The Boys of Summer

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The Boys of Summer Page 29

by Richard Cox


  More people gathered near the corner. None of them said much, but David could hear sighs, could see mouths open in wonder. He turned and saw Jonathan and Bobby standing together with Mrs. Crane and Mr. Steele. They were near the edge of the crowd, maybe thirty or forty feet away. He looked at his partners in crime with absolutely no expression, and they did the same to him.

  Finally David saw Todd approaching, following a man who was obviously his father. The father seemed upset, strident even, in his purposeful advance and desperate face. Todd, by contrast, could have been waiting in line at McDonald’s. He followed his dad until they reached the front row of the crowd, until Mr. Willis and David’s own father were standing side by side.

  “Hell of a thing,” Freddy Clark said.

  “Terrible,” answered Mr. Willis.

  David shot a look at Todd, who smiled and looked back at the fire.

  “Fred Clark,” his dad said, offering his hand.

  “Pete Willis,” said Todd’s dad, and the two men shook.

  A crash inside the house sent a wave of exclamation through the crowd. Sparks shot out of the hole in the roof like fireworks. A teenage girl squealed.

  “People!” one of the firemen yelled. He raised his arms above his head. “Can I please get you all to step back? This is a dangerous situation! Please step back and let us do our jobs!”

  The crowd shuffled backward, its many legs moving out of sync.

  “What does he think?” Mr. Willis said. “We’re going to get burned all the way over here?”

  “It’s a liability thing,” answered David’s dad. “If a window were to blow, or something inside exploded and a bystander got hit, the fire department might get sued for neglect. Big money in these negligence suits.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been sued four times in ten years.”

  “Really. What do you do?”

  “I own Lone Star Barbecue over on Broad Street.”

  Everyone stood there and watched someone’s property being destroyed as if it were happening on television. And as the fire roared—still ignoring the streams of water pointed at it—as the crowd murmured, as glowing smoke surged into the sky, David noted with dismay that all this commotion had been caused, in part, by him. The thought was a distinct one, as if Todd were speaking in his head.

  We did this. The five of us.

  David looked over at Todd, who was watching him again. Who nodded to him, as if he knew exactly what David was thinking.

  We could do it again if we wanted.

  They could, and they did.

  PART SIX

  May 30 – June 1, 2008

  ZONE FORECAST PRODUCT

  NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE NORMAN OK

  TXZ086-311000-

  WICHITA-

  INCLUDING THE CITIES OF ... WICHITA FALLS

  1041 PM CDT FRI MAY 30 2008

  .TONIGHT ... CLEAR. LOW NEAR 80. WINDS S 5-10 MPH.

  .SATURDAY ... MOSTLY SUNNY. HIGH AROUND 105. SOUTH WIND 15-30 MPH.

  .SATURDAY NIGHT ... CLEAR. LOW IN THE LOW 80S. SOUTH WINDS AROUND 20 MPH.

  .SUNDAY ... SUNNY. HIGH AROUND 107. SOUTH WINDS 25-35 MPH WITH HIGHER GUSTS.

  .MONDAY ... TURNING CLOUDY AND SHARPLY COOLER WITH A CHANCE OF THUNDERSTORMS. HIGH IN THE UPPER 80S.

  .TUESDAY ... MOSTLY SUNNY AND UNSEASONABLY COOL. HIGH IN THE MID 70S.

  54

  After the fire trucks arrived, Jonathan was able to contain his emotions while the four of them spoke to Gholson, but only because Alicia was correct: The detective was not at fault and could not have prevented the fire unless he ordered nonstop, twenty-four-hour surveillance on Jonathan’s house. Would that have made sense because of a couple of cryptic emails? And if the police were going to watch his house, why not Adam Altman’s? Or Alicia’s parents’? Or his own mother’s house? Who knew what logic the arsonist was using to pick his targets?

  The Molotov cocktails had been thrown through three windows into rooms that were connected by a long hallway, and once the individual fires had merged, they swelled into an inferno. Fortunately, his garage was detached from the house proper and Jonathan had been able to relocate his car to the street.

  Everything else was bad news, however, and by the time the firemen had trained jets of water on the structure, the fate of his house was already decided. Honestly, Jonathan didn’t care much about the house and most of its contents, but the files on his laptop were irreplaceable. And though he’d been smart enough to save some of his work on a flash drive, he had been stupid enough to store the drive in the same room as the computer. Which meant the only salvageable projects left from an entire lifetime of writing—almost twenty years of work—would be those he had emailed to someone, as well as the few printed excerpts of The End of the World that still languished in literary agent slush piles. Imagine the cruel irony, he told himself, if one of those agents ever wanted to see the full manuscript. If that happened Jonathan would probably laugh himself into the nuthouse.

  He regretted now the enthusiasm he had felt toward Todd Willis and the memory of his incredible music. Jonathan had seen these events as a way to reconnect with Alicia, as a possible peek into something incredible about the world, but he had not expected to pay so dearly for the opportunity.

  And there was something else bothering him, a memory, long submerged, that had been shaken loose when he looked into the box for those cassettes. Fragments of that memory had been floating to the surface of his consciousness just before their evening was interrupted by fire, fragments related to the scraps of paper that fell from the box where he found the old cassettes.

  Those torn bits of paper were all that was left of a short story he had written during the summer of 1983. Kenny Steele had ripped up the pages of this story as punishment for a crime Jonathan had confessed to but had not committed. He had long ago forgotten the concept of this lost project, but it seemed important for him to remember it now, as if the memory might help him understand exactly what was happening to them.

  The scraps were gone, however, along with everything else he had ever written. And once the fire had been brought under control, Gholson escorted the four of them away from the burning house. He stopped in front of a home where no lights were on and no neighbors were within earshot.

  “Obviously, we will interview your neighbors. We’ll also begin regular patrols in this area, as well as any other neighborhood that could contain a possible target. If someone saw who did this, if I can get a description, we’ll go from there. In the meantime, I would appreciate any information you folks want to share. As I said, I do not consider you suspects at this point, but if it becomes obvious you are withholding information that could save lives or property, you could be arrested for obstruction. Mr. Clark, when do you plan to fly back to California?”

  “I’m not sure at this point,” David said. “Not for a couple of days at least.”

  “Please notify me before your departure in case I have any further questions for you. And get me the information we discussed as soon as possible.”

  David nodded.

  “Doesn’t it seem likely,” Jonathan said, “that the other person involved is Todd Willis? If none of us victims are suspects, who else does that leave?”

  Gholson pulled a Diet Coke bottle from his back pocket. The soda inside appeared to have coagulated or hardened in some way, but then he opened the cap and spit tobacco juice into it.

  “I’m inclined to agree with you,” Gholson told them. “Except I’ve been doing some research on that kid, and what I found isn’t promising. He was in and out of trouble after his family moved away from Wichita Falls. He lived in Odessa and Corpus Christi but never graduated high school. The next time he popped up was in Austin where he was busted for possession a few times—mushrooms, LSD—but no actual convictions. He was in a band and lived in a city run by liberals, so it’s no wonder the kid got away with it. But up until then he was at least paying taxes, rent, he had a couple of credit cards . . . all
the usual things you expect to see from a person going from one day to the next. Then all at once his record just ends. No more busts, no more paying taxes, no nothing. He never applied for a passport. Just poof! Gone. Which tells me he either dropped off the grid and doesn’t want to be found, or he’s not around anymore.”

  Jonathan and David exchanged glances. Alicia and Meredith listened silently.

  “So if it’s Willis,” Gholson said, “He has materialized from nowhere.”

  “Couldn’t Todd have assumed someone else’s identity?” David asked. “Gotten himself another Social Security number, that kind of thing?”

  “Someone with your resources could probably arrange that, but I’m not sure Todd could. Besides, why would he? He wasn’t ever in any kind of official trouble.”

  “There are a lot of ways to be in trouble besides with the law, Detective.”

  Gholson spit into his bottle again. The little flecks of tobacco stuck between his teeth looked like fleas.

  “That’s true. But right now, what happened to Todd Willis doesn’t really matter to me unless he turns out to be a suspect. And we’ll catch the guy, whoever he is. If we don’t, the Rangers will probably come in and have a look. The State of Texas won’t put up with some idiot trying to burn down the city one house at a time.”

  “Have you spoken to Adam Altman yet?” Jonathan asked. “We invited him to come here tonight and he declined. Not that it makes him guilty, but he sounded kind of odd on the phone.”

  “Mr. Altman is a victim just like you folks. I spoke to him briefly about the loss he suffered.”

  “But you haven’t asked him the same questions as us?” David asked.

  “I can’t comment on that part of the investigation.”

  “I imagine he would be concerned,” Jonathan said. “His wife and daughter could be in danger.”

  “We will have patrols in his neighborhood,” Gholson replied. “We are putting a stop to this shit now.”

  As they stood there looking at each other, Jonathan noticed another official approaching.

  “That’s the arson investigator,” Gholson said. “He may have a few questions for you folks. After that I would suggest you convene this reunion meeting somewhere else. There won’t be anything you can do here after the fire is put out. It will be considered a crime scene and you’ll need to give our teams time to examine the property. I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Crane. Call me when you feel like contributing to the investigation.”

  55

  David listened to the arson investigator only where necessary to provide appropriate responses. The rest of his attention was directed inward as he considered Todd Willis and his ability to hear music that had not yet been recorded. If Todd was in Wichita Falls now, if he was striking back at his childhood friends because of some perceived (or real) injustice, David wanted to find him and talk to him. He wanted to understand what Todd knew and how he knew it. Maybe the two of them could work together somehow. What great achievements could be accomplished with not just hints about the future but some kind of clear picture?

  What confused David was this: If Todd had known about these songs (and conceivably others), why had he not capitalized upon his gift? Why had he not chosen to record this music himself? Was there some limitation to what he could hear or see? Had his ability vanished long ago?

  It galled David to even ask himself such questions, because he was and always had been a pragmatic man. He did not believe in God or ghosts or anything that defied reality as described by science. If no one else had remembered Todd’s music the way he did, David would believe he had hallucinated these memories. But it was implausible to suggest that Jonathan shared a similar hallucination, or that he had faked the tape recording. Thus, the next step was not to ask how this could be happening, but how he could benefit from it.

  When the arson investigator was gone, David said, “I don’t care what Gholson thinks. Disappeared isn’t the same as dead. I bet you the only thing he did was run Todd through some kind of criminal database. We could look for Todd’s family ourselves. His parents must be alive. Maybe if we find them we can find Todd.”

  “Find him and do what?” Meredith asked.

  “Figure out if he’s the one doing this. Turn him into the cops. Something.”

  “I’m more concerned about where you’re going to stay tonight,” Alicia said to Jonathan. “I would offer my parents’ house but they’re out of beds. We could make you a pallet on the floor.”

  “Thank you. But I could use some time to myself tonight. I’ll probably get a hotel room.”

  “What about our hotel?” Meredith asked David. “Could you call and get him a room?”

  “Yeah, sure,” David said. “But it’s early still. Since I need to get some information for Gholson, why don’t we all head over to my dad’s house? On the way, I’ll call a friend of mine and ask him to start looking into Todd for us. Maybe we can get some information and do a little digging ourselves.”

  David could have handled all this on his own, without the assistance of Jonathan or Alicia, but right now he didn’t feel like being alone with Meredith. She’d already annoyed him with her skepticism of Todd and his music, and when the others were gone she might start in on him again about getting married. His dad had been a lover of scotch and would surely have plenty on hand. David was confident a few drinks would fortify his defenses against Meredith.

  “Come on,” he said to them. “Let’s go have a drink and figure this guy out.”

  56

  Jonathan and Alicia agreed to follow them. Meredith agitated in the front seat and David knew she wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

  “Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this. Someone burned his fucking house down.”

  “Someone did,” David agreed. “And we were in the house!”

  “We got out, didn’t we?”

  “Yes,” she whined. “But I thought we came out here to take care of your dad. Not this!”

  “You need to calm down. We’re safe now.”

  “But what if the guy follows us? What if he tries to burn down your dad’s house while we’re there?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’m sure. And anyway, if something did happen we’d walk out of the house like we just did.”

  Meredith didn’t say anything for a moment and David hoped she had run out of energy. But he was wrong.

  “So,” she said. “How did it feel to see her again? Your childhood sweetheart?”

  “She’s not my childhood sweetheart. We kissed a couple of times before the eighth grade. I barely knew her.”

  “But you somehow remembered her boyfriend, Mr. Terminix.”

  “Meredith—”

  “I guess all the guys would know since everyone in school was after her.”

  “Look, you can see Jonathan is trying to be close to her again. I was just playing along to be polite.”

  “You were looking at her the whole time we were there.”

  “I was not. She’s old. She’s got nothing on you.”

  This shut her up for a moment, and David used the opening to call Erik again. He barked instructions and shared everything he knew about Todd. Erik promised to call him in the morning with an update.

  After he hung up, the two of them rode in silence for a while. The drive to Tanglewood was mercifully short, and when Meredith realized they were going to stop soon, she resumed her argument in a harried, repentant voice.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just hard being here. I feel like an outsider.”

  “They were nice enough to you, weren’t they?”

  “I mean I don’t know what my place is. I don’t believe what you guys were saying about this Todd dude, and I can’t believe you do, either. You’re not acting like yourself at all. You’re acting like, I don’t know, some kind of superstitious hick.”

  “What about that Cartman business?” he asked her.

  “Jonatha
n probably faked the tape.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Come on, David. You’re the most confident and literal man I know. For the longest time you wouldn’t even tell me you loved me because you said love wasn’t real. That it was just brain chemicals.”

  Actually, his position on this hadn’t changed. Every thought and feeling a human being ever experienced could be reduced to physical properties in the brain, which meant love was no more special, chemically, than any of the rest. But Meredith couldn’t handle this and threatened to leave him, so eventually he surrendered.

  “And now you expect me to believe your childhood friend could sing songs from the future. Can’t you understand why I’m worried?”

  “Yes. I do understand. But since you know I’m a skeptic, I would hope you could trust me. It’s not like I believe it because I saw something on TV. It happened right in front of me. Jonathan remembers the exact same thing.”

  They reached the house and David pulled into the driveway. He had long ago lost his key, but his dad always kept a spare above the door. If it wasn’t there now they’d have to break in.

  “Honey,” Meredith said. His right hand was on the gear shift and she covered it with her own. “Jonathan is an author. He writes weird stories like this. I think he made all this up and has convinced you it’s real.”

  David spit laughter at her.

  “You’re nuts. It’s not easy to fake something like that, and anyway I remembered it on the plane before we ever got here.”

  “I know that’s what you think. But what I think is that you’re freaked out about your dad, whether you realize it or not. When your parents die, you grieve their passing, but you’re also confronted with your own mortality. I had a friend—a smart, level-headed friend—who saw her mother’s ghost at the funeral home where they picked out her casket. In the end she realized it hadn’t happened, but it took weeks for her to come to terms with it. And maybe this thing with Todd is like that. Once you believe someone can see the future, maybe anything is possible. Maybe you’re hoping he’s still out there somewhere, doing all right.”

 

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