“Speak now, or forever hold your peace. I’m gonna bury you. Want me to bury you?”
Nothing.
“Okay. You had your chance.”
He took a last mouthful of popcorn. Chewing it, he slung the body onto his shoulder and headed for the garage.
Chapter Eight
Dexter was waiting for her, that morning, when Vicki passed his door. It came as no big surprise. She had dressed in a warm-up suit.
Good morning,” she said and kept on walking.
“Hold on, there.”
She turned around, but didn’t approach his door. Dexter stepped out into the corridor.
“Come here. I won’t bite.”
Maybe you won’t bite, she thought, but you’re still a creep. She took a couple of steps toward him, anyway.
He wore his faded blue robe. His hands were stuffed in its pockets. “You gonna keep going out in the dark, no matter what I say.”
“I need to get my exercise.”
“You kids always think it can’t happen to you.”
“I don’t think that at all,” Vicki told him. “But I’m not about to spend my life hiding. Besides, who’s to say I’d be safe in my room? An airplane could crash on the building.”
“That’s about as dumb a remark…”
“It’s nice that you’re concerned about my safety,” she said. She doubted that he was concerned about that. More than likely, it was just a convenient subject. All he really cared about was stopping her for a talk and a look. “I appreciate it,” she said. “But I wish you’d quit bothering me about this business. I’ve gone running in places a lot more dangerous than Ellsworth, and I’m still around to talk about it. Nothing you can say is going to change things. So how about just letting it drop? Okay? I’m in no mood for lectures at this hour in the morning.”
Dexter raised his thick eyebrows. A corner of his mouth turned up, but he didn’t look amused. “Aren’t you the feisty one.”
“I don’t appreciate getting hassled by you every time I try to go out.”
“Hassled? I’m just giving you some friendly advice. You want hassle, just wait till some lunatic throws you down in the dark while you’re out there running your little butt off, and sticks his peter in you.”
Heat rushed to Vicki’s face. She felt her heart slamming. “That’s what you’d like to do, isn’t it?”
Dexter’s face darkened. “You don’t talk to me that way.”
“I’ll talk to you any way I please.”
He grinned, baring his upper teeth. “You been taking smart-mouth lessons from your pal, Ass?”
She went rigid and glared at him. “I’m outa here. You can rent your damned apartment to somebody else.”
“Hey, now, you can’t…”
“Just watch.” She whirled away from him and headed for the lobby.
“Bitch!”
She pushed through the door and rushed for the sidewalk.
After her stretching exercise near the end of the block, she ran. The running quieted her outrage. She decided that the blow up with Dexter had been a good thing. She might have stayed on at the apartment, otherwise, and tried to put up with him. Moving would be a drag, but not nearly as bad as suffering more encounters with that son of a bitch. She would make some calls from the office, later on. With any luck, she’d be able to find a new place today. Move out in a few days. The last of Dexter Pollock.
When she reached Central Street, she headed north and ran through the park. But starting down the slope toward the beach, she looked toward the playground equipment. Someone was sitting on one of the swings.
The guy from yesterday?
Just a vague shape in the darkness, but he seemed to be about the same size as the man who had watched her from the slide.
What’s he doing, waiting for me?
First Pollock, now this guy.
Sorry to disappoint you, mister.
Wary of slipping again on the dewy grass, Vicki waited until she reached the bottom of the slope. There, she turned to the left and ran toward the sidewalk.
You ought to be flattered, she thought, that he came back this morning. Yeah? Who says that’s why he did it? He was in the park yesterday without knowing I’d show up. Maybe he just likes to sit over there and watch the sunrise.
But he would’ve said something if I’d tried to run by.
What’s so bad about that?
He didn’t seem like such a bad guy. He might even be very nice.
You’ll never know if you don’t give him a chance.
Not today, folks. Not after Dexter.
Though she felt a little guilty about it, she didn’t turn around and go back to the stranger. She reached the sidewalk bordering Central, and kept running north.
She wondered if he’d noticed her on the slope, seen her turn away and known the change of course was for no other reason than to avoid an encounter with him. She hoped not. He might think she was afraid of him, or simply stuck up.
It’s not that, she thought as if apologizing to him, explaining herself. It has nothing to do with you. You seem like a nice guy. I’m just in a foul mood, that’s all.
If he’s there tomorrow…?
Cross that bridge when we come to it.
The sky was growing pale as Vicki ran past the junction where Central ended just north of town and became River Road. The sidewalk ended with Central. Usually, she turned around here and headed back for the apartment. Not today. She was in no hurry to return and possibly face Dexter again.
She stayed close to the edge of the road and listened for traffic, ready to bolt onto the dirt shoulder if she should hear a car coming up behind her.
There were only a few homes out this way, mostly cottages close to the shore with private docks in the rear. When the road curved away from the river, the homes vanished. Vicki felt as if she were alone on a woodland trail. A paved trail, but shadowed by trees and silent except for the forest sounds of birds and insects and leaves rustling in the breeze. The sweet, warm aromas seemed even more wonderful than those from the bakery on Central Street.
Vicki felt great. But hot. Thanks to Dexter. She should’ve been wearing her lightweight shorts and T-shirt, not this warm-up suit. She hadn’t even thought to put the jacket and pants on over her regular outfit. Once she was clear of Dexter, she could’ve dumped the warm-ups behind some bushes near the stoop. She wished she’d thought of that. But she came out wearing only a bra and panties under the heavy clothes.
The road was deserted, so she slid her zipper down almost to her waist. Air poured in, cooling the sweat on her chest and belly. Much better.
She considered leaving the road. The forest had plenty of footpaths, and she used to know all of them like friends. She could find a place to leave her warm-ups.
Right, and run in your undies.
The idea was tempting, but she turned it down. After all, what if she met somebody on the trails? Slim chance of that, but she didn’t want to risk it.
Even dressed, it might not be such a hot idea to go into the woods alone.
She rounded a bend in the road. Her stomach went tight. Ahead was the bridge over Laurel Creek. In her jarring vision, she saw the low stone wall that Steve Kraft had hit. Her mind filled with images of Darlene in the wheelchair, Melvin clamping the jumper cables to her thumbs, Darlene tumbling onto the back of the principal and her head dropping onto the razor wire. Then her nightmare version swarmed in: Have you saved yourself for me? and I’ll give you life everlasting; the worm in Darlene’s eye; the teeth of the cable clamps biting into the girl’s nipples and how she bloomed smoke and rose from the chair and went into the cheerleader routine that ended in a leap with her head falling off; the head rolling toward Vicki, rolling.
God, I shouldn’t have come out this way.
She turned her back to the bridge and ran from it.
After Elsie Johnson left the office, Vicki had a free hour before the next scheduled appointment. She opened the Ellsworth Outlook
to the classified section and began searching for an apartment. She found three ads that looked promising, and made two calls before Thelma knocked and poked her head in. “Melvin Dobbs just walked in,” she said. “He doesn’t have an appointment, but he’d like to see you. Apparently, he’s injured his hand.”
Melvin.
“Is Charlie back from his house call?”
“Afraid not. Would you like me to tell him you’re busy?”
“No, that wouldn’t be right. I’ll see him.”
Thelma shut the door.
Vicki stood up. Her legs felt a little shaky. Maybe because of the longer run this morning, maybe because she dreaded facing Melvin. She couldn’t blame her goosebumps on the run. Rubbing her arms, she stepped to the office door. She removed her white jacket from its hanger, put it on over her sundress, and buttoned its front.
I should’ve stayed in bed today, she thought.
Entering the corridor, she saw that the door of Examination Room B was shut. That’s where Thelma would’ve put Melvin. She hesitated in front of the door.
The more I see of him, she told herself, the less he’ll spook me.
She wasn’t sure she believed that. After all, it was seeing him at the gas station that apparently triggered her fresh round of nightmares.
She opened the door and stepped into the room. Melvin was seated, shoulders hunched and legs dangling, on the end of the paper-covered examination table. He looked as if he’d dressed up for the occasion. Instead of his gaudy shirt and shorts, he wore a blue dress shirt and slacks. His right hand, resting on his thigh, was wrapped with gauze and adhesive tape.
“Good morning, Melvin.” Her voice sounded steady. “You have a problem with your hand?”
He squeezed an eye half-shut and bobbed his head. He raised the hand toward her. “It got bit.”
“Oh? You have a run-in with a dog?”
“A scum-sucking kid. I went to give a credit card back to his old man, and the little shit took a bite out of me. I think it’s infected.”
Nodding, Vicki took scissors off the instrument tray. She held his hand and began to snip the bandage. “When did this happen?”
“I guess about three days ago. I figured it’d get better, but it just keeps hurting.”
“Well, let’s see what the damage is.” She finished cutting through the bandage. The bottom layers of gauze were glued to his wound with pus and blood. She soaked a cotton ball with alcohol and used that to loosen the grip of the sticky fluids. At last, she was able to peel the last of the gauze away. She swung the lamp closer, held his hand beneath its powerful light, and inspected both sides.
“That’s a pretty nasty bite he gave you,” she said.
The teeth had left shallow, crescent-shaped wounds on the back of Melvin’s hand. There were similar wounds, but deeper, on his palm. The kid must’ve snapped at Melvin, caught the edge of his hand, and bit down very hard. The area surrounding the injuries looked slightly red and swollen.
“It might not be a bad idea to get some x-rays of this. Just to rule out the possibility of a fracture. We don’t do that here, but I could refer you to a radiologist over at Blayton Memorial.”
“No x-rays. You kidding?”
“Oh, they’re harmless, Melvin.”
“Sure. They’re so harmless, how come they can cause a spontaneous abortion if a fetus gets zapped?”
His question surprised Vicki. How could he know such a thing?
Give him some credit. He’s not as stupid as he seems. “That’s fairly rare,” she said. “And you’re not a fetus.”
“Just the same, nobody’s gonna zap me with no radiation.”
“Does your hand seem to work all right? Any loss of motion in the fingers?”
“They move okay. They’re just sore. Whole hand feels sore.”
“Well, you’re right about it being infected.”
“Gonna have to amputate?” Melvin asked.
“Oh, not today. I don’t think there’s much to worry about. I’ll just clean and dress the wound for you, and give you a prescription for some antibiotics. Human saliva’s a regular cesspool of bacteria. You would’ve been better off if a dog had bit you.”
He grinned up at her. “Been a dog,” he said, “I’d of brought you its head so you’d give it the rabies test.”
The words made a cold place inside Vicki.
“The kid’s old man almost knocked his head off.”
She started to clean the wounds. “Did you get their names?”
“On the credit card.”
“His family really should have to pay for the medical care.”
“I got insurance. I’m not gonna mess with going after them.”
That was refreshing. Most people were ready to sue over the slightest injury. In this case, a lawsuit seemed more than justified. She could understand, though, how someone with Melvin’s history might prefer to avoid stirring up trouble.
“You should try to avoid using this hand,” she said. “Do you have somebody to help you out at the station?”
“I got Manny Stubbins helping me out.”
“That’s good. You definitely don’t want to be pumping gas or changing tires or anything like that. Has the pain been bothering you much? Have you had trouble sleeping?”
“Some.”
“Have you taken anything for it?”
“Just aspirin.”
“And that’s helped?”
“I guess.”
“Well, I could prescribe you something for the pain if it’s really bad. Some Darvon or Valium. But I’d prefer not to. You’d be better off sticking with aspirin or Tylenol, as long as that’s helping.”
“Yeah, I don’t want no dope. Turn me into a zombie. Had enough of that in the looney-bin.”
Vicki started to apply a fresh bandage.
She could feel Melvin staring at her. Almost done, she told herself. A few more minutes, and he’ll be gone.
“Much as I generally hate doctors,” he said, “it’s sure nice coming to one as pretty as you.”
“Thanks.”
Saving yourself for me?
“You got a piece of this?” he asked.
“A piece of what?”
“The clinic here. You a partner, or something?”
“No, I just work here.”
“You oughta have a practice of your own.”
She managed a smile. “Yeah, I could go for that. But it costs a lot of money to start up a practice. Besides, I wouldn’t want to go into competition against Dr. Gaines.”
“How come?”
“He’s a nice man, and he’s done a lot for me. If it weren’t for him, I probably couldn’t have made it through medical school.”
“What’d he do, pay for it or something?”
This is getting awfully personal, Vicki thought.
Though the subject made her uncomfortable, she realized she was the one who had brought up Charlie’s helping her. And what did it really matter if Melvin knew?
“He gave me a pretty good loan,” she said. “My parents helped out, and I had scholarships and I worked part of the time, but without…”
“So you’re here because you owe him?”
“Well, I’m here because I want to be here. It’s not just the loan. I’m sure I’ll stick around, even after it’s paid back.”
“How much do you owe him?”
“That’s between me and Dr. Gaines.”
“Just asking,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“ ‘Cause I could help you out, you know. I’m pretty rich.”
“Well, thanks. I’m fine.” She finished bandaging him, turned away, and scribbled out a prescription. Her hand trembled as she wrote. Just great, she thought. He wants to give me money. What next?
“I want you to get this filled,” she said, giving the slip to him. “Take the tablets three times a day. And change your bandage every night. If your hand doesn’t get better, co
me back and we’ll have another look at it.”
“So, we’re done?”
“Yep.”
Nodding, he hopped off the examination table. Vicki stepped into the corridor ahead of him.
“Thanks for fixing me up,” he said.
“Any time.”
Tilting his head sideways, he narrowed an eye and peered at her. “You’re awful nice to me,” he said. “I’m gonna be nice to you.”
She forced herself to smile. “Have a good day, Melvin.”
He lurched up the corridor, stopped at the door to the waiting room, looked back over his shoulder and winked at her. Then he was gone.
Chapter Nine
A few minutes before five that afternoon, Melvin slid into a booth at Webby’s Diner and ordered a cup of coffee. As he sipped it, he kept watch through the window.
From there, he had a fine view of the Gaines Family Medical Clinic across the street. He could see not only the front entrance, but also the small parking lot along the side of the building.
After a while, Dr. Gaines came out. He went to a white Mercedes in the lot, and drove away. That left a green Plymouth station wagon, a yellow VW bug, and a white Dodge Dart. The bug, he knew, belonged to Thelma the receptionist. Vicki had driven into town in a U-Haul. She might’ve bought a car, but neither the wagon nor the Dart looked new.
She hasn’t got much money, he reminded himself. Not if she had to borrow from Gaines. So she probably couldn’t afford a new car. Maybe she doesn’t have any car at all. Or maybe she bought a used one, or she borrowed one.
While Melvin was thinking about this, a pregnant woman left the building. She drove away in the Dart. That left the wagon. It didn’t seem like the kind of car Vicki would drive.
Beggars can’t be choosers, he thought.
While the waitress was refilling his coffee mug, a man came from the wrong direction, carrying cans of paint, and opened the tail gate of the station wagon. He must’ve been in Handiboy, next door to the clinic. When the paint was loaded, he drove away.
That left only Thelma’s VW.
Melvin frowned.
Maybe he’d missed Vicki.
Or she’s still in there, but doesn’t have a car. Or has a car, but walked. She might only live a few blocks away.
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