by John Moralee
“Mikey?”
“I’ve brought you a lawyer,” I told him.
“I can’t afford one.”
“I can,” I said.
“What do I need a lawyer for? They’re going to convict me anyway. I deserve it.”
“Mr Taylor,” Freeman said, sharply, “I hope you didn’t say that to anyone else.” He looked in the direction of the deputy standing at the far end of the corridor. The man was barely out of earshot.
“I didn’t talk to the Man. I’m not stupid. They arrested me, read my rights, then brought me here. I said nothing. What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’ll be held until tomorrow; then you’ll see a judge. Probably Judge Lasky if your lucky; he’s more liberal than Judge Weintraub. I’ll see if I can get the charges dropped, or at least arrange bail. In the interim you mustn’t talk with the police without me present, okay?”
He nodded. “Will I go to jail?”
There was some fear in his voice, though he tried hard to hide it.
“It’s a very real possibility,” Freeman said. “Did you do it?”
“No! Not that it makes any difference. They set me up.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Some men.”
“What did they look like?”
“Just guys in their late twenties, early thirties. This man came up to me at my place and told me you were in trouble, so I went with him in his truck. Then suddenly these other guys grabbed me and kept me locked up in the truck under a tarpaulin? When they untied me, I was up at Emerald Point with smoke like everywhere. The smoke was around me so I ran. I was arrested before I could think straight? Mikey, you do believe me?”
“Yes,” I said, meaning it.
“Mr Taylor,” David Freeman said, “it’s essential you can identify the men. Can you do that?”
Vernon shook his head sadly.
“This doesn’t look good,” Freeman said to me. “Vernon looks like the perfect suspect.”
“But what about the guys?” I had a good idea who they were. “Vernon, can’t you remember?”
“Mikey …” He did not finish the sentence. He seemed to sink inwards, trembling. He had a fit of coughing that flushed his face.
“Now, Vernon,” Freeman said, talking to him as though he was a child, “I’d like you to tell me exactly what you did in as much detail as you can remember.” He looked at me. “I don’t think it’s wise if you listen to this. At least not now. You don’t have the protection of lawyer/client confidentiality.”
“Okay.” I looked at Vernon. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I suppose. Mikey, thanks for this.”
He put his hand through the bars. I grabbed it; we squeezed fingers. Vernon didn’t have a clue how much trouble he was in. I went outside to where Sarah was still giving statements to the media. She was currently talking to Douglas Clark. Her sisters were standing behind her. Doug Clark towered over her. Sarah glanced around and saw me. She smiled and ended the interview quickly. Clark had the sense to leave us alone. Joely thought he was sexy until I told her he was gay.
“Is your head still hurting?” I asked Sarah.
“Nah. The drugs have numbed it. Right now, I feel like I’m walking on air.”
“She’s as high as a kite,” Joely said. “My sister, the junkie. You are a bad, bad influence, Michael. I like it.”
“Let’s go home,” Betsy said. “I’ll cook a nice meal.”
“I’m not hungry,” Joely said. “Are you, sis?”
“I’d be sick if I ate,” Sarah admitted.
I noticed the crowd had dispersed. “Where’s everyone gone?”
Sarah put up her hands. “They got bored. The real action is at the construction site, after all. Van Morgan’s apparently showing off the damage, trying to gain sympathy for his cause. Believe it or not, it looks as if this will help him.”
“Great. I know why he had Vernon released after the brawl the other day. It was so he could frame him for this. The fire was a set up. How better to make his position look stronger and discredit the protesters?”
“Jeez. The bastard. I need a drink.”
“So do I,” Joely said. Then she grinned mischievously. “That is if I were old enough.”
I didn’t think Sarah should drink. “Is that okay on the medication?”
“As long as I don’t operate heavy machinery.”
“Joely and I will go home,” Betsy said, giving Joely an admonishing look. Joely looked as though she would object, but thought better of it. She rubbed her hand over her head and looked at the dirt that came off. “God, my hair needs a major washing.”
Sarah and I went to The Boat House. She drank a couple of beers; I stayed on soft drinks. The Emerald Point fire was on the television. A cameraman was walking through the wreckage of burnt out bulldozers and trucks. A beautiful blonde woman with a serious haircut was talking to the camera. Her teeth were perfect.
Sarah turned up the volume.
“… gutted by the flames. The only consolation is that no one was killed. The arrested man has been identified as Vernon Taylor, a man known to have a grudge against Heaven and Earth Enterprises. Only moments ago, a police spokesman confirmed a rumour that several gas cans were found inside Mr Taylor’s home. This is Cathy Secorski live at the scene.”
“Gas cans,” I said. “They’ve really planned this well. Vernon’s screwed.”
“Van Morgan’s one nasty piece of work. We have to nail him. You do still have the button?”
Button? I’d almost forgotten. I wondered where I’d put it. I patted my pockets, but I couldn’t feel it.
I’d lost it in the confusion.
“Check your coat pocket.”
I felt inside it, exploring the corners.
The button!
I took it out of my pocket, putting it on the table. I breathed a sigh of relief. We stared at the button - our only piece of good evidence. It was fairly distinctive. If you looked closely, you could see a yacht emblem etched on the gold. “These must be specially manufactured for the yacht club. I bet his jacket has one missing. If we can get some solid collaborating information then we could just have him where we want him.”
We went back to my father’s house. He wasn’t there, but Wayne was. He opened the door as we approached. He told me my father had called to say he was planning to stay a few more hours with Grace. Abby was in the kitchen making pancakes. She looked far better than this morning. There was colour to her cheeks, and she’d regained some zest that had been lacking recently. The pancakes smelled delicious. She made enough for four. Soon, the four of us were eating them at the table. We all poured maple syrup on them and aahed at the taste. Abby blushed when we complimented her cooking.
“We just saw you two on TV,” Wayne said.
“Yeah?” I said.
“You were going into the courthouse. That was one big fire out at Emerald Point. Is it true Vernon’s been arrested?”
“Afraid so.”
“He did it?”
“No. Do we have to go into this now?”
“Sorry I brought it up.”
Everyone talked for a while about nothing. We went through to the living room and relaxed in front of the television, making conversation. Then Sarah surprised me by saying, “I’ll have to go now if I’m to catch the ferry.” She had a good half hour to catch the ferry.
“I’ll walk you to your bike.”
Outside, I asked her what was wrong.
“Her, Michael. Abby. She doesn’t like me. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel the tension between us.”
I hadn’t. “You’re imagining it.”
“Am I? She loves you. She’s jealous of us.”
“Come on –”
She gave me an angry look. “Will you answer one question?”
“Sure. What?”
“Do you still love her?”
She wanted me to say no, but the question threw me and I paused too long.
“Thou
ght so. Well, I’m sorry for getting involved in your tortured romance with a married woman, but I don’t feel like being your second choice, Michael. I’ll see you around. Bye.”
“Sarah, it’s not like that at all. We –”
“What? What? I don’t want to hear excuses. After what I told you about myself, I thought we could at least be honest. But I guess that was too much to ask for in a man.”
She fastened on her helmet and straddled her Harley-Davidson. In an instant she kick-started the engine and drowned out my words with guttural revs. I stepped into the road, hoping to stop her leaving, but she rode around me, accelerating away without looking back. My heart dropped in my chest as though something had broken inside and could never be repaired.
“Sarah!”
But she was a hundred yards away now, the roar of the bike and the wind blocking out anything I had to say.
Chapter 38
“She was in a hurry to leave,” Abby said, when I slumped on the couch. I wanted to call Sarah, but I would have to wait for her to arrive home. “She didn’t leave because of me did she? Because if she did, I’d feel sort of responsible.”
“No, she just had to get the ferry.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Wayne got up. “Speaking of leaving, I have to go now. Got some repairs to do on The Scud Hunter.”
“Maybe you should change the name, Wayne.”
“Why?”
“The Scud Hunter isn’t a great name for a tourist boat. It should be called something adventurous, something descriptive. You want to draw in the customers with a name that conjures up an appealing image. The name advertises your business. The Scud Hunter sounds like some kind of toilet cleaner. You should have called it The Patriot, if you wanted to call it something after the Gulf War.”
He considered it. “But I love the name it’s got, man.”
“Okay, forget it. Just a suggestion.”
“And I will note it. Abby, I hope things work out for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. After he’d gone, she said: “You have some good friends, Mike. Wayne talked non-stop about you when you were out. He told me some stories about when you were kids that I didn’t know.”
“Good stories, I hope?”
“Good stories.” She moved across to sit next to me. We watched television for an hour, an episode of Friends followed by a situation comedy I hadn’t heard of starring some actors I’d thought died years ago. It was good to hear Abby laugh. She snuggled up beside me. I could feel her heartbeat against my body. During an advert break, she said, “How serious is it between you and Sarah?”
I looked at her. She was biting her lip, waiting.
“It’s pretty serious,” I said, awkwardly.
Some light went off inside Abby. I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t know what the right thing was to say. I thought about Sarah’s question: Did I still love Abby? The answer was yes. I loved her. I always would love her. In a perfect world there would be no other complications, but now I also had feelings for Sarah. I loved her too. When she wasn’t with me, I missed her.
Abby swallowed hard, building up to say something. “Mike?”
“What?”
“Please kiss me.” She leaned towards me, but I edged away and she froze. “Mike?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not now. You’ve just got out of a bad relationship, Abby. I think you should go easy on things for a while. We’re friends – not lovers.”
She blinked as if slapped.
“Abby,” I said, “What we had in the past is over, it can’t continue like that last fifteen years never happened. Maybe I’ve been a bit ambiguous about the way I’ve acted around you, but you’ve got to understand – we’re just friends.”
Until I said it, I didn’t accept the truth of what I was saying. The feelings I’d had for her then had tricked me into thinking we could have something again. But it wasn’t what I wanted now, not when I thought about it clearly, my mind focused on the truth, that Abby and I had been over for a long time. It hurt to admit it, but once I did, once I let go of the past, I felt relieved. The line between friend and lover had been drawn, and I knew where I was now. I cared for her, but I did not feel the way I did in high school. I could not hold onto a high-school infatuation any more. Sarah was the woman I loved now.
“Friends …” Her eyes filmed over. “I guess you’re right.” She folded her arms across her chest, drawing up her legs. “God! I feel so stupid coming on to you like that. It’s just things are so confusing, Mike. I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like I’m a worthless piece of junk.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? Maybe I deserved a beating! Maybe I deserved these?” She pulled up her sleeve, displaying the yellow and purple bruises.
“Nobody deserves that, Abby. Especially you.”
She curled up on the couch, quivering. “God, what’s wrong with me? Why do I feel like this?”
“You’re tired,” I said. “You need some sleep.”
“Sleep …”
“Yes.”
“C-can I sleep here on the couch?”
“Okay.”
I got up off the couch. I called Sarah, but again there was no answer. Abby stretched out her legs. She held a cushion to her chest as though hugging a baby. I went and got some blankets. She was sleeping when I came back. I tucked the blankets over her. I called Sarah again, but it was the same. I switched off the television and sat in silence reading the Tribune, looking up to see if she was awake. I could not read the newspaper. My nerves were frayed. I put it down and watched her breathing, the little rises and falls of her body were like tremors after an earthquake. She woke up after only an hour, bolting upright out of a nightmare.
“Abby? What did you dream?”
“I dreamt Tom broke in,” she said. She was wide-eyed with terror. “He had an axe.”
“It was just a dream.”
“I know that, but it was so real. You tried to protect me, but he hacked your head off. I screamed and ... It was horrible.” She threw off the blankets. “Will you check the doors and windows, Mike?”
She was clearly distraught. “Okay, I’ll check them.” I checked them, and Abby followed me like a frightened mouse. All the doors and windows were locked. She seemed to relax on seeing the evidence.
“You must think I’m losing it,” she said.
“I have some bad dreams myself.”
“What like?”
“Sometimes I dream about my mother dying. Sometimes I see my brother. The weird thing is, I never dream about Los Angeles. My dreams are always here.”
“We’re two screwed up individuals, Mike.”
“Look, why don’t we have some milk and cookies? I know eating chocolate makes me feel better.”
She said yes. We raided the kitchen for cookies. There was a bag of double chocolate chip that we devoured greedily. Then we started on some toffee ones. Abby chuckled like a naughty schoolgirl. “You know, Tom doesn’t like me eating fattening foods. These are the first cookies I’ve eaten in years.” She grinned. “I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.”
After drinking the milk she became tired again. She went to bed in a good mood. I figured Sarah would be at home now, so I called her number and let it ring and ring. It ran for over a minute before Joely answered the phone. “Oh, it’s you.” She didn’t sound pleased to hear my name.
“Can I speak to Sarah?”
“She doesn’t want to speak with you.”
“Joely, please put her on.”
“No! She’s gone to bed. You really upset her. What did you say? Are you in love with your high-school sweetheart?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Sarah thinks you are.”
“You have to tell Sarah there’s nothing between me and Abby. It’s taken me a long time to understand it, but I understand it now. I’m in love with your sister.”
“That’
s the truth?”
“I swear. I love her. Tell her that, Joely. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“I’ll tell her, but that’s it.”
She hung up.
I waited by the phone hoping Sarah would call back. She did not.
My father came home at ten. He went straight to bed. I could only guess at how bad his day had been. Yawning, I switched out the lights and made my way to my own bed, where I lay wide-awake for hours, waiting for the phone to ring.
Chapter 39
I wasn’t fully awake when Sarah arrived, but seeing her cleared my head. It was just after seven, and I was blinking at the sun flickering through the trees. I was pleased to see Sarah, though. She was looking fantastic in a white blouse, sun hat and cut-off jeans. I met her on the path.
“I’ve been awake most of the night,” she said. “Joely told me what you said. You’re really over Abby, once and for all?”
“She’s only a friend. I explained that to her last night, the situation. And I finally figured it out for myself, fifteen years too late. Abby was my past. I can’t go back down that road. I don’t want to. Just like my ex-wives are the past. I’m in love with you. You have to know that.”
She held out her hands and we locked our fingers together.
We walked to the house.
We stood on the porch and shared a moment of silent bliss. I held her around the waist as we watched the sun and the water. I loved the inner warmth that came as part of the package when I was with Sarah. A scientist would call it a rush of endorphins, but I thought of it as love. I loved her. I thought about telling her over and over, but she was enjoying the view and tranquillity. The togetherness. We had survived our first fight. It was good. The sky was so clear I could see Emerald Point and some white birds flying over it in a sleek W formation. We watched them head out into the ocean.
“Coming in?” I asked her.
“Is Abby awake?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I should apologise to her. She must have sensed my hostility.”
“She wanted to apologise to you, actually. But I think she needs all the sleep she can get. You want some coffee?”