L Is for Lawless

by Sue Grafton

  "We already passed Little Rock. This is Biscoe coming up."

  "We passed Little Rock? I told you I wanted to stop," I whispered hoarsely.

  "What was I supposed to do? You had the map and you were sound asleep. I had no idea where the airport was, and I didn't want to drive all over hell and gone trying to find it."

  "Why not wake me?"

  "I tried once. I said your name and got no response."

  "Weren't there any road signs?"

  "Not that I saw. Besides, they're not going to have any flights out at this hour. This is the boonies. Get a clue," she whispered back. She reverted to a normal tone, though she kept her voice down in deference to Ray. "It's time to find a motel so we can get a couple hours' sleep. I'm half dead. I about ran off the road more than once in the last hour."

  I did a three-sixty scan of the terrain, spotting little in the dark beyond farms and occasional dense woods. "Take your pick," I said.

  "There'll be a town coming up," she said without concern.

  Sure enough, we came to a townlet with a one-story off-road motel, its vacancy sign winking. She pulled into a small gravel parking lot and got out. She turned her back to the car and reached up under her jumper, apparently removing a wad of cash from the belly harness she wore. I gave Ray a nudge and he rose from the depths like a diver in the process of decompressing.

  I said, "Laura wants to stop. We're both beat."

  "Fine with me," he said. He pulled himself into a sitting position, blinking with puzzlement. "We still in Texas?"

  "This is Arkansas. We got Little Rock behind us and Memphis coming up."

  "I thought you were leaving us."

  "So did I."

  He yawned, giving his face a dry rub with his hands. He squinted at his watch, trying to see the dial in the scanty light. "What time is it?"

  "After one."

  I could see Laura at the entrance to the motel lobby. The lights inside were dim, and the front door must have been locked because I saw her knock repeatedly, then cup her hands against the glass to peek in. Finally, some unhappy-looking soul emerged from the manager's office. Much animated conversation, hand gestures, and peering in our direction. Laura was admitted to the office, where I saw her at the counter, filling out the registration card. My guess was her being pregnant lent her an air of vulnerability, especially at this hour. A fistful of cash probably didn't hurt her cause. Moments later, she emerged from the office and returned to the car, dangling two room keys, which she handed to me as she got back behind the wheel. "Ray gets his own room. I can't sleep with that racket."

  She started the car and pulled around to the rear. Ours were the last two rooms at the far end. There was only one other car and it had Iowa plates, so I figured we were temporarily safe from Gilbert. Ray hauled one of his bags from the trunk while Laura grabbed the duffel and I took the armload of damp clothes I'd dumped. Maybe hanging them up overnight would finish the drying process and render them wearable.

  Ray paused at his door. "What time in the morning?"

  "I think we should be on the road by six. If we're going, get on with it. No point fooling around," Laura said. "Open your drapes when you're up and we'll do likewise." She glanced at me. "Okay with you?"

  "Sure, it's fine."

  Ray disappeared into his room and I followed her into ours: two double beds and a drab interior complete with mustiness. If the color beige had an odor, it would smell like this. It looked like the kind of place where you wouldn't want to jump out of bed without making a noise first. Otherwise, you might inadvertently step on one of the scuttling hard-shelled bugs. The little fellow I saw had gotten trapped in the corner, where he was patiently pawing the walls like a dog wanting out. You can't squish those things without risking that sudden spurt of lemon pudding on the sole of your shoe. I hung my garments in the closet, after a gingerly inspection. No brown recluse spiders or furry rodents in evidence.

  The bathroom boasted brown vinyl tile, a fiberglass shower enclosure, two plastic glasses wrapped in cellophane, and two paper-wrapped soaps the size of business cards. I pulled out my traveling toothbrush and weensy tube of toothpaste and brushed my teeth in wordless ecstasy. In the absence of a nightie, I slept in my (borrowed) underwear, folding the cotton coverlet in half for warmth. Laura went into the bathroom, piously shutting the door before she removed her belly harness. I was asleep within minutes and never heard her climb into her own creaking bed.

  It was still dark when she bumped me at 5:45 a.m. "You want to shower first?" she asked.

  "You go ahead."

  The light blasted on in the bathroom, slanting across my face briefly before she closed the door. She'd opened the drapes, admitting illumination from the lights outside in the parking lot. Through the wall, I thought I could hear the shower next door, which meant Ray was awake. In prison, he'd probably always risen at this hour. Now a shower would be a luxury, since he'd have it to himself and wouldn't have to worry about sexual assault every time he dropped the soap. I raised up on one elbow and looked out at the auto body shop across the street. A forty-watt bulb burned above the service bay. Monday morning and where was I? I checked the printed match packet in the ashtray. Oh, yeah. Whiteley, Arkansas. I remembered the road sign outside of town claiming a population of 523. Probably an exaggeration. I felt a sudden surge of melancholy, longing for home. In the crazy days of my youth, before herpes and AIDS, I used to wake up occasionally in rooms like this one. There's a certain horror when you can't quite remember who's whistling so merrily behind the bathroom door. Often, when I found out, I couldn't help but question my taste in male companionship. It didn't take long to see morality as the quickest way to avoid self-loathing.

  When Laura cleared the bathroom, fully dressed, the belly harness in place, I brushed my teeth, showered, and washed my hair with the diminishing sliver of soap. My blue jeans, while dry, were still suggestive of ashtrays and cold campfires, so I donned Laura's denim dress again. Just being clean gave me an enormous lift. I retrieved my hanging garments from the closet and took them out to the car.

  The drive had been taking us on a steady line to the north. Here, the cold was more pronounced. The air felt thinner and the wind more cutting.

  Ray had pulled on a fleece-lined denim jacket, and as we got in the car, he tossed a sweatshirt to each of us. Gratefully, I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and wore my blazer over that. With the bulk of the sweatshirt, the fit was so tight I could hardly move my arms, but at least I was warm. Laura draped her sweatshirt across her shoulders like a shawl. I got in the backseat, waiting in the car while Laura dropped off the keys and Ray poured loose change into the vending machine around the corner from the office. They came back to the car with an assortment of snacks and soft drinks that Ray distributed among us. After Laura had pulled onto the highway, we ate a breakfast that consisted of off-brand cola, peanuts, chocolate bars, peanut-butter crackers, and cheese snacks completely devoid of nutritional value.

  Laura put the heater on and the car was soon filled with the soapy scent of Ray's aftershave. Aside from the battered face and splinted fingers, both of which looked vile, he was meticulous about his grooming. He seemed to have an endless supply of plain white T-shirts and chinos. For a man in his mid-sixties, he seemed to be in good physical shape. Meanwhile, both Laura and I were looking more bedraggled by the hour. In the close quarters of the rental car, I could see that her dark auburn hair had been dyed to that flaming shade. Her part was slowly growing out, a widening margin of gray. The strands bordering her face showed a rim of white like the narrow matting on a picture frame. I wondered if premature graying was a family trait.

  The sun rose from behind a mountain of early morning clouds massed on the horizon, the sky changing swiftly from apricot to butter yellow to a mild clear blue. The land around us was flat. Looking at the map, I could see this portion of the state was part of the Mississippi flood plain, all the rivers draining east and south toward the Mississippi River. Lakes a
nd hot springs dotted the map like rain splats, the northwest corner of the state weighted down with the Boston and the Ouachita Mountains. Laura kept her foot pressed firmly to the accelerator, maintaining a steady sixty miles an hour.

  We were in Memphis at seven. I kept an eye out for a pay phone, intending to call Henry, but realized California was two hours behind. He tended to rise early, but five a.m. was really pushing it. Laura, sensing my train of thought, caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "I know you want to get home, but can't you wait until Louisville?"

  "What's wrong with Nashville? We'll be there by midmorning, which is perfect for me."

  "You'll slow us down. Check the map if you don't believe me. We'll be coming in on 40, taking 65 North across the state line. The Nashville airport is over on the far side of town. We'll lose an hour." She passed the map back to me, folded over to the section she was talking about.

  I checked the relative distances. "You won't lose an hour. You're talking twenty minutes max. I thought you didn't want to go to Louisville, so what's the big hurry now?"

  "I never said I didn't want to go. That's where I live. I said that's where Gilbert's going. I want to get my stuff out of the apartment before he shows up."

  Ray said, "Forget your stuff. Buy new. Stay away from there. You make a trip to the apartment, you run right into him."

  "Not if I can get there before he does," she said. "That's why I don't want to waste time taking her to the airport. She can do that in Louisville. It isn't that much farther."

  I could feel my body heat up with rising irritation. "It's another three hours."

  "I'm not stopping," she said.

  "Who put you in charge?"

  "Who put you?"

  "Ladies, hey! Knock it off. You're getting on my nerves. We got Gilbert to contend with. That's enough." Ray turned to look at me, his manner solicitous. "I have a suggestion. I know you're anxious to get home, but a few hours' delay isn't going to make any difference. Come to Louisville with us. We'll take you to my ma's where it's safe. You can take a hot shower and clean up while she runs your clothes through her machine." He glanced at Laura. "You come, too. She'd love to see you, I'm sure. How many years since you've visited your gramma?"

  "Five or six," she said.

  "See? She probably misses you like crazy. I'm sure she does," he said. "She'll fix a great home-cooked meal and then we'll take you to the airport. We'll even pay for your ticket."

  Laura took her eyes off the road. "We will? Since when?"

  "Come on. She's only in this because of us. Chester's probably never going to pay her, so now she's out the bucks. What's it going to cost us? It's the least we can do."

  "You're very generous with money you don't have," she remarked.

  Ray's smile faltered. Even from my position in the backseat, I could see the shift in his mood. "You saying I'm not entitled to what's in there?" he said, indicating her belly.

  "Of course you're entitled. I didn't mean it that way, but this is costing us plenty as it is," she said.

  "So?"

  "So you could at least ask me first. I got a stake in it, too. In fact, the last I heard, you were giving me the whole eight grand."

  "You turned me down."

  "I did not!"

  "You did when I was there," I said, practically sticking my tongue out at her.

  "Would you tell her to stay out of our business! This has nothing to do with you, Kinsey, so mind your own beeswax."

  I felt a laugh bubble up. "Be a sport. This is fun. I'm the adopted daughter. This is 'family dynamic.' Isn't that what it's called? I read about this stuff, but I never got to experience it. Sibling rivalry's a hoot."

  "What do you know about family?"

  "Not a thing. That's my point. I like all this bickering now that I've got the hang of it." Ray said, "Is that true? You don't have family?"

  "I have relatives, but no one close. Some cousins up in Lompoc, but none of this day-to-day stuff where people crank on each other and make trouble and act ugly."

  "I lived a lot of years without family. It's my one regret," he said. "Anyway, will you come with us as far as Louisville? We'll get you home. I swear."

  I'm a sucker when someone asks me nicely, especially an honorary father who smelled as good as he did. I said, "Sure. Why not? Your mother sounds like a trip."

  "That she is," he said. "How long since you've seen her?"

  "Seventeen years. I was out on parole, but I got picked up on a violation before I got this far. She never came to see me in prison. I guess she didn't want to deal with it."

  Having negotiated our agreement, we drove on in peace. We reached Nashville at 10:35, all of us hungry. Laura spotted a McDonald's, the golden arches visible off the Briley Parkway. She took the nearest off-ramp. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw her reach a hand under her jumper, where she made a discreet withdrawal from the Belly Button National Bank and Trust. Since mine was the only face unmarked by recent pounding, I was elected to go into the restaurant and purchase our lunch. To ensure variety in our diet, I bought an assortment of hamburgers, Big Macs, and Quarter Pounders with Cheese. I also bought two sizes of French fries, onion rings, and Cokes large enough to make us pee every twenty minutes. I also picked up three boxes of animal crackers, with nifty string handles, for those of us good enough to clean our plates. To show how refined we were, we ate while the car was still parked at the rear of the lot and then took advantage of the rest rooms before we hit the road again. This time Ray drove, Laura moved over to the passenger seat, and I stretched out in the back and took a nap.

  When I woke, I could hear Ray and Laura talking in low tones. Somehow the murmuring took me back to the car trips of childhood, my parents in the front seat, exchanging desultory remarks. That's probably how I learned to eavesdrop originally. I kept my eyes closed and tuned in to their conversation.

  Ray was saying, "I know I haven't been any kind of father to you, but I'd like to try."

  "I have a father. Paul's already been a father."

  "Forget him. The guy's a turd. I heard you say so."

  "When?"

  "Last night in the car when you were talking to Kinsey. Said he criticized the shit out of you growing up."

  "Exactly. I had a father. So why do I need two?"

  "Call it a relationship. I want to be a part of your life."

  "What for?"

  "What for? What kind of question is that? You're the only kid I got. We're blood kin."

  "Blood kin. What bull."

  "How many people can you say that about?"

  "Thankfully, not many," she said with acid.

  "Skip it. Have it your way. I'm not going to force myself on you. You can do what you like."

  "No need to take offense. This is not about you," she said. "That's just how life is. Let's be honest. I've never gotten anything from men except grief."

  "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

  The conversation trailed off. I waited a suitable few minutes, then yawned audibly as if just rousing myself. I sat up in the backseat, squinting out at the countryside as it whizzed past the car windows. The sun had come out, but the light seemed pale. I could see rolling hills, carpeted in dull November green. The grass was still alive, but all the deciduous trees had dropped their leaves. The barren branches created a gray haze as far as the eye could see. In some areas we passed, I could see hemlocks and pines. In summer, I imagined the land would be intensely green, the hillsides dense with vegetation. Ray was watching me in the rearview mirror. "You ever been to Kentucky?"

  "Not that I remember," I said. "Isn't this supposed to be horse country? I expected blue grass and white fences."

  "That's closer to Lexington, northeast of here. The fences these days are black. Over in the far eastern part of the state, you have the coal fields of Harlan County. This is western Kentucky where most of the tobacco's grown."

  "She doesn't want a travelogue, Ray."

  "Yes, I do," I said. She wa
s always taking cuts at him, which made me feel protective. If she was going to be the bad daughter, I was going to be the good. "Show me on the map."

  He pointed to an area north of the Tennessee border, between the Barren River Lake and the Nolan River Lake. "We just passed through Bowling Green, and we got Mammoth Cave National Park coming up on our left. We had time, we'd do the tour. Talk about dark. You go down in the caverns, when the guide turns out the lights? You can't see for shit. It's blacker than black, and it's dead quiet. Fifty-four degrees. It's like a meatpacking plant. Three hundred miles of passageways they've found so far. Last time I went was maybe 1932. A field trip in school. Left a big impression on me. When I was in prison, I used to think about that. You know, one day I'd come back and take the tour again."

  Laura was looking at him strangely. "That's what you thought about? Not women or whiskey or fast cars?"

  "All I wanted was to get away from overhead lights and the noise. The racket's enough to drive you nuts. And the smell. That's another thing about Mammoth Cave. It smells like moss and wet rocks. Doesn't smell like sweat and testosterone. It smells like life before birth... what's the word, primordial."

  "Geez. I'm sorry I have to go back to California so soon. You're talking me into it," I said dryly.