by Ray Garton
Outside, the wind continued to blow. Even as preoccupied as he was, he could hear the trees whooshing in the wind overhead outside.
Conan went to the screen and walked in lazy circles, then sat facing the door.
“Need to go outside, boy?” Reznick said. He opened the screen door and Conan shot out of the trailer.
He tried to leave the screen door open, but the wind slammed it around, so he closed it and listened for Conan’s scratching as he continued to pace.
Open eyes… open mouth… open abdomen… glistening black guts… wet, farting sounds…
Conan scratched at the screen door and yapped once.
Reznick let the dog in, then closed the screen door. He closed the door halfway, leaving it open to create a draft.
He went to the kitchen and found the bottle of vodka. He got a glass from the cupboard, some ice from the freezer, and poured some vodka over the crackling cubes. He put what was left of the vodka in the freezer. He took the glass to the living room and stretched out on the recliner again. He let the vodka stand on the lamp table for a while and chill.
He browsed the TV stations for something to watch and settled on an old movie with Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. He watched the movie for awhile, tried to immerse himself in it.
Finally, he took the glass from the lamp table and took a sip. Then a gulp.
“Aaahh,” he sighed, looking at the glass with its beads of sweat dribbling down the sides. “It’s good to have you back.”
Twenty-Four
The day had been hell for Anna.
It had been next to impossible for her to think straight all day. She could not get her mind off the previous night. The events of the night haunted her, at times scorched the inside of her skull with their screams.
You’re a murderer, she thought again and again. Sometimes it was a nagging whisper, and sometimes it was a thunderous bellow that deafened her for a moment.
All day she had felt like someone with attention deficit disorder. But she did her best to hide it, and she was pretty sure, as she drove home, that she’d pulled it off.
At the wheel of her car, her hand relived the sensation of stabbing Steven Regent. Her ears heard the blade going in again and again.
She jerked her head back and forth, shook her thoughts up.
Anna stopped at the trailer park’s entrance to see if Kendra had gotten the mail. She had not, just as she’d promised. Anna got the mail – junk and bills – got back in the car, and drove to her trailer.
Inside, she found Kendra asleep on the couch with a game show running on TV. Anna decided not to wake her. The codeine pills made her very sleepy. It seemed the cut – which had been quite severe – had taken a lot out of her, as well.
Anna changed into shorts and a T-shirt, then got a beer from the fridge, sat down at the kitchen table, and lit a cigarette. She closed her eyes and went through it again. Her right elbow rested on the table, her hand up, the cigarette between her first two fingers. The cigarette trembled there in her shaking hand as it all happened again in Anna’s mind. The string of smoke that rose from the cigarette jittered in a zigzag pattern as her hand shook.
She realized how much she owed Marc Reznick. She would be in a huge mess without him – and he could be in a huge mess because of her. But throughout the day, it had begun to dawn on her that Reznick now had a terrific amount of power over her. She realized that, if he wanted to, he could destroy her with an anonymous tip to the police. So far as Anna knew, no one even suspected that Steven Regent was dead yet. But there was a bloody, gory mess in his trailer, and if he wanted to, Reznick could point the police straight to it. But why would he? He might be getting himself into some pretty deep shit, too. Unless he simply denied it. He’d covered his own ass pretty well all along. He was a detective, he knew how to do that. She only hoped he never decided to take advantage of his position over her.
She was hungry, but she didn’t feel like cooking. It was too hot to cook. She grabbed her purse and went out to her car. She drove down to KFC and got dinner for her and Kendra.
The wind made traffic lights bob and sway. Trees and bushes bowed to its strength as Anna drove home. Her car was buffeted on the road by the hot, suffocating gusts.
Back in the trailer, she put her purchase on the counter.
Kendra stirred on the couch and slowly sat up, rubbing one eye with a knuckle.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Anna said. “I just bought dinner. Kentucky Fried Chicken sound good?”
“Yeah. How was work, Mommy?”
“It was good. How was your day?”
“Okay. I slept a lot. My finger hurt real bad, so I took the pills, and they make me sleepy.”
“I know they do. How’s your finger?”
“It hurts again.”
“Well, let’s eat and maybe you’ll feel a little better. Have you eaten today?”
“I had a peanut butter sammich.”
Anna took the two dinners out of their bags and removed the plastic covers, then put them on the table. “Dinner is served.”
Kendra got up and shuffled to the table. “You gonna dance tonight?”
“Oh, yeah, I have to after missing two nights.”
“You’re gonna let me stay here, aren’t ya?” Kendra said. “I mean, I didn’t even go get the mail today, and I’ve – “
”I noticed that, and I appreciate it. Yes, I’ll let you stay here tonight.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”
They ate without speaking for a while, but not in silence. The wind battered the trailer and branches creaked overhead.
“Did Marc come over today?” Anna said.
“Uh, Marc? Yeah. Marc came over today. He brought Conan to see Dexter. They, uh, they went, uh, outside together.”
“Something the matter?”
“No. Why?”
“I don’t know, you just don’t seem… too sure of yourself all of a sudden.”
“I-I’m sure of myself. Whatta you mean?” Kendra frowned a little.
“Well, don’t get upset.”
Kendra relaxed a little. Her frown receded. “I’m relaxed, I’m not upset.”
Anna smiled. It was that crush again. Kendra got ruffled every time Marc came up in the conversation.
Suddenly she flashed on the photograph of Kendra smiling with Steven Regent’s cock in her mouth. She took a deep breath.
“Kendra,” she said hesitantly.
“What?”
“We… we need to talk.”
The blade sliding into his gut… twisting in his insides…
“About what?” Kendra said.
Anna put her elbows on the table and joined her hands under her chin.
… all that blood… on her hands and arms… on her face and in her hair… splattering everywhere as she stabbed him… and stabbed him… and stabbed him…
“Mommy? You don’t look so good all of a sudden.”
Anna didn’t feel so good.
“Excuse me,” she said as she left the table. She went into the bathroom, closed the door, got down on her knees at the toilet, and vomited.
* * * *
Reznick sat up straight in the recliner with a sharp cry, his fingers digging into the vinyl upholstery of the armrests, his body drenched in sweat. His T-shirt clung to him and his shorts were so wet, they felt soiled.
He lifted his hands, palms up, and inspected them. They were not wearing blood-soaked work gloves.
It took him several seconds to realize that he’d been sleeping and having a nightmare.
He reached for the glass of vodka on the lamp table, but it was empty except for a little water left over in the bottom from melted ice cubes.
Reznick straightened up the recliner and stood, went to the kitchen for more vodka. But the bottle stood on the counter, empty. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the bottle, trying to remember finishing it off. He could not.
He put the empty glass on the counter, grabbed his keys and wallet off the ta
ble, and left the trailer. He got in his car and drove down to the Handi-Spot market again, where he took a bottle off the shelf. Then he grabbed a second bottle. He thought about it a moment. He put both bottles back on the shelf and instead chose a liter of vodka.
He’d lost that feeling he’d had earlier, that wonderful buoyant feeling, that mind-numbing sensation that liquor bestowed. He wanted it back.
Reznick paid for his purchase and left the store.
A banner advertising Coca-Cola was stretched overhead in the parking lot and it snapped and fluttered in the scorching wind. The wind engulfed him like the fiery breath of a dragon. He got in the car and drove back to the trailer park, his mouth watering for another drink.
* * * *
Sherry and Lissa shared a joint at the bar. Sherry already felt good, having just had Lissa give her a fix from her kit. She was trying to stretch them out, though. She didn’t want to be a junky. She was going to fight it, to wean herself off it. Her most recent dose had been a smaller one. The pot helped.
“You heard the news, didn’t you?” Sherry said. “The news about Arnie Garvis?”
“No, what news?”
Sherry told her what she’d heard on the radio that morning.
Lissa’s eyes widened a little. “No shit? Then David was right. They really did fake a death.”
“Yep. And now I’m scared shitless. Andy says I’m just paranoid, but I don’t think so.”
“About what? I don’t know what you mean.”
“About them coming back for us. We’re the only ones who know how Arnie really died.”
“Oh, yeah. But… well… if they were gonna kill us, don’t you think they would’ve done it that night? When they came to get Arnie? That makes more sense to me.”
“Yeah,” Andy said as he came into the kitchen. “Now that makes sense. If they was gonna kill ya, they woulda done it that night. You think they give a shit about you? Nobody’s gonna believe anything you say. They don’t care about you. You don’t worry them a bit. So will ya quit worryin’ about it, for cryin’ out loud?”
Andy went to the refrigerator and got a beer, popped it open, and drank.
“Well, I can’t help it,” Sherry said. “It worries me.”
“I’m gonna get started with this,” Andy said.
“Okay, Lissa, you ready to go?” She stood and turned to him. “We’re goin’ to the movies. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“I won’t be done by then.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s when we’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
The wind whistled around the corners of the trailer like some kind of howling beast. The trailer shuddered against it.
“You don’t mind if we take your car, do you?” Sherry said. “You got air conditioning, I don’t.”
Lissa said, “No, I don’t mind. I’d prefer it.”
Sherry went to Andy and gave him a warm kiss. “See you later. You be careful with that shit, okay?”
“Hey, I’m always careful,” he said. “I can’t make any money off that shit if I’m dead.”
The girls got their purses, left the trailer, and went out into the suffocatingly hot, windy evening.
* * * *
Josh Garner punched in Steven Regent’s cell phone number for the twentieth time that day. Once again, he received Regent’s recorded voice, asking him to leave a message.
Garner severed the connection and looked at his watch. He could not understand where Steven might have gone all day long.
He punched in the number of Steven’s trailer. He got the answering machine.
“Jeez, Steven, where the hell are you?” he said. “I’ve been calling your cell phone all day. I’ve got this woman coming over, this MILF – she’s incredible, Steven, you’ve got to see her. I met her in the bakery at WinCo, of all places. She’s a knock-out, and she’s open to anything. I was hoping to get you over here, but she’s gonna show up any minute now, and you’re nowhere to be found. Look, just give me a call when you get in, okay? And it doesn’t matter how late it is. By now, I’m worried. Even if it’s late and you wake me up, go ahead and call. Just let me know you’re okay. Talk to you later.”
He turned the phone off and put it on its base on the kitchen counter, frowning. He’d never known Steven to simply disappear for a day. He was completely devoted to his work and would never just drop it and vanish for a while.
Garner was worried. He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
He decided that as soon as the MILF left that night, he would drive over to Steven’s trailer. He had a key.
* * * *
With her costume in a garment bag slung over her shoulder, Anna looked at Kendra seated on the couch.
“Now, you gonna be okay tonight, sweetheart?” she said.
“Sure, Mommy.” She petted Dexter, who was stretched out beside her, wagging his tail.
Kendra stood and hugged her.
Anna could not shake a feeling in her gut. It was a bad feeling, like something was not right.
It’s just because you’re a murderer now, she thought. Now nothing will ever feel right again because you’ve got that hanging over your head, and you never know when it’ll catch up with you, when it’ll fall and land right on your head. And it’ll be with you forever, for the rest of your life. You’ll always be a murderer.
Always.
A murderer.
“Mommy?”
“Hm? Yes? What?”
“You were… starin’.”
“Oh. Sorry. I got preoccupied with something.”
“Mommy… are you sure you’re all right?”
Anna smiled. “Yes, honey, I’m fine. Don’t wait up for me. I won’t be home till after two, and I sure don’t want you staying up that late.”
“Okay. I’ll go to bed.”
Anna left the trailer. She lay the garment bag out in the back seat of her car, got in, and started the engine.
That feeling stayed with her, the feeling that something wasn’t right, that something bad was going to happen. Or was it just guilt? She really couldn’t tell. There were so many feelings all mixed up inside her – all of them bad. As she drove out of the trailer park, she did not know how much longer she could live with them.
* * * *
Kendra waited. She was afraid to go over to Marc’s trailer. He hadn’t been in a very good mood when she’d left that afternoon, and she didn’t know if that had changed or not. If his mood had not changed, she did not care to be with him. So she decided to wait for him. If he was in a good mood, then sooner or later, he would come to her, she decided. But if he was still in a bad mood, he probably wouldn’t want to be with her, either. So she would leave it up to him.
Or was she going about it all wrong?
She had no idea, and her mind reeled with confusion.
In the end, she decided to wait for him.
* * * *
Reznick listened to the wind as he finished another glass of vodka. He’d turned off the TV over an hour ago and put on an old Elton John CD. Something from what he liked to refer to as his misplaced youth. He stared at the empty glass with his lower lip stuck out, Mussolini-like. He thought of Kendra next door. He looked at the clock.
8:09.
She was alone by now. By now, Mommy had gone to work, where she would take off her clothes for all the lonely, horny men. And if she was like half the girls at the Mt. Shasta Gentlemen’s Club, maybe she’d take a few extra bucks for a handjob out behind the building, or maybe a blowjob.
Reznick stood. He went to the bedroom, got a couple condoms and stuffed them into his pocket. He went to the kitchen and opened the freezer, took out the big bottle of vodka. He tucked it under his arm and took his keys from the table, put them in his pocket.
Conan was curled up by the recliner. He’d eaten recently and was napping. But when he heard the screen door open, he lifted his head and looked at Reznick.
“C’mon, Conan, you wanna go
see your buddy?”
Conan stood, stretched and yawned, then followed Reznick out. He locked up the trailer.
The shadows were darker. The sun would be going down soon and it would be dark. It was already pretty dark under the ceiling of trees in the trailer park. The hot wind slapped him hard and sucked his breath away. On it wafted a strong odor that Reznick recognized immediately – someone was running a meth lab.
He stopped walking and turned, tried to figure out from which direction it was coming. But he could not tell. He only caught the smell now and then, caught it on the buffeting wind. He didn’t like the idea of a meth lab in his trailer park. In fact, it pissed him off. But what the hell was he gonna do about it? There was no way the managers – those two drunk, fat, albino manatees – didn’t know about it. If they didn’t care, nothing was going to be done.
Reznick’s sigh finished as a low growl as he headed for Kendra’s door.
Twenty-Five
He didn’t bother to knock. He opened the screen door and went in.
Kendra was seated on the couch watching TV.
The swamp cooler rattled annoyingly.
Reznick went to the kitchen and put his vodka in the freezer. He returned to the living room, went to Kendra, clutched her upper arms, and pulled her to her feet. He put a hand over her crotch and squeezed brutally as he held her head and gave her a hard, punishing kiss. She moaned into his mouth.
When he finally pulled back and let go of her, she whispered, “You didn’t eat any peanut butter.”
“I’m not worried about Mommy finding out I’ve been drinking.”
He went back to the kitchen and searched the cupboards for glasses, found one. He got some ice, took out the bottle and poured. Returned the bottle and closed the freezer, then took a couple healthy swallows.
He went to the couch, put his drink on an end table – there were no coasters and from the ring stains, he saw that nobody cared – then kicked off his flip-flops. He fished a condom from his pocket and dropped his shorts, stepped out of them, and sat down. He slapped his thigh and said, “Take off your shorts and come sit on my lap.”