Waltz of Shadows

14

It was extremely late and extremely cold by the time I met Arnold at Sleepy Time Tourist Courts and we went up and knocked on Bill’s door. I had brought a sweater and a heavy coat for Bill, and I handed them to him and moved into the room and Arnold followed.

Bill and Arnold looked at each other for a moment. Arnold said, “You know, I don’t know I know you at all. Last time I seen you you were crapping in diapers… Well, maybe I’ve seen you since the diaper days.”

“Mom’s funeral,” Billy said. “Or were you there?”

“I was there. They kept me in the back, so I wouldn’t spoil things. And I even had on clean underwear.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not thought of all that highly either,” Bill said.

“Any of that story you told Hank true?” Arnold asked.

Billy put a hurt look on his face. “Yeah, all of it, Uncle Arnold.”

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings,” Arnold said. “But I get me and Hank into what I’m about to get us into, there better not be any bullshit. Hank explained what we want to do?”

“Yeah,” Bill said. “The video tapes are there. I hadn’t thought of that angle. It’s a good idea.”

“Unless we get caught,” Arnold said.

“Let’s don’t think on that too long,” I said, “or I’ll talk myself out of this.”

We went down and got in my truck and Bill gave me directions to Dave’s apartment.

· · ·

Dave’s apartment was in an expensive complex›

“There’s a watchman here,” Bill said. “He comes around now and then. We got to watch for him.”

“Now you tell us,” I said.

“Would it matter?” Arnold said.

“Well, it might,” I said. “Which room is it, Bill?”

Bill leaned forward. “You know, we didn’t come over here that much. Mostly we went to someone else’s place. I just sort of followed the others in when we did.”

“You saying you don’t know which room it is?” I said.

“No,” Bill said. “I’m saying I got to think a minute. We usually came up on the other side and walked around. It throws me a little from here, but…” He pointed. “See the lighted room? It’s the room to the left of it.”

“Great,” I said. “It has to be upstairs. We get caught up there, we haven’t got anywhere to go.”

“Don’t think so goddamn negative,” Arnold said.

“Here’s some gloves I brought for us.” I said. “Burglars need gloves.”

“I got my own,” Arnold said, and produced a pair from his coat pocket.

I gave Bill a pair and slipped my pair on.

“Hey,” Bill said, “these are Mickey Mouse gloves. These are kid’s gloves. They got the mouse right here on them.”

“Actually, they’re a pair Bev had,” I said. “So what?”

“How come you gave me the kid gloves, man? That tells me something, is what it does.”

“Beverly wears them,” I said. “She likes them.”

“You wear ’em,” Bill said.

“They don’t fit me. You got little hands.”

“Gimme that pair you had for Arnold.”

“They’re too big.”

“Give ’em here.”

I gave them to him and he slipped them on. The fingers flapped loosely on his hands, “Shit,” Bill said. “I can’t do nothing in these. Give me back the goddamn mouse gloves.”

He put them on. Perfect fit.

“This is good,” Bill said. “I get caught, I got on a pair of mouse gloves. Maybe you shoulda brought me one of the hats with the ears on it.”

“You’re up for multiple murder, and you’re worried about Mickey Mouse gloves?” Arnold said.

I pulledlef“You’ out and went around the block. I cruised into a church parking lot over by where it connected with a fenced yard. There was a huge oak in the yard and its limbs stuck out over the fence. I parked under the limbs and they draped shadows like black confetti over the truck. It was kind of pleasant. Maybe I was sleeping. I hoped so. I wanted to wake up in my own bed and see if Bev wanted to play poke the pumpkin again.

When I got out of the truck and the cold hit me, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.

We walked over to the sidewalk and turned right.

“Shouldn’t we be sneaking around or something?” Bill asked.

“That’s just what we don’t want to do,” Arnold said. “Someone comes along now, we’re just out walking and talking. We creep around through someone’s yard and get caught, you got to have a lot better lie handy.”

Dogs barked at us as we went by the front yard of the house with the fence, but the barks weren’t serious, just professional.

We turned right and went up to the edge of the apartment complex and stood behind a row of shrubs and looked around and tried to spot the night watchman. We didn’t see him.

“What we do,” Arnold said, “is we go up quick and get it over with.”

“Okay, Houdini,” I said. “How we getting in?”

“Don’t worry,” Arnold said, unbuttoning his coat and reaching inside and pulling out a small crowbar. “I got a key.”

We darted up the stairs and eased along the landing till we came to the apartment. Arnold brought the crowbar out, jammed it quickly and almost silently into a spot above the lock. He tensed his broad back and jerked. There was sharp, but not too loud crack of wood and a spring of lock, then the door was open and we were inside.

Arnold pushed the door gently into place, so that unless someone was really looking, the break wouldn’t be noticed.

“Flashlight,” Arnold said softly.

“Who you talking to?” Bill asked.

“Whichever of you dumb assholes has the light,” Arnold said.

“No one told me to bring a light,” Billy said.

“Shit,” Arnold said, then whispered to me. “You haven’t got a light neither?”

“I thought you had the light,” I said.

“It’s all right,” Bill said. “I got a lighter and some matches.”

“I don’t want a smoke,” Arnold said. “I want a flashlight.”

“Couldn’t we just turn on the light?” I asked.

“Not in this room,” Arnold said. “Not near the front windows. We don’t want to draw any attention to this apartment. Christ, some fucking burglars you are.”

“Actually, I only do this part time,” pa1em" I said.

Bill popped his lighter. The orange flame danced over the furniture and brushed up and down the walls. Bill said: “Place looks different in this kind of light. I don’t remember it so good. The video stuff’s in the bedroom… over there.”

We followed Bill and the light. Bill opened the bedroom door and stuck the lighter inside. He stopped and pulled the light out and closed the door carefully. “Oh fuck,” he said.

“What’s ‘oh fuck?’ ” I said. “Don’t give me ‘oh fuck’ and quit.”

Arnold took the lighter away from Bill and popped up the flame and pushed the bedroom door open silently and held the light in there. I looked past his shoulder. I could see a man lying in bed with his arm over a woman’s naked belly. Her breasts were bare and they rose above his arm like mountains beyond a plateau. The covers were draped loosely over their legs. The man stirred slightly.

Arnold lightly closed the door.

We tiptoed to the center of the living room. Arnold held the lighter toward Bill, reached out with his free hand, grabbed him by the coat and pulled him close. In the glow of the lighter Arnold’s teeth were the color of carrots. He said, “This ain’t it? This ain’t the apartment, is it?”

“I thought this was it,” Bill said. “I’d have sworn it was.”

“I knew this would happen,” I said. “I knew it.”

“It has to be the door on the other side of the lighted room,” Bill said. “We always came the other way. I got turned around.”

“I’ll turn you around,” Arnold said.

“Forget it,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We moved toward the door. Arnold started to open it, but we heard steps coming along the walk. Arnold killed the lighter. I went to the window, eased back the curtain for a peek.

It was the night watchman, an in-uniform off-duty cop. He stretched and leaned a hip into the railing just outside of the apartment and got a pack of cigarettes. He shook one loose and studied the moon while he put it in his mouth, routed it from one side to the other with his tongue. He positioned his gun holster where it was more comfortable without looking away from the sky. He patted his coat pockets and found a lighter and popped it and lit his coffin nail and puffed.

I dropped the curtain and eased back to Bill and Arnold.

“It’s the night watchman,” I whispered. “An off-duty cop picking up some bucks.”

“Oh hell,” Arnold said. “He sees that door’s been jimmied, we’re fucked.”

“Let’s just be quiet and let him finish his cigarette,” I said. “Maybe he won’t notice the door.”

I went back to the curtain, lifted a corner and looked out. The cop had changed positions slightly and wasn’t studying the sky anymore. He was smoking and looking in the direction of our door. He had a blank look on his face, a man with his thoughts turned oug. The coinwards. For all I knew, he might have been on the verge of redefining relativity, but if he focused just right, he was going to see where the wood had been splintered in the door jamb.

The bedroom door opened. I jerked around for a look.

The guy came out of the bedroom. He was still naked. He closed the bedroom door and scratched his ass and walked across to the bathroom. He went inside and closed the door and a light showed at the bottom. He hadn’t even looked in our direction. There came from the bathroom the sound of steady pissing.

Arnold said softly, “Hide.”

I hunkered down beside a thick chair facing the bathroom. I wasn’t behind anything. The chair was flush with the wall. I was hoping the shadows would blend me and the chair together.

Arnold got behind one end of the couch. He was too big to be completely concealed, but it offered some protection. Bill went over and stood against the wall on the bathroom side.

The sound of pissing went on and on.

Jesus, this guy could shame a racehorse.

After what seemed like a week or two, the pissing stopped.

Then started up again.

Reserve tank.

This went on for another week.

Then the door opened and the guy reached back absently and killed the light. He stood in the doorway a moment and cupped his balls for some reason, maybe to make sure they hadn’t fallen in the toilet, then let them go and scratched his head and raised his hip slightly and farted softly. He yawned, opened the bedroom door and went inside and closed it.

I started to get up, but the bedroom door opened again. I crouched down quickly as the woman, naked, came out and staggered toward the bathroom and went inside and turned on the light and didn’t close the door. A moment later, the sound of pissing.

Jesus.

It was like the bottom had fallen out of the ocean in there.

By and by, I heard water running, then she showed in the doorway. She straightened her posture, turned off the bathroom light, fluffed her hair, walked slowly to the bedroom, went inside and closed the door.

I got up and went over and lifted the curtain.

The cop was turned to the railing. He thumbed his cigarette butt over the side, leaned to watch it go down. After a moment, he threw up his hands and made a motion with his mouth that was probably supposed to signify an explosion.

He turned, started walking in the direction we had come up.

I motioned to Bill and Arnold. They came over. I cracked the door and looked out. Then opened it all the way and looked out. The watchman was gone. We slipped out, gently closing the door behind us.

Bill went to the apartment on the other side of the lighted room and touched the d t"1em" adoorknob with a Mickey Mouse glove.

“You’re sure?” Arnold said.

“Yeah,” Bill said. “I think so.”

Arnold looked at me. “He thinks so.”

“Do something,” I said.

Arnold slipped the bar in and popped the lock and we scooted inside.

Arnold clicked the lighter on.

Bill said, “Yeah, this is it.”

We went into the bedroom and closed the door and turned on the light. Bill looked through the stacks of video tapes on a shelf. “Here it is,” he said.

He handed me the video. On the outside of it was a little label and on it was written Fat Man and Doc. He scrounged some more and came up with Bill and the Train.

Cute guy, this Dave.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Check’m,” Arnold said.

I turned the audio knob on Dave’s TV down and fired up the VCR and put one of the cassettes in. We fast forwarded it. It was good quality. Dave had known what he was doing. There was a guy in a nice suit walking up the bank steps and there was a fat man walking down the steps. I killed it there.

Bill gave me the other one.

I put it in and raced it forward until we came to Bill with his pants down, tied to the railroad track.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

I put the video cassettes in my coat pocket turned off the VCR, the TV and the light. Arnold popped the lighter on. We followed him to the front door. Arnold cracked it open.

“Clear,” he said.

We went out and moved rapidly along the outside ramp in the same direction the night watchman had taken.

We went down the stairs, listening and watching. We crossed the apartment complex yard and made the sidewalk and turned back in the direction we had come without getting yelled at.

When we were in the pickup, I let out a sigh of relief. I started up and hit the road.

“Piece of cake,” Arnold said.

“Yeah,” Bill said, pulling off the mouse gloves. “That was kind of fun… Did you see the tits and legs on that babe?”

“You’re some piece of work, Bill,” I said. “Think back, it was your narrow-minded, lead with your dick attitude got you into this mess in the first place.”

“Shit,” Bill said. “You’re right. That pussy, man it’s some deadly stuff.”

“No,” Arnold said. “What’s deadly is how fucking stupid you are.”

“Yeah, well, anyway,” Bill said, “her and the guy, you got to say one thing for them. They were championship pissers, don’t you think?”