Black Night Falling

by Rod Reynolds

  He looked up and fixed his eyes on the trees behind me. ‘You have any idea what it is to think you strong and find out you ain’t?’

  The words reopened a wound I thought had scarred over. The war, the accident, my shame. He was talking about himself, but I felt my face flush just the same. ‘Is that how you excuse yourself for killing innocent people?’

  ‘I done what I could.’

  ‘I don’t see it.’

  ‘Goddammit, I told you, I tried to warn your friend. I tried to warn you. Ain’t none of y’all sons of bitches would listen.’

  ‘You’re talking about Duke’s? All you did was make a phone call when you knew the whole place was going to burn. Was that enough to ease your conscience? Hell, Tucker ended up dead in the end anyway, didn’t he?’

  He pointed his finger at me now, anger bringing a flicker of life to him. ‘Clay Tucker was a goddamn reptile. I told him what was coming, and I told him to clear the building, but he figured he could parlay it into some relief for what he owed Teddy if he didn’t interfere. A man’s life goes for cheap in these parts.’

  ‘Did you kill him on account of it?’

  He lolled his head back. ‘I ain’t never killed anyone. Cost me everything I had because I didn’t, so you get that much straight in your goddamn mind.’

  ‘You can’t even keep your own lies straight.’ I pointed at him with the axe, my voice raised now. ‘You killed Walter Glover so you could hang those murders on him. Who are you protecting?’

  ‘Glover was made bad; don’t waste no tears on him.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it right.’

  He pushed himself off the rock and stood up. He locked his eyes on me and his lips parted as though he was about to speak, but he hesitated, ran his hand over his face. ‘It wasn’t me killed him.’

  ‘What?’

  He kept staring, so still I could have been looking at a statue.

  I brought the axe across my chest, suddenly heavy in my hands. ‘You said you did. All the newspaper stories, all the . . .’

  ‘Teddy likes to say, “You get along by going along.” I always done that for him, but I drew the line when he asked me to kill a man – but it ain’t like you just say no to Teddy. There’s a price for that.’

  My mind was racing to keep up. ‘Saying you did and being feted as a hero?’

  ‘It cost me my badge. You can’t know how much of a man’s pride gets tied up in that damn piece of tin.’

  I stared at him standing there and saw a whole different man before me; a husk, the insides rotted away over the years until all that was left was an ossified shell, now beginning to crumble. ‘Who killed those women? Tell me who Coughlin is protecting.’

  ‘I don’t know. Teddy ain’t tell me and I ain’t ask. That’s how we worked all these past years.’

  I lowered the axe and let it slip from my hand. ‘You’re pathetic.’

  ‘Call me anything you like – maybe words matter where you from. Only thing matters here is power. The money and the gun.’

  ‘Then be a man, goddammit. Go talk to Samuel Masters. He wants Coughlin, he’ll cut you a deal.’

  ‘Then I’d be as dead as you are.’ He pushed his sodden hair from his forehead; he seemed to have aged just in the time we’d been talking. ‘Masters is a fool. He thinks winning a few votes is gonna change things in this town. What’s it gonna change? Casinos ain’t just gonna up and leave, there’s too much money at stake. Too many livelihoods. Even if he gets Teddy out of office, he’ll be back.’

  ‘So you’re happy with your lot, hiding out here, chopping wood? Feeling sorry for yourself while more people die?’

  He looked away. ‘Ain’t no one else needs to die if you’d just walk the hell away.’

  I glanced around me, saw the dirty waters of the pond beneath us, the peeling paint on the walls of his cabin. If this was all he had left, it was still more than he deserved. ‘Why the Kolkhorst girl?’

  He closed his eyes, looked pained. ‘It’s all the same question. I ain’t have no answers for you. She popped out of the lake, looked certain someone put her there against her will—’

  ‘Why? What made you sure of that?’

  ‘Her mouth.’ He swiped his fingers across his lips. ‘Someone slashed it up like they’s scoring a hog.’

  I closed my eyes, trying not to see it. At every turn, something worse.

  Barrett didn’t stop. ‘But then I get the call from the boss man says, “Cole, far as anyone’s concerned, she took her own life.” Case closed.’

  My right fist balled up hard as a rock. ‘You spineless son of a bitch.’

  ‘You feel like hitting me, have at it. Didn’t do your friend no good.’

  I saw Robinson’s ghost run across the yard to lay one on Barrett. I wished I had a measure of his temerity.

  Barrett just looked at me, the way a man watched dirt being thrown onto a stranger’s casket.

  ‘What happened when he came here? Tell me.’

  He dipped his head to his chest. ‘He said he knew the same man murdered Kolkhorst killed Runnels and Prescott, and wasn’t no way it was Walter Glover. I told him to leave, but he weren’t agreeable to the idea until I let Lucy off the chain.’ He nodded to the dog. ‘But he came back, few days later. He was liquored up to his chops and he caught me with a cheap shot. Started whupping on me saying he was gonna kill me, till I got to my gun.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  He clamped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Same as I just told you. I ain’t meaned to, I spilled it when he was beating on me. Few hours later, I got wind the fire was gonna happen.’ He let his hand fall from his face and he looked up. ‘I made the call to Tucker. I tried.’

  ‘Don’t stand there trying to sell me your remorse. Didn’t stop you stealing his goddamn papers from my room.’

  He was shaking his head. ‘There weren’t no papers in your room. The Lord as my witness.’

  I didn’t want to believe him, but he cut too worthless a figure not to. I thought about my suspicion I’d been framed for Tucker’s murder. If that was the case, whoever killed him had to have been shadowing me that morning, to know I’d been out there. Tough for Barrett to do that and then make it back to the motel before me.

  I turned and started to make my way back to the car.

  ‘Where you going?’

  I stopped, my neck tightening, thinking I’d let him fool me. I turned slowly, expecting to see him holding the gun on me.

  But when I faced him, he was still standing in the same position, the gun belt untouched. ‘Won’t take them long to catch up to you, you know. There’ll be men watching the roads. I can help you get out. There’s bootlegger trails ain’t no one uses by day.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘I meant what I said before about them killing you. It’s a matter of time.’

  ‘Makes me wonder why they’ve let you live, then.’

  ‘Teddy don’t need no more attention on what went on. It’s hurt him bad already. Besides, I’m a hero, ain’t you know?’ There was disgust in his voice as he said it.

  ‘Well, you tell him to take his best damn shot. Killing me won’t make a difference. I’m not the only one that knows about Glover.’

  His face went taut and he paled. ‘Who else?’

  ‘That’s no concern of yours.’

  He marched towards me. I set my feet, ready to fight – but he stopped just short. ‘It damn sure is. Teddy won’t leave a man alive for Masters to put on the stand.’ He wiped the sweat from his face with his palm. ‘Speak now, Yates. There’s enough died on account of this already.’

  A jolt ran through me – my last words to Ella Borland, telling her to go to Masters if she didn’t hear from me. Three women dead already and no one cared; a crushing certainty that Coughlin wouldn’t hesitate to have her killed too.

  My eyes must have betrayed my anxiety. ‘I can help,’ he said. ‘I can get you out – you and whoever.’
He stepped closer. ‘But we need to leave right now. I’ll drive you, just tell me who knows and we’ll go get him.’

  He stood in front of me, his eyes locked on mine, no trace of deception that I could discern. They’d been a step ahead the whole time; suddenly it felt like Coughlin’s men were all around me, moving through the trees, closing the net. I blinked, my guts churning, Maddened by my own inertia.

  I glanced over my shoulder and found a measure of calm in the stillness of the water below. He was right in what he’d said – but it didn’t mean he could be trusted.

  I turned towards the car. ‘Find some other way to ease your conscience.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Ten miles back to town. Too far, too long, to leave Ella Borland twisting in the wind without a warning. If Barrett had any inkling about her and Robinson, he’d put it together quick enough.

  I remembered seeing a filling station a mile or two before the turnoff. I drove to it as fast as I dared on the country roads, skidding on mud every time I took a bend too fine.

  Barrett’s expression flitted through my mind, the desperation that was evident on his face as we were talking. I believed him when he said he hadn’t killed Glover. What I couldn’t stomach was his self-pity, as if he’d had no choice but to take the actions he did, and that somehow absolved him of blame. I’d made decisions I wasn’t proud of, same as every man – worse, even – but I carried them with me, and I bore their consequences. Barrett was too weak to do the same.

  I came to the gas station and pulled up on the forecourt. I ran inside and asked for a payphone. The man behind the counter shook his head, but when I dug two dollars in change from my pocket and stacked it on the counter, he showed me through to a small office and pointed to a dilapidated hand-cranked model, partially buried by papers and a dirty rag.

  The operator made the connection, but the man who answered said Ella wasn’t there.

  ‘I need to speak to her urgently. She’s in danger. Where can I find her?’

  He hesitated. ‘You want me to pass a message to her—’

  ‘There isn’t time. I need her home number. Or her address.’

  ‘At a guess, if she wanted you to have it, she’d have given it to you.’

  ‘Goddammit, she doesn’t know the danger she’s in. Wait – call her. Tell her it’s Charlie Yates and give her this number.’ I read the payphone dial code out to him. ‘Tell her to call me now.’

  He was silent a minute, then he exhaled. ‘All right, hang up so I can try her.’

  I stood by the phone, knocking on the wall with my knuckle as I waited for her to call, praying I wasn’t too late. I jumped when the line buzzed.

  ‘Ella?’

  ‘Mr Yates? What—’

  ‘I need to speak with you.’

  ‘Where are you? You sound out of breath. Is something wrong?’

  ‘What we spoke about before . . .’ I glanced behind me, feeling as though the owner was listening in on me, everyone a potential spy for Coughlin now. But when I looked, he’d retaken his seat behind the counter, out of earshot. ‘Have you told anyone else what you told me?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  I closed my eyes and allowed myself a breath. ‘I think it would be safest if you left town anyway. Just for now.’

  ‘Why? What’s going on?’

  ‘I should have said it before. I was wrong not to.’

  ‘What are you— Am I in danger? What’s happened?’

  I scrabbled for an answer that would reassure. ‘I don’t know. I think this would be for best.’

  The pitch of her voice rose a notch. ‘I can’t just leave. I have to work at midnight, and—’

  ‘Ella, listen to me: I went to Barrett, he admitted it, exactly like you said. But it goes deeper, much deeper, and there are men who will harm you if they find out what you know.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t realise that? Why do you think I held my tongue for so long?’

  ‘Please. The men behind this are not in the business of leaving loose ends.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be for ever,’ I said. ‘Just buy me enough time to get to them.’

  ‘You’re not leaving?’

  ‘I can’t. Not yet.’

  She drew a sharp breath. ‘Did Cole Barrett kill Jeannie?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Did he tell you who did?’

  ‘No. But I mean to find the man.’

  She was quiet again, a long pause this time. ‘Where would I go? I’ve got no money and no place to stay.’

  ‘I can give you money. Enough to pay for a motel someplace.’

  ‘I’m not in the habit of accepting charity.’

  ‘Then call it a loan, goddammit. As long as you’re on a bus today.’

  I listened to her breathing, thinking. I was about to push again when she said, ‘Could you call by my house?’

  ‘Give me your address.’

  ‘One-ten Violet Drive. It’s a half-block off Ouachita.’

  ‘I’ll find it. Pack a bag, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  As it was, I made the journey in twenty, expecting the cops to show up in my rearview all the time I was on the road.

  Violet Drive was a narrow street of older houses, pressed up tight against each other along both sides. I found one-ten and parked outside. It was the familiar white frame structure, with a small porch and a faded red front door. The tiny yard in front of it was strewn with leaves, but otherwise bare and untended. As I set the brake, I caught a movement from the corner of my eye – maybe a drape twitching.

  I looked inside my wallet. I had forty bucks on me, the last of my cash reserves. Enough to keep a roof over her head for a week or more. What came after that I’d figure out later.

  I jumped out, crossed the rundown sidewalk and banged on the door. I waited, Teddy Coughlin on my mind, thinking how to get at him. The word unassailable kept circling in my head. The door opened a fraction and Ella peered out. She saw it was me and opened it the rest of the way, her face showing worry. She wore a simple black dress with a tie around the waist. ‘Come in.’

  She stepped back for me to enter. It was gloomy inside, the drapes drawn across both windows. The doorway led straight into a lounge that was cramped but homely. There were two worn-looking easy chairs in one corner with an old-model wireless next to them; in another, a small dining table held a pack of Chesterfields, a full ashtray and an empty glass. Through a doorway to my left I could see a pokey kitchen, also shaded. The door on the opposite wall was closed, presumably leading to the bedroom.

  Borland crossed to the table. She took a cigarette from the pack and lit it with her back to me, taking two attempts to strike the match. ‘Please, won’t you have a seat?’

  I shook my head. ‘Are you ready?’

  She sucked on her smoke, exhaling as she spoke. ‘Just a moment.’

  She set the cigarette in the ashtray and slipped through the bedroom door. I got a bad feeling something was off. She was nervous, which I expected, but it was as though she was afraid of me.

  The bedroom door opened again and Detective Harlan Layfield stepped out of the gloom, pointing his service revolver at me. ‘I thought you’d have sense enough to hand yourself in by now.’

  My head sunk into my chest and it felt like someone had attached iron weights to me, everything I’d done now rendered in vain. I looked past him, trying to catch Ella’s eye, but she was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. I looked at him again. ‘I didn’t kill Clay Tucker.’

  ‘Turn around and put your hands behind your back.’

  ‘Layfield, listen to me—’

  ‘I got no desire to fire my gun today, Yates.’

  I turned slowly, keeping my hands in front of me, stole a look at the front door. It was shut, but I couldn’t remember if Borland had locked it.

  ‘Hands.’

  One chance. Make a bre
ak or be taken in. I cursed myself for not remembering if the goddamn door was locked or not.

  I heard him move towards me. I tensed to run.

  Then Ella appeared in front of me, blocking my path to the door. I couldn’t tell if she’d chosen that spot purposely or not – if she’d read my intentions. She held her cigarette in front of her mouth, flicking the butt, and it seemed as though she meant to say something, a look in her eyes I couldn’t fathom.

  As I searched her face, Layfield grabbed my right arm and pulled it behind me. I felt the cuff bite into my wrist, and watched as she slinked away again, the moment gone. Layfield took my other arm and jerked it back, closed the cuff on my left wrist. Ella was in the kitchen now, opening the drapes.

  I heard Layfield slide his pistol back into its holster. ‘Start walking.’

  ‘Wait. My wallet’s in my right pocket. There’s forty dollars in there – give it to her.’

  He stepped in front of me, looked from me to her and back again. ‘I can’t do that. Procedure.’ He took a grip on my arm and started guiding me towards the door.

  I turned my head as far as I could and called out to her. ‘Ella, get out of town. Today.’

  Layfield pulled me around by my shirt. ‘You threatening her?’

  I ignored him, strained my neck to look at her again. ‘PLEASE. It’s not safe here. Go.’

  She didn’t even look over. Layfield bundled me out the door.

  My eyes watered coming out into the daylight again. Layfield led me to a black Ford parked a little way down the street. An elderly couple on their porch stared at me as I passed. When he stopped at the car, I said, ‘I want to speak to Sam Masters.’

  ‘We’ll see about all that later.’

  He opened the rear door and hustled me into the car. When I sat, the position of the cuffs meant I had to lean on my arms, and my shoulders started to ache. ‘My editor needs to know too. Buck Acheson, in California.’ It would worry Lizzie when word reached her, but I figured the more people knew I was in custody, the less the chance of something bad happening to me.

  Layfield climbed in the front and said nothing. We started to drive, crossing Ouachita onto Grand Avenue, and I thought about Ella Borland. I couldn’t figure out why she’d turned me in. She’d given no hint that was on her mind when I’d seen her earlier in the day. The only notion I could come up with was that I’d spooked her by telling her to run. I jammed my head against the window in frustration.