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JG02 - Borderlines

Page 8

by Archer Mayor


  He seemed content to leave it at that, so I obliged him. Philosophical ruminations obviously were not at the top of his list at the moment.

  Watching him made me thirsty, if only for something like tonic water, so I began carving my way back toward the cafe/bar. As I got to the double glass doors, however, Greta’s bullhorn voice cut through the din. “Quiet down, everybody. Quiet down. I want to listen to the news. Somebody close those doors.” I was the somebody, and the word was passed to pipe down. Greta was on a stool behind the bar, fiddling with the color TV that hung there.

  I was considerably less sanguine than she that this crowd would stay still for an entire news program, even with her repeated admonitions. Fortunately-or unfortunately, depending on your viewpointwe turned out to be the lead story.

  “Tragedy struck the small Northeast Kingdom village of Gannet ly this morning when a fire broke out in a residence owned by a up calling itself the Natural Order. Five members, including three all children, lost their lives. They were the sole occupants of the lding.

  “Firemen from five surrounding towns fought several hours to ng the blaze under control, almost losing two of their own in the rt. There is more to this story, however, than a valiant but fruitless empt to save lives and property, as our own Donna Fields discovered lier today.” My heart sank as the screen switched to a young, blond, colleged ingenue standing in front of the Atlantic Boulevard house, mike hand.

  Once again, I thought back to the mess I’d left behind in attleboro.

  Much of our troubles during that investigation had mmed from the overheated media attention, and the predictable litical response to it.

  It suddenly looked like I might be headed for re of the same.

  My fears increased as I listened to the report. The fire was dubbed ysterious,” despite Jonathon Michael’s statement that while his dings were not final, he’d found nothing suspicious about the cause the fire. The camera lingered on the gaping hole in the roof as the orter pondered the significance of the “unexplained explosion” that d almost killed two firemen, followed by some neighboring Fire Chief o said that flashover explosions were a common occurrence in struce fires. The portable water pump was the next focus of attention, with its w dramatically drained oil reservoir, which one local firefighter I n’t recognize called “real strange”-an assessment with which I uldn’t argue.

  Finally, there was a long shot of several State Police isers parked alongside the road and a close-up of the “Police Line Not Cross” ribbon around the house, as the voice-over by young enda Starr stressed that a full investigation was “being launched in zs case.” Greta, still perched on her stool, hit the off button and picked me from across the room. “What do you think, Joe?” To the bottom of my soul, I wanted to be somewhere else. “It’s lly inappropriate for me to say anything.

  It’s an ongoing case; the st thing is to wait for the final report.” “So there is something suspicious about it.” Another voice imed in.

  I held up both my hands. “No, hold it.” I walked over to behind e bar, which was elevated slightly above the rest of the floor. “As far I know, this was an accidental fire, caused by someone falling against rickety old stove that shouldn’t have been lit in the first place.” “The guy was dead before he hit the stove.” I played dumb, although I was amazed the way these things seemed impossible to contain.

  “That’s news to me.” The man speaking was the fireman who had panicked at the front door of the burning house-Paul somebody. “I saw him when they carried him out. He had his arms up like this.” He postured in a boxer’s pose.

  “Like he was fighting someone when he bought it.” “That happens in a hot fire; the flames contract the muscles and bring the arms up.” “Well, I heard it from one of the State Police, too.” “And what about that pump?

  Somebody must have drained it,” another voice added.

  Greta joined in. “I heard the Wingates were arrested for suspicion. I saw them being driven away.” I banged a glass on the counter like a gavel. “All right, all right.

  Let me tell you how it works, okay? First of all, nobody outside Hollywood gets arrested for suspicion. The Wingates were taken somewhere for questioning, and they were taken voluntarily. If they hadn’t agreed to go, they’d still be here.” “Oh, sure, and if they hadn’t agreed to go, they’d look guilty as hell.” “You don’t look guilty because you don’t cooperate: You look guilty because the facts weigh against you, and it takes a little time to accumulate those facts. Come on, now. I bet a dozen people in this room were questioned by the police today.” A few heads nodded.

  “So why take them away?” Greta persisted, an edge to her voice. I knew they weren’t going to like this one. “Probably because they agreed to a lie detector test.” There was a predictable hubbub. The double doors opened and a few more people squeezed into the room. I hoped I could get this over with before word spread too far. Greta began to warm her jets. “A lie detector test? And you say there’s no suspicion?” “I said you couldn’t be arrested for suspicion. Be reasonable, Greta, you saw the fight. The police have to consider the possibility that Wingate returned to the house later.” “I talked to Ellie..

  “I’m talking possibilities here,” I spoke over her. “Not alibis.

  The State Police have to look at everything before they can rule anything out. That’s logical, isn’t it? For all I know, they’ll be questioning you as well, especially given your feelings about the Order.” “What are you saying?” I couldn’t believe I’d been that stupid.

  “I’m just pointing out that ps have to look at everybody at the start But Greta was already craning her neck looking around the room, er face flushed. “Where’s Norm? Norm, goddamn it.” “I’m here, I’m here.” A small man with a pencil mustache raised is hand in the middle of the crowd. Just looking at him, I pegged him be one of Greta’s boyfriends.

  They came and went, but they all oked roughly the same. I was impressed she got the name right.

  “Wasn’t I in bed all last night, after that fight?” There was an embarrassing pause. “Answer me.” Norman gave a limp shrug. “I guess so. I was asleep.” He looked round sheepishly.

  Someone snickered, there was a guffaw across the room, and lowly the entire place was swept with laughter. I took advantage of the ap and headed for the door, half-expecting to feel a spear smack me between the shoulder blades. But either Greta was being drowned out, r she too had beaten a hasty retreat, probably to murder Norm.

  I found Buster standing at the door. He stepped aside and let me ass into the entrance hall. “Catching some flak?” I brushed it off.

  “Not too bad. People get anxious.” He planted one big paw on my shoulder and steered me toward he counter under the main staircase.

  “Things are different up here ow, Joey. Folks are angry, and the Order is catching the brunt of it. don’t think anyone’s glad those people died, but they don’t want the lame pinned on Gannet. Look at Greta.

  She’s all tied up in knots ause of old-fashioned competition. The Natural Order came in, hrowing money around, and we took it. Hell, she and I are Selecten-we said they’d be good for the local economy. Now she’s going broke ‘cause of the Kingdom Restaurant. There’s a lot of that anger oin’ ‘round, blaming them so we don’t have to look in the mirror.” He tapped my cheek with his hand. “We can’t fight back at the flatlanders, or the economy, or the government, but we can take it out n the Order. They’re right here, in our own back yard; we can reach ut and squeeze ‘em. And unless this shit is straightened out fast, that’s ust what’s going to happen. Somethin’s going’ to blow.” He straightened suddenly, either struck with a new idea or reactng to a crick in his back. Then he mussed my hair. “Well, I think I’ll et one last one for the road. See you at home.” And he lumbered off oward the bar.

  It had been a startling little speech, mostly because I’d thought him too drunk to give it, but it left me thinking, and a little worried.

  The entire state o
f Vermont was in the same financial straits, but few places were in Gannet’s extremely tenuous position. Its gradual decline had been kicked into high gear by the arrival of the Order. And as Buster had pointed out, resentments had been given ample time to become properly misdirected. I wondered now if that resentment was burning hot enough to kill five people and turn their home into a crematorium.

  I recognized Laura through her car window as she drove by, looking for a parking space. I was standing on the Rocky River’s porch, having left behind the noise, the smoke, the heat, and the stench inside. The cool, fresh air felt wonderful. It was warmer than last night, well above freezing for a change what Buster would call “a warm snap.” I stepped off the porch and met Laura on the sidewalk. “Hi.” She smiled, her face softly lit by the light from the Inn’s windows.

  “Hi, yourself. How’s your ear? I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

  I made an involuntary gesture toward my ear. “It’s feeling better. I took a nap earlier. What’re you up to?” “I got bored at home. Are you leaving?” She moved, as if to step aside.

  “No, no. I just needed a little air.” I nodded back at the Inn.

  “You sound like a hunted man.” “Well, maybe hounded a little. People are curious think I have all the answers.” She laughed. “You’re kind of famous around here, ‘cause of that Ski Mask case in Brattleboro.

  Buster’s got a scrapbook of everything you’ve done.” “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I know you fought in Korea and got a bunch of medals, and that you went to college at Berkeley for a while… He’s got your letters stuck in there, too.” “And you’ve read them.” She was suddenly quiet, obviously embarrassed. “I don’t mind.” Her voice was muted. “You sure?” “Hell, I wrote ‘em to be read.” I had settled on the fender of a parked car. Now she joined me.

  “You spend a lot of time with Buster?” She nodded. “Why?” She took her time before answering. I felt she was deciding there to trust me or not, whether to respond with a social nicety or eveal something quite personal. “He helped me when I was in able.” That was about as much as Buster had told me. Still, her admission an obvious token of friendship, the sharing of an intimacy. “I’m a recovering alcoholic.

  Buster was the only one who figured t. Or maybe he was just the only one who cared.” I remained silent.

  “That was about three years ago.” “How did he and you get together?” She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, you know how he is at the ge; it’s almost like he holds court there sometimes. And a lot of the he hires have had problems. I don’t guess they’re real good meics.”

  I laughed at that. Buster’s employees were notorious for putting in the wrong holes, or the wrong-sized tires on cars. She was it was less a garage than a halfway house. “Anyway, I used to pull in there for gas or an oil change or tever, so we got to know each other over time; he’s real easy to talk first, it was just general stuff-who’re your folks, what’s your job. ned out he used to know my grandpa pretty well in the old days; ess they used to go hunting together. But he found out a lot more ut me pretty quick; it’s not like he asks much, you know? You just up telling him everything.” She laughed suddenly. “At least I did-real blabbermouth. AnyI got busted for DWI once; I don’t know how he found out about guess everybody finds out that kind of stuff in a small town like sooner or later. But they usually don’t say anything. He was rent. I pulled in there for gas one day, and he asked me to get out have a Coke with him, and that’s how it began.” “Did he get you into AA or something?” “No, it was just the two of us. We talked a lot; spent a lot of time there. I’d cook for him or I’d hang out at the garage.

  Somehow he me out of it-out of depending on the booze.” “Must have had its moments, especially seeing him drink like a She looked straight at me, her face fresh and open. “That was one of the amazing things about it, though. He got me to focus enough on me that it didn’t matter that he drank. He did that for his reasons, and they had nothing to do with me. At least that’s how I ended up seeing it. I guess at first that bothered me some. But he’s a wonderful man. Not everyone seems to know that.” A small pause grew. I was worried it might present a pretense for ending the conversation.

  “So you have family here.” “Oh, sure. I’m a local girl, well, kind of-from East Haven. My husband’s family is from here, though.” “Was that who picked you up this morning?” “Yeah. Tommy.” Her tone was not endearing. “Problems?” It was none of my business, but professional habits are hard to break.

  “Well… I don’t know. He’s a nice man. It’s just… Maybe I’m not cut out for marriage. Buster makes it sound good when he talks about his wife… or when he talks about yours, too.” That came as a shock.

  Ellen, my wife, had been dead almost twenty years, after a long, painful fight with cancer at an unfairly young age.

  To have this sudden reference to her from someone I barely knew, especially in the context of marital relations, was a little disconcerting.

  I guess it showed. Laura quickly put her hand on my arm. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I put my hand on hers. “No, that’s all right. I forgot you know all about me. You shouldn’t give too much credit to the ramblings of old widowers, you know. No one can compete with the dead, and there’s usually no saint quite as holy as a departed mate. It’s probably compensation for all the fights you had when she was alive. I don’t know… the older I get, the more I question the sanity of any marriage.” She smiled wanly. “I can believe that. I might as well live alone. I hardly even get laid anymore.” I burst out laughing at her bluntness. “God, now that I don’t understand.” She stared up at me then, and I felt my face turn crimson. “You’re blushing.” I laughed again, feeling thoroughly embarrassed now. “I mean, you’re very attractive.” I felt suddenly hot. I also felt like a total jerk.

  She reached up and put her cool palm against my cheek. “It’s sweet. Thank you.” She folded her arms across her chest and sighed.

  “It’s my own fault. I could do something about it. We don’t have any kids. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m stuck; have been for years.”

  “What does your husband do?” I asked, happy to change the ubject.

  “He works nights in St. J. at a lumber company. When he gets ome, I’m getting ready to go to work; when I get home, it’s his turn to head out. We could probably share a twin bed and never bump into ach other.”

  “I could see where that wouldn’t do much for a relationship.” “I guess.”

  She paused. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I smiled but kept quiet.

  “I didn’t embarrass you again, did I? I’m sorry. “No, no, not at all. Yes, I have a girlfriend; I just never thought f her in that light. I’m surprised you didn’t already know about her. he scrapbook must get thin at the end.” “What’s her name?” “Gail.” It felt awkward saying her name here. With all the recent xcitement, I hadn’t paused to think about the primary reason I was p here-to ponder just where Gail and I were headed.

  “And?” “She’s a realtor in Brattleboro.” “Is she pretty?” “I think so.” I was distracted, suddenly wondering just what it was that had caused things to cool between Gail and me. “Skinny?” “Pretty thin, yeah. Why do you ask?” “I just thought she would be. Skinnier than me, I bet.” She slid off the car and opened her coat. I looked at her, again startled by her spontaneity. She was, in fact, remarkably attractive in a close-fitting sweater and the perennialjeans”full-bodied,” as the ads say, but with a flat stomach and nicely rounded hips. I found myself thinking old Tommy must be out of his mind.

  “Very nice.” She looked down at herself. “That’s it?” I could feel my cheeks flushing again. “You like doing this to me.” She grinned and swiveled her hips.

  I leaned over, took her hands and brought them together, closing her coat. “You know damn well what I think.” Like a burst bubble, her mood darkened. She hugged the coat about her and stared at the ground.

  The sudden
ness threw me off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She shook her head. “You didn’t. Just the opposite.

  You’re one of the nicest men I’ve met.” Her voice lifted, regaining an artificial brightness. “So, do you love Gail a lot?” Her frailty was infectious, and her ability to turn the tables uncanny. I found myself suddenly quite at a loss for words.

  She gave me a sidelong glance and a sad smile. “You, too, huh?”

  “No. It’s different. Well, for one, we’re not married. We don’t even live together.” “Oh.” A silence grew between us. I looked up at the stars. What a surprising conversation to be having, especially with a woman I’d only known for a day. Not to mention the fact that she was half my age. But I felt I owed her as much honesty as she’d shared with me. “Gail and I are a little like seesaw riders trying to stay level with each other.

  It only works if we’re both at the same emotional height, and at opposite ends of the board.” “I never would have thought of a relationship that way. I thought about it for a bit. “It’s accurate, though. And right now we’re off balance.” “Seriously?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think that’s one of the reasons I’m up here.” “So what’re you going to do?” “Damned if I know. Try to work it out when I get back to Brattleboro.” Another pause. “And what do I do?” I didn’t answer at first, confused by the way she’d phrased the question. “I don’t know that I’m the one to ask.” I thought for a moment. “Talk to him, maybe change your schedules, look in the mirror and decide what you want from each other. It’s very hard. I can only tell you the answers don’t get any easier the older you get.” She nodded and slowly straightened up, her hands in her pockets. “Thanks, Joe.” She reached up and kissed me on the cheek. Then she walked down the sidewalk to her car, got in, and drove away with a small wave of her hand. I waved back and watched her taillights. Maybe it was the empty feeling she’d left behind, or the uncomfortable yearnings she’d aroused in me, but in that moment of Laura’s departure, I don’t think I’d ever missed Gail more.

 

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