Scent of Evil

30

It was almost two in the morning when I drove up Gail’s steep driveway. Climbing out of the dark embrace of the tree-shrouded road, I was so taken with the vastness of the shimmering, starlit sky that I killed my headlights halfway up to the house and continued the rest of the way without them. It was an almost mystical experience; instead of missing the intense brightness of the car lights, I was overwhelmed by the sky’s generosity. I could see everything without shadow, without glare, and most impressive of all, without color. The landscape’s chromatic vitality had been drained to a mere hint, making me feel as if I were intruding upon a huge and empty stage of a long-closed theater.

I got out of the car, closing the door quietly, letting the sensation carry me for a few moments longer. It was fitting that I could feel ethereally suspended; I’d had so little sleep over the last few nights, my brain felt like warm mush, and I was here to reach back through time and to make amends.

“Joe?”

I peered along the length of the deck above me. About halfway down I saw Gail’s slim shape standing at the rail, outlined in black against the sky.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

I was suddenly embarrassed and tongue-tied. How to explain that watching Barb Southworth walking away, her tale of misery, duplicity, and sorrow in my ears, had made me miss Gail and regret the tensions that had recently wormed their way between us?

I fell back to the mundane. “I needed to tell you something.”

“About John Woll crashing his car?”

I shook my head, beat out by the grapevine again. “No.”

Her arm beckoned against the stars. “Come on up.”

I climbed the outer staircase to the deck. She remained at a distance, facing me. She was completely naked, her body glowing white in the starlight. In the blackness of the building beside her, she looked as if she were floating.

“It was too hot to sleep inside.” Beyond her, shining dully under the stars, I saw her mattress laid out on the deck.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, not wanting to lose sight of why I had come.

“I feel at a disadvantage,” she added.

The gentleness of her voice persuaded me.

I pulled off my clothes, feeling awkward and self-conscious, and walked over to her. We didn’t touch, but stood side by side, our elbows on the railing, facing the dark slope below and the glow of the city beyond.

“I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but I kept going, wanting it out in the open. “I’ve used you to comfort myself, but I haven’t paid enough attention to how all this has been affecting you.”

“It’s been affecting all of us, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

That stung slightly. I wanted her to accept my offer, not remind me of my limitations. But maybe that was her point: I wasn’t responsible for everything that had happened.

“Has Jackson kept it up?”

“You’ll soon find out for yourself. He’s called for a closed-door session of the selectmen with you and Chief Brandt first thing tomorrow morning.”

I hung my head with weariness. “Terrific. Can he do that?”

“Legally? I’m not sure; normally, the town attorney would check on something like that, but I seriously doubt Gary Nadeau’s going to stick his neck out.” She paused and then let out a short, mirthless laugh. “That’s an option, by the way; if it turns out the meeting’s illegal, you and Tony could try suing the town.”

I whistled at the mere thought. “That might be fun.”

She didn’t react.

We had been here before, Gail and I: Each of us could see the other’s viewpoint, often with empathy, but our responsibilities were frequently at odds. The stress of a mind going down a road not of the heart’s choosing could take its toll. It could even border on the absurd. I found it sadly disillusioning to stand next to an attractive, naked woman, under a sparkling-clean sheet of stars, only to ponder the coolness that kept us apart.

“I met a woman who’s acted as a kind of unofficial counselor to John with his drinking problem-someone he met at the Retreat.”

“What did she have to say?”

“That he’s been a closet drinker from the start, that he never did get on the wagon like we’d thought when we rehired him.”

“Jackson’s going to love that.”

“He may not find out about it. The point is, this woman thinks it plays in John’s favor. She says an alcoholic like him is so focused on getting his next drink that he doesn’t take time off to go running around torturing people.”

Gail didn’t seem impressed. “Well, if Luman doesn’t find out about it, it won’t matter, and if he does, he won’t care. He’ll just say it’s self-serving, psychological bullshit. I wouldn’t be able to argue the point; a lot of addicts are violent.”

I was a little irritated at her narrow view. “The point is, I think John didn’t do it; I don’t give a damn about Luman Jackson.”

“Maybe you should. John Woll isn’t the one who’s going to drag you over the coals.” She paused, reflecting on that very point. “Why has Jackson become so unstrung over this?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. Under different circumstances, I think I’d try to find out.”

“How do you mean, different circumstances?”

“I don’t have the manpower, and he has the spies, or at least some information pipeline I haven’t been able to track. Something came up this morning at a squad meeting which was handed to me on a plate by Brandt this afternoon, right through Luman Jackson.”

This time she showed some interest. “How could that have happened?”

“There was a rational explanation, but I don’t know if it was the truth.” I ran down the conversation I’d had with Brandt earlier.

She chewed that over for a while in silence. “I guess it’s not so hard to figure out why he called tomorrow’s meeting. I didn’t know he and Wentworth were acquainted, but he sure as hell toadies up to the higher class in this town. It’s the only time I ever see him bow and scrape; it’s a real stomach-turner, in fact.” She let out a long, deep sigh. “What a mess this is.”

I moved closer to her and placed my arm around her waist. She reciprocated and drew me close. I was filled with a sense of relief. Somehow, obliquely, we’d managed to clear the air. Knowing the tough times we’d survived, and the presumably grueling session we were to share in a few hours, I was particularly grateful for this hiatus. With so much general animosity and tension around us, I needed to know that our friendship was sound.

“Thank you, Gail.”

She turned and kissed me, her breast brushing my arm. “For what?”

I hesitated, trying to put it right, knowing it would fall short, and that it wouldn’t matter anyhow. “For your spirit.”

She patted my bare hip. “Come on, let’s stare up at the stars for a while.”