by Don Reid
“Gambling debts, right?”
“Yes. But not his.”
“Then whose?”
“H. V.’s.”
Buddy sat back in his chair with his mouth open. For the first time, a few things were beginning to make sense.
“Are you telling me Harlan has been paying off H. V.’s gambling debts all these years?”
“And with much interest. He never gets out of the hole. H. V. gambled when he was sick. Lost it all.”
“So Harlan’s not gambling, but his daddy was. And Harlan’s going broke trying to pay off Drakos with interest on the old man’s debt.”
“Don’t say ‘old man.’ Say H. V.”
“So Drakos shot him because he couldn’t pay?”
“No.”
“Why else would he shoot him then?”
“Sister Drakos. Beauty means more to the boy than money.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Eight thirty-five, and the early summer evening had begun its descent into dusk as Harlan lay in the quiet of a lonely hospital room. The sheets below him were crumpled and uncomfortable, and the radio by his bed was filled with more static than song. But he had neither the desire nor the inclination to fix either annoyance. He just wanted to lie there and float through his misery. Someone knocked lightly on his open door. His quick glance to the doorway brought a smile to his face. “Cal, ole buddy, what are you doing here this time of night?”
“Night? You’re too young to think of eight thirty as night. This is when you used to just start perking.”
“Used to, yeah.” Harlan laughed. “Do you remember when we used to go out on a Friday night just like this one and double date? And then after we took the girls home, we’d go back and lie in your front yard or mine and talk and laugh till sometimes two or three o’clock in the morning. You remember that?”
“Of course I do,” Cal assured him. “And your daddy would stick his head out around midnight and say, ‘You boys either quiet up out here or get yourselves to bed.’ And we’d laugh even harder as soon as he’d close the screen door.”
“Oh boy, do I remember that. My dad always wanted to appear a lot tougher than he really was. I think only you, and maybe Buddy, really knew what a big ole moon of a heart he had.” Harlan closed his eyes for a second or two and reflected on what he had just said.
“I really liked your dad, Harlan. He was as good to me as he was to you. Did I ever tell you about the night I went to see him in the hospital during your wedding reception?”
“You left my wedding reception?”
“You didn’t even miss me, did you?”
They both laughed.
“I took H. V. a piece of cake and a glass of punch, and he sat up in bed and ate it like he was starved. He was listening to the radio when I walked in just like you were just now.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“We talked about a lot of different things,” Cal said as he sat down on the side of Harlan’s bed. “I know you remember the night I called you in New York to tell you he had passed. I wanted so badly to tell you some of those things that night, and I’ve meant to tell you a number of times since. But something always got in the way.”
“I was lying here thinking about him just before you walked in.”
“Did you ever know that he was bothered that Uncle Vic was your best man?”
“What do you mean bothered?” Harlan seemed shocked.
“A little jealous. And it wasn’t just the wedding. I think he was jealous of Vic for a long time. He felt like Vic was trying to take his place with you. Trying to be a second father and he didn’t need any help. And then there were other things.”
“Like what?”
“He confided in me he was Jewish. I think he worked pretty hard to keep that a secret here in town. Yet he showed me that he knew the Bible. He had a pretty good knowledge of the New Testament, even. Were you aware of that?”
“Anything my dad did or knew never surprised me. The only thing that’s ever surprised me is you telling me he was jealous of someone. That doesn’t sound like H. V. Stone. And if you weren’t the one telling me, I wouldn’t believe it. But if you say so, I know it’s true. What else did he tell you?”
“Oh, he asked me if I was going to get married. I told him I probably would. And at that time I thought it was the greatest thing in the world for me to do.”
“Did he discourage you or urge you to do it?” Harlan asked.
“Neither one, really. But looking back, I wish someone had talked to me about it.”
“It hasn’t worked out very well for you, has it, ole pal?”
“No. And I really don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I try to blame Ellie for it all. I tell myself she’s not interested in my life and my profession. And even though she’s not, that’s not the whole problem. I’m not a good husband, Harlan. I’m not always there. In body, but not in mind and spirit. I’m not the most open human being alive. I’m not the easiest person to live with. When I get my mind on something, I’m like an old workhorse with blinders. I don’t give much of what’s inside me to the people who love me. I know all this but can’t always do something about it. I know what to tell other people to do to help their lives and their marriages, but I can’t seem to do the right thing to help my own.”
The two friends of nearly four and a half decades sat in silence while the radio spit out an unrecognizable song. As much as two minutes passed before Cal spoke again. “But I came here to console you.”
“And I wish I could do something for you and for Ellie.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll all be right in time. I have faith that it will,” Cal said as he stood up to leave.
“Before you go, anything else my dad say to you that night?”
Cal rubbed his nose and squinted as he tried to recall that particular moment so many years prior.
“Yes. I remember him asking me, ‘Did you come here tonight to save my soul?’”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I don’t save souls, Harlan. That’s above my pay scale. Let’s have a prayer before I go.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Harlan was lying in his hospital bed on Saturday morning listening to the local news when his doctor came in the room. Without any greeting, Dr. Yandell took his chart from his bed rail and stood for a moment reading it. He looked up and smiled. “Well, you had a pretty good night, didn’t you, Harlan?”
“I did. I feel better this morning than I’ve felt in years.”
“Don’t get too frisky, but I think you can go home today.”
“I’ve been holding my breath for that.”
“You’ll still have some pain and you may have a little discharge from the wound from time to time, but keep it clean—and no straining of any kind. No lifting, no driving, no steps. Can you sleep on the first floor?”
“Darcy will make me a bed on the sofa downstairs. Just anything to get home.”
“Okay. I’ll have a nurse call her and tell her she can come pick you up anytime.”
“When can I go back to work?”
“Come see me at the office Tuesday morning at ten. We’ll talk about that then. But I expect you’ll be ready by the next week.”
“Thanks, Doc. You’ve really taken good care of me.”
“Just see you that you take half that good of care of yourself. I know you, Harlan. You’re not a nineteen-year-old stallion anymore. Take it easy.”
* * *
Cal was in his study just off of the sanctuary at Mason Street Methodist. He was the only person in the church as far as he knew, so he jumped when he heard a knock on the office door.
“Come in,” he called.
The figure that filled the doorway was
the last person on earth he would have expected to see. He knew it must have shown all over his face when he stood up and extended his hand. “Nick Drakos. Come in.”
“Preacher, how are you? Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. Just catching up on a few odds and ends while I have a quiet moment.”
“I won’t keep you, but I wanted to speak to you privately.”
“There’s no one here but you and me and the Lord.”
“I like that. I like that very much. And that’s kind of why I’m here, Preacher.”
Cal was annoyed by the way he used the word preacher as a name.
“Well, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
“I don’t go to church a lot anymore. I was raised in the church, understand. But through the years I’ve gotten away from it. Never took my boys and my girl the way I should. And I miss it. I miss that spiritual connection. Know what I mean?”
“Certainly. And you’re always welcome to join us here anytime.”
“I don’t know. It’s awkward now. It’s been so long. But you never lose that need to share yourself with the Lord. To share the fruits of your success. I was brought up that way, and I’ve gotten away from it.”
“I understand.” He didn’t, but he said he did for the rhythm of the conversation.
“Preacher, I’d like to give some money to this church. Would that be okay with you?”
“We’ve never turned any down before.”
“And I hope you won’t turn me down.”
Nick Drakos laid an envelope on Cal’s desk that was stuffed with cash. Cal inspected it without actually picking it up and saw it was full of fifty- and hundred-dollar bills. “That looks like a lot of money, Nick.”
“Ten thousand dollars. And it’s all yours.”
“All the church’s you mean.”
“However you want to handle it, Little Cal. However you and Buddy want to handle it.”
“Buddy? Buddy is a member of our administrative board, but he doesn’t handle any of the finances.”
“That’s up to you, Preacher. You two can do with it what you please. As for me, I’m giving it to the Lord.”
Cal leaned back in his chair, scratched his head, and smiled his warmest smile at the well-attired gentleman looking back at him. But when he spoke, the coldness in his voice did not match the warmth in his face.
“Nick. I’m too sharp for your game. You can bring your money in the church and cleanse it, but I’m not fooled. You mention Buddy because you want him to know, through me, what a wonderful thing you have done here this morning. This is your substitute for the bribe to protect your son, the bribe you know he wouldn’t take. Of course, you’ll storm out of here and deny all this, but we both know what I’m saying is true. So I’ll give you one chance to pick up your money and leave. But if you decide to leave without it, I’ll keep it and make it clean for you. It will go to good mission causes and building repairs and children’s community programs. Might even buy a new piano for the Fellowship Hall we’re remodeling. But it will in no way affect anything that is happening in your family concerning the law. And if I were you, I’d stop worrying so much about the law and be a little more concerned about the grace.”
* * *
Buddy waited till he saw the car leave the driveway. He walked up through the yard to the rear of the house and used the file on his fingernail clippers to open the back door. He quietly pushed it open and went inside.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Buddy was back at the station by 11:00 a.m. A call rang through for him just as he sat down at his desk.
“Briggs.”
“Buddy, Cal here. I just heard from Harlan. He and Darcy are about to leave the hospital, and I’m going to meet them at their house and help him in. Just thought you might want to know.”
“Sure. I was going over there anyway when he got home.”
“I’ll tell you about this later, but you’ll never guess who came to see me at the church this morning.”
“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
“None of the above. Nick Drakos.”
“At church? Was he lost?”
“He came with a mission in mind. Bribery.”
“How do you bribe a preacher?”
“It’s easy if his best friend is a cop. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”
“Okay. See you in about an hour.”
* * *
Darcy was standing at the sink, and Harlan and Cal were sitting at the kitchen table when Buddy knocked on the back door. The dog barked once, and Buddy went in.
“Well, you look like nothing ever happened,” Buddy said to Harlan.
“I’m a little stiff, but boy, it sure is good to be home. Darcy’s making lemonade and sandwiches. Want some?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be real honest with you, pal, I didn’t come over here on a hundred-percent friendly call.”
The room went quiet, and all three fixed their eyes on Buddy. Before he could continue, Darcy spoke. “Buddy, Harlan just this minute walked into the house. Can’t you give him a little rest before you light in on us again?”
“No. No, I can’t, Darcy. I want to, but I can’t.”
“You want me to leave, Buddy?” Cal asked from his seat at the table.
“No. I want you to be here.”
Harlan said nothing. He just sat intently, watching every move Buddy made. Buddy was standing in the center of the room and held his position as he began to talk.
“I think I know what happened here Wednesday morning. I’m going to ask you one more time to tell me.”
“You’ve been told,” Harlan spoke with anger biting every word.
“I’ve been told something, but not everything. I know Nicoli Drakos busted through that very door Wednesday morning. I’m not real sure of the time because I don’t know how truthful you’ve been about that. It was probably earlier than you told me. And I also don’t know if he was wearing a mask or not. I don’t imagine he was because he wanted you to know it was him. He was here to scare you, Harlan. Scare you is all Nicoli has the stomach for. He carries that little peashooter to make himself feel like a big man, but he wouldn’t have the guts to use it if he had an army backing him. And then I think you two fought. You took the gun away from him some way or another—maybe when you threw that chair at him, you overpowered him. But then he ran like the little coward he is, out the back door. And somebody else shot you, Harlan. Somebody besides Nicoli. He wasn’t even here when it happened because if he knew, he’d love to tell me. But he doesn’t know. Only you know. And … you.”
Buddy turned when he said this and looked directly at Darcy, who was still standing at the sink with an empty glass in her hand. The glass fell and shattered at her feet, and she slowly bent double and gave out a long, shrill cry that sounded like it came from a wounded animal. Cal went immediately to her to help her up and into a chair, but she ignored his efforts and stayed on the floor on her knees.
“I can tell you,” she screamed through her tears. “I can tell you what you have to know! Why won’t you leave us alone? But I know you won’t! So yes, I can tell you what you want to hear, Buddy Briggs!”
She paused to catch her breath and wipe her face with her hand and leaned her head heavily against the cabinet doors. Harlan was looking not at her but at his hands, which were gripping each other in his lap.
“We heard the door being kicked in and we both ran down the steps and found him—Nicoli Drakos—standing right there where you’re standing now. He had a horrible look on his face, and I was scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life. Harlan said something to him, and he said something back. I can’t really tell you what they said because all I could see was the gun he had in his hand. And I knew he was going t
o shoot us. The only thing I heard for sure was, ‘Stone, stay away from my sister. If I ever catch you with her, I’ll slit your throat.’ Then I saw a chair fly across the room. Harlan had thrown one of the kitchen chairs at him. It knocked Nicoli back against the sink, and he dropped the gun. Harlan lunged for him, and I grabbed the gun. Nicoli ran. He went out the back door, and we let him go.”
“That’s enough, Darcy. You’ve said enough.” Harlan spoke from his stupor.
“Tell me the rest of it,” Buddy insisted.
“Shut up, Darcy!” Harlan yelled.
Buddy reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small black twenty-two pistol and walked over and placed it on the table.
“Where did you get that?” Darcy asked with more panic in her face.
“From the sock drawer in your bedroom. It’s been dusted for prints. It’s been identified. And in forty-eight hours it will be matched to the bullet that shot your husband over here. No doubt in my mind. And none in yours either, Darcy.”
“You said you were going to get rid of it,” Harlan yelled.
“I meant to. Oh, I’m so sorry. I meant to,” Darcy cried.
“Go on, Darcy. Finish your story,” Buddy demanded.
“We were both left standing here in the kitchen, and all I could hear ringing in my head was, ‘Stay away from my sister.’ I asked Harlan what that meant, and like always, he started in on a big long lie. I had just heard it too many times, and while he was rattling off one lie after another, I realized there was a gun in my hand. And I could see Korina Drakos and how beautiful she is and fifteen years younger than me and I was so mad I wanted to scream. And I shot him. Just that simple. I shot him. And I wasn’t even sorry. I liked finally having some control over him. But then seeing him lying there on the floor, I felt sorry for him and knew I still loved him. So I called the ambulance, and while we were waiting, we made up the story we were going to tell.”
“How did you find this gun, Briggs?” Harlan asked, spitting out each word.
“I came in here this morning and searched your house.”