husband feels and see if she’d like to return.”

“And if she would not like to return?”

“I won’t force her.”

Jane said, “That’s for sure,” and glared at me.

“Does her husband know she’s here?” Rose Alexander asked.

“No.”

“Because you’ve not told him?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see what was happening in the china shop before I brought in the bull.”

“I don’t trust you,” Rose Alexander said. “What do you think, Jane?”

Jane shook her head.

“I’m not here with her husband, am I?”

“But we don’t know how close he is,” Rose Alexander said.

“Or who’s with him,” Jane said.

“Who’s with him?” I was getting confused.

Rose said, “You wouldn’t be the first man to take a woman by force and never doubt your right.”

“Oh,” I said.

“We back down from you now,” Jane said, “and it will be easier next time. So we’ll draw the line here, up front, first time.”

“But if you do,” I said, “you’ll make me use force. Not to take anyone, but to see that she’s in fact okay.”

“You saw that yesterday,” Jane said. The color was higher on her cheekbones now, and more intense. “You told me you saw Pam and Rose go shopping together.

”I don’t think you’ve got her chained in the attic,“ I said. ”But duress includes managing the truth. If she has no chance to hear me and reject me for herself she’s not free, she’s under a kind of duress.“

”Don’t you try to force your way in,“ Jane said. ”You’ll regret it, I promise you.“ She had stepped back away from me and shifted into a martial arts stance, her feet balanced at right angles to each other in a kind of T stance, her open hands held in front of her in another kind of T, the left hand vertical, the right horizontal above it. She looked like she was calling for time out. Her lips were pulled back and her breath made a hissing sound as it squeezed out between her teeth.

”You had lessons?“ I asked.

Rose Alexander said, ”Jane is very advanced in karate. Do not treat her lightly. I don’t wish to hurt you, but you must leave.“ Her black eyes were quite wide and bright as she spoke. Her round pleasant face was flushed. I didn’t believe the part about not wishing to hurt me.

”Well, I’m between a rock and a hard place right now. I don’t want you to hurt me either, and I don’t take Jane lightly. On the other hand the more you don’t want me to see Pam Shepard, the more I think I ought to. I could probably go for the cops, but by the time we got back, Pam Shepard would be gone. I guess I’m going to have to insist.“

Jane kicked me in the balls. Groin just doesn’t say it. I’d never fought with a woman before and I wasn’t ready. If felt like it always does: nausea, weakness, pain and an irresistible compulsion to double over. I did double over. Jane chopped down on the back of my neck. I twisted away and the blow landed on the big trapezious muscles without doing any serious damage. I straightened up. It hurt but not as much as it was going to if I didn’t make a comeback. Jane aimed the heel of her hand at the tip of my nose. I banged her hand aside with my right forearm and hit her as hard a left hook as I’ve used lately, on the side of her face, near the hinge of her jaw. She went over backward and lay on the floor without motion. I’d never hit a woman before and it scared me a little. Had I hit her too hard? She was a big woman but I must have outweighed her by forty pounds. Rose Alexander dropped to her knees beside Jane, and having got there didn’t know what to do. I got down too, painfully, and felt her pulse. It was nice and strong and her chest heaved and fell steadily. ”She’s okay,“ I said. ”Probably better than I am.“

At the far end of the hall was a raised panel door that had been painted black. It opened and Pam Shepard came through it. There were tears running down her face. ”It’s me,“ she said. ”It’s my fault, they were just trying to protect me. If you’ve hurt her it’s my fault.“

Jane opened her eyes and stared up blankly at us. She moved her head. Rose Alexander said, ”Jane?“

I said, ”She’s going to be all right, Mrs. Shepard. You didn’t make her kick me in the groin.“

She too got down on the floor beside Jane. I got out of the way and leaned on the door jamb with my arms folded, trying to get the sick feeling to go away, and trying not to show it. People did not seem to be warming to me down here. I hoped Jane and Eddie never got together.

Jane was on her feet, Pam Shepard holding one arm and Rose Alexander the other. They went down the hall toward the black door. I followed along. Through the door was a big kitchen. A big old curvy-legged gas stove on one wall, a big oilcloth-covered table in the middle of the room, a couch with a brown corduroy spread along another wall. There was a pantry at the right rear and the walls were wainscoted narrow deal boards that reminded me of my grandmother’s house. They sat Jane down in a black leather upholstered rocker. Rose went to the pantry and returned with a wet cloth. She washed Jane’s face while Pam Shepard squeezed Jane’s hand. ”I’m all right,“ Jane said and pushed the wet cloth away. ”How the hell did you do that,“ she said to me. ”That kick was supposed to finish you right there.“

”I am a professional thug,“ I said.

”It shouldn’t matter,“ she said, frowning in puzzlement. ”A kick in the groin is a kick in the groin.“

”Ever do it for real before?“

”I’ve put in hours on the mat.“

”No, not instruction. Fighting. For real.“

”No,“ she said. ”But I wasn’t scared. I did it right.“

”Yeah, you did, but you got the wrong guy. One of the things that a kick in the groin will do is scare the kickee. Aside from the pain and all, it’s not something he’s used to and he cares about the area and he tends to double over and freeze. But I’ve been kicked before and I know that it hurts, but it’s not fatal. Not even to my sex life. And so I can force myself through the pain.“

”But…“ She shook her head.

”I know,“ I said. ”You thought you had a weapon that made you impregnable. That would keep people from shoving you around and the first time you use it you get cold-cocked. It is a ninety-five, I can bench-press three hundred pounds. I used to be a fighter. And I scuffle for a living. The karate will still work for you. But you gotta remember it’s not a sport in the street.“

”You think, goddamn you, you think it’s because you’re a man…“

”Nope. It’s because a good big person will beat a good small person every time. Most men aren’t as good as I am. A lot of them aren’t as good as you are.“

They were all looking at me and I felt isolated, unwelcome and uneasy. I wished there were another guy there. I said to Pam Shepard, ”Can we talk?“

Rose Alexander said, ”You don’t have to say a word to him, Pam.“

Jane said, ”There’s no point in it, Pam. You know how you feel.“

I looked at Pam Shepard. She had sucked in both lips so they were not visible, and her mouth was a thin line. She looked back at me and we held the pose for about thirty seconds.

”Twenty-two years,“ I said. ”And you knew him before you got married. More than twenty-two years you’ve known Harvey Shepard. Doesn’t that earn him five minutes of talk. Even if you don’t like him? Even simple duration eventually obliges you.“

She nodded her head, to herself, I think, more than to me.

”Tell him about obligation, I’ve known him since nineteen fifty,“ she said.

I shrugged. ”He’s forking out a hundred dollars a day and expenses to find you.“

”That’s his style, the big gesture. ‘See how much I love you,’ but is he looking? No, you’re looking.“

”Better than no one looking.“

”Is it?“ There was color on her cheekbones now. ”Is it really? Why isn’t it worse? Why isn’t it intrusive? Why isn’t it a big pain in the ass? Why don’t you all just leave me the goddamned hell alone?“

”I’m guessing,“ I said, ”but I think it’s because he loves you.“

”Loves me, what the hell has that got to do with anything. He probably does love me. I never doubted that he did. So what. Does that mean I have to love him? His way? By his definition?“

Rose Alexander said, ”It’s an argument men have used since the Middle Ages to keep women in subjugation.“

”Was that a master-slave relationship Jane was trying to establish with me?“ I said.

”You may joke all you wish,“ Rose said, ”but it is perfectly clear that men have used love as a way of obligating women. You even used the term yourself.“ Rose was apparently the theoretician of the group.

”Rosie,“ I said. ”I am not here to argue sexism with you. It exists and I’m against it. But what we’ve got here is not a theory, it’s a man and a woman who’ve known each other a long time and conspired to produce children. I want to talk with her about that.“

”You cannot,“ Rose said, ”separate the theory from its application. And“—her look was very forceful—”you cannot get the advantage of me by using the diminutive of my name. I’m quite aware of your tricks.“

”Take a walk with me,“ I said to Pam Shepard.

”Don’t do it, Pam,“ Jane said.

”You’ll not take her from this house,“ Rose said.

I ignored them and looked at Pam Shepard. ”A walk,“ I said, ”down toward the bridge. We can stand and look at the water and talk and then we’ll walk back.“

She nodded. ”Yes,“ she said, ”I’ll walk with you. Maybe you can make him understand.“