“This evening,” I said. I couldn’t go anywhere until Dustin arrived home to look after Ian. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I said nothing. “Really, I am,” he insisted. “It’s just easier to tell you in person, that’s all.”
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.
It was almost seven-thirty by the time I parked on Beach Drive. Carson’s El Camino was there, his grandson’s beater in front of it. The evening was chilly but as I followed the steps down the hillside, I could see them standing out in front of the house. The ferry was just leaving Fauntleroy dock, heading over the water to Southworth. It was dark enough for the lights to reflect on the water, making one of those romantic sights that captured Seattle for me.
I let the magic hang for a moment, until the vessel sounded its horn.
“Hi,” I said as the noise drifted away toward the Peninsula. Carson and Jim both turned, both of them holding cans of Coors, and Carson leaning heavily on his cane.
“Always peaceful this time of night,” he said.
I nodded at Jim. “I went to see your mom,” I told him. “She’s nice.” He smiled and nodded back. I turned to his grandfather “So what did you want to tell me, Carson?”
“Someone came by to see me this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Said he knew what had happened to my son.”
“What?” I asked in surprise. What the hell was going on? Why was everything coming up now? “Who was this guy?”
“Said he was called Nick. He wouldn’t give me his last name.” Carson kept staring out at the water.
“What did he say? Tell me.” I took his arm and made him turn to face me. “Go on, tell me. Kyle and Rick are both dead and now there might be someone after me.” I’d checked the neighborhood before I set out and kept an eye on the rearview all the way here.
“He said that that he was willing to give me names. For money.”
I thought for a moment. This stunk. My mind was filled with questions. Who now? Who was this Nick? And how had he found Carson?
“Tell me everything he said to you.”
He gave a gentle cough and took another sip of the beer.
“Just turned up…didn’t call or anything first. I’d woken up from a nap.”
“How old was he? What did he look like?”
“Forty, maybe.” He shrugged. “Had long hair in one of those ponytails, and a thin face. He was like a scarecrow, all bones sticking out. Cowboy boots that had seen happier times.” He held up his right hand and extended the middle finger. “And a heart tattooed on the back of that.”
“A heart?”
“Yeah. A jailhouse thing, by the look of it.”
“And he said he knew who killed James?”
“Yeah. Said he’d heard what had happened to me. Told me that if I gave him a grand, he’d give me the names of the guys who murdered my son.”
“Guys? Plural?”
“That’s what he said.”
“But he hasn’t talked to the police?”
“No,” Carson answered slowly.
“They never questioned him?”
“I got the impression they never knew he was there.”
That was interesting. Whoever Nick was, he’d apparently seen the shooting and knew everyone involved. I didn’t like any of it. I wasn’t even sure if I believed any of it. Nick could have pulled the trigger himself. Not just once but three times.
“Where’s he been for the last four years?” I wondered. “And why’s he coming around now? How did he find you, anyway?”
“I’m in the phone book, Laura,” Carson answered with a gentle smile. “And Nick looked like he’d spent time inside recently.”
“That still doesn’t explain how he knew your name.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know and he didn’t say. But he offered me the names for a grand.”
“Why?” That was the real question. “Why not go to the cops?”
“I asked him that. He said if he did that, the people behind it would know and find him. With some money he could head out of state.”
“A grand won’t get him far.”
“It can take some people a long ways.”
“What does he think you’ll do if you get those names, anyway?”
“Kill them,” Carson replied coldly, and I didn’t know what to say.
“Jesus.” I found my voice after a while. It sounded hoarse, shocked. “You can’t.”
“Why not? They killed my flesh and blood.”
I looked at Jim, but his face was hidden in deep shadows.
“Is that what you want your grandfather to do? To murder people and go to jail?”
“No.” His voice was low and nervous. “We talked about it. I said all it does is make him no better than them.”
“He’s right.” I looked at Carson, his face caught by light through the house windows. “What about it? Are you going to pay this guy Nick?”
“He’s calling me back tomorrow for an answer.”
“And what will it be?”
“That’s why I wanted the two of you here.” He lit a Marlboro, inclining his head to draw in the smoke.
“Well, I guess you know what we both think. What are you going to do?” I pressed.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“What if I tell you I’m going to talk to the cops in the morning, and tell them all about this?” I wanted them out looking for Nick. I wanted this over now. My insides felt so tense they might snap. I didn’t need Carson coming on like Clint Eastwood looking for revenge in a spaghetti Western.
He fixed his eyes on me and blew out smoke.
“I still don’t know. You want me to lie?”
“What I want is for you not to kill anyone, Carson. For Christ’s sake, let the police pick up this Nick guy and get the names from him.”
“He said he’d never tell them.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want anything to do with this. It’s fucked up. Whoever this guy is, his story just sounds wrong. Don’t do it, okay?”
He didn’t answer me, just stood there smoking. Jim hadn’t moved, staying still and silent as if he was hoping we’d both forget he was there. Finally I’d had enough.
“Jesus. You do whatever you’re going to do. If you decide not to pay him, call me.”
“And if not?”
“Then I guess I’ll see you somewhere down the road, Carson.”
I climbed back up the steps and started the Horizon. His tape was playing. I pulled it out of the dash and tossed it to the floor.
I was still burning with anger by the time I reached home. As I locked the car door, the grandson, Jim, pulled up behind me in his old Newport.
“Did he send you after me?” I asked after he got out.
“No.” He leaned against his car. “You know what he asked me to do?”
“What?”
“Go to the bank for him and take money from his account to pay this guy.”
“Are you going to?”
“I can’t,” he answered. “I told him I wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Good,” I told him. With his injured leg, Carson would find it hard enough to climb those stairs from his house. And harder still to drive. “What did he say?”
“That he’d do it himself.” Jim looked up at me sadly. He’d done what he could. I could see he was torn, knowing he’d done the right thing yet feeling he was letting his grandfather down. “You know what he’s like, so he will.”
I shrugged. “It’s his choice. If he wants it enough, no one’s going to stop him. He wants to believe, then it’s his choice.”
“Yeah. But I just wanted you to know…” He let the sentence trail away and shrugged, not sure what to say next.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said, then added. “Don’t give up on him. He really cares for you.”
He nodded. I stood and watched as he drove away.
“What was all that about?
Problem?” Dustin asked as I entered the kitchen. I poured myself some coffee. It had been sitting for a couple hours and tasted burned, but I drank some as I told him what had happened.
“Is he crazy?”
“He’s…” What was he, I wondered. Frustrated? Guilty? Carson was many things, and crazy could easily be one of them. This whole damn situation was crazy.
“What about you? Did he even ask about that?”
“No.” I was suddenly fuming. I glanced out the back window and spotted a police patrol car going slowly along the block. At least they were on the job.
“Do you think he’d really do it?” Dustin asked. “Kill them?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’m sure he’d like to believe he could. But it’s going to be a while before he can even move fast enough. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
“When are you going to call the cops?”
“In the morning,” I told him. Maybe Nick was the one behind it all. He seemed to have emerged at a very convenient time. “If the police find him, then who knows? Maybe they’ll find their killer. But then at least Carson won’t be shooting anyone.”
“What can I do?” he asked. It was the best thing he could have said. Not arrogant, not condescending. Simply wanting to help.
“Just be here. That’s what I need more than anything. I just want to be able to live without feeling I’m in the cross hairs. I’m trying to act normal but it’s getting to me.”
Dustin stood behind me and circled me with his arms. I leaned back with my head resting against his shoulder.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Cops in the morning and that’s it, I’m done. I told Carson that. I have enough to keep me busy for a while.”
“He’ll be back, you know,” he said as he pulled his arms tighter around me. For a moment I thought he meant the killer. But he didn’t. And he was right. A few more days and there’d be another phone call. Carson would sound bashful and apologetic. And I’d forgive him. My anger would vanish. I didn’t know how he managed it, but he did. God only knew why, but I liked him. I wanted to see his gig go well. I wanted him to record another album, a good one that showed what he could really do.
But he’d never be able to do that that if he went out killing people. If he pulled a trigger, the only thing ahead of him was the rest of his life in jail. I sighed and put down my cup.
“Did Ian go down easily?” I decided I’d rather talk about pleasant things.
“Yep,” Dustin replied with a smirk. “He even walked for me.”
“Much?” Stupid, but I was feeling jealous.
“Two steps. It’s coming, though. Go and have a cigarette,” he told me. “You’ll feel better.”
I poured the last of the coffee into my cup, reached into the drawer for the pack of smokes, and went out on the deck. The night was turning colder as the clouds blew away and I could feel the chill on my skin.
I took my time, letting the frustration and fury out of me with each breath. By the time I stubbed out the butt I felt calmer. I drained the cup and returned to the warmth.
“You’ve no idea who this Nick could be?” Detective Andersen asked.
“All I know is what I told you. And that he has that tattoo.” I heard a sigh at the end of the phone, followed by the scratching of pen on paper. “You need to go and talk to Carson,” I suggested.
“Oh, I’m going to do that,” he promised. “You’re sure he’s going to pay?”
“I don’t know, but probably. Maybe he’s thought better of it after some sleep. I hope so.”
“I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Thanks for calling. And we’ll look into who this man Nick might be.”
“He could be the one who killed Kyle and Rick.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“You’ve got nothing more on the murders?”
“Not yet.” His voice was empty.
I’d done everything I could. Now it was time to try and forget about it. To have a regular life again. I bundled Ian into his coat and drove down to QFC. There couldn’t be anything more normal than grocery shopping. We’d gone around the produce department and made it to the bread, when someone behind me spoke.
“You’re Laura.”
It was a statement, not a question. I turned quickly, surprised by the words and not recognizing the voice.
Nick. It had to be. I recognized him immediately from Carson’s description. A greasy ponytail, that pinched face with pale zits on his cheeks, the kind of man who looked as if he’d been starved of everything for years. His jean jacket was faded and frayed, his boots scuffed, with the sole starting to peel away from one pointed toe. Very quickly, I glanced down at his right hand. At the tattoo on the middle finger.
My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest. We were in public, I tried to reassure myself. There was nothing he could do here. I grinned at Ian to pretend to him that everything was fine. My fingers were so tight on the handle of the grocery cart that the knuckles went white. Thankfully, Ian was firmly strapped in, as my first thought was that Nick would try and snatch my baby. That was only ever going to happen over my dead body.
“What do you want?” I tried to sound relaxed but the words came out sounding hoarse and strained. My eyes darted around, searching for a member of staff.
“You know who I am?”
I gave a small nod.
“I want you to butt out of this thing with Carson,” he continued. His eyes were empty, his mouth no more than a thin line across his face. “So he can pay me and I can get the hell out of here.”
“You’re too late. I already told him I want nothing to do with it.” I stared at him, breathing softly while trying to look tough. Inside, I was shivering with panic. “Anything else?” He didn’t answer. I raised my voice until it came out as a shout. “You hassle me again or follow me, and I’ll call the cops and have you arrested for harassment. You got that?”
He still didn’t reply, just ambled casually away, as if nothing in the world bothered him. I moved my hand to Ian’s back, rubbing gently, watching Nick disappear around the far end of the aisle.
I felt dirty, as if the grease from his skin had slid all over me. Every time I inhaled, I imagined I could smell him, rank and stinking. I just wanted to go home and shower and scrub the taint of him off me. Hurriedly I freed Ian from the cart and pulled him into my arms.
“Come on, kiddo,” I said quietly. “We’re out of here.”
I abandoned the cart with its apples and grapes, the dozen eggs and the loaf of Island wholemeal bread, and walked out into the fresh air of the parking lot. My hands were shaking so much it took an age to strap Ian into the car seat.
Nick must have followed me to the supermarket, confident enough to make his threats in public. In a panic I jerked the mirror to glance behind me as I drove up Trenton. But it didn’t matter, as he knew where to find me.
I locked and bolted every door and window in the house. Then I put Ian in his cot with a toy, stripped off and used the scrub brush all over my skin, letting the water cascade down onto me. Dried and dressed, I called Detective Andersen to tell him about the encounter. He took down the details and my description, and promised that a cruiser would swing by every hour. Finally I dialed Carson’s number, but the phone just rang unanswered until the machine clicked on.
“It’s Laura,” I said, trying to keep the fury and the fear out of my voice. “Call me.”
He couldn’t be far away, I thought. Then I remembered his promise to go to the bank himself. Shit, that meant he’d done it. I wanted a cigarette but I didn’t want to be out on the deck, in open view.
Instead I played with Ian, applauding him as he grabbed the coffee table and pulled himself to his feet before sitting down again, grinning madly at the fun of it.
We’d just finished lunch when the phone rang.
“You wanted me to call you.” There was no warmth in Carson’s voice.
“I met your buddy Nick this morning.”
“What?” I could hear the shock. It was genuine and horrified.
“He came right up to me in the grocery store. I had my son with me, Carson. He told me to butt out of this thing with you.”
“But…” he began, then said nothing more.
“I’ve told the cops about it.” I didn’t want apologies, excuses, explanations. I wanted it to be over. He could do what the fuck he wanted as long as it all stayed clear of me and my family.
“They were out here again this morning, asking about him.”
“I warned you I’d call them.”
“I swear to God I never told him your name.”
How he discovered it didn’t matter anymore. The fact was that he had it and he was threatening me.
“I had Ian with me, Carson,” I repeated. I wanted to hammer that fact into his brain. “He threatened me. Us.”
“I’m sorry” he said quietly.
“You’ve been to the bank, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Has he called?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s slime. He’s pond life. You can’t hope to deal with him. Would you really trust anything a guy like that tells you?”
“He says he has the names.”
“He has some names. It’s probably all bullshit.” I knew an angry heat was rising up my face. “So you’re really going to off some people on the word of a scumbag like that? Someone the police are looking for now? They’ll find out for themselves how much he really knows. He’s just scamming you.”
Carson gave a short, harsh laugh. “I been poor, I been in the army, I been in the music business. I been scammed all my damn life. And if I find the people he tells me about, I’ll get some truth out of them first.” I didn’t want to ask how - or what would come after.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, Carson, I’m going to try one last time. You’ve got a new music career starting. You’ve got a gig happening in a week, you’ve got these bands recording your old songs. Do you really want to throw that all away to avenge someone you never knew? From what I was told, he wasn’t much of a father or a husband.”
“He was still my son,” he said slowly. We’d been here before - same words, different day.
“I know. But maybe you just need to walk away. For your own good.”
West Seattle Blues Page 12