Witness Rejection

by David R Lewis

  “Long Island Iced Tea?” Crockett asked.

  “Iced tea, yes,” Ruby said. “Long Island, no.”

  “Suits me.”

  Ruby smiled. “I don’t drink as much in a month now as I used to drink in a night then. It got to be too much like medicine, Crockett. That kind of self-prescription can cause problems.”

  “Well, you look great, Ruby. You really do.”

  “Compared to the last time you saw me, how could I not?”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “I never doubted you’d find me, Crockett. All the time chained in that cave with that horrible man-child, even though I’d finally driven you away, I knew you’d save me. I knew you would, and you did. I was dying, but I knew you’d come.”

  “Wasn’t just me, LaCost. I had lots of help.”

  “It was you. You’d have done it, even if you were totally by yourself. You had to. I needed a new life. To get it, I needed you. Thank you, Crockett.”

  “God, that must have been horrible for you,” Crockett said.

  “Now that it’s over, I think it was worth it. I needed to have the shit slapped out of me, and I got what I needed. Then I needed you, and I got that, too. As bad as it was, Crockett, I think it was necessary.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Somebody up there likes me.”

  Crockett smiled. “Be a fool not to,” he said.

  “And you got what you needed, too,” Ruby went on. “You needed to be rid of me. I was so controlling and manipulative. I treated you terribly. I carrotted and sticked you shamelessly, Crockett. That was so unfair and wrong. You can’t know how much I regret the way I treated you.”

  “I could have taken off, Ruby. I wasn’t wearing a chain.”

  “Yes, you were. I created it and I attached it and I profited from it, at your expense. I used you.”

  “Old news,” Crockett said. “Now you’re a working girl.”

  “An official employee of Cook County, Illinois.”

  “And this,” Crockett went on, looking her over. “This is something else. No heels? No makeup?”

  Ruby smiled. “Not unless the occasion calls for it. That Ruby doesn’t live here any more.”

  “So no more private practice?”

  “Not at this point, that’s for sure.”

  “You even changed your hair,” Crockett went on.

  “You like it?” Ruby asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Crockett said. “A lot.”

  Ruby grinned. “Well, if you like it that much,” she said, “take it with you.”

  With that, Ruby reached to the top of her head, snatched off her wig, and tossed it into Crockett’s lap.

  “Jesus Christ!” he shouted, nearly squirting out of his seat and flailing at the furry thing in the chair with him.

  Ruby laughed. “Take it easy, Crockett. It won’t bite.”

  Crockett gaped at her as he regained control. “You’re uh…you’re uh…”

  “Bald?”

  “Yeah! You’re bald!”

  “Not completely, but enough that wigs are the only sensible answer. The best way to wear a wig is with no hair, so I shave my head.”

  “Wow. I don’t know, LaCost,” Crockett said, peering at her. “Kind of a Persis Khambatta thing goin’ on.”

  “A what?”

  “Persis Khambatta. Star Trek, The Motion Picture. Miss India back in the 60’s. Shaved her head for the movie.”

  “God, Crockett. The things you store in that dusty attic you call a mind.”

  Crockett smiled. “I like it. Looks good on ya.”

  “Don’t think I’m trying to be a wiseass,” Ruby said, “but it doesn’t make any difference if you like it or not. I like it, and that’s what’s important at this point in my life.”

  Crockett felt a little insulted and reminded himself to be nice. “So, the new Ruby, huh?”

  “I don’t know if this is the new Ruby or not, but it damn sure isn’t the old one.”

  Crockett grinned. “Well, it’s a process, Ruby. Life is a journey without destination, you know. For everything there is a season. Turn, turn, turn.”

  “Bite me,” Ruby said. “Besides, I hear there’s a new Crockett, too. A cabin in the woods? A dog? Crockett in the wilderness? Sounds like progress to me.”

  “Then again, it could be just escape,” Crockett said. “Maybe the reason I’m moving forward is because I’m running away from something.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “To be honest, Ruby, I don’t give a damn. Maybe just changing your lifestyle offers the stereotypical opportunity for growth. Maybe none of it makes any difference anyway. Maybe, by the time we’re seven or eight, we’re so hardwired we’re stuck with what and who we are forever. Maybe, with the help of some metaphysical entity sitting above the clouds, we can do a one-eighty and become. I don’t know. I do know that I like living in the woods, that I’m looking forward to going home to my cabin, and that I can’t wait to get my dam in so I’ll have a lake. None of that may change one bit of who or what I am, but it sure as hell makes it easier to live with myself.”

  “And now there’s Carson,” Ruby said.

  “For a while, at least.”

  “I tried to fix you up with her a time or two, but it didn’t take. Then all I did was get out of the way, and here the two of you are.”

  Crockett smiled. “Success through inaction,” he said.

  “She’s heavily invested in you, you know.”

  Crockett nodded. Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

  “She’s a wonderful person.”

  “Yes, she is,” Crockett said. “She’s also transient. When she gets free of all this crap, she’ll be on her way. I’m a wide spot in the road. Necessary now, dispensable later.”

  “There’s nothing but now.”

  “I know. That’s why I got a dog.”

  “C’mon, Crockett.”

  “Aw, Ruby,” he said. “Carson is bright, lovely, and sophisticated, there’s no doubt about that. She’s also damaged goods, just like the rest of us. She has no identity, she’s on the run from somebody who wants to kill her, she gave her life away for Vaseline on her teeth and duct tape on her ass, and now she’s got me, the white knight, ready to tilt at windmills to save her. Talk about patterns. You, Rachael, Marilee Walker, Inez and her kids, Mazy, and now, Carson. Christ, LaCost. I may be the sickest sumbitch on the planet.”

  “And you like it,” Ruby said.

  “No. I need it. For whatever reason, I need to be some sort of twisted, one-legged version of a hero. I can save anybody from anything except themselves, Ruby. And that includes me.”

  Ruby watched him take another swallow of tea.

  “Lotta anger there, Crockett.”

  “Yeah, but most of it’s directed at me. When I get the lake I’ll take it out on the fish.”

  “Here’s to your lake,” Ruby said, toasting him with her glass.

  “It is good to see you doing so well. It really is. For what it’s worth, I’m very proud of you.”

  “It’s worth a lot,” Ruby said.

  “Also, and don’t take this the wrong way. It’s nice not to be needed.”

  Ruby couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Crockett stood up, smiled, and handed her the wig. “You can keep this,” he said. “It’s not my color.”

  Ruby accepted the wig and returned the smile. “We gonna be friends?” she asked.

  “As much as we ever were, I guess,” Crockett said. “Maybe more. Who knows about the future?”

  Ruby watched him walk away, then looked out the window and felt tears overflow her eyes.

  Crockett schlepped back up to the Men’s Club and flopped on the bed. He was nearly dozing when he heard Nudge “myrrphing” in the hall. He opened the door and the cat swept in, levitated to the bed, and lay down. He peered at Crockett through half closed lids and swished his tail.

  “You, too?” Crockett asked.

  Nudge yawned and
turned his head away, staring at something or nothing at the other end of the room. His tail continued to lash.

  “Oh, fine,” Crockett said. “I’m an asshole. I saved you too, you ungrateful wretch. And now you have the nerve to come in here and call me names. You could be a throw rug, you know.”

  Nudge’s only response was to owl his ears.

  “Terriffic. The silent treatment. How childish.”

  There was a light knock on his door. He opened it to find Carson standing in the hall. Christ, she was beautiful.

  “Hi, Crockett. You alone?”

  “Sure,” he said, stepping back. “C’mon in.”

  “I thought I heard you talking to somebody.”

  Crockett smiled. “I was arguing with Nudge,” he said.

  “You do that a lot?”

  “Yeah. What brings you to the men’s club?”

  Carson’s eyes traveled around the walls. “Sherlock Holmes would have loved this place,” she said, taking a seat in an armchair only slightly smaller than a bulldozer. Crockett sat across from her.

  “How’d your visit with Ruby go?”

  “I’m not sure. She seems more rigid in some ways, more open in others. She’s different, no doubt about that. And how could she not be, after everything she’s been through.”

  “And how could you not defend her after everything you’ve been through?” Carson asked.

  “Okay,” Crockett said. “You got me.”

  Carson peered at him. “You really do love her, don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to like her.”

  Crockett shook his head and smiled. “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.”

  “I love her,” Carson went on, “but I’m not sure I like this Ruby very much. Maybe it’s just a transitional thing.”

  “You trying to cheer me up, Mary Lou?”

  “You deserve it, David. You cheer me up all the time. Actually, that’s why I dropped by. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Tonight? I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose.”

  Carson’s eyes drifted to the far end of the men’s club. “Is that connecting door to my room unlocked?” she asked, standing up.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Carson smiled. “That’s all I wanted to know,” she said.

  Crockett’s eyes followed her to his door and watched her disappear into the hall. He walked to the connecting door and tried the knob. It opened easily. Grinning, he sat on the bed and looked at Nudge.

  “Whadaya think, old man,” he asked.

  The cat rolled to his side and began to purr.

  “Me, too,” Crockett said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Inevitable

  Crockett awoke early the next morning. Carefully he eased his way out of bed so as not to disturb a lightly snoring Carson, used the bath and shower as quietly as possible, and slipped into some clean sweats. He couldn’t stop smiling. Carson had been amazing. She had come to his bed as magically as a spirit, and covered him with herself, nearly weightless in her concern for his bruises. Her hair had hung about him as she made love, caressing his skin as lightly as a wraith, as tender as butterflies. It had been for him and about him, and it touched Crockett deeply. Hardly a word passed between them, and yet their communication was nearly infinite. Her gentleness was unique in his experience, her compassion almost overwhelming. He was nearly transported outside himself at times. In merciful melding, she gave and he accepted, humble and awash in her care. It was as nothing he had ever known, and it left him empty of himself and full of her.

  Cletus, huddled over a cup of coffee in the kitchen, regarded him as he walked in.

  “Mornin’, Pard,” he said.

  “Hi,” Crockett responded, drifting toward the coffee pot.

  “You okay?” Clete asked.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I asked if you were all right,” Clete said.

  “Me?” Crockett said, managing to lift a cup off the rack on his second try.

  “Yeah, you,” Clete said, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m fine,” Crockett stated, pouring his coffee with intense concentration and focus. He took a seat, lit a Sherman, and peered vacantly at the tabletop for a moment, before rising again to search for an ashtray.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” Clete asked.

  “What?”

  “Oh no. You ain’t gonna lead me ‘round the rosie again. Son, you are actin’ like some kind zombie or somethin’. What’s goin’ on? You may be down here, but you ain’t outa bed.”

  Crockett gave a start, stood up, and went to the butler’s pantry. After a moment’s search he placed a bed tray on the table. During the next five minutes Clete watched him add a toasted English muffin to the tray, half a stick of butter, a jar of marmalade, a small bowl of strawberries, a cup of fresh coffee, a packet of cream cheese, a croissant, and a yellow rose from the arrangement in the foyer. He carefully lifted his burden and weaved his way to the elevator without another word.

  Clete gazed blankly at his coffee for a moment before an eyebrow went up and he grinned. “Good for ya, son,” he whispered. “Good for her, too.”

  Carson didn’t stir as Crockett put the tray on the table on her side of the bed. He pulled a chair up to the bedside, took a seat, and pursed his lips to blow his breath gently across her face. She grunted and rubbed her nose. Quickly he put the rose in his teeth and waited. In a second or two, Carson opened her eyes and blearily scanned the room. When her gaze fell on him, Crockett bumped his eyebrows and complimented the rose with an oversize shit-eating grin.

  Carson’s guffaw was partially muffled by the cover she pulled over her face. The sheet trembled as she giggled. Crockett seized the opportunity to rid his mouth of the flower and retrieve her cup of coffee. When her eyes appeared above the cover, he held out the coffee and, in his best W.C. Fields, said, “A little morning libation, my dear?”

  Carson let her head fall back on the pillow. “You’re nuts!” she said.

  “I am this morning,” Crockett said.

  “I can’t remember the last time I woke up laughing,” Carson went on, holding the sheet to her as she scooched into a partially sitting position. “It that coffee?”

  “That’s what it said on the vending machine,” Crockett said. “We also have croissant, we have English muffin, we have strawberries, we have marmalade, we have butter, and we have cream cheese. If you’d like some fresh venison, I’ll go out and run down a deer.”

  “This is wonderful,” she said, accepting the coffee.

  “So was last night,” Crockett said, slathering a muffin half with butter.

  “Oh, well, I just, I mean…Crockett my ears are getting warm. Am I blushing?”

  “Quite fetching,” he grinned.

  “Oh, hell,” she moaned. “Don’t look at me.”

  “Try and stop me.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Carson went on, trying to hide behind her coffee cup. “I’m so embarrassed!”

  “What about?” Crockett asked.

  “I’m embarrassed that I’m embarrassed!” Her ears reddened to new heights and the glow spread down her cheeks.

  “Me, too!” Crockett squeaked, as his hands went all a-flutter and he squirmed in his chair. “This is horrible. Should I flee?”

  “Dammit, Crockett, I’m not shy! And here I am, blushing like a schoolgirl. What’s gotten into me?”

  Again Crockett bumped his eyebrows. “That would be me,” he said.

  “Oh, damn!” Carson groaned, and slopped coffee on the sheet.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Darlene!” Crockett admonished. “You made a mess. Mom won’t let you sleep over if you make messes. You know how she is!”

  Carson flipped hair out of her face. “Are you gonna wake me up like this every morning?”

  Crockett thought for a moment. “That depends,” he said. “Are you gonna use the connecting door every night?”

  C
arson put her coffee on the table, took the muffin out of his hand, and bit off a chunk. “Maybe,” she slurred.

  “Maybe,” Crockett said.

  She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed. “How are you doing?”

  “Never been better,” Crockett smiled.

  “How early is it?”

  “Very,” Crockett said.

  She took another bite. Crockett waited patiently until it was gone.

  Carson gave him a appraising once over. “You look tired,” she said. “You probably need more rest.”

  “Almost certainly,” Crockett agreed.

  “Why don’t you get back in bed while I shower?”

  “And then?” Crockett asked.

  “And then you can feed me those strawberries,” Carson said, wrapping herself demurely in the sheet and scurrying toward his bathroom.

  Crockett watched her go. “Damn,” he said, and took the last bite of her English muffin.

  Crockett made it downstairs again around nine. Carson volunteered to stay upstairs for a while longer so as not to make things too obvious. Clete and Goody remained at the kitchen table, surrounded by breakfast residue from five plates.

  “Up again, huh?” Clete said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just needed a little more…sleep, I suppose.”

  “Mornin’, Goody,” Crockett said, ignoring Clete’s grin.

  “Same to you, Lad,” Goody said. He was still in his wheel chair. “Cletus and I were just discussin’ what might be the next series of events to expect or precipitate.”

  “Situational flexibility,” Crockett grinned, pouring a cup of fresh coffee.

  Goody chuckled. “Sure. And I’m glad to see you remember your lessons.”

  “What are our options?” Crockett asked.

  Clete eased back in his chair. “I already made a number a calls to some folks, lookin’ for any information on Phil Metzger I can find,” he said. “Not havin’ a lotta luck, but I know enough dirt I might be able to apply a little pressure here an’ there. Nobody wants to talk about the boy much. If they let him outa prison in return for information, they’d wanna keep his whereabouts a secret just so his old friends didn’t dust him. That’d be part of the deal. If they sweetened the pot by givin’ up Carson, knowin’ he was fixin’ to kill her, they’d button this up tighter’n a gnat’s ass. I speck what we got here is a gnat.”