Robert B. Parker’s the Hangman’s Sonnet

44

Hump had done what King asked in his note and hadn’t ventured out of the motel room for the last few days. It was easy enough. Flush with his seven grand cash, he’d ordered in Chinese food and pizza, but only from places that had Pepsi bottles or cans. He was pretty sure some chick at a Chinese takeout place had cursed at him after he told her to skip the order if they didn’t sell Pepsi. She kept telling him “Only Coke. Only Coke,” her voice getting louder and louder until she was screaming at him, “Only Coke!”

Looking in the mirror now, finger-combing his hair after getting out of the shower, he thought that she wouldn’t have screamed at him if he was standing right in front of her. No, she woulda shut her stupid mouth and offered to go next door to the deli and buy him some Pepsi. Woulda paid for it, too. And he had also splurged on some movies. He had watched some of them three times. He liked the one about the guy trapped on Mars. He liked that one a lot. When you’ve been inside, been in solitary, you understand what that’s like. Except that inside, hope runs out before the bad food. He also watched some skin flicks. He didn’t like them as much because they only frustrated him. He had a better chance of getting trapped on Mars than getting to be with any of them girls. Then he looked at the wad of cash on the dresser and realized that even a guy with a face like his could get anything with enough money.

Hump clicked on the TV, figuring he’d lay low for one more day and then move on. He could go a long way on what was left of his seven grand. Plus he still had some of his release money stashed away. He thought about where he might go. He thought about going someplace hot and dry, someplace where it didn’t rain a lot. He didn’t like rain. Hated it. It was always bleak inside, but there were times the rain darkened the place so, he thought about killing himself or killing someone else just to make the rain in his head go away. He wanted to get as far from the rain as he could get. Tomorrow, he thought, when he left this dump, he’d get himself some maps of the Southwest, buy himself a bus ticket, and just go. But first he had to see about selling the dragonfly ring.

He pulled out the drawer, grabbed his bundled-up white socks, and carefully pulled them apart. He slid his hand down into one of the socks, the one with the tear above the ankle, and felt for the ring. Inside, you learn about how and where to hide things. You also learn to hide how you feel. It was always safer to never give away your feelings. You never wanted the other guys to know what you were thinking, but Hump couldn’t hide the smile when he felt the ring there where he had left it. He held it up to the light as he did each time he looked at it. It was a beautiful thing to behold. He imagined it on a woman’s red-tipped finger, the long tail of the dragonfly curling around her pale skin. The four jewel-encrusted wings spreading slightly across her pinkie and middle fingers. He hadn’t ever had much beauty in his life and had certainly never had beautiful things.

Watching it sparkle in the light, he thought he might not fence it. He wanted to have one precious thing to hold on to, even if it was a fancy lady’s ring that he couldn’t wear or show to anyone. He knew that even the best deal he would get would only make him pennies on the dollar. Maybe less, because besides the big diamonds that were the dragonfly’s eyes, he had no idea about what kind of stones were in the setting. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, he figured. But even if they were, so what? He didn’t know what they were worth, didn’t know what the diamonds were worth. The gold setting had some value, though that was the least of it. He placed the ring back into the sock, bundled the socks back together. And placed the bundle back in the drawer.

He rubbed the thick stubble that he’d let grow on his face since the day the old lady died. By tomorrow, he thought, it would almost be a beard. Between a beard, sunglasses, and a hat he’d be okay. He sprayed some Right Guard under his arms, threw on some clothes, and reached for the clicker. He plopped himself down on the bed, thinking King would know what the ring was worth. King was smart like that. But King would lose his mind if he found out Hump had taken the ring. Even though no one was there to see it, Hump shrugged his shoulders. Maybe they’d hook up again someday. They were good together, on the inside and out.

He slid his index finger over the clicker buttons, searching for the ones that would get him to the paid movie channels, but when he looked up at the screen he stopped moving his finger. Stopped moving at all. Stopped breathing for a second, because there on the screen was Hump’s booking photo, next to King’s booking photo. Then King’s photo was enlarged, completely displacing Hump’s photo. Then King’s photo disappeared and was replaced by the image of a tall, good-looking cop standing before a row of microphones. Hump turned up the sound so he could hear what the cop was saying. When he heard, he turned off the TV.

He and King hadn’t been partners, not like some guys they’d known inside who worked together for years. They weren’t part of a crew. They were just two guys who had shared a cell for a few years and got along, each watching the other’s back. King was older and smarter, but he was as big a screwup as Hump, maybe even a bigger one. Still, King had been his friend, and now his friend had been murdered. Hump knew he should walk out of that room and never look back. He should fence the ring and just get on that bus to the place where it didn’t rain. Instead he clicked off the TV and searched the drawers King had used for his stuff while he’d been there.