The Last Virginia Gentleman

by Michael Kilian

  Lenore Fairbrother’s words had never left him. She’d said she’d seen Deena performing fellatio on another man. He hadn’t been able to make up his mind whether the woman had just been playing mean-spirited games with him or whether there was something to it.

  But he couldn’t imagine Deena with Bernie. He could not imagine Bernie being that stupid.

  He couldn’t have imagined Bloch sticking the knife into him over the treaty, either.

  “He’s having a lot of problems with Sherrie,” Deena said. “She’s really around the bend. He talks to me about her. He’s got no one else.”

  Moody stared.

  “Anyway,” Deena said. “He has this new number. It rings a beeper.”

  “And he calls you when it goes off?”

  “I have to leave a message. On a machine.”

  “Call him. Now.”

  She did so. They sat in silence afterward. Within twenty minutes, the phone rang.

  “Hold on, Bernie,” she said, after answering. “It’s Bobby. He really has to talk to you.”

  She stood, holding the phone. Her robe had fallen open.

  “Go to bed,” Moody said, taking the receiver. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Deena gave him a very worried look, then walked away, the robe shimmering. He sat down, stretching out his legs, making himself relax, thinking calm.

  “Where are you, Bernie? Are you anywhere near Washington?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m in Charlottesville. The Boar’s Head Inn. A little business meeting.”

  “I want you to come back. Tonight. I have to talk to you. In person. In private.”

  “No can do, Bobby.”

  “Let me put it this way. It’s official government business.”

  “Can’t. Sorry.”

  Moody sat without speaking a moment, wondering as he always wondered if someone might have a tap on his phone. He had always conducted his conversations as though that were the case.

  “Then listen to me now, Bernie. Listen carefully, because I don’t want you to have any doubts about what I have to say.” He paused, steadying himself again. “I know all about the money you’ve laid down against the treaty. I know what you’re doing and what Reidy’s doing and how you’ve been working together.”

  “What kind of bullshit is that, Bobby? Who’ve you been talking to?”

  “I know everything. I’ve got it all down cold. I have enough to put you and Reidy at a table with microphones on it. Under oath. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  “I hear you, but it’s bullshit. What the fuck have you turned into, Ralph Nader or something?”

  “I work for the president of the United States, friend. And you have put this administration in big goddamned jeopardy.”

  “Knock off the civics crap, Bobby. It’s nothing personal, all right? It’s just politics. Hard ball. Kick bite scratch, dog eat dog. Name of the game.”

  “Why did you have to do it? Why can’t you just count your goddamned millions and leave the government alone? Leave me alone?”

  “You’re not that naive, are you, Bobby? Where the hell do you think those millions come from? Did you ever stop to think for a minute what that fucking treaty would do to me? To a lot of us? It’s not just me, pal. You’ve got all our backs up, across the board, both sides of the line. There’s big Republican money down on this one. Respectable names. Social Register. You’d be amazed.”

  “This isn’t how it’s done.”

  “Fuck you, pal. It’s how it’s always been done, and always will be.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Oh yeah? Don’t be a chump. Everything’s set. It’s all in motion. Nothing you can do about it. No reason for you to. You’ll come out of this all right. You can stay square with your boss. You’ll be secretary of state in a month. By the time he figures out the rug has been pulled, you’ll probably be sitting in the vice president’s chair.”

  Moody waited, as though giving this serious thought. “I’m not buying in, Bernie.”

  Bloch sighed. His voice took on a very hard edge when he spoke again. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you give me no goddamned choice. You’re not going to do a thing to screw us up. You’re going to drop it.”

  “Come to what?”

  “You’ve got to make me say it, don’t you? A lot of people have turned up dead, pal. Including two young broads, and nobody has the faintest fucking idea who did it. They never will. You want there to be another dead body, Bobby? Another young woman? A real looker, out of California? Turn up in a ditch, and nobody knows why?”

  “Are you talking about May?”

  “Yeah, May. You love her, you said. You want her back, you said. So why put her in jeopardy? You told me you looked at that girl’s body out there, how she had her head half cut off. Think of May’s head. Think of her pretty face. These friends of mine, it’s been all I can do to hold them off. Why should I even bother if you’re going to try to put the screws to me?”

  “You can’t touch her.”

  “Listen up, Bobby. I know exactly where she is. She’s holed up at Geneva’s place in the mountains. She’s been there for days. I’ve told them they can’t touch her, but you push me like this … I mean, I could make a call and in five minutes she’s dead. Why would you make me do that?”

  Moody remembered May as a little girl, sitting on Bernie’s lap, playing with the gold chain he used to wear. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Bobby, I do what I have to. You know me well enough to know that.”

  “I don’t know you at all.”

  “So what’s it going to be?”

  Moody’s breathing was so heavy he sounded like an asthmatic.

  “I want May out of this. Alive. Untouched.”

  “Terrific. So are you going to play?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We should have a meeting.”

  “A meeting?”

  “With some guys who can help.”

  “Your friends?”

  “No. Your friends, Bobby. You’ve got a lot at stake in this. You want to protect your interests the same way I do.”

  “My interest is May.”

  “We’re still in a recession, Bobby. Your investments have been locked up in a trust since your first day as governor. I’m told you’ll be lucky if you end up with half what you had. You’ve got a long way to go in public service. You don’t want to retire on a government pension. I’d like to see you have a little something set aside.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve been laying all this money on every yo-yo in the Senate. We oughta be placing a bet on a number that’ll really count. Reidy may be a smart son of a bitch, but this is going to take real finesse, especially if we’re going to keep the president steered clear of what’s really going on.”

  “You’re offering me money?”

  “I want everybody happy, including you. I want a meeting. Tomorrow morning. Cut a deal. You, me, and Reidy. Maybe one of those big Republicans I was talking about, so you can see that all the bets are down.”

  “Where?”

  “We need neutral ground. Make it a hotel. We’ll get a suite. A little prayer breakfast. The Hay-Adams. Reidy likes it. It overlooks the White House.”

  “The Hay-Adams.”

  “Nine A.M. If Reidy balks, I’ll call you. But I don’t think he will. This’ll knock his fucking socks off.”

  “And if it’s a done deal, tomorrow afternoon, I get May back. Not a scratch on her, you understand? I’m going to hold you responsible for anything your ‘friends’ do.”

  “Understood. What about Showers?”

  “I’d leave him be if I were you. He has some high-placed friends.”

  “That may be out of my hands. And the horse?”

  “Bernie, I do not give a good goddamn about that horse.”

  “Okay. Fucking terrific. Bobby, for the first time in years, you’re talking like a winner again.�
��

  “Good night, Bernie. Don’t double-cross me.”

  “It’ll be a happy ending, Bobby. A happy ending.”

  Afterward, Moody sat motionless in his chair for a very long moment. It was going to be a long night.

  But first things first.

  He went into their bedroom. The lights were off, but he could tell that Deena was awake. She had probably been listening to every word.

  He clicked on the wall switch. Caught unawares in the sudden glare, she didn’t look so lovely.

  “You told Bernie where May was, didn’t you?” he said. “You overheard me in my office and you tipped him off.”

  “Bobby …”

  “Yes or no?”

  “I was worried about her. I thought Bernie—”

  “I’m going out for a while. I’ve got some thinking to do. I won’t be gone more than an hour. I want you out of here by the time I get back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Out. Gone. Removed. Take your clothes. Take everything I ever bought you. Take the big car. I’m sure you’ve kept that divorce lawyer of yours on retainer. But go. Get out. We’re through. As you’ve pointed out, Deena, you’d make a lousy first lady.”

  Twenty-Two

  May and Showers had thrown back the top sheet to enjoy the fullest freedom in their lovemaking, and now they lay naked in each other’s arms, wrapped only in the heat of the night. They had been very circumspect all these days and nights in her mother’s house, confining themselves to the touch of a hand or a brief, hasty kiss, keeping to separate bedrooms, remaining respectful of Mrs. Moody’s presence and proprieties.

  But this night she was spending with a church family over in Wingo, leaving only the girl Bella in the house and Tyrone and his friends to take turns watching over the stallion in the shed. Showers and May had sat talking quietly after dinner and then gone for a walk, but, upon returning, had cast all inhibitions aside, hurrying to Showers’ room, not caring what Bella in her little bedroom down the hall over the kitchen might hear.

  With a rough urgency the first time, more tenderly and gently the second, he’d twice brought her to joyful climax—the dreamy, teary look in her eyes giving him as much pleasure as the sexual release. They’d held and stroked each other in between times and long afterward, speaking to each other in caresses of both words and touch. Finally, she had slipped off into a blissful sleep, lying against him, her head on his chest, her leg thrown between his.

  He’d found no such bliss. Like a boat pulled to and fro by successive swells, he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, from stark awareness of the dark room around them into fitful dreams and back again, over and over, the dreams fearful, the wakefulness just as bad. Somewhere in the trees, an owl called. A car groaned along a road at some distance. Myriad insects buzzed and ticked and peeped in nocturnal ritual. May’s breathing was soft and slow. Showers looked at the objects in the room, barely limned in the faint light from the window. A few stars in the sky. A glimpse of moon, suffused in haze. He thought of Vicky Clay, in her last hours and minutes, lying stiffly on a bed, her universe reduced to what she could see around her.

  His pistol, a dark lump, was on the bed table. He’d not been more than a few feet away from it in all the time he’d been in this little town.

  With his mind’s eye, he saw the man he’d shot leap backward again, heard his scream.

  Showers sat up, perspiring. He snatched up his wristwatch, squinting at it.

  “May. Wake up.”

  She stirred and murmured. Nothing more.

  “May!” He shook her shoulder.

  She shifted, opening her eyes.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I want to go. Now.”

  “What? Go where?”

  “I’m going to take the horse back. I’m going to give it back to them.”

  “Give it back? The horse?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “We’ll take it to Ned Haney’s, to the auction house. If they want to come after it, it’s theirs. I want nothing more to do with it.”

  “But why, David?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Becky’s dead. Selma’s dead. Alixe has been butchered. We’re hiding out here for our lives. All because of this one damned horse. All because of me. I’ve finally come to my senses, May. Everything I want in life, everything I really want, is with me in this room, in this bed. I’m not going to risk losing you. I’m not going to throw anything more away.”

  “David …” She came into his arms, her hair against his cheek. “In the morning, David.”

  “No.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Now. I want to drive back tonight and get this over with. Get dressed. Call Tyrone, and see if he can find us some kind of truck.”

  They dressed without speaking further. While she phoned Tyrone, he brushed his teeth and shaved, fearful he was taking too much time.

  “He has to go up the highway,” May said. “He’ll be back as soon as he can, though he thinks we’re crazy.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been. Crazy. A damned lunatic.”

  They didn’t want to bother with breakfast, but May made some instant coffee while they waited in the kitchen.

  “What about my mother?”

  “Tyrone can tell her. You can call her later in the day.”

  Headlights flashed on tree trunks outside the window, and an engine roared as a vehicle climbed the steep drive, then died. A door slammed. Then two others.

  “He didn’t take much time at all,” May said.

  Three doors. It was no truck.

  Showers set down his coffee and went for the wall switch, turning off the overhead light. He grabbed May’s hand.

  “Quick. Out the back.”

  “What is it?”

  “Hurry.”

  He unfortunately let the screen door slam behind them. They heard footsteps on the driveway. Pulling May, Showers leapt for some bushes, dropping to the ground. They crouched there as a man came around the back of the house, a flitting shadow, thumping by. He ran up the back steps and the door swung on its spring.

  “Now,” Showers whispered.

  The two of them hurried up the hill, sticking to shadows. Ahead of them, a light burned in the shed. They heard the bay moving on the wooden floor. Before they could reach it, the front door of the shed opened and a man in khaki work pants and a sleeveless T-shirt came out, holding a shotgun. It was one of Tyrone’s men. Showers had forgotten his name.

  “Get down!” Showers called to him.

  Instead, the man came forward, intent on what was going on down at the house. Showers saw his eyes widen. He raised and began to turn the shotgun, but was far too tardy. A bullet struck him in the chest, lifting him, the shotgun flying into the air.

  It landed stock first a good fifteen feet away. Showers rolled for it, flinging out his arm, pulling it to him. He saw a figure in the driveway running toward him, with another behind. He had time only to yank the weapon to his shoulder and fire, lying on his back. The recoil jerked the stock up against his face. In the smoke and ringing echo of the report, he heard cries of pain.

  Seconds passed. He was still alive. He got to his feet and ran. No shots were fired. No bullets thudded into his back. Looking back as he hurried through the doorway into the shed, he saw more headlights turning into the drive, far below.

  May was with the horse, throwing a halter over its head.

  “Leave him, May! We have to get out of here!”

  “No, David. They’ll kill him. That’s why they’ve come—to get rid of all of us.”

  There was a smaller wooden door at the back. Showers went to it and kicked it open. It seemed much too narrow for the horse, but they had no other chance.

  “Hurry!” Showers shouted.

  May pulled on the halter. The stallion, neighing, skittered backward a moment, then, at another tug, lunged after her into the doorway, sticking fast.

  She was outside, pulling
frantically on the lead. Two gunshots rang, one of them splintering the ceiling wood above. Showers picked up a rake handle from the floor and gave the bay a smart whack across the rump. It kicked out, bellowing, the wood of the doorjamb giving a great squeak. Showers hit him again twice, as hard as he could, hating himself for this.

  The horse screamed again and thrust forward. Wood splintered and gave way. In the darkness beyond, the bay rose up on his hind legs, pawing the air. Showers saw May duck, then tug on the rope, pulling the animal back to earth again.

  He ran back to the wide front doors. The shotgun was double-barreled. Leaping to the side, he aimed down the slope and pulled the other trigger. The blast broke glass in the distance.

  There was shouting, and more gunshots. Showers dropped the weapon and pulled his pistol from his belt, hurrying out the back after May. He heard her moving in the brush, not farther up the hill, but to the left.

  He caught up with her, moving past the horse, grabbing her arm.

  “May! Where are you going?”

  “There’s a path,” she said. “They won’t know about it. It goes to the mine.”

  The path led along the face of the ridge, sometimes up, sometimes down, narrow, and crisscrossed with roots, studded with rocks. They stumbled along it in the darkness, Showers hanging back a little, listening for their pursuers.

  They seemed to have lost them, though on the road below a car was moving slowly—too slowly to be going anywhere distant. Dogs were barking, and lights had gone on in many houses. But they could hear no voices.

  “We should try to get to a telephone,” Showers said.

  May stopped, looking over her shoulder, shaking her head. “We’d only bring trouble down on someone else’s home. We can hide in the mine until morning. It’s the safest place for the horse. They’ll be gone soon. They can’t just take over the town.”

  Showers touched the bay’s side. It was sticky with blood—scraped going through the doorway of the shed.

  “All right,” he said.

  Beyond the center of town, the path crossed a wooden footbridge over the roadway, climbed the opposite slope, and finally joined the dirt cut they had ascended on their first day. The bay began wheezing a little as they reached the top.