“Not that,” she said, reaching into her purse and handing Tucker the money. “ATM machine. That’s redundant. The ‘M’ stands for ‘machine.’ You don’t have to say ‘machine.’ It just really upsets me.”
“I know what you mean,” said Tucker nodding. “Just like when people say ‘GPS system.’ You just want to start killing people.”
“That’s all I’m saying,” said Aly putting her hands out.
“Oh, look at that,” said Tucker, gazing up at the clock, “Our hour is up. But maybe we can talk about that during our next session.”
“Just get your damn coffee and get back here,” said Aly. “We have to figure this out.”
Tucker ordered a small coffee – cream and one sugar – and came back to the booth.
“Do you think we should tell Victoria about this?” asked Aly as Tucker slid into his seat.
“Victoria!” said Tucker. “I never heard from her about Lenore. I should call.”
Aly shook her head. “Don’t bother. I’ve tried a few times. It just goes straight to voice-mail. Besides, she said she’d call us.”
“It’s probably not a good idea to tell her,” said Tucker. “She’s got enough on her mind right now. I hope the kid’s OK.”
“Everything happens all at once,” said Aly, putting her head in her hands. “This is just too much. Last week, I was a confirmed atheist. I still don’t know if I believe.”
“I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff happen in the past week, lady,” said Tucker. “Every time I go to that bar, I get a lot more than I bargained for.”
“The bar!” said Aly. “That’s it. Everything keeps happening to you at the bar – except that first demon you told me about near the church.”
“I know,” said Tucker.
“Then why do you keep going back to that place?” said Aly.
“To see Victoria,” he said.
“You really do like her, don’t you?”
“Of course,” said Tucker, looking Aly in the eye. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Well,” said Aly, “I hate to admit this, Tucker, but she could do worse.”
“Wow,” he said. “High praise, indeed.”
“I have to admit you’re a lot more interesting now,” said Aly. “Just be careful, OK.”
“What do you mean?”
“Victoria’s been hurt a lot. And this whole thing with Lenore … She may not be ready right now.”
“Don’t worry,” said Tucker. “I’ll take it slow.”
“Slow is what you’re best at,” said Aly.
“Ow,” said Tucker.
“Listen,” said Aly. “I have to get to work. I’ll talk to you later on, OK?”
“Aly?” said Tucker.
“What?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“None of your business,” said Aly, standing up. Then, smiling, she said, “I’m a librarian – at the Arkwright library.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Tucker.
“Probably because you’ve never been there. Do you even know where it is?”
“Nice,” said Tucker.
“I’ll talk to you later on,” said Aly walking toward the door.
“Wait,” yelled Tucker. “Do you want my phone number?”
“No,” she said. Then she slipped on her sunglasses and left.
13. ARKWRIGHT
It was six o’clock and Tucker was sitting in his apartment doing nothing. He had been a fixture on his couch for most of the day, and he still hadn’t heard from Victoria. For the fifth time, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with the intention of calling her.
“She never actually gave me her number,” he thought, as he looked it up in his list of incoming calls. “Maybe I should wait.”
Once again, he snapped the phone shut.
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” he mumbled to himself, jumping up and heading toward the door.
It was twilight in Arkwright, and the valley was already quite dark. The setting sun still shone quite brightly on the triple-decker homes that speckled the hillside overlooking the city, giving the modest precipice an other-worldly glow. Nobody on the streets seemed to take notice of this half-bright, half-dark scene, but it always left Tucker feeling unstrung.
The sidewalks were crowded with the human overflow of Arkwright. Some were headed home from work. Some were enjoying the last few days of mild weather before the months-long chill set in. Others were braving the hilly and uneven sidewalks because they just had nowhere else to be. Tucker was in this last category, and he hated it. He walked briskly and confidently, as someone whose destination is planned, but he had no idea where he was going. He always looked down on those Arkwright citizens who seemed to be purposelessly meandering their way through life, and he chafed at the thought that he was now doing the same.
There was nothing scarier for Tucker than the thought that he might be changing into a “townie” as the locals called it. And there was nothing like fear to prompt Tucker to action.
“I’ll go and visit her,” said Tucker, resolutely, realizing he was talking out loud to no one, as these townies often did.
“If she asks what I’m doing there,” he thought, “I’ll just say I was worried about Lenore and had to find out. That’s good. She probably just didn’t have time to call. Or she didn’t think about it because she’s so worried about Lenore. She probably hasn’t eaten all day, either. Maybe I should bring her something.”
As he came to this conclusion, he was passing Arkwright’s only Chinese restaurant. It was built in an Asian style – right down to the curled roof – and looked uncomfortable among the brick mills, triple-decker tenements and Cape Cod houses of the city. A large sign in front read, “Kwan’s – fine oriental dining.”
Tucker wasn’t particularly in the mood for Chinese food, but geography always played a strong role in determining where he was going to eat. Without stopping to think about it, he went inside, picked up a variety platter to go, then walked determinedly toward Victoria’s apartment.
When he reached her door, he held his arm up for a moment before summoning the courage to knock.
“Tuck!” said Victoria, as she opened the door, “What are you doing here?”
She was wearing jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Her hair was disheveled. She must have been conscious of this fact, for she tried to straighten it out. Seeing the futility of this endeavor, she quickly abandoned it.
“I hadn’t heard from you,” said Tucker, “and I was worried about Lenore. I didn’t know whether it was OK for me to call you on your cell phone.”
“You can call me anytime, you should know that,” she said.
“I thought you might be hungry,” said Tucker, “so I brought you something to eat. I hope you like Chinese food.”
“I love it,” said Victoria, opening her eyes widely and peeking into the bag. “And you’re right, I’m starving. Oh my God! How thoughtful! Sorry I’m such a mess.”
“Don’t think about it,” said Tucker, plopping himself down on the couch. “How’s Lenore?”
“She’s fine now,” said Victoria, “but you should have seen her last night. She went through all these tests, blood work, and the doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with her. Either that, or they’re just not telling me what they suspect. I’ve never been more frustrated.”
“Is she still at the hospital?” asked Tucker.
“No, she’s here,” said Victoria. “She seemed a little better and they couldn’t find anything, so they let her go home. I’m really worried. Would you like to see her?”
“Sure,” said Tucker.
“Lenore!” yelled Victoria. “Uncle Tucker is here.”
Lenore came running into the room, jumped in the detective’s lap and hugged him. She was dressed in her pajamas. “Are you going to read to me?” she asked.
“OK,” said Tucker. “You seem to be feeling better.”
“Let me go get the book,” she said jum
ping down, and running back into her bedroom.
“She certainly doesn’t look sick,” said Tucker.
“I know,” said Victoria, sitting down at the kitchen counter and devouring her Chinese food. “I can’t figure it out. Thanks for reading to her, by the way. And thanks for the food. You are the most thoughtful guy in the world.”
Lenore skipped back into the room with the volume in her hands and jumped again into Tucker’s lap. He read the first chapter of “Hound of the Baskervilles” out loud and Lenore read the second before Victoria announced it was time for her to go to bed.
“Can we read more tomorrow?” Lenore asked.
“We’ll see,” said Tucker. “We definitely will the next time I’m here, OK?”
“OK,” she said, kissing Tucker on the cheek and slinking off to her room.
“What about me?” yelled Victoria.
“Oh,” said Lenore, running to her mother and kissing her good night.
“I know where I stand now,” said Victoria, looking at Tucker with mock anger.
“Sorry,” said Tucker.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” said Victoria, carrying her plate over to the couch and sitting close to Tucker, causing him to take a deep breath. “Do you want some?”
“No thanks,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”
“Aly tells me you two went out this morning,” said Victoria. “I couldn’t believe it. There something going on between you two?”
“Yeah,” said Tucker, “if by something you mean ‘painful, awkward tension.’”
Victoria laughed.
“It’s exquisite, really,” continued Tucker. “I wish I could bottle it.”
“I am so glad you two are getting along,” said Victoria. “I was so worried about that. She tried to warn me about you.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Tucker. “She told me.”
“Can I tell you something?” said Victoria.
“Of course,” said Tucker.
“I’ve always had a bit of a self-esteem problem,” Victoria whispered. “I was never very good in school and my father always made me feel a little stupid. But Aly is so smart and so are you. And knowing that you two want to hang out with me makes me feel better about myself.”
“What are you talking about?” said Tucker. “You were on the chess team at school. You’re smart.”
“Yeah, but you and Aly are always using words I don’t understand. You two are a lot smarter than me.”
“Well, I don’t have to use big words,” said Tucker.
“You mean you’ll dumb down your conversation for me?” said Victoria, clapping her hands together. “That makes me feel so special!”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Tucker.
“I know. I was just giving you a hard time.”
Tucker smiled. “Well, like Shakespeare wrote, ‘When the pimp’s in the crib ma, drop it like it’s hot.’ Or was that Snoop Dogg? I am constantly getting those two confused.”
Victoria laughed again and poked Tucker in the side.
“Tuck,” she said, “I love that I never know what you’re going to say next. Thanks for making me laugh – and bringing me dinner – and reading to Lenore. I feel so much better now.”
Tucker turned his head to the side and kissed her on the lips.
“Tuck,” she said, pulling back, “what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” said Tucker. “I thought …”
Victoria put her head in her hands. Tucker could feel the acid flowing in his stomach.
“I’m just not looking for that right now,” said Victoria, pulling her hands slowly down her face to reveal her eyes. She put her hands together in front of her lips, like she was praying. “I’m sorry if you thought I wanted more.”
“Why would I think that?” said Tucker. “Just because you flirted with me, danced with me, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek.”
“Tuck, I don’t need this right now,” she said, trying to restrain the volume of her voice so Lenore wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you know how overwhelmed I am? How worried I am about my daughter? I thought you were such a great guy. Why are you suddenly acting like a jerk?”
“I’m sorry,” said Tucker, standing up, “I am a jerk. Maybe I should go. I won’t come here and bother you anymore.”
“Oh that’s great!” said Victoria. “I won’t respond to your advances, so now you’re leaving? What about Lenore? Don’t you care about how much she likes you? Now you’re going to leave and I’m going to be the bad guy. Thanks!”
“I don’t know what to do!” said Tucker, throwing his arms up.
“Just be my friend,” said Victoria, her eyes filling with tears.
“Victoria,” said Tucker, pulling her into his arms then looking her hard in the eye. “I promise you right now. I will never do that again. Not only will I be a good friend, I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had.”
“I know you will, you jerk,” she said, smiling at last and wiping a tear away. “Sorry. That was a little awkward.”
“I’m just glad we got it out of the way,” he said, letting himself fall back onto the couch. He picked up the remote control and turned on the television, helping himself to some of Victoria’s sweet-and-sour chicken.
“Before you sit down, Victoria,” said Tucker, “be a dear and fetch me a cup of tea.”
Victoria responded by flinging a pillow at Tucker. The missile narrowly missed his head.
14. CHASTISEMENT
It was after midnight when Tucker finally left Victoria’s apartment. The streets were soulless now, and Tucker could clearly hear the sound of his own footsteps as they sloshed through the fallen leaves on the jagged sidewalk.
It was a clear night, though no stars were visible through the halo of the streetlamps along Station Street. The movable-letter sign in front of St. Michael’s was turned away from the lamps, making it difficult to read, but Tucker could just make it out in the light of the quarter moon: “The angel of the Lord spake these words, and the people lifted up their voice and wept.”
He looked at nothing else on his long walk home, save for the black leaves that his steps kicked into miniature whirlwinds. Now that Wayne seemed to be a permanent resident of the Adult Correctional Institutions, Tucker’s home was emptier than ever. The stairwell to his apartment was cloaked in darkness for the first time he had ever known. Wayne had always left the light on, but the landlord must have shut it off after coming to survey the damage, and Tucker had no idea where the switch was. He was feeling along the wall when he heard a plastic crinkling sound caused by his own hand.
The noise triggered a reflex that made him pull his hand back violently, hitting himself in the face. “It’s just the police tape across Wayne’s door,” said Tucker out loud. “I’m freakin’ myself out here.”
He laughed loudly, but abandoned his hunt for the light switch. Clutching the banister, he ascended the stairs one at a time, counting each step despite the fact that he had no idea how many led to his apartment door. A metallic jingle broke the silence as Tucker felt the cold brass of the doorknob. It was locked.
“The landlord must’ve fixed it after the SWAT team kicked it in,” said Tucker, reaching into his pocket and jingling his keys loudly. He fumbled with them for almost a minute before finding the right one and opening his door.
“Could you help me sir?” creaked a tired old voice behind him.
Tucker spun around with his arms flailing, smashing his right hand against the door jamb and letting out a strange guttural sound. He fell backwards into his apartment. With the aid of the light from the streetlamps outside his window, he could clearly see the silhouette of a bent elderly woman framed in his doorway.
As she crept toward him, Tucker scurried backwards like a crab, still flailing his arms searching for something to use as a weapon.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” said the woman in the same creaky voice. “I’ve been sitting here waiting for you all day.”
/> Tucker’s hand found the leg of a wooden tray table. He grabbed at it, causing it to fold up and spill half a bowl of cold soup onto the carpet.
“The door downstairs said ‘Police Line – Do not cross,’” said the old woman, her creaky voice quavering. “So I came up here and sat down in that chair in the hallway and waited for you to come. I must have fallen asleep.”
“Who are you?” demanded Tucker, now clumsily wielding the tray table, half as sword, half as shield.
“My name is Agnes Newton,” she said. “And I was looking for my son.”
Tucker let the tray table fall. He walked to the wall and flicked on the overhead light, revealing a wrinkled saggy face with puffy red eyelids. She was no more than five feet tall and wore an ugly cream-colored sweater and skirt.
“I read in the newspaper that he was arrested,” she continued, “so I drove here. I guess it’s true.”
“I’m afraid it is,” said Tucker. “He’s being held without bail.”
“Oh,” she said. “He used to tell me about you. You’re a police officer, aren’t you? Are you the one who arrested him?”
Her saggy, careworn face tightened into a scowl and her beady black eyes stared intently at Tucker. Her arthritic hands clench into little bony fists.
“No,” stammered Tucker, “I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know about it.”
“What will happen to him now?” she asked, as tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m not sure. But the courts have really been cracking down on meth labs. He should get at least 10 years, especially with the amount they took out of here.”
“He was always such a good little boy,” she said, looking right through Tucker. “He was always so affectionate. When his father died, that all changed. I should have done a better job with him. I guess I just didn’t know how.”
Her bloodshot eyes looked pleadingly at Tucker, who just looked back at her and said nothing.
“Well, I should go,” she said with a creaky sigh. “I suppose it’s very late.”
Tucker said nothing to the woman, but let her leave his apartment. When she was halfway down the stairs, he shut his apartment door and watched from the window until she finally appeared on the front step. She struggled her way behind the wheel of a yellow Chrysler Imperial parked across the street and drove off.
Princes of Arkwright Page 9