by Bill Cameron
“S-s—” He couldn’t say it. He wanted to say it. He wanted them to like him again, like they had when he came in. He wanted to taste the Shadow again, to finish his sandwich and feel warm. It had been so long.
“S-s-s ... m—”
It wasn’t there.
“Mister, maybe you should be on your way.” The woman slid off her own stool, backed away a step. Shadow pulled a memory out of a box in the back of his head, an old man, throat popping like an apple under a boot heel.
“Shadow.”
“I hear you, but we don’t want no trouble.”
He slapped his pants and Todd backed away, feeling behind him. He was reaching for something. Something ... Shadow thrust his hands into his pockets and found the sheets of green and grey. He pulled them out, dropped them on the bar. Looked from Todd to Dawn to Todd again.
“Simoleons.”
The moment hung between them, then suddenly Dawn laughed. The sound was round and throaty and in an instant all tension melted away. Todd’s shoulders dropped and his hands came forward, empty. He took Shadow’s glass and filled it from the tap. Dawn moved back onto her stool, her eyes still fixed on him, but now softer.
“Mister ... are you okay?”
She stole a look at Todd, who offered a half shrug. He sorted through the simoleons on the bar, set most aside, took some and turned to the cash register on the counter back of the bar. Buttons and bells, the drawer popped open and simoleons went inside. He took some coins from the drawer, closed it, and turned back to the bar. Set the coins with the remaining simoleons. Silver and sheets of green and grey.
“Your change.”
Shadow tried another smile, another word he knew he could say. “Sure.” Then he took the glass and sipped. The Shadow wasn’t quite as good, had a bitter edge he hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe it was him. He felt tired, awash in disquiet. But the room was warm and he liked the feeling of a full stomach. He sipped the Shadow again, and the taste was a little better.
Todd folded his arms on the bar top. “Mister, what are you up to anyway?” He motioned with his head toward the door. “Out this far, at night, on foot.”
He knew it was a question, but he couldn’t find the meaning in the words. He looked at them, tall Todd and kindly Dawn. Something happened to his tongue with that thought. He opened his mouth. “Tall Todd. Kindly Dawn.” As the words spilled out, he grinned.
“Well, that’s nice of your to say. But I still gotta wonder. What are you doing out here on this road alone?”
The words made more sense this time. He swallowed the Shadow and let them roll around back of his eyes. The answer hid back there somewhere, he knew it did. But he couldn’t quite fix on it. All he could think was Tall Todd, Kindly Dawn, a kind of sing-song his mind. Tall Todd, Kindly Dawn ... Tall Todd, Kindly Dawn. Then something else spilled out, a song.
“Todd and Dawn, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G ...”
Dawn’s eyes got big and round. Then she sat back and laughed. Todd shook his head and reached out for the glass. “Okay, okay. I think that’s enough beer for you. Cripes.” Shadow didn’t resist, so taken with the sound of the song on his tongue. He sang it again, and again.
“Todd and Dawn, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G ... Todd and Dawn, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G ...”
He slid off the stool, smiled and spun, feeling silly and stupid and sunny. He left the simoleons, spun toward the door. Singing, singing.
“Hey, wait. Where you going?” It was Todd, or Dawn. It didn’t matter. He stopped at the door and looked back. Startled faces. The sight made him laugh. He pulled open the door, found the answer as he exited into the night, stomach full, mind swimming.
Singing. “Searching ... searching ...”
November 19 - 3:30 pm
Know Nothing of Deserves
Big Ed drives east and north, making his way to 60th and up to Belmont, and then around to the north entrance of Mount Tabor Park. The woman next to him stares ahead, her head trembling on her neck, a fiendish bobblehead. She breathes aloud through her mouth. A miasma of acrid sweat and stale tobacco fills the passenger compartment. Her head snaps my way sharply at intervals, as if she wants to turn around, but the power of Big Ed behind the wheel seems to hold her in check. I don’t know who she is, what she represents in this situation, but I’d rather face the back of her head than the back of her hand.
Danny sits quietly beside me and stares out the window. I try to hold his hand, but he pulls it free. He’s never been a touchyfeely kid. Big Ed stops in the upper lot on the north side of the park. There are a half dozen cars present, but no one in sight. The weather is iffy enough that only the most committed will be out today, the serious runners and bikers, and the Portland stalwarts who wear the chill air and threat of rain like another layer atop their Gore-Tex. That’s good, I suppose, but bad too. There’s no one who can call for help. There’s also no one to catch an errant bullet if Big Ed starts shooting.
Big Ed turns to face me. “Silence.”
I meet his stare, don’t blink. That seems to satisfy him. He pulls out his cell phone and speed dials, waits, eyes fixed on mine. “It is me ... yes, I have good news ... exactly. He led us right to him ... a long day, yes.” His eyes flick quickly to Danny, then back to me. “I understand ... What time then? ... Okay, we will be there.” He snaps the phone shut and turns to the woman. “It is all set, but it will be a while. We cannot wait here.”
“So? Is that my problem?”
He closes his eyes for a moment. “We will not sit here where people come and go all the time. There is a bolt cutter in the trunk. Go cut the lock on the gate over there. After I drive through, close the gate and try to make it look like it’s latched. We do not want it to be obvious someone has driven through.”
“Why do I have to do it?”
“Because I do not want you alone in the car with the boy.”
She faces him, her jaw tight and working. No honor among thieves. I’m almost reassured by the hostility between them. I have no idea what the plan is, but I can see he doesn’t trust her any more than I do. I don’t trust him either, but I’ll take Big Ed and his cold deliberation over the rabid instability of a tweaker any day.
Big Ed shifts his weight in his seat. “Myra, get out of the car. Take care of the gate.”
“You do it, asshole.”
A muscle twitches in his gnarled neck. I can feel the heat rise between them, and I slide toward Danny. Their eyes meet across the long bench seat. Her thin dry lips pull away from her teeth, then she suddenly drops her gaze.
“Fine. Fine. Fine.” Her voice rises to almost a shriek. She bangs the car door open and throws herself out, slams the door shut behind her. The tension fades like a passing shadow as she lurches to the rear of the car. Big Ed pops the trunk latch. I hear her rooting around behind us, then a second later she stalks over to the white steel gate that blocks access to the upper Reservoir Loop Drive. The drive runs along the west face of Mount Tabor above the soap box derby track and then dips through trees past the south reservoir, only to loop back north between the two big reservoirs on the 60th Avenue side of the park. Normally it’s reserved for park maintenance and official vehicles, but Big Ed obviously isn’t a rules kinda guy.
I lean forward in my seat. “Listen, we need to talk about this.”
“There is nothing to say.”
“You can’t put a child at risk like this. You used to be a cop, for chrissakes.”
He fixes me with his cold gaze. “How do you know that?”
“I used to be a cop too, homicide. Right here.” It’s a dangerous admission, but near as I can tell, I’m already dead. My only hope is to reset whatever he has planned by convincing him it can’t work, even if I have to lie. “Listen, there’s already a BOLO out for this kid, Amber Alert by now too. Cops in three states are looking for him. Think about it.”
He turns his head, watches as Myra tries to make sense of the gate latch. For a moment he taps t
he electrolarynx against his cheek, as if he’s considering my words. When he speaks, I realize he was considering only his own. “I carried a badge, maybe. I drove a car, pulled over speeders, responded to calls. But I was never a cop.” He emits a harsh, strangled laugh. “I just played one on TV.”
I sit back. Outside, the gate latch pops. Myra swings the long arm of the gate wide. Big Ed backs out of the parking space, drives through. Behind me, I can hear Myra swearing. I don’t need to know her history to see she’s been on the crystal for a long time. Her motor skills are a distant memory. Finally she gets the gate closed and comes back to the car, slams the door as she sits down. “Mother fucking bullshit.”
“There is no need to swear in front of the boy.”
“Fuck you, Ed.”
He clenches his teeth and drives. Just past the soap box derby track he turns right onto a narrow dirt track that climbs a spur looking west toward downtown and the river. The path is steep, no wider than the old Fleetwood as it grinds upward between massive fir trees. At the top of the spur, he stops in a shallow depression filled with fir needles and moss. The car is far enough off the loop drive that we won’t be seen unless someone climbs the spur. There’s no guarantee someone won’t. I’ve walked up here more than once myself to take in the view. Big Ed doesn’t seem concerned. Far below, a jogger runs along the lower loop drive. In the distance, a pair of determined tennis players trade volleys on the courts at the far end of the reservoir. A spit of rain dots the windshield as if to punctuate our isolation.
“Now we wait.” Big Ed turns and for a moment catches my eye, a quick warning, then hands something across the back of the seat to Danny. A small portable DVD viewer. Danny takes it without comment, instantly curious. Ed presses a button and it starts to play. He hands me a pair of headphones. “Help him.”
Childhood’s most formidable mesmer. I don’t know how well Big Ed knows kids, but he’s at least foreseen that a four-year-old is likely to get restless sitting in the back seat of an unmoving car. I don’t want to make it easy for him, and hesitate. He can see the defiance in my face and gestures at the player without speaking. His eyes are hard, but it’s the tangle of scar tissue on his neck that breaks my nerve. I take the headphones.
“Here, buddy, put these on. You want to hear the show, don’t you?” The screen displays a Spongebob cartoon collection. It takes me a moment to figure out the player’s controls, but finally I manage to highlight Play All and hit Enter.
“Guess you couldn’t be bothered getting a TV for all of us.” Myra manages more childish petulance in one phrase than I’ve heard in all the time I’ve known Danny.
Big Ed gives her a long stare in response. At first she returns it, but she quickly gets fidgety under his gaze. “Jesus, Ed, it was just a joke.”
“I think you are overdue for a smoke.”
She lifts her chin and for a moment I think she’s going to start screaming at him. Veins pulse at her temple and her eyes look ready to pop out of their sockets. But then she slumps, riding a crest-andcrash cycle measured in minutes.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” She gets out of the car and stomps farther up the spur. I see her fish a pack of Parliaments out of her coat and fire one up. She draws hard and snaps the cigarette out of her mouth, spews smoke like spit-up. Her movements have a herky-jerky quality and I wonder when she last used. I don’t think she’s tweaking right now, which can only mean she’s anxious for a hit.
“What’s with that woman?”
“It is not your concern.”
“Listen, I get it that you’re a big bad fellow, but you don’t seem crazy. Whatever is going on, you gotta get that woman away from Danny.”
“You might have noticed she is out there and he is in here.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I know, and I have nothing to say to you.”
“What are we waiting for?”
He is silent for a moment. “You are a man who likes to live dangerously.”
“Jesus, Ed, look at me. I’m past my sell-by date. But this boy, he doesn’t deserve to be part of whatever you’ve got go—”
He turns on me suddenly, his mouth working furiously. All I hear is a strange hiss. Then he remembers the electrolarynx, presses it to his neck. “You know nothing of deserves.”
I sit back. Danny’s focus is on the screen in front of him, and I’m glad he doesn’t notice the anger in Ed’s face, his voice.
“We are meeting people. But not yet. So we will wait until they are ready for us. Then I will take the boy up to the summit and finish what I have started, and you will be quiet. I do not want to kill you, but I will not let you interfere.”
I believe him, at least about not letting me interfere. I’m less convinced about the killing. I could try making a run for it, but between Ed and his tweaker bitch, I won’t get far. And I won’t leave without Danny anyway. All I can do is wait, and hope. Danny sits beside me, quiet, fixated. Spongebob is an endless mystery to me, but he seems to like it. Outside, Myra smokes one cigarette, then another. She can’t stop moving, and I can’t take my eyes off of her. I don’t want her to get back into the car.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
“Do not ask it.”
“It’s not about any of this.”
He closes his eyes, shakes his head, but doesn’t tell me to shut up again.
“You were married to Charm?”
He tenses. “How do you know Charm?”
“I interviewed her the day after you showed up at her place looking for action three years back.”
“Why did you interview her?”
“You know why.” The Tabor Doe hadn’t been too far from here. We were on familiar ground for Big Ed Gillespie.
I hear him breathe through his nose. “And the boy? What did you do with him?”
“Not a thing. I always figured you for the shooter.”
He’s quiet for a long time. I see no reason to get into the details of the investigation. I also don’t want to discuss what happened in front of my house this morning, or my worries about where Eager is now. I want to put him at ease while Myra is out of position to poison the air around us.
“Why do you ask about Charm?”
“Just curious is all.”
“About what?”
“Was she always that way?”
He stares out the windshield for a long moment. Then he shrugs. “Mmm-hmm.”
The cartoon flickers in the corner of my eye, and I can hear the high-pitched trill of Spongebob’s voice from the headphones. It occurs to me I should turn the volume down. Don’t want Danny to hurt his ears. But Big Ed takes that moment to return the larynx to his throat. “She used to be better looking.”
I chuckle.
“It is true. She had legs from here to the ground and tits that could put a man’s eye out. But she stole money from me. I figured the cash was long gone, but my employer found her and got her to agree to repay it on her back. Did not plan on her getting knocked up. Knowing what I know now, I can tell you it was not worth it.”
He understands my thinking better than I expected. He settles back in his seat and leans his head against the door post, closes his eyes. Outside, Myra continues pacing, continues smoking. She moves like the ground is on fire beneath her feet. Beside me, Spongebob’s voice grows louder. I turn to Danny. He’s still staring at the little video player, but he’s taken off the headphones. The light from the video screen shines on his round cheeks.
“What’s up, little guy? Don’t you want to listen?”
He looks up at me. “My ears are sore.” His mouth hangs partway open, and a little bubble of spit has gathered on the bulb of his lower lip. I don’t know if I should wipe it off or leave him alone. I’m not good at this sort of thing, despite all the times he stayed with me while Luellen ran errands. We kept it simple. Mostly I let him do whatever he wanted. Fortunately, it was never much. Watch the birds, pretend to sweep the deck. Drink grape juice.
Run Hot Wheels around on the floor. I wouldn’t have known what to do if he’d tried to drive my car or set fire to the couch. The price of reaching my senior years without siring offspring.
“I never smoked.”
Ed’s voice startles me. At first I don’t realize he’s speaking to me. He’s looking out the window, watching Myra pace.
“You see guys like me, talking with a machine, and they are almost always someone who chain-smoked three packs a days for thirty years, or kept their cheek stuffed full of chew. I have inhaled my share of secondhand smoke, mostly Charm’s. But I never lit up myself.”
“I see.”
“You are a smoker, right?”
“Yeah.” I hesitate a moment. “I quit, but yeah. For upwards of forty years.”
“Why did you quit?”
“The usual reason, I guess.”
“Cancer, or fear of cancer.”
“Little of both. I’m in remission.”
He nods.
“I was always proud of myself for not smoking, like I was flipping off the Devil himself and nothing he could do about it. But only a fool tests Old Scratch. Because now I know he put my own gun into my son’s hands and gave him cause to pull the trigger. There is no escape.”
I draw a breath. “Ed, listen to me. It doesn’t have to be like that. Okay? Let me take Danny and walk away.”
“That is not possible.”
“I’m not a cop anymore. You let us go, I won’t tell anyone I even saw you. I won’t say anything. I just want Danny to be safe.”
“It is out of my control.”
“Please—” The car door opens beside me. I turn, catch a blast of Myra’s toxic breath in my face.
“What the fuck, Ed. Following dicklips all over hell today wasn’t enough for you? Now you gotta sit here jawing with him while the sun sets? I’m getting cold. Ain’t it about fucking time?”
I push away from her, feel Ed grip my arm. He doesn’t speak, just grunts an affirmation from the bottom of his throat. I quickly see why. He’s dropped the larynx so he can grab my other arm too and press my forearms together. Myra leans through the open door and twists a length of clothesline around my wrists. My eyes water in the stench that boils off of her. I struggle, but Ed is too strong. He holds my bound wrists in one big hand, takes the clothesline in the other and yanks my hands across the seat back. He pulls the rope tight, then ties it off as Myra thrusts her arm under the front seat from the back, finds the free end of the rope. I kick with both feet, stomp her arm and she squeals. Ed pops me in the cheek. In the instant I’m dazed, she pulls the rope around my ankles, too fast for me to writhe free. She knots it tight, then pulls back. Her face is red with rage.