After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  He could hear voices on the porch and he quickly adjusted himself. He opened the door with a goofy grin he could not contain and welcomed the folks into his home. Maggie got a pelvis-away hug and Tim received a crushing handshake. He took their bags and beckoned them in, immediately gratified to see their eyes widen and their jaws drop.

  “Oh my God, Freddy,” Maggie gushed, “This place is gorgeous. How can you afford it?”

  Tim shared her sentiments. “We thought we had the wrong place until you opened the door.”

  “Shoes please,” Freddy gestured absently. The entrance was tiled – hand-split slate rough polished and laid like flagstone in a random pattern. Freddy was proud of that piece of floor as well despite how difficult it was to keep clean.

  “Jesus, Tim,” Maggie whispered and tugged his sleeve and pointed. “I want this at home.”

  “It actually wasn’t all that expensive,” Freddy commented. His mother missed it but Tim’s eyes shot up. “I’ll be right back. Sit. Be comfy.” He hefted the bags and took them to the guest room. There were three bedrooms on the main floor. The master was Freddy’s of course. It had a full ensuite complete with retro-styled porcelain subway tiles and the resurfaced claw tub. The second was too small to be anything more than an office. The third was the guest room. It was actually the largest of the three, a long room with three windows facing the street and the morning sun. It had a queen-sized bed that had only been slept in twice – by me.

  When he came back his mother and Tim were standing in the living room. Maggie’s eyes were wide and wandering. Tim was speaking to her in hushed tones that broke off as soon as Freddy walked in.

  Maggie looked at her son. Her face went from wonder to disbelief to pride before returning to wonder again. “Honey, is this … your house?”

  One last gleeful flutter lifted Freddy’s stomach. He kept a straight face and nodded modestly. The monster and the darkness had descended deep – as deeply as they did when he was with his family. This new family gave him safety and comfort and a sense of longing for more. It was still so fresh and new he often feared it was a dream. I know it was a dream. It was the rest of him that was real.

  Tim looked at him. “How much did you really make on those shares?”

  Maggie smacked him on the shoulder. “Can you afford this? Can you really?” She asked. “That’s all I want to know.”

  “I put down the twenty-five percent to avoid the insurance and my dividend checks cover all my expenses plus some. I’m good.”

  She frowned. “I don’t like you having a mortgage – not while you’re in school.”

  Freddy was frustrated. They were supposed to be proud and they were supposed to be happy. He was not a child any more. Didn’t they see that? “I could have paid cash,” he tried. In his ear his voice sounded very small and hurt.

  “Why didn’t you?” Maggie asked. “You’re just paying interest. If you had that much cash you would have avoided it.”

  “But my mortgage is under eight percent, mom,” he told her, trying to keep the anger he felt from showing. “The money I could have used to pay the house off is invested. My worst investment is at ten percent and my best is fifteen. And the house has gone up nearly forty percent since I bought it.”

  Maggie just gave him a blank look. Tim was smiling.

  “Mom, this mortgage is actually making me money.”

  She looked at her husband and he nodded. Maggie was good with numbers – better than most people. I suppose she just had a mental block when dollar signs were attached – or her son was.

  “Wise man,” Tim said. “Not a bad plan.”

  It was Maggie’s turn to ask. Like I said, she could do numbers. “Just how much money did you make, Honey?”

  “Enough,” Freddy replied. “I told you guys to invest.”

  “I did,” Tim said. “Nothing like you did I suppose.”

  Freddy was losing his happy moment. He had been waiting for this for two years and he wanted it back. He liked his house but it was just a wooden shell without his mother’s approval. “No more talk of money, okay?” He hugged Maggie again and kissed her on the forehead. “Now do you want the tour or not?”

  -

  It was a nice little visit. Freddy graduated second in his class. He said he would have been first if not for an assignment he flubbed. He only flubbed it because he was planning a kill. He never made that kill because of the cop. Sobeleski seemed to be everywhere. Freddy ran into him twice in the space of a week. It could have been random chance but he didn’t think so.

  Maggie and Tim went out around town. While Freddy was finishing his exams, they went out to Banff and pretended to be tourists from England. With his Oxford accent, Tim got them into the Banff Springs Hotel for dinner without a reservation. He said it made him feel like James Bond. Tim claimed to feel a little guilty but the meal was worth it. Freddy was surprised to hear about their little deception but he claimed to be pleased as well.

  After graduation they went out for a nice dinner. Despite Freddy’s protests Tim insisted on paying. Maggie told him about their present and I knew he wouldn’t want to accept it. He would need to tell them the truth about his finances if he was going to turn them down. But he could tell them he was a millionaire or even a billionaire and it would still break Maggie’s heart.

  Somehow Freddy could grasp how she felt when it took hindsight for me to see it. For much of his life she had not been there for him. They both knew it. She had cooked and cleaned, sure. She packed his lunches and washed his clothes but she was not there. She had not been his mother. During that time, she was merely a caretaker. Freddy rescued her by killing his father. They both knew this as well. A fresh bond, a fragile thing had been formed between them. Maggie would never let it fall apart again.

  Freddy understood all this with such clarity I wanted to check him for crib notes. Even I had not realized how strong, how vital that bond had become. When I finally understood I grew both viciously jealous and more than a little afraid. Before his mother, the only bond he had with anyone that could compare to it was with me. I feared he would let one of us go.

  The nice dinner: They were finished with their meals and just waiting for desserts when Freddy glanced over into the lounge. The cop was there. He’d been there since before the appetizers arrived. He was watching, his hooded eyes glistening and wet in their depths. He had that smug little smile playing across his lips. It was as though he was sampling something no one else could truly appreciate. Sobeleski raised his water glass and offered a salute in greeting. Those eyes flashed with triumph. Clearly, he didn’t realize Freddy had known he was there the whole time.

  He finally let Sobeleski see that he saw him. Freddy didn’t feel panic, but he was angry. I think he was angrier at the cop’s seeming insolence rather than his presence. I say insolence because that was Freddy’s word – not mine. A fresh wash of hot rage boiled beneath his calm façade. He knew Sobeleski suspected him but he also knew Sobeleski had nothing but his gut or whatever real cops call it. If he had something, Freddy would have gotten the not so polite knock on the front door. He would open the door to find a crew of uniforms anxiously waiting behind the warrant. They had nothing on him. And Freddy knew, even if they did search his house, they would still have nothing.

  Freddy smiled at the cop and pointed him out to Maggie and Tim. He knew it would startle Sobeleski. A move like that could not be expected. He thought it might even throw the cop’s suspicion into doubt. He didn’t have high hopes in that regard.

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Maggie declared in a low hiss. “We’re having such a good time. I don’t want you two to go and spoil it. Don’t spoil it, Freddy.” She was having a hard time with it. Maggie couldn’t help but imagine Tina Armstrong out there on her own. She was seeing weddings and children right up to the break-up. She still though Freddy had found his match in Tina. When Freddy told her about the split Maggie had actually cried. She was more broken up about it than Tina was
.

  “I’m not,” Freddy told her. “I just want to go and say hi.” He rose and kissed his mother on the cheek and threaded his way through the tables.

  Sobeleski watched him approach. His smugness switched to bafflement but he fought to regain his edge. He couldn’t. The edge was now Freddy’s. “Evening, Inspector,” Freddy smiled his benign smile and slipped into the vacant seat across the table. His back was to the restaurant. Tim and his mother couldn’t see his face. “Odd, seeing you here. I’m beginning to think you’re following me.”

  Sobeleski shook his head stiffly. “Now why would I want to follow you, Mr. Cartwright?”

  Freddy shrugged. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.”

  “I’m just waiting for a friend.”

  Freddy didn’t believe him for a second. “So, you’re off-duty then?”

  Sobeleski nodded. His eyes roamed the restaurant as he grew increasingly uncomfortable. “That’s right.”

  “What’s with the club soda then? It’s looking a little pale to be off-duty.” Freddy’s eyes flicked down to the bulk of the cop’s Columbo trench coat. “And if you’re off duty, why the bulge?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sobeleski adjusted his coat, one he was wearing despite the considerable warmth inside the restaurant. “There’s no bulge. And like you, I don’t drink.”

  Freddy had his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He wagged a finger at the cop and clucked his tongue. “That’s not what the busted capillaries in your nose and cheeks say. They say you like your drink. The club soda says you don’t want your judgment called into question when it just might still matter. As for the bulge, my fucking mother could see it from over there.”

  Sobeleski’s expression grew stony. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Back before the cologne was vital, back when you were still in uniform and before the fancy billfold and the bump in pay it was probably draft beer and shots of bar rye. When you wanted something different it was scotch and you made it look like you enjoyed it, like you were discriminating enough to want something better – but still only Johnny red or Ballantine’s because of the price and because you didn’t know any better.”

  The cop watched him, not speaking. His hard look had softened.

  Freddy could see truth there and knew he was probably not far off the mark. “Now beers are just for weekends during the game or on those hot days in July. You’re a Crown and Coke man now because it goes with the clothes.” Freddy let his smile falter. He scratched his ear and brought the smile back. “I know a lot about clothes now.” He stopped. He read something in Sobeleski’s expression and knew he had faltered somewhere. “It’s not rye and coke is it? Or it is but only in the bar. I bet you it’s Jameson and ginger ale. That’s it isn’t it? You start with three quarters ice and a splash of whiskey. Number two gets a little stronger but not by much because you’re in control. By your fourth you’re into about a fifty-fifty mix.” Freddy’s smile widened into a wolfish grin. He noticed Sobeleski’s ring finger. Married cops almost never wear a wedding ring on the job but the indent was always there. His indent was gone. “By the end of the night when you’re sitting alone in your shitty little apartment and wondering who your ex-wife is fucking those drinks are pretty much straight booze.”

  Sobeleski stiffened. Like flicking a switch, his face went an ugly shade of red. “You little motherfucker,” he hissed, “I’m gonna-”

  “What, Inspector? What are you gonna do?” Freddy leaned forward. “You think I might have done something, don’t you? You think I killed those girls. Good for you.” He leaned back and placed his palms on the table top, fingers spread into two identical fans. He was safe; there were probably a thousand fingerprints on the table. Even if Sobeleski tried to pull them it would do him no good.

  “I think you got shit on me. I think all you got is a gut feeling about something and your gut feelings are getting all confused. Maybe you should lay off the booze, boss, and you might catch the guy. You need to stop obsessing about this and about me. You obsess too much and you drink too much and who knows what might happen. One of these nights when you nibble on the barrel of your service revolver before going to sleep you might forget to put the safety on first. That’s not so bad. Your ex and her boyfriend get your pension and you get a free funeral. Everybody wins.” Freddy stood suddenly, his chair skittering sharply of the floor. He pushed the chair back in and stood behind it. “Well I sure hope your friend shows up soon. I’m sorry I can’t keep you company until then but the tiramisu here is to die for.” He winked and strolled away, a happy smile on his face. Freddy had never been much of one for games like these but he was good at them. He was beginning to think he would actually enjoy this one.

  -

  Freddy spent the summer in Prince William Falls. It would be his last summer at home and he wanted to cherish every moment of it. The friends of his childhood were long gone but his memories remained. He was the one who had moved on and the town knew it. The town could feel it about him without his speaking it to them.

  It’s like that I suppose. Our memories remain. They do grow soft around the edges. That day becomes that week becomes that month becomes that season or year. Our memories become a mural in our minds and time fades even the brightest patches of color. Random moments remain, happy or sad or whatever else. In time like in a river everything is worn away. But still the essence remains.

  Freddy wandered the town; not his town any more. When people recognized him, they waved. They chatted politely about small things and asked him about school. They asked after his mother and were typically happy to see her with such a nice man. These pleasantries were exchanged and Freddy moved on. The smiles were dropped behind his back and the whispers began.

  He was used to that; the whispers and the looks people gave when they thought he wasn’t watching. Freddy had been hearing the whispers at his heels for years. I think he had always been conscious of the looks. This would be the last summer for it all and for that he was grateful. But he did not look on those short months as a chore or an obligation. In a way he would miss the whispers. Here at least the whisperers knew who it was they were whispering about.

  Freddy went to the Slough a couple of times that summer. Once he went by himself and another time with Maggie and Tim. They lay on the beach but did not go in the water. Looking at the water, smelling it, Freddy wondered how he had ever managed to swim in it in his youth. The dock was still out there, worse for wear and bleached a rustic gray by water and sun. A new group of teenagers played out there, looking frighteningly young and foolish. He could not recall being like that back then. He watched the kids on the water. They played the same games he had played. They told the same jokes and cursed the same carefree lines just out of reach of grown-ups. Years may have passed but nothing was changed save the music. Only the music changes.

  The Green was the same. It was the same brilliant swath of life girdling the town. He rode his bike here, played football and baseball here. He had made out with Carrie on the Green. He had thrown his first real punch on the Green. The first cigarette he ever smoked was smoked on the Green, freshly stolen from Maggie’s pack.

  Freddy knew these memories were not just his. These memories belonged to the town. They belonged to all kids who had grown up before him and would grow after he was departed. These were memories of happier or simpler times before punch-clocks and paychecks. These memories never really faded. They only began to drift. He knew he would always be able to find them again when he wanted to, when he needed to.

  He stopped in the picnic area south of the Green. He stood still while the fragrant charcoal fires wafted their burger and dog smoke past his nose and children squealed and ran around his legs without care or concern. He barely even noticed them. The shadow of a flung Frisbee flickered over his eyes and he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

  Beyond the picnic area the woods began. The forest ran nearly to the American bor
der. Beyond it even. You could get lost in those woods. Some had. He was staring at the woods. That summer he had been everywhere – everywhere but those woods. Something stopped him on the fringe and he could go no further.

  I think Freddy was afraid of the woods. He was afraid of the truth they concealed. Truth was everything to Freddy. Truth was power. Truth kept him safe. It gave him control. But the truth could lie to him. It could argue with him and laugh and spit in his face if he challenged it. Freddy knew what lay in those woods. He knew it in his heart. But the truth has layers. No one knew that better than Freddy.

  Freddy couldn’t visit Carrie. She had been cremated and Nancy had taken her daughter with her when she left Prince William Falls. He wished he could have. It was not that he felt guilt for killing her. He missed her. He wished he had not killed her sometimes because she was familiar to him. It made me think of Star Trek when he said that. Freddy didn’t often watch television but I did.

  In the second series, The Next Generation, Brent Spiner’s character is an android named Data. Data describes friendship as much the same thing Freddy told me. Data describes missing an old friend much the same way as well. Certain people provide certain sensory inputs. Data said his neural network would grow accustomed to those inputs, growing to anticipate them. When they were absent, they would be missed. Freddy missed Carrie’s particular inputs. There was no emotion involved. There was no feeling of loss – only the loss of an anticipated input.

  He did feel the need to visit his father’s grave however. But only because he wanted to see. He did not miss John. Freddy had never been to the municipal cemetery on the north end of town. He had never seen the grave. After his father’s funeral, Freddy went straight to Carrie’s. No one but the gravedigger saw John put under. To his knowledge, no flowers had ever been laid on his headstone.