The Fury (2009)

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The Fury (2009) Page 27

by Jason - Henry Parker 04 Pinter


  275

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  “Nope. Thursday nights I had me a pickup game of

  basketball in the park with some other kids. I was about

  six-two by high school, and could handle it like a dream.

  I thought if I kept growing I could be another Magic

  Johnson, the kind of big guy who had the skills of a

  point guard. Then one Thursday I came home. Picked

  up one of those ice-cream cones in a wrapper, you know

  with chocolate around the cone and nuts in the vanilla?

  Carried it home with me, went upstairs, first thing I see

  is blood on the carpet. I couldn’t see my dad, that’s how

  big the puddle was. He was lying in the living room, the

  puddle had spread into the hallway. I go in there, and

  he’s facedown, arms above his head like he was trying

  to fly and fell from the sky.”

  “You saw the words?” I said.

  “Yeah. Just barely, but they were in the carpet. Lucky

  for us we had an off-white carpet, otherwise I might

  have missed it. The Fury. That’s what my dad wrote

  while he was dying on our floor.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” I said.

  “No,” Clarence said, putting the joint into an ashtray.

  “You can’t. The cops told me they used a silencer. It

  took a few years until I knew what that meant.”

  “My brother was killed the same way,” I said.

  Nobody spoke for a moment. Then I said, “So once you

  came out and saw him, you called the cops?”

  “No. First I tried to wake him up,” Clarence said. He

  spoke slowly, the words rusty like they hadn’t been

  spoken in a long time. His voice was soft yet gritty, and

  it chilled me to the bone. “I turned him over. The back

  of his head was almost gone. I remember seeing bone

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  and brain on the floor, but I was a kid. I figured there

  was always a way to put someone back together. I

  turned him over, saw that glassy look in his eyes, the

  same look you see on the mannequins in department

  stores. And I held my father’s head in my hands and

  tried to get my daddy to wake up. Finally a neighbor

  heard me crying and called the cops. She actually

  reported it as a domestic disturbance, thinking my dad

  was beating me. Then when they came in and saw

  him…man, that’s a picture that’ll never go away.”

  I was almost afraid to ask, but I said, “What hap­

  pened then?”

  “The cops came and took me away. I stood outside

  and watched a whole mess of them go into our building,

  wearing gloves, carrying all sorts of equipment to bag

  and tag my dad. I’d seen bodies before. Even if my dad

  was straight, that’s a dirty game, and some of his friends

  didn’t play the same way. It’s not the same when it’s

  your kind. Whether you love ’em or not, when it’s your

  own flesh and blood lying there, something just dries

  up inside of you. Drains the life out of you.”

  Inside, I knew how Clarence felt. Only to a much

  smaller degree.

  “Then I got sent to foster care. Lived with a nice old

  family until I turned eighteen. Moved out, went to

  school and never seen them since.”

  “You graduate?” I asked.

  “Cum laude,” Clarence said. “I don’t like to keep up

  appearances, but this is my crash pad. My real place of

  business is in Gramercy.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” I asked.

  “Graphic design,” he said.

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  277

  “That’s funny,” I said. “Do you know a woman

  named Rose Keller?”

  “Sounds familiar, why?”

  “Friend of my brother’s. Also works as a graphic

  designer.”

  “Hmm…” Clarence tapped a finger against his lower

  lip. “Think I might have smoked with her once or twice.

  Or maybe more.” He smiled.

  “She’s kicked her habits. I guess creative people do

  creative things to their mind.”

  “I never lose the sharpness. It doesn’t affect my work.”

  Then Clarence rattled off the names of several mul­

  tibillion-dollar companies. He took a business card from

  a pile on his desk and handed it to me. It had his name,

  address, e-mail and Web site URL. The tagline read

  Your dream can be a reality. “I have a portfolio of all

  my clients. You check out their Web sites, that’s all me.

  Half a dozen Fortune 500 companies.”

  “Not bad at all.”

  The joint had burned out. Clarence didn’t seem to

  notice.

  “That all you need, Parker?” Clarence asked. “I ap­

  preciate thinking about the good times and all, but my

  day is wasting.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “The note your father wrote

  on the floor. The Fury. Do you remember your father

  ever talking about anyone who went by that name?”

  “Nah,” Clarence said, waving his hand. “My dad

  never brought his work home with him.”

  “He was killed because of his work,” I said. “I’d say

  that’s taking it home with you.”

  Clarence didn’t take to that comment very kindly, and

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  stood up. “He never mentioned anyone by that name.

  But I know what you’re getting at. I’ve read the books.

  I know what some people think. But a hustle’s a hustle.

  There’s no greater power. No Keyser Söze sitting up in

  a tower somewhere twisting the wills of men. It’s a big

  racket, is all it is. People play to make money. The cards

  are shuffled every so often, and my dad was one of

  those cards. Sucks for him and for me, but that’s the way

  it goes. So don’t go spreading any rumors, ’cause they

  ain’t true.”

  I wanted to tell Clarence that for untrue rumors, he

  was quite adamant about making sure I knew he thought

  nothing of them.

  “Thanks for giving me some of your time,” I said.

  “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “About twenty years too late, but I appreciate the

  sentiment.”

  Clarence led me to the door. The joint was a sad, for­

  gotten nub in the ashtray. I turned around to shake his

  hand, when something caught my eye.

  There was a futon resting in the far corner. Red

  cushion. Lots of stains from cigarettes, liquor, or both.

  Something underneath the sofa was twinkling, shining

  in the low light.

  I stepped around Clarence to get a closer look.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  I felt a tightness in my chest as I walked to the futon.

  Dropping down to one knee, I peered underneath to

  see. Something told me I already knew what it was.

  I felt a strong hand, Clarence’s hand, grip my

  shoulder and squeeze. Pain coursed through the joint as

  he found the bone and dug in.

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  279

  “Listen, man, you’ve had your fun. Leave or I’m

  gonna call the cops.”

&nb
sp; Ignoring him, I reached under the futon and grabbed

  the item. Standing back up, his hand still like a vise, I

  opened it to see what lay in my palm.

  I felt the grip loosen as we both stared. My heart was

  hammering. I couldn’t believe it.

  Turning to face Clarence Willingham, I held out a

  small diamond earring in my hand. The companion to

  the earring I found up at Blue Mountain Lake by BethAnn Downing’s body.

  “Where is Helen Gaines?” I asked.

  29

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarence

  said, but the tremor in his voice belied that statement. I

  looked around. This apartment was too small. There

  was nowhere for her to hide. She had to be somewhere

  else.

  But if Helen Gaines was hiding, if she’d left Blue

  Mountain Lake because somebody was trying to kill

  her, she wasn’t out and about in New York City, sight­

  seeing and having her caricature drawn in Times

  Square. If she’d come to Butch Willingham’s son for

  help, chances are he knew where she was at this

  moment. She had to be somewhere close. In his office,

  perhaps. Or somewhere nobody would expect. The

  office might be out. Where…

  I could hear Clarence screaming at me, trying to

  push me out of his apartment. My body didn’t respond.

  She couldn’t be at his office. She’d be somewhere

  nobody would know about. Somewhere…

  Then I remembered my bag. Bernita. Clarence’s words.

  Anytime you have something you need stored safely,

  Bernita’s your woman.

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  I bolted out of Clarence’s apartment, the diamond

  earring still in my hand. The footsteps behind me said

  that Clarence was right on my heels. And I didn’t think

  he was going to argue with me anymore.

  The stairs disappeared under me two at a time, and

  I used the railing on each landing to swing onto the next

  set, trying desperately to keep ahead of Clarence. I

  didn’t know how we’d fare in a fight, but I was sure that

  if we made enough noise one of the tenants surely

  would call the cops. And I didn’t have time for that. I

  needed to know. Needed to see.

  Safely stored.

  As I hit the first-floor landing, I felt Clarence’s fist

  grab a chunk of my shirt. I pulled away, but not before

  it ripped a sizable hole in the collar. I turned around, saw

  Clarence behind me and shoved him as hard as I could.

  It wasn’t meant to hurt him, merely to buy me some

  time, and to that extent it worked. Clarence fell back

  about eight feet, tripping over the foot of the stairwell

  and falling to the ground. Cursing like a maniac, I was

  sprinting down the corridor before he could get himself

  up.

  I found Bernita’s door. Knocked twice fast. I said,

  “Bernita, it’s Henry. You have my bag.”

  I saw Clarence on his feet, running toward me. I

  only had seconds.

  Then the door opened in front of me, and Bernita was

  there in her pink bathrobe, the cigarette still in her

  mouth. She was holding my bag in one hand, out­

  stretched, expecting me to take it then leave. When she

  saw the rip in my shirt and Clarence barreling down the

  hall, her eyes grew wide. She immediately tried to slam

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  the door shut. Instead, I wriggled past her into the apart­

  ment, the door slamming shut where I’d just been

  standing.

  “Get the fuck out of my house!” she screamed,

  slapping at me with both her hands, the cigarette still

  miraculously dangling from her lip.

  Then I heard a small, frightened voice from the

  farthest room down the corridor.

  “Bernita, is everything okay?”

  I stared at Bernita for a second, then sprinted down

  the hall. It was the last door on the right. Without hesi­

  tating, I barged in, the door swinging open and

  smacking against the wall where it hit a doorstop and

  swung back at me. I stopped it with my foot, then stood

  there.

  I heard two people breathing behind me. Bernita and

  Clarence. But I didn’t care about them; all I cared about

  was the woman sitting on the bed mere feet from me.

  Her hands were on her knees. Back ramrod straight.

  Her eyes were wide, terrified, as though she’d been ex­

  pecting this moment for a long time and knew she could

  only avoid it for so long. Then that terrified look turned

  to anger, then confusion.

  “Who…who are you?” she asked.

  “Ms. Gaines,” I said. “My name is Henry Parker. I’m

  James Parker’s other son.”

  30

  The apartment was silent for what seemed like ages.

  Helen Gaines sat there on the bed, unbelieving, her

  mouth in a silent O. I couldn’t tell what she was

  thinking, if she knew who I was, or if I’d even existed.

  Since she’d left Bend before I was even born, there was

  a chance she didn’t know about me. Didn’t know that

  James Parker had another son. Or that Stephen Gaines

  had a brother.

  But there was a glimmer of recognition there as she

  searched for a reaction. Perhaps Stephen had mentioned

  me the night he died. Maybe Helen knew there was

  another son.

  Clarence Willingham’s hand was on my back, but

  there was no force to it. As if he himself wanted to

  know just what was going on. When he’d first opened

  the door to his apartment building, I assumed Clarence’s

  paranoia was due to the high, not wanting to get caught.

  The dead bolts on his door, they were protecting a man

  whose father had been gunned down mercilessly. He

  grew up in fear, and now he was protecting Helen

  Gaines. But why? How did they even know each other?

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  And how did Helen end up here, of all places, after

  fleeing Blue Mountain Lake?

  Bernita had stopped screaming. Perhaps because

  they were both curious. Or perhaps because they didn’t

  want to get anyone else involved. Because they were

  still protecting Helen.

  “You’re Henry,” she said. “Oh my…I’ve wanted to

  meet you for so long.”

  That answered my question.

  “I only just found out you existed a few days ago,”

  I said. “Why didn’t you ever try to reach me?”

  “I didn’t know how,” she said, but her voice betrayed

  that thought. She never really tried. The idea of my ex­

  istence was grander than the reality of it.

  I walked over to Helen. Extended my hand. She did

  not offer hers, and for a moment I was embarrassed, but

  then she stood up, took a breath and gathered me in her

  arms. It was a strange sensation, and one I wasn’t sure

  was deserved or appropriate, but soon I felt my arms

  wrapping around this small, frail woman who’d been a

  part of my family’s life long before I ever arrived.

  Her pulse was r
acing. A slightly sour smell came

  off of her.

  When Helen Gaines pried herself away from me,

  she stepped back, sat down on the bed with a sigh. The

  woman’s pupils were dilated, and I had to take a

  moment to realize just how small, just how thin she was.

  I remember the photo my father had shown me. The vi­

  vacious young woman with the unruly brown hair, the

  bright green eyes. The eyes were still green, but they

  were slightly dulled. Too much life had passed by them.

  Not enough love to keep them shining.

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  285

  The veins in her wrists were thick, ropy. Blue streaks

  roamed underneath her skin. The brown of her hair had

  nearly all been wiped away, replaced with a stringy

  gray.

  Then I heard a smacking sound and saw that she

  was licking her lips. Dry mouth. A symptom of crack

  addiction.

  She was Stephen Gaines’s mother all right.

  “Wait,” I said. Suddenly I was the one confused. I’d

  been so caught up in discovering the earring and

  finding Helen that the biggest question hadn’t even

  occurred to me to ask.

  “How in the hell do you two know each other?” I said

  to Helen, then turned to Clarence.

  Clarence bowed his head. Then he stepped by me,

  went and sat down on the bed next to Helen. She placed

  her hand on top of Clarence’s head. He smiled weakly,

  tilted it slightly.

  “Butch Willingham,” Helen said, “saved my life. When

  I came to this city I had nothing. I started using, but I was

  out of control. I bought from Butch, but he never sold me

  enough to kill me, which is what I wanted. One day, Butch

  found me passed out in a gutter. Facedown. Drowning in

  filth. He took me in. Nursed me back to health. He was

  my lover. My protector. He was the husband your father

  never was. The father Stephen never had.”

  “And when my dad died,” Clarence said, “Ms.

  Gaines always looked after me. The city wouldn’t allow

  her to adopt me because of her…issues…but she visited

  every day. She was the mom I lost when I was a kid.”

  “So when Beth-Ann was killed,” I said, extrapolat­

  ing what I’d learned, “you called Clarence.”

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  “He was my only friend left,” Helen said. Her eyes

  were sunken. She began to weep softly, her small body

  trembling. Clarence wiped her tears away with his

  finger, took her frail hand and kissed the back. Helen

  smiled, nestled her head against his neck.

 

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