by Craig Smith
‘I need to talk to Walt, Barbara. Can you give me his number or not?’
Barbara gave me Walt’s cell phone number and his address at the Greenbrier, but only after she asked if I was drinking again. I told her no. Her silence called me a liar. Off the phone, I pounded another beer, watching for cops like a teenager. Then I called Walt.
Walt was roasted, but the enthusiasm was genuine.
‘Sure! Whatever you need, David! What the hell happened anyway?’
‘Our friend Buddy Elder happened. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.’
Walt’s apartment appeared to be reasonably clean, but that was because Walt did not have anything in his front room other than a reading chair and a lamp.
The dining room had a folding card table setup with a single chair before it. Walt and Barbara were worth something over five or five-and-a-half million to the best of my calculations, so this was how Walt chose to furnish his apartment. It was hardly the bachelor pad he had always talked about. In the bedroom he had a sleeping bag and pillow stretched out next to a tiny lamp. Beside the lamp about fifty books lay scattered about. I swore sourly to myself and wandered into the kitchen. I found a pan, a pot, and some picnic dishware. In the bathroom I discovered some extra razors but no second towel, nothing faintly resembling a washcloth, and certainly no toothbrush for the unexpected overnight sweetheart. I asked if I could borrow his toothpaste and he shouted that I was welcome to anything in the place.
Finishing the tour, I said, ‘I suppose a blanket and extra pillow is too much to hope for?’
Walt smiled. ‘You can always go to the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart. I think it’s twenty-four hours anyway.’
I shook my head. I was in no mood to go shopping, even if I could pay for what I needed. ‘I think I’ll just arm wrestle you for the sleeping bag,’ I said as I took the only chair in the room and set my twelve pack at my feet. ‘You want a beer?’
Walt waved his glass of Scotch at me and leaned back against the wall. ‘I’m drinking the good stuff.
What happened with Buddy?’
‘You know where Buddy Elder and Denise Conway live?’ I asked.
‘They live on North Ninth somewhere, a couple blocks from The Slipper, I think.’
I took a sip of beer. ‘What’s the address?’
‘I don’t know. I was only there one time.’
‘He’s not in the phone book.’
‘He wouldn’t be.’
‘Have you got his telephone number?’
‘No. What’s this about, David?’
I took another sip of beer. ‘I’m going to kill Buddy Elder. But first I have to find him.’
‘When did you start drinking again?’
‘This evening. Right after I read Denise Conway’s diary. No. Actually, I forgot. I started this afternoon during the third day of my heart attack.’
‘Denise keeps a diary?’ Walt looked sick.
‘Apparently since she started to school this fall. Buddy delivered it to Molly this afternoon. Molly was crying, Walt. I came home and she was in tears.’
‘Molly? Our Molly?’
‘He made her cry, Walt. That’s why I’m going to kill him.’
‘You’re not going to kill anybody.’
I shook my head and reached for another beer. ‘This whole thing! I thought it might be a misunderstanding, but after I read this diary I can see it’s no misunderstanding. It’s a set-up, and Buddy Elder is the guy behind it!’
‘What did it say?’
‘It’s a detailed account of an affair between Denise and me.’
‘Was I in it?’
‘No.’
‘How much of it is true?’
‘If I got a blow job I sure as hell forgot about it. If Denise gave you a blow job in your office, Walt, would you forget about it?’
Walt smiled fondly at the notion. ‘Not in this lifetime.’
‘She wrote about it! Graphically!’
‘And you think Buddy is behind it?’
I shouted my answer. Of course he was! What did he think? Sweet vacuous little Denise was going to dream this up? ‘Buddy controls her, Walt. He tells her what to do, and she does it.‘
‘Buddy likes you, David. Hell, if anything, he’s pissed off at me!’
‘Tell me about that.’
‘You mean Denise and me?’ Walt shook his head sorrowfully. ‘That wasn’t exactly my finest hour.’
‘I want the details. I want to know what the son of a bitch is all about.’
‘That wasn’t Buddy’s doing. This was Walt royally screwing up.’
I took a sip of beer and waited. I figured Walt was tuned up enough that I would get a full confession this time.’
‘We were drinking at Caleb’s.’ Walt laughed and finished his drink. He went to the kitchen, presumably for a refill, and called back to me, ‘Not the first time! I can tell you that!’ I heard him loading his glass with ice. A moment later he was back, his glass filled with scotch. As he spoke, he paced before me. ‘Buddy wanted to go to The Slipper. It was Denise’s day off, and she didn’t want to go. I mean, she spends an eight-hour shift there. The last thing she wants is to go in on her day off.’ Walt took a healthy sip.
‘You’re right about Buddy controlling her,’ he said,
‘but that girl has a temper! We went, but she was in a mood, let me tell you. It didn’t help matters any when Buddy started getting lap dances from one of the dancers. I mean one time, okay. Second time he takes the same girl and Denise starts feeling me up!’
Walt laughed excitedly. ‘I couldn’t believe it! She just grabs me and starts stroking it right there!’
‘When was this?’
‘Finals week. Anyway, Buddy is off getting his third lap dance and she says, ‘Let’s go outside.’ Who am I to argue? We get outside, climb in my car, and I swear it, David, she unzips me and we’re going at it—’
‘What does that mean, going at it? What was she doing?’
‘A hand job! She’s giving me a hand job and Buddy walks outside. She pulls back, kind of scared, and she runs back inside. I’m trying to get my pants together and Buddy comes over to the driver’s window, and he wants to know what we’re doing out there. Like he can’t believe it.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told him nothing! I said we were just talking.’
‘Did he buy it?’
Walt shook his head, looking down at this drink.
‘Things haven’t been the same since. We don’t get together anymore. I messed up big time.’
‘How did Barbara find out?’
‘A couple months later. I guess it was a week or so before your party. Someone called her. She didn’t say who it was. A woman. That’s all I know, but not Denise. She’s okay about it. I went in there a couple of times this summer, whenever I didn’t see Buddy’s car parked outside. Maybe a few more times than that.’
He grimaced as he apparently tallied the number of visits, then shrugged it off. ‘Denise is like, hey, we got a little carried away. No big deal.’
‘What was Buddy’s grade, Walt?’
‘That’s confidential.’
I finished my beer and threw the can at him. ‘What was his grade, Walt?’
‘He got an A. I gave him… well, he earned it, mostly.’
‘Mostly?’
‘He missed the final, and his term paper was about Hank Williams.’ Walt’s face twitched with the memory.
‘Hank Williams: Troubadour and Knight Errant.’ It was pretty good, actually.’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘I told them to be creative!’
‘I want you to show me where he lives. I want to have a talk with that slimy son of a bitch, and I want to have it now.’
Walt laughed and held his drink up. ‘Can’t do it tonight, David. I’m drinking tonight!’
I went into the kitchen and got his bottle. Snatching what was left of my twelve pack, I headed for the door. ‘You want to d
rink, you’re going to have to come with me.’
Walt complained that it wasn’t fair taking hostages.
AS WE DROVE INTO TOWN Walt defended Buddy.
Buddy had every right to be pissed off. ‘How would you feel,’ he asked me, ‘if you walked in on Molly and me?’
‘Surprised.’
‘Yeah, well, so was Buddy. Friends don’t do that,’ he muttered with just a touch of righteousness.
‘Who is Buddy hanging out with these days?’ I asked.
‘On the faculty? Randy Winston mostly. Buddy is taking a class from Randy this fall in Shakespeare.’
‘Where are they drinking?’
Walt shook his head. Walt was still patronizing Caleb’s, but Buddy was going elsewhere. ‘No idea, but a lot of times he goes into The Slipper at the end of Denise’s shift. I never go in there that late.’
On Ninth Street Walt pointed out Buddy’s and Denise’s apartment. They were no lights on, but I went up on the porch and knocked anyway. Getting no answer, I went back to the truck and drove to The Slipper.
‘I can’t go in there,’ Walt told me. ‘I just remembered. They eighty-sixed me a couple of weeks ago.’
‘What happened?’
Walt laughed. ‘I have no idea!’
‘What does Buddy drive?’
Walt didn’t know what it was called, but he knew what it looked like and saw it parked on the street as I circled the block. It was an old Mercury Marquis, what Tubs called a rich man’s Ford.
‘You okay here?’ I asked.
Walt freshened up his drink, though the ice was nearly gone. ‘Get some ice while you’re in there, will you?’
I told him I would.
THE GLASS SLIPPER had been around longer than Cinderella, so long in fact that nobody bothered with the Glass anymore, even though the sign still showed an anatomically enhanced outline of Cinderella slipping her foot into a slipper with the help of a kneeling prince. I was under the impression the place had changed owners a few times over the years, but I was quite sure nothing else had changed, including most of the dancers.
A girl in a G-string walked across the room while the doorman took a couple of bucks from me. All things considered, the cover seemed a bit steep. Once past the entrance, I checked the room for Denise. She wasn’t there, but I spotted Buddy Elder playing pool a split-second before he noticed me. He held his cue stick up threateningly as I walked toward him.
I didn’t care for the gesture and grabbed the thing with both hands. I swung him around like a rag-doll, letting him think I wanted to rip it out of his hands.
When he was moving pretty fast, I simply released my grip. Buddy tripped over a chair and fell back against the wall. His head smacked prettily into the plaster, and he slid down to a seated position. Two men grabbed me from behind. I wrestled free of their hold because they weren’t even in Buddy’s league, and I was just about to get back to Buddy when the doorman stormed into me.
The doorman outweighed me by a hundred pounds.
This turned out to be a good thing, because he simply lifted me up and walked me toward the door with my arms pinned at my side. There was no kindness in this, though I had some hope up to the point that he threw me across the sidewalk.
I had enough presence of mind or beer ingested to roll instead of skid, but it didn’t do me much good, because he came out after me. He didn’t take much of a swing, but his meaty fist got buried in my gut.
After that he walked me back to the building, where he slammed me face-first into the wall. He patted me down, then swung me around and took a long look at my face. ‘You come back in there again and I’ll really hurt you.’
I think the fact that he wasn’t even breathing hard bothered me the most. I nodded my head to let him see that I understood. And I did. As soon as I could breathe again, I fully intended to go back to Buddy Elder’s apartment and wait for him to show up there.
I had done a lot better with Buddy.
I didn’t get the chance though. I was still working on breathing when three men came outside. I had the impression Buddy was one of them, but I wasn’t sure at first. The Slipper faced a fairly busy street. When they took me away from the building I thought they just might throw me into the traffic. Instead, they took me to the side of the building and back into the shadows. I ended up on the ground without much trouble on their part. The first kick was the worst. It landed just under my ribs and paralyzed me. I heard a voice over me. ‘Look at me.’ I expect he repeated himself a few times before I could actually focus enough to do as he asked. I looked up. I could see nothing but a mass of shadow where his face should be. ‘You come after me again, Dave, and I’m going to have to kill you.’ It was Buddy Elder’s voice, nicely punctuated with a kick in the face. His friends kicked my thighs and buttocks, a genuine ass kicking.
When I was about the texture of meatloaf I heard Buddy tell them, ‘I’ll take it from here.’ I was half-conscious, but I did not particularly relish the thought of being left alone with Buddy. Buddy squatted next to my face and pushed a cold piece of metal against my jaw. His voice had the sweetness of a lover. ‘This here gun is cold, Dave. I could say you pulled it on me, and I was fighting to get it away from you when it went off. There’s nothing the cops would do to me either. You want to know why I don’t pull the trigger?’
I didn’t answer. I recall thinking he wouldn’t kill me, but I knew even then that was exactly what he intended to do, in his own good time.
‘I said, “Do you want to know why I don’t pull the trigger?’’’
This was my cue to say something clever or brave.
I said, ‘Why?’ Even wasting that much breath hurt.
‘Because I’ve got plans for you, Dave. You and me… we’re going to have some fun before I’m finished with your ass.’
With that he stood up and pissed on me.
I tried to roll over, but I only managed to give him a better target. I lay there after he left and I felt more profoundly discouraged than at any time in my life. I don’t know if I got to my feet two or three minutes later or if I blinked out for a quarter of an hour. I do know that I came out of the alley just as the police pulled up to the kerb. I was pretty well softened up, and after they had patted me down and cuffed me they got me into the back of their car without breaking a sweat.
I saw the doorman talking to them, and when I looked again, apparently having passed out for a few seconds or what seemed like seconds, they were gone.
I assume they were inside taking statements. At the time I was so entirely disoriented I tried to reach for the ignition of my truck. The handcuffs promptly brought me back to reality.
The booking process was delayed long enough for me to be stripped of my clothes and given a shower.
One of the jailers was a former student of mine, a pretty good writer, actually. He checked my bruises and told me he didn’t think anything was broken. I got a clean jail uniform and a cell with four other drunks. They weren’t bad sorts, as it turned out, and we ended up telling stories until dawn.
Chapter 9
I HAD BEEN GIVEN THE CHANCE to make a phone call sometime around midnight. I dialled our home number and got the answering machine. Arrested, I said. City jail. Call Gail Etheridge first thing tomorrow morning. As an afterthought I added, ‘ …please.’
The following morning I shuffled in chains through an underground tunnel to the county courthouse, a nineteenth century relic full of various courtrooms and offices. Gail Etheridge met me outside the circuit court.
The sight of her reassured me. She didn’t really smile.
It was more like a smirk. ‘Rough night?’
She was talking about my face, which still had an imprint of Buddy Elder’s boot. ‘I’ve had worse,’ I lied.
‘What happened?’
‘Denise Conway’s boyfriend.’
Gail made a face. I expect she was calculating the effect on my case at the university. When it was my turn, we went up before the bar and s
at at a small table. At that point an investigator for the prosecutor gave a reasonably accurate summation of my actions at The Glass Slipper. The judge, an old grey-haired dog in robes, listened to the narrative with some interest, asked for some clarification, specifically on the condition of my intended victim and the amount of property damage. Finally, he turned his attention to me.
He was a man in his late fifties with the indelible signs of a man worn out by routine. I was therefore a rather interesting exception to his day. ‘Dr Albo,’ he said with something akin to a sigh, ‘my impression is that last night was a bit out of character for you. Would you say that is the case?’ I looked at Gail. Her expression indicated I should answer the judge.
I tried to assure him that it was, but my voice cracked, and it took a couple of tries.
He looked down at his notes. ‘Joseph Elder, Buddy, is one of your students?’ I said that he was. The judge considered this fact for a moment. ‘You have any idea how the two of you can avoid another incident of this nature?’
‘I’d be surprised if he didn’t drop my class.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘We’re not going to have any problems, Your Honour.’
‘Make sure you don’t, Dr Albo. You come into my court with another incident involving that young man and I’m going to feel like I made a mistake this morning.’
I felt a flutter of hope.
‘I don’t like to make mistakes. What is more, the voters don’t like it when I make mistakes. Are we clear on that?’
‘Yes, Your Honour.’
‘I’m going to ask you to make two promises to me this morning. First, that you’ll stay out of The Glass Slipper for as long as I sit on this bench. Second, that you’ll avoid any sort of confrontation with Mr Elder.
Can you do that?’
‘I can.’
‘Can you promise it?’
‘I promise, Your Honour.’
‘If you break your promise to me, son, if you so much as get in a shouting match with Mr Elder, I will spare no effort in attempting to ruin your life, in the legal sense of the word, of course.’