Small crimes

Chapter 12

I stopped off at the information desk to ask whether Charlotte Boyd was working. The woman at the desk seemed familiar. She was about my age, attractive except for some small red blotches around her nose and premature gray hair. I saw from her name tag that she was Alice Cook. I remembered an Alice Harrison from high school and was pretty sure it was the same person. Fortunately she didn't recognize me. She couldn't have – she was being too nice. After she checked the hospital work schedule, she told me that Charlotte had this Sunday off.

Are you a friend of Charlotte's?' she asked.

'I only met her the other day,' I said. 'We had coffee together and I was hoping to see her again.'

She gave me a smile as if to say isn't that sweet. 'Charlotte's such a nice girl. Quiet, but very nice. If she used some makeup and did something with her hair, she'd be quite pretty.'

That was stretching it. She'd still have those nervous eyes and a mousy look about her. Still, I appreciated the effort. I agreed with her and asked if she could give me Charlotte's home number and address.

'I'm sorry, but that's against hospital policy,' she said. I could tell she wasn't happy with the policy. Her eyes brightened. 'Charlotte might be listed in the phonebook.'

She found the Bradley phonebook and started searching through it. 'Here it is.' She pointed the listing out to me. I borrowed a pen from her and wrote the address and phone number on the back of the scrap of paper on which I'd written Elaine's phone number.

'I hope she's home,' she said.

'I hope so too,' I agreed. 'She's all I'm able to think about right now.'

She gave me another of those isn't that so sweet smiles. I nodded to her as I headed off in the direction of the terminal patient ward. She looked a little confused. I guess she had expected me to run off and try to find Charlotte. But there was something else I needed to do first.

When I got to Manny's room, I found him alone. He was propped up on his bed watching TV. His eyes shifted to the side as he noticed me, but he didn't say anything.

'Jesus Christ,' I said. I thought you'd be keeled over and dead by now. So much for wishful thinking.'

He scrunched up what was left of his face and made an expression as if he had tasted something foul. 'You kiss your ma with a mouth like that?' he asked. His expression shifted to something ill tempered. 'And don't worry about me,' he added. I got two months left and I'm going to be here every goddam second of it.'

I walked over to his bed and sat on the side of it. I could tell he didn't like me sitting there, but he didn't say anything. 'What are you watching?' I asked.

'Pats-Jets game,' he muttered, half under his breath. Then his body started to convulse with what must've been laughter. It sounded more like a broken garbage disposal. 'You want any action on it, call my son,' he said when he could. 'Any amount you want to put down.' Then he started laughing some more. When he finished, he asked, 'What the hell you want?'

'Nothing much. I just thought I'd visit an old friend.’ I got news for you, I never thought of us as friends.’

‘Yeah, well, neither did I.'

'What do you know? You're not as dumb as I thought you were. So what you here for?'

'It kind of bothered me the way we left things the other day,' I said.

He didn't respond. He just shifted his cold, dead eyes sideways so he could watch me.

'After all,' I said, 'I have no right to tell you what you can and can't do. If you want to confess all your sins to Phil that's your business. I just don't see what good it would do you. I'm curious, why not make a confession to a real priest? Phil's not even Catholic.'

'Who says I want to confess jack to anyone?'

'Come on, Manny, I'm just talking hypothetical. I don't blame you for wanting to unburden yourself. But why not do it right and use a priest? I can help you find one if you want.'

His wasted face puckered up into something akin to aggrievement. I never liked priests much,' he said.

'Look, Manny, have you talked this over with your son? He's not going to be happy with this. Even if Phil honors the deal you make, Manny Jr. is going to lose everything he's got. And he'll be watched by the law every second of the rest of his life. You'll be forcing him into a mundane, blue-collar existence. He'll probably end up having to bag groceries at Food Mart.'

As I stared at him, as I watched him shift uncomfortably in his bed, I realized that he wasn't just trying to save his own soul. That part of his rationale for making a deal with Phil was to force Junior out of the business. That he was trying to save Junior's soul also.

I started laughing. I couldn't help myself. As Manny stared back at me, I could see in his eyes that he knew that I knew what was really going on. There was no kidding each other anymore.

'You should think about getting your affairs in order, Joe.' I appreciate your concern.'

We were both quiet then, both deep in our own thoughts. After a while Manny announced that he was feeling tired and he wanted me to leave.

'And don't bother blabbing your ideas to my son,' he warned me.’

‘Cause I admitted nothing.'

As I looked at him, I felt a blind fury overtake me. This sonofabitch was all set to ruin me because of some bullshit notion of saving his psychotic lunatic son.

'It's not going to be as simple as you think, Manny,' I said.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'You don't, huh? You think everything a criminal like you says is going to be taken at face value?'

'Look Joe, you're the convicted felon here, not me. And I'm not saying I'm confessing anything. But if I do, it's going to be the truth.'

'The truth according to who? A piece of scum like you?'

"The truth, Joe. Like how you were the guy who beat Billy Ferguson to death.'

He showed me that 'go screw yourself smile of his that I knew so well, and as I watched him gloat I could feel a hotness flush my face. He got to me. That was still no excuse, but he got to me.

'So that's going to be your story?' I half heard myself asking. "The thing is I remember playing poker that night and I'm sure I can line up friends who'll vouch for me. So who did you really send to collect? Junior? Is that what this is all about?'

His body started convulsing again, making that same broken-down garbage disposal noise. When he was done laughing, he looked me straight in the eye. 'What friends you got these days, Joe?' he asked, and then he started laughing again, his body convulsing harder than before.

I had to get out of there. I knew I made a mistake talking about

Billy Ferguson with him, but as I had said, he got to me, and the words just slipped out. I couldn't help myself. Everything was a haze as I made my way towards the elevator and then down to the main lobby. I could sort of make out Alice Cook as I walked past her desk. I think she said something to me, but I'm not sure. I just had to get out of there. I had to get that noise of his convulsing laughter out of my head. When I got to my car I sat for a long time. There was no doubt about any of it anymore. There was no longer even a tiny glimmer of hope. If I didn't shut Manny up I was going to be spending the rest of my days in prison.

Charlotte Boyd lived in the Maple Farms apartment complex off of Route Two. The apartment complex was built in the early sixties and was an eyesore. A four-story concrete structure housing close to eighty apartments. Each unit had its own balcony where the outer wall was made up of colored sheet metal, the colors ranging from purple to lime green to a dull yellow. I don't know what the architect could possibly have been thinking.

I found Charlotte's apartment number and dialed it up on the intercom system. After about a minute I heard some static and then what I thought was her voice, but I wasn't sure. I pressed the talk button and announced who I was. Another thirty seconds and I was buzzed in.

When I got to her door I knocked. I heard some movement from behind it and could tell she was using her peephole. The door opened a few inches and I heard her soft voice asking me to come in.

'I have several cats,' she explained in what was barely over a whisper. 'I don't want to leave the door open because they might run out.'

I squeezed through the opening and shut the door behind me. Charlotte was standing in front of me, her large hazel eyes holding steady on mine. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in jeans and a University of Toronto sweatshirt. She looked younger than when I saw her the day before. She also looked prettier. Her nurse's uniform had hung on her like a curtain. With her jeans on, I could tell her body had more of a definition to it than I would've thought. Also, her eyes didn't seem all that nervous anymore.

'Hi, Charlotte. I was hoping to find you at home.'

'Would you like to sit down?'

Off to the side of the entranceway was a small living room. There wasn't much furniture in it-a small antique-looking chair and a matching loveseat, a coffee table, and a stereo bench with a TV. A neatly arranged stack of magazines lay on the coffee table, and there were books and small knick-knacks on a few built-in shelves. While there wasn't much to the room, it had a nice feel. Charlotte took the antique chair and I sat on the loveseat. On the coffee table was a photograph of three very odd-looking cats, all with pushed-in faces and dour expressions.

Are these yours?' I asked.

'Yes. That's Lady Margarite in the middle. Next to her on the right is Princess Anne, and on the left is Simone.'

For the life of me, I wouldn't have been able to tell one from the other. All three of them looked like carbon copies of each other.

'Three ladies, huh?' I said. I looked around to see whether I could spot any of them.

'They're skittish with strangers,' Charlotte said. 'Could I get you something to drink?'

'No thanks.' I showed her an apologetic smile. 'I've been thinking a lot about you since yesterday. I was hoping I could talk you into taking a ride with me to Burlington and joining me for a late brunch. I know I'm putting you on the spot by showing up like this.'

From the way she hesitated I knew she had already eaten lunch. But she nodded. 'I'd like that, Joe. Let me change clothes and I'll be right with you.'

She disappeared into her bedroom. As I waited I flipped through the magazines on her coffee table and found a couple on cats, one on antiques, another on knitting, and a final one on travel. I thumbed through the travel magazine until I came across an article about Italy. I wasn't entirely kidding Scott Ferguson about wanting to see the world. I was forty years old and had so far seen almost none of it. It struck me that I had never even been in an airplane. As I looked at pictures of the Colosseum in Rome and the canals of Venice, I started daydreaming. With some effort I shook myself out of it and put the magazine down.

I got up and took a look at what she had, on her shelves. There were a number of porcelain figurines; mostly either ballerinas or cats, with a couple of birds mixed in. As far as her books went, there were half a dozen on Victorian England, a handful of what looked like medieval romance novels, and a couple on the Diana and Prince Charles wedding. There were a few other miscellaneous books that you'd probably classify as literary. Out of boredom I had actually read most of them while in jail.

I noticed one of my eyes had started itching like crazy, and as I rubbed it, I saw one of her cats peeking at me from around the corner. I guess it was trying to decide whether I was worth the trouble. Its expression looked even more dour in person. It must've made up its mind that I wasn't, because it darted back around the corner and out of sight.

By this time both my eyes were tearing and my nose had started running. Then I started sneezing. It came out almost like machine-gun fire. Charlotte came running into the room. She had changed into a sweater and a skirt and had pulled her hair out of its ponytail, but with the sneezing and the way my eyes were swelling up I couldn't pay much attention to her. I could tell, though, that she had a worried look on her face.

Between sneezes I told her that I thought I was allergic to her cats.

'I'm so sorry.'

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about.' I stopped to fire off a couple more sneezes. 'I was the one who dropped by out of the blue.' I had to stop again. When I could continue, I told her I was going to buy some allergy medication and that I'd meet her out front in fifteen minutes.

'If we go to the hospital, I can pick you up a sample of a prescription allergy medication that will be more effective than what you can buy over the counter.'

'Okay, sure.'

I was anxious to get out of there. She still needed a few minutes so I told her I'd meet her in the lobby. I just couldn't catch a break. I actually found myself feeling comfortable in her apartment, but it couldn't be that simple – I couldn't be given a few minutes of peace. Something had to screw it up, so of course I had to find myself allergic to her cats. And of course she couldn't just have one. She had to have three of them spreading dander throughout her apartment.

I found a rest room in the lobby and splashed cold water on my face and in my eyes, but it didn't help much. My eyes still felt itchy as hell and my nose was running like a faucet. I went through a dozen paper towels before my nose started to dry out. I forced myself to look in the mirror and couldn't help laughing at what I saw. I looked pathetic. My eyes were almost swollen shut. As it was, I could only keep them open to narrow slits. My nose looked raw from blowing it out with all those paper towels. Here I needed to win Charlotte over in a quick whirlwind romance, and I looked like this? As I said before, I couldn't catch a break.

I found Charlotte waiting for me in the lobby. The concern in her face seemed to have deepened and there was some nervousness back in her eyes.

'I didn't know where you were,' she said. I was trying to wash out my eyes.' I forced a laugh. 'I'll tell you, that hit me pretty hard. I never knew I was allergic to cats before.'

She seemed deep in thought as we walked to my car. When we got there she asked whether she should drive. 'Do you know how to handle a stick shift?' She shook her head.

'Don't worry,' I said. 'I'll be okay driving.'

I put the top down and we headed off towards Bradley Memorial. With the way my eyes had swollen up, it was a struggle keeping them open against the sunlight. They just kept trying to force themselves shut. The fresh air, though, felt good against my face. Somehow, even though I could barely keep my eyes open, I got us to the hospital in one piece. Charlotte got out of the car and told me she'd be right back.

While I waited for her, I spotted Junior leaving the hospital with his two pint-sized miniature versions of himself. He saw me sitting in my car, and as he did, an ugly grin spread across his face. He changed direction and started walking towards me, ignoring his two boys as they punched at each other's arms.

'Well, look who's here,' he said. 'Whatsa matta, Joe, you been crying or something? Big bad world getting you down?'

'Junior, you better look after your two kids before they kill each other.'

He turned sideways to see his two boys smacking each other. He raised his hand as if he were going to slap both of them, and barked at them to stop it. They obeyed his order, both staring back with sullen, dull expressions.

'They're chips off the old block, huh, Junior?' I said.

He turned back towards me, his grin stretched tighter across his face. 'What I tell you before about calling me Junior,' he said.

'Sorry, old habits die hard.'

'You think you're so fucking smart. You're a fucking moron, that's what you are. What I tell you before about bothering my pop?'

'He told me why he's working out a deal with Phil.’

‘You're fucking delusional.'

'You want to know why he's going to be spilling his guts? It's partly because of you, Junior. Woops, there I go, calling you that again.'

He didn't say anything, he just stared at me with his dark black eyes, his grin all but disappearing as it stretched even farther across his face. I noticed I even had his two boys' attention.

'He wants to save your soul. He thinks if he can force you out of your life of crime he can convert you into a devout, God-fearing member of society.'

'You've gone completely nutso, pal.'

'You think so, huh? Why don't you go back in there and talk to your dad about it. See what he has to say.'

'I don't have to go bothering Pop because of your bullshit delusions. But I tell you, Joe, there's going to be a price you're gonna pay for disturbing Pop. Beyond and above the thirty grand you owe me.'

'You got me shaking here, Junior.'

He took a step towards my car, his face flushed with violence. 'If you had any brains you would be shaking. You and me will settle this later, Joe. I promise you that.'

'If you have any issues with me,' I said, 'we can settle them now.'

'Nah, later, when we have some privacy.'

'We don't have to wait. If you want I can get out of the car now and kick the crap out of you in front of your two kids. Would you like me to do that?'

He started walking away from my car, his ugly grin back in place. 'That's okay, Joe. We'll settle things later. I guarantee it.'

I watched as Junior and his two kids walked across the parking lot and got into his Range Rover. I was so caught up watching them that I wasn't aware that Charlotte had gotten into my passenger seat until she closed the door shut. It damn near gave me a heart attack.

'Here you go,' she said as she handed me a bottle of water and a pill. As I swallowed the pill, I noticed Junior's Range Rover slow down and could see him getting a good long look at Charlotte. Both his boys were also staring at her, both with their pug noses pressed hard against the same back passenger window. Junior lowered his window and waved at the two of us.

'See you around, Joe,' he yelled out before speeding off.

'I think that was Mr. Vassey's son,' Charlotte said.

I nodded. I didn't like the fact that Junior saw the two of us together, but there was nothing I could do about it and it probably didn't matter.

'He doesn't seem like a very nice man,' she remarked quietly. 'I'd have to agree with that.'

She peered at me for a moment before turning away with a slight blush. 'Your swelling has gone down. Are you feeling any better?'

'I think so.'

I gave a quick look in the rearview mirror and could see she was right about the swelling. It was easier to keep my eyes open against the sunlight. As I pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Burlington, Charlotte seemed lost in her own thoughts. She sat quietly, her brow furrowed, her small hands clasped tightly together.

At one point I thought I saw her shivering. I asked whether she was cold. She hesitated for a moment before telling me that she was fine. I pulled the car over and put the top back up.

'If the wind's bothering you, it's okay to tell me,' I said.

'It really wasn't bothering me,' she said. I could tell from how withdrawn she had gotten that something was on her mind, but

I didn't push it. After several minutes she interrupted our silence to ask me why I came to see her today.

'Why?' I laughed. I wanted to take you out on a date.'

'Why, though?'

'Because it was nice having coffee with you the other day. Because I find you attractive. And I guess because I wanted to get to know you better.'

She sat quietly after that, seeming to sink deeper into her private thoughts.

When we got to downtown Burlington, I parked in a garage and we set off on foot. It was one of those perfect fall days that send couples flocking to the stores and restaurants in the downtown area. It felt good just strolling about outside. As we were checking out the different restaurants around town, Charlotte's mood perked up. Whatever funk she had been slipping into was gone. She became more talkative and it took only a small effort on my part to squeeze a smile out of her.

We found a small French bistro that we decided to settle on. It was two thirty in the afternoon and the place was still crowded. A little after three we were seated. Charlotte ordered an apple crepe and a glass of white wine. I ordered beef bourguignon. I tried asking for a bottle of beer to go with my meal, but Charlotte became concerned about my mixing alcohol with the allergy medication she had given me, so I ended up sticking with coffee. While I wanted the beer, it was kind of sweet that she showed the concern that she did.

Charlotte started to fidget as we waited for our food. The nervousness had come back to her large hazel eyes. I could tell she wanted to ask me something. She looked away from me and stared down at her small clasped hands. I couldn't help noticing how tiny and white her knuckles were.

'Joe,' she asked, 'you're not married, are you?'

I couldn't keep from smiling. So that was what had put her in a funk earlier. 'No,' I said. I was married once, but we divorced over seven years ago. And I don't have a girlfriend. To be honest, you're only the second woman I've ever dated.'

She looked back up at me. I could almost see the thoughts running through her head.

'It's true,' I said. 'I knew my wife when we were kids. We were together through high school and got married right afterwards. I've never dated anyone else, and you're the first person I've gone out with since my divorce.'

'Joe, the only thing I'll ask of you is that you don't lie to me.'

'Everything I've told you is the truth.'

Her eyes held steady on mine again. We sat like that for a while, just kind of looking at each other. I was actually beginning to feel pretty good, almost forgetting what I needed from her. A small, easy smile had made its way onto her face. We sat like that, not really aware of anything else, until our waiter broke the spell by bringing us our food.

I didn't realize how hungry I was until I smelled the food. The only thing I had eaten that day was the powdered doughnuts, and my stomach was now rumbling. Still, though, I forced myself to eat at a leisurely pace. I watched as Charlotte cut her crepe into tiny pieces. After every few bites, she would stop to dab her mouth with her napkin. It was kind of cute, I guess. I never saw anyone eat that way before.

She coughed lightly to get my attention. 'Joe, do you have any children?' she asked.

'Two girls. Melissa's fourteen and Courtney's twelve.'

'Do you see them much?'

From her expression, I could tell what she really wanted to know was whether I still saw my ex-wife much. I shook my head. 'They're out of my life now,' I said. I won't be seeing them in the future.'

She tried to give me a sympathetic look, but I could tell there was some relief mixed in. To be polite, because it wasn't really any surprise to me, I made a comment about how I was surprised that she wasn't already married or involved in a relationship.

'I've never been married,' she said. She seemed to shrink inwards as a darkness passed over her face. I haven't dated much.'

After that I kept the conversation light, asking her about what she liked to do and stuff like that. When she wasn't working, she was usually at home reading a book or watching TV. I had a feeling that since she'd moved to Vermont her company had been almost exclusively her three cats. I could tell that I impressed her when I was able to discuss several of the books that were on her shelves. I didn't tell her that during the last seven years I probably emptied out the Bradley library – or to be more specific, Morris had emptied it out for me. Every week he'd check out between five and ten books for me. It got to the point where during the last year he'd almost always brought me several books each week that I'd already read.

I could see that there was another question dying to bust loose from her. I sat back and smiled and waited for it.

'Joe,' she said, 'you mentioned yesterday that you used to be a police officer?'

'Yeah.' I took a deep breath and made a decision. I did something pretty bad and was kicked off the force.'

An odd look flashed on her face. It wasn't surprise or shock or anything like that. I wasn't quite sure what it was. In any case, she didn't seem taken aback by my answer. She seemed almost satisfied with it, her eyes calm and holding steady on mine.

'What do you do now?'

'I'm in transition.' I let loose a short laugh. I couldn't help myself. 'My dad wants me to go to college. Who knows, maybe I could major in history or literature and become a professor someday. I don't know, I still haven't figured out yet what I'm going to do with my life.'

It was funny; she didn't press me about what I did to get myself thrown off the force, or why I hadn't dated during the last seven years. For the rest of the lunch, we stuck with small talk, only superficial stuff. When I tried asking her why she left Montreal she changed the subject to how nice the weather was, then her face darkened as she stared at her hands. I moved the conversation to her cats and that brightened her back up. She told me they were Persians and that she had brought them with her from Canada. Before too long she was smiling again.

After lunch we strolled around some of the stores. At one point she took hold of my hand. It felt nicer than I would have expected.

We made our way down to Lake Champlain. After walking for a few minutes along the shore, we sat on some rocks and looked out at the water. I saw a couple of seagulls flying overhead, and as I watched them, I found my thoughts drifting. I felt calm sitting there. The noises that had been buzzing through my head for the past several days were silent. Charlotte brought me out of it by asking how I knew Manny Vassey.

'I got to know him when I was a cop,' I said.

'Wasn't he a criminal?'

'Yeah, he was.'

'And you're friends with him?'

'Not exactly.' I hesitated as I tried to think of a way to broach the subject of what I really needed from her. Because what I really needed from her wasn't a girlfriend or a relationship, but for her to overdose Manny – maybe with morphine, maybe with something else. As I thought about it, I realized how crazy the idea was. It was more than a long shot, it was nuts. Completely, absolutely nuts. I felt cold all of a sudden, especially in the head.

The coldness was penetrating deep into my eye sockets. Kind of like when you eat ice cream too fast, except worse. I had to look away from her. But I had no other choice – no other way out that I could see – so I stumbled along, my voice sounding strange and foreign to me.

'I guess over the years I've grown to respect him, at least at some level, and maybe somewhat begrudgingly,' I said. 'He was always a tough, hard sonofabitch. But no one should have to die the way he's dying.'

I could feel the words drying up in my throat. I shifted my gaze back to her. Charlotte sat silently watching me, her color having dropped to a pasty white. Her mouth looked so small, her lips almost disappearing into her face. I forced myself to push forward, ignoring the queasiness that was working its way into my stomach.

'It just doesn't seem right.' I coughed and cleared my throat, my voice growing hoarse as I continued. 'Especially when it would take only a little extra morphine to put him out of his misery.'

'Is that why you asked me out?'

'What?'

'I asked you if that was why you asked me out,' she said.

There was no nervousness in her eyes. There was really nothing there. Her expression had hardened into something not quite human. I barely recognized her. I found myself shaking my head.

'I don't get what you're asking,' I said.

She just sat staring at me. After a while she told me that Alice Cook at the information desk had stopped her when she had gone back to the hospital to get my allergy medication.

'Alice told me that you were asking about me,' Charlotte said. 'She told me what you did to Mr. Coakley. She told me how you went to prison. Please, Joe, don't lie to me. Tell me why you asked me out. Was it to get me to overdose Mr. Vassey with morphine? Because I would never do that.'

So Alice had recognized me after all. Probably hit her after we had talked. Now I knew the reason for Charlotte's funk earlier and it left my head spinning. I heard myself mumble something about how I had no idea what she was talking about. I was only making an observation,' I forced out. 'Why would you think I'd want something like that?'

'Mr. Coakley spends a lot of time visiting Mr. Vassey.'

'So? What does that have to do with me? And I told you before why I asked you out. That was the only reason.'

We sat quietly after that. I'm not sure how long. It might've been ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but it seemed like an eternity. After a while she leaned against me. I looked over and saw her expression had softened. She moved closer and rested her head against my shoulder.

'Aren't the clouds lovely,' she whispered.

It was weird. She acted as if nothing had happened. There were no questions about what I had done to Phil, or about my being in jail, or my interest in Manny Vassey. She just sat quietly, occasionally making comments about how nice a day she was having or how beautiful the lake and sky were. Later, when we drove back to Bradley, it was more of the same. On the way back she told me she'd like something to eat so we stopped off at a diner. I could barely stomach anything and only had a few spoons of rice pudding. I watched as Charlotte took bird-sized bites from a grilled cheese sandwich. During it all my mind raced as I tried to understand how my conversation with her went the way it did, and more importantly, what I was going to do next.

When I got her back to her apartment, she hesitated and moved awkwardly towards me.

'Would you like to come in?' she asked.

'I'd like to,' I said, 'but your cats and my allergies-'

'Your medication should be good for twelve hours.'

'I'd better not risk it, at least not tonight. I still feel a little shaky from before.'

I wasn't exaggerating. I did feel shaky. Maybe not from my earlier allergic reaction, but I still felt shaky as hell. I could see a thought start to formulate in her eyes about us maybe finding someplace else to be alone, so I moved quickly and gave her a long kiss. When I moved away I asked if I could see her tomorrow when she got off work.

'I could pick you up here,' I said.

She nodded. 'I'd like that. I finish work tomorrow at seven. Why don't you come by at eight?'

I told her I'd see her then and gave her a quick kiss before leaving. As I drove back to my parents' house, I kept playing the scene at the lake over and over again in my head. Maybe my comment about putting Manny out of his misery was out of line, but how could she make the leap from that to guessing that I only asked her out so I could manipulate her into overdosing Manny? The only thing I could come up with was she must have overheard Manny and Phil talking together. Maybe she overheard Phil trying to convince Manny to incriminate me. Anyway, I couldn't get that out of my head, that and the fact that even though she knew what I had done, she was willing to go out with me and pretend that none of it ever happened.

What really got to me was the look on her face when she was waiting for me to explain myself. It was the type of look you might see at an accident site when a bystander catches a glimpse of something he wishes to hell he never saw. And she knew damn well I was lying! She knew it, but went straight into denial, pretending everything between us was hunky-dory.

By the time I got to my parents' house, I was feeling worse than shaky – kind of weak in the knees, like all I wanted to do was get to bed, lie down and hide from the world. When I opened the door I saw both my parents sitting in the den. They had the TV set on, but it was obvious they weren't paying attention to it. When they turned to me, my mom's mouth started to move as if she were chewing gum and my dad looked as if he dreaded what was about to happen.

'Can you sit down, Joey?' my dad asked.

'What's this about?'

My mom's mouth was closed but it was still moving furiously. It seemed like an effort for her to stop it. 'Do what your father tells you to do,' she demanded sharply.

I took a couple of steps into the room. 'Look,' I said, 'I'm tired and I don't have time for this nonsense. What do you want?'

'Sit down!' my mom ordered, her voice shrill and bordering on hysteria, her mouth once again chewing away on her imaginary gum.

'If this is about what happened at church-'

'Elaine called us today,' my dad said. He had slouched forward and was wringing his hands. He could barely look up at me. 'She told us how you drove to Albany the other day and how you called this morning. Courtney's been upset all day about your call.'

At first I was numb. Then as I looked at them, at my mom's raisin-like face rigid with fury and my dad's hangdog beaten expression, I could feel the blood rush to my head.

'You lied to me before,' I said. 'You knew where my daughters were and you lied to me about it.'

'Son, listen to me-'

But I didn't. I turned and raced out of the room.

The blood was now boiling in me. I was actually seeing red, honest to God. I started choking on the treachery and unfairness of it; that my own parents would conspire with my ex-wife to keep me away from my daughters.

My parents must've sat in their chairs stunned. I don't think they had any idea where I was headed until I locked the door to their bedroom. Then I heard some activity from them, but I ignored it. I started pulling drawers from the dressers and dumping their contents onto the floor. My dad knocked meekly on the door, asking me to unlock it, and then my mom joined in, rapping on it frantically, but I ignored them. And then I found the pictures.

There were maybe fifty of them in total. They were all of Melissa and Courtney taken at different ages. As I looked at them, I felt the rage that had been burning inside me fizzle away. Both my girls looked a lot like Elaine. They were both petite and blonde. They both had such thin legs and arms. As I went through the pictures and saw my girls as they grew older, I could see some of me in Courtney, at least around the eyes. And there was a little bit of me in Melissa too; this sorrowful little smile that she had. Both girls had grown up to look a lot like Elaine; they were both pretty as hell, but there was just enough of me in both of them to keep them from being beautiful.

The rapping on the door had grown harder and more frantic. My mom yelled at me not to dare go through her things. The combination of it – her yelling and the rapping – knocked me out of my thoughts. I felt a heaviness settle in my throat. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow back the emotion that was fighting its way forward. I was damned if I was going to let the two of them see me cry. It took some effort, and some deep breathing, but I got myself under control.

I went over to the door and opened it. The two of them stood there, shocked, their eyes first going to the mess on the floor and then to the stack of photos that I was holding. My dad looked like death warmed over, my mom's shriveled face was livid.

'You had no right going through my possessions,' my mom squeezed out in a tight, cold voice.

'Shut up.'

'Don't you dare talk to your mother like that,' my dad said without much conviction.

'You two can go screw yourselves,' I said. 'You're going to lie to me about my daughters? You couldn't even let me see pictures of them? Go to hell.'

'Give me those pictures,' my mom demanded. And then she made a grab for them. I backed away and raised my hand so I was holding them above her head. She started hopping up and down trying to reach for them.

'You give those back to me or I'll call the police on you,' she forced out between hops. She was breathing heavily now. 'What you're doing is stealing.'

'Go right ahead and call them,' I said.

The whole situation was so laughable that I couldn't help myself. I just started laughing like a crazy man. Maybe I was having some sort of minor breakdown, I don't know, but I just kept laughing away as my mom hopped up and down trying to grab those photos from me.

The gunshot brought me out of it. That one shot was really made up of almost four simultaneous noises – the gun blast, glass breaking, a whirling rush past my ear, and then the bullet thudding into the wall. Four distinct noises all within the span of less than a second. I pushed both my mom and dad down and then drove to the floor.

Just before I hit the floor there was another shot and the sound of another window shattering. Then I heard tires squeal as a car raced away. At first my mind was completely blank, and when it started working again, all I could think was that sonofabitch Junior had tried making a go at me. I got to my feet and raced to the front door, but the car was long gone.

I went outside and could see from the street the two windows that were shot out. I had a pretty good idea where the shots came from. A car must've stopped in front of the house and fired the shots before speeding off. The first one had missed me by inches. It had been too close to have been meant as a warning. Whoever fired the shot was trying to blow my head off.

As I was standing there a couple of the neighbors poked their heads out. I yelled to them, asking whether anyone saw anything, but they just shook their heads and went back inside.

I ran back into the house and to my parents' room. Both of them were still on the floor. My dad looked out of it and my mom was making little mewing noises as she clutched at her hip. I saw where one of the bullets had hit the wall, and dug it out with a penknife. My guess, it was a seven millimeter, probably fired from a hunting rifle. I got on the phone and called the police and asked them to send an ambulance. Then I went over to my parents.

My dad was sitting up, but was still completely out of it. I helped him to his feet and walked' him over to the bed. After I had him laid down I went over to my mom and knelt next to her.

She looked like she was in a great deal of pain as she clutched at her hip and made tiny sobbing noises.

'Mom, do you think you can stand up?' I asked.

'Get away from me, just leave and get away from me!'

'You don't mean that. You're in pain. Let me-'

'I said get away from me! And get out of my house! I don't ever want you back here.'

She had her eyes shut and tears were streaming down her small withered face. As I knelt next to her, she let go of her hip with her right hand and swung out, catching me on the side of the face. There wasn't much to her blow, probably weaker than what a three-year-old might do, but the shock of it sent me to my feet and stepping away from her.

The hell with it. The hell with both of them.

I looked around and saw that when I had dove to the floor after the first gunshot, I had flung the photos and they were now scattered across the room. I bent over and started picking them up. I was only partially paying attention to my dad, but noticed he had gotten off his bed and was standing beside me. All of a sudden, he started pummeling me, hitting me with both fists -not hard enough to do any real damage, but hard enough to hurt. And hard enough to almost send me to the floor. I caught my balance and moved back a few steps before turning to face him.

'You heard your mother,' he cried. He had his fists clenched and was waving them at me. 'Get out of our house!'

'Dad. Come on-'

'You're not welcome here! Get out!'

He took a step towards me and I just shook my head and left the room and kept walking until I was out of the house. When I got to the curb I sat down. As I waited for the police to show up, 1 looked over the photos that I had grabbed. I had only been able to pick up six of them. Still, it settled me down to look at images of Melissa and Courtney as they smiled shyly at the camera.

The cruiser came quickly. It's not every day in Bradley you have shots fired at a residential home. The siren turned off and Bill Wright and a younger cop that I didn't know got out of the car.

Bill stood for a moment and peered at the two broken windows before addressing me.

'What happened here?' he asked.

'Someone took a couple of shots at me from outside. The first shot missed me by inches.'

Bill turned his gaze back towards the windows. 'You called for an ambulance. Is anyone hurt?'

'I pushed my parents to the floor after the first shot. I think my mom might've broken her hip.'

'It was just you and your mom and dad inside?'

'Yeah.'

Bill turned to the younger cop. 'Mike, go inside and see how they're doing. Take their statements, and also, give the station another call, make sure an ambulance is on its way.'

The younger cop, Mike, gave me a funny look before leaving us. Bill stood awkwardly for a moment and then looked back again towards the house.

'The ambulance should've been here by now,' he muttered under his breath. Then to me, 'Did you see anything?'

'No. After the shots were fired I ran outside, but whoever did this was long gone.'

'Any idea who might've shot at you?'

'No idea. As I told you, I didn't see anyone.'

Of course, that wasn't what he asked. Annoyance disturbed his long narrow face. He turned to stare at me for a few seconds before looking away. In any case he let it drop.

'Why were you waiting outside for us?'

'My parents didn't want me in their house.'

He nodded as if that made perfect sense. He asked, 'You haven't looked around for shell casings, have you?'

I shook my head. I dug one of the bullets out of the bedroom wall. It looks like a seven millimeter. I left it on top of the dresser.'

'I'll see if I can find any casings.'

He took out a flashlight and started searching the ground. I watched as he walked back and forth. After a few minutes he found one and held it up with a pencil. At that moment an ambulance pulled up. Two EMT workers jumped out of it.

'You took your time coming here,' I said.

Neither of them bothered to look at me. One of them told me they left as soon as they got the call. The other one addressed Bill. 'What do we have here?' he asked.

'An elderly woman might've broken her hip.'

Without being asked, I told them that my mom was sixty-three. The EMTs ignored me and opened the back of their ambulance and took out a stretcher. Then they made a beeline to the house, leaving me and Bill Wright alone. I just sat and stared at him. Eventually, he flinched under it.

'You were holding up the ambulance,' I said.

He pretended not to hear me.

'What were you hoping for?' I asked. 'That I had gotten hit and would bleed out before help could get to me?’

‘I don't know what you're talking about.’

‘Bullshit.'

He turned and glared at me, but it was forced and unnatural. Then he looked away. We stood silently for what seemed like minutes before he muttered something about me waiting where I was. 'I'll be right back,' he said.

I watched as he walked away, his gait self-conscious. He was about to enter the house, but he backed up to let the two EMTs out. They held a short conversation before he slid past them and went inside.

The stretcher the EMTs were carrying was empty. As they were loading it into the back of the ambulance I asked how my mom was.

'I think her hip is badly bruised, but not broken,' one of them said to me.

'Shouldn't you be taking her to the hospital?'

He shrugged. 'If they don't want to go, you can't make them.'

The two of them finished loading up the ambulance and then drove off. I sat for another few minutes on the curb and then stood up and got into my car. While I sat there I thought about the police holding up the ambulance on me. When I had called, I had spoken to the switchboard operator, and she had probably relayed my message to the desk sergeant, Schilling. It had probably been his idea. Still, I was sure Bill knew about it. As I thought about it, I realized I didn't care. Just as I realized I didn't care that my parents had thrown me out. Let them all do whatever they wanted to. As soon as I could, I'd be out of Bradley. Then none of it would matter.

I had my eyes closed and head tilted back when there was a short rap on the driver's side window. I opened my eyes and saw Bill leaning over, frowning. I rolled down the window.

'You weren't planning on driving off, were you?'

I shook my head. 'I was just waiting here for you.'

'That's quite a mess in there,' he said.

I didn't bother answering him.

He waited for a few seconds, realized I wasn't going to say anything, and then continued. 'Your parents claim you have photos that belong to them. They want them back.'

'They're pictures of my kids.'

'They say they'll file charges against you if you don't return them.'

'Let them.'

'If that's what you want.'

He started fingering his handcuffs. He had them half slid off his belt before I stopped him.

'This is ridiculous,' I said. 'I'll go in and talk to them.'

He shook his head. 'They don't want you in their house. Why don't you hand me those photos. It would be a pretty stupid thing to have to arrest you for.'

'Yeah, it would be,' I agreed. 'Especially since if I was brought in tonight, I'd make a stink about that ambulance being held up on me. Someone might actually care about it.'

I could see his eyes dull a bit, but he didn't say a word. I let out a lungful of air. 'Why don't you go back in there and tell them that if they want I'll give them their pictures back, but if I do, I'll also be driving to Albany tonight so I can take my Own in the morning. Let's see what they say to that.'

Bill's mouth twisted into a smirk as he shot me a disgusted look, but after a ten-count, he turned and went back into the house. When he came back he told me I could keep the photos.

'You need anything else from me?' I asked.

He shook his head, his eyes as lifeless as glass.

'I've got a duffel bag with my clothes in there. It's in my bedroom. You want to accompany me while I go in and get it?'

"They don't want you in there.' I could see in his eyes the last thing he wanted to do was run another errand for me. It just about killed him, but he gritted his teeth and told me to wait where I was while he went in and retrieved my bag for me.

As he went back into the house, I got out of the car and stretched. My muscles ached and I was dead tired. As I stretched, Bill came out of the house with my duffel bag. For a moment it looked as if he were going to hand it to me, but as I reached out for the bag he dropped it at my feet.

'About your being shot at,' he said, 'here's a suggestion. Why don't you get in your car and keeping driving 'til you get someplace where somebody gives a damn?'