Finding David Chandler

by Charles Ayer

  “But she told me we didn’t have the money! How did she repay it?”

  “That’s none of your business right now. She just did, and you’re off the hook.”

  “That’s good, Matt. That’s good. Thanks for telling me.”

  “So.”

  “’So’ what?”

  “What was the money all about?”

  “Look, I tried to explain this all to Doreen, but she didn’t listen to me. If she had, all this never would have happened.”

  “So why don’t you explain it all to me.”

  “Allie needed the money, Matt,” said David, fidgeting. “She needed it badly. Kenny’s always had a problem with his gambling, and it all of a sudden got a lot worse. He made a really big bet with some really bad people, and he lost. He’s my friend, Matt; he’s our friend. I had to help him.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, perhaps a little too loudly, just as the waitress came by with our food. David had ordered an omelet, and it smelled great. I looked down at my tuna sandwich and wondered if I’d made the wrong choice. The waitress gave me a dirty look and left.

  “What do you mean, Matt? And watch your language, okay? This is a family establishment.”

  “Okay, then. Baloney. Kenny doesn’t have a gambling problem.”

  “What do you mean? Are you saying Allie’s been lying to me all this time?”

  “I don’t think Allie was the one doing the lying, David. And, by the way, nice job of throwing your girlfriend under the bus.”

  “Girlfriend?” said David, doing a bad job of looking shocked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was here yesterday, too, David.”

  David reddened. He took a bite of his omelet to buy himself some time. I took the opportunity to take a bite of my sandwich. They made good tuna salad here, and it tasted good in a non-liver-and-onions kind of way.

  “I don’t know what you thought you saw, Matt,” he said, after taking his time swallowing, “but Allie and I are just friends, that’s all.”

  “I saw what I saw, David. And I also followed the two of you back to the hotel.”

  “Look, Matt,” said David, his expression hardening. “This is none of your business. I can explain this all to Doreen, and I will. You were a good friend, but you’ve been away a long time, and it’s time for you to butt out. Doreen and I are very important to our community, and I’m not going let you sully my standing.”

  I thought the ‘my’ was interesting, but I decided to ignore it. “It’s too late for that, David.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “David, when you get home Doreen is going to ask you for a divorce.”

  “What?” he said, a note of panic in his voice. “Over this? She can’t do that to me!”

  “It’s not because of the money, and it’s not because you disappeared. And it’s not because of whatever is going on between you and Allie. It’s because of me, David. Doreen and I are in love, and we want to be together.”

  I didn’t know what to expect. Would he reach across the table and punch me? Would he throw his food at me? Would he burst into tears?

  “Oh,” he said. A calculating look spread over his face, and I could watch him thinking as he hesitated long seconds before replying. “So, you mean, nobody would think the divorce was my fault?” he finally said.

  For a few seconds, I was too stunned to reply.

  “People will think what they want to think, David,” I finally said. “I’m not interested in blaming anyone for anything. I just want Doreen.”

  “So, what do we tell the kids?”

  “That’s up to you and Doreen.”

  “But they won’t blame me, right?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d just told my oldest, my best, friend that I was in love with his wife of twenty years, and I’d barely gotten a reaction.

  “David, I don’t know, I-.” I got no further.

  David’s phone rang. It was one of those cheap flip phones that you buy along with a fixed amount of phone time, and they were impossible to trace. The crooks I used to chase in New York called them “burners.” He dropped his fork and answered it like the guy on the other end was going to tell him he’d won the Irish Sweepstakes.

  “Hello?” he said, looking serious. He listened intently for a few seconds. Then he looked up at me and said, “Hey, I’ve got to step away for a minute. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you order us some dessert?” Then he got up and left the table, heading for the lobby.

  The only thing that disappointed me was that he thought he was fooling me. There hadn’t been anyone on the other end of the line. While we were talking he’d self-dialed his phone, and it hadn’t taken much to see him doing it.

  I took a final bite of my sandwich while I watched him sneak out the door and head for his car.

  It didn’t matter. I’d done what I’d come to do: I’d rousted him out of his perch. I’d found out all that I was going to find out from him sitting here in the Halfmoon Diner, and I knew where he was going. What he did from that point would tell me everything I wanted to know. I waited until I saw his car pull out of the parking lot, then I asked for the check. I left enough cash on the table to settle the bill and leave the waitress another nice tip.

  It wasn’t until I got up to leave that I saw another car pull into the parking lot.

  ******

  It’s not hard to spot trouble coming when it pulls into a diner parking lot in Halfmoon, New York in a black, late-model Dodge Challenger with smoked glass all around.

  The car pulled in diagonally across two parking spaces off to the side of the diner, and the driver opened the door and got out. He was holding a baseball bat in his right hand. I guess he figured a .45 slug to the head would be too good for me, or not enough fun for him. He didn’t bother to lock the car.

  The bullet head was the same, but Boiko wasn’t wearing a suit this time, just a cutoff muscle shirt that exposed a six-pack and arms the size of most people’s thighs, and a pair of running shorts that exposed thighs the circumference of sewer pipes. His nose looked grotesquely swollen, and I guessed it had been badly broken when Lieutenant Hudson had planted him in the sidewalk. I figured he was too embarrassed to go to a doctor and get it fixed.

  I still carried a gun, a Smith & Wesson .38, but I’d left it in the glove compartment of my car, thinking the guy wouldn’t come at me in broad daylight in a public place in a quiet town. But of course he would, I now realized: that would be the whole point.

  Looking at the guy, I knew that something would have to break my way or I was more than likely a dead man. I’m a big man, an ex-cop, and I’m good in a fight; but compared to him I was small, and the basic rule of fighting is that a good big man will always beat a good small man.

  Then something broke my way.

  Instead of heading for the front entrance, he headed for the side entrance to the diner that was nearest to his car, but that door is always locked from the outside, and it’s heavy. The only other entrance is the back door that leads from the kitchen out to the dumpsters. I knew that’s what he’d try next.

  I headed over to the swinging doors that led back to the kitchen and walked through. A waitress was coming the other way, and it looked like she was going to say something to me until she saw the look on my face. She just kept on walking.

  The kitchen was noisy, chaotic, steamy, and suffocatingly hot. Waitresses were shouting at the cooks, and the cooks were shouting back. Busboys were racing in with buckets piled high with dirty dishes that they deposited with a crash near the commercial dishwasher and raced back out with armloads of clean dishes that they deposited back at the cooks’ stations. The stovetops were covered with broiling hot frying pans that even the cooks, with their calloused, scarred hands handled with dry dishtowels.

  I grabbed a dry towel from one of the busboys and walked over to the stoves. I grabbed the nearest frying pan, a heavy skillet with a nice-looking steak frying in it. At least it wasn’t liver, I thought, as
I dumped the meat onto the floor.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” said a cook, but I ignored him and headed toward the back door.

  I didn’t expect the guy to knock, and he didn’t disappoint me. The door exploded open as he came charging through the door with his head down. But before he had a chance to get his bat-wielding arm inside the door I let him have it in the face with the cooking side of the frying pan. He screamed as the broiling hot fat from the steak hit his face and the pan smashed what was left of his nose. He started to spin around like a wounded animal, the baseball bat in his hand forgotten. But as much pain as he was in, and even without the bat, I knew the man could still kill me with a swing of one of his fists.

  When his back was to me, I swung the stove side of the heavy pan at the back of his head as hard as I could. I felt something give, and I didn’t think it was the pan. The guy let out a soft moan and seemed to stagger a step before he collapsed in a heap. I didn’t think he’d get up. I hoped I hadn’t killed him.

  I dropped the pan and walked back through the kitchen. “I think you ought to call 911,” I said to the first waitress I saw, then I walked back through the dining room and out the front door. I pulled out of the parking lot slowly, hoping that no one would get my plate number; I knew that someone telling the cops that they saw me drive away in a Honda Accord would be less than worthless. But I couldn’t worry about that right now. What would be would be.

  I pulled back on to Route 9 thinking that I would probably never see Halfmoon again, and that I might have missed my last, best chance to try the cherry pie.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I THOUGHT ABOUT FOOTBALL A LOT on the way back to Devon-on-Hudson, and by the time I pulled into Doreen’s driveway I had it figured out.

  She was out by the pool, wearing that black one-piece that covered about as little as a one-piece could.

  “Matt,” she said, getting out of her seat. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “I’m an ex-cop,” I said. “Cops never learn how to drive slow. Doreen, I promise this will be the last time I’ll ever say this to you, but please, get dressed.”

  “What? Why? What are we doing?”

  “We’re going over to Kenny and Allie’s house. I’m willing to bet David’s already there, so we have to hurry.”

  Doreen froze.

  “He knows about everything. But what’s more important, so do I, and he doesn’t know that yet. Please, honey, go get dressed. I don’t think they’re going to be at the house for too long and I don’t want to miss them. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

  “I like that,” she said, her frightened expression melting into a smile.

  “Like what?” I said.

  “You called me ‘honey.’ It sounded nice.”

  “It felt nice, too,” I said, smiling back. I couldn’t help it. “But please, go get changed!”

  She ran off. It took everything I had not to follow her. But then I reminded myself that I was about to shatter her world. I sat down and waited.

  ******

  The drive over to Kenny and Allie’s house took only five minutes. There wasn’t time to explain everything to Doreen, and I didn’t try. It was going to be rough for her either way. When we got there David’s Audi and Allie’s SUV were both in the driveway. I said a silent prayer of thanks that Kenny’s Jeep wasn’t there.

  The front door opened just as I was about to knock, and I saw David, with the same look of terror on his face that I’d seen at the Halfmoon Diner, and Allie looking just as pleased to see me as the first time. Allie was holding an overnight bag in one hand. She paled when she saw Doreen, but she and David both recovered quickly.

  “Hi, David. Hi Allie,” I said. I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

  “I can’t see where we have anything to discuss,” said David, putting on a pretty respectable show of righteous indignation.

  “I think you’re wrong,” I said, opening the door and walking in. Doreen followed me.

  “Hello, David,” she said, giving her husband a level stare.

  “Doreen,” said David. “I can’t tell you how shocked I was to learn about what’s been going on behind my back. I don’t know how you’re ever going to be able to hold your head up in this town again.”

  “I think it’s going to hold up just fine,” said Doreen.

  “Okay, David, let’s cut the crap,” I said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said David.

  “David, like I told you, I saw what I saw. I saw the two of you together yesterday at the Halfmoon Diner. I saw the two of you slipping into the Best Western.”

  “I don’t know what you think you saw,” said David, “but I’ll tell you exactly what it was. Allie is a dear friend of mine, and she came to see me because she thought I ought to know what was going on between the two of you.”

  I had to be impressed at the speed with which David was putting his narrative together. If he’d only put that much effort into his job maybe he would have been a better banker.

  “Number one, David,” I said, “Allie had no way of knowing about Doreen and me. And number two, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ‘dear friends’ kiss each other the way you two did at the diner.”

  “That’s just your version,” said David. “For all anybody knows, you’re just making that up to excuse your behavior.”

  “I’m proud of my behavior, David,” I said. “I’m not sure you can say the same. And, by the way, Allie, what do you have in that overnight bag? Milk and cookies for a snack at the lake?”

  “That’s none of your damn business!” said Allie.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, “and I don’t particularly give a warm crap what’s in there, but I can guess.”

  “Now look here, Matt,” said David. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making any accusations. You admitted to me at the diner that you were carrying on an affair with my wife.”

  “And now you’re seeking solace in the arms of your best friend’s wife, is that it? Does Kenny know about this?”

  “You leave Kenny out of this!” said Allie.

  “Maybe I should,” I said. “It’s obvious that you are.”

  “Enough, Matt,” said David. “Look, Allie and I have been close friends for many years. It’s only natural that I would seek her out once I found out what had been going on.”

  “And in the course of that heartbreaking discussion you discovered that you might have stronger feelings than friendship for Allie, is that it?”

  I could see the wheels spinning in David’s head.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s right,” he said after giving it a few moments consideration. “I opened up to her, and that enabled her to open up to me. I was shocked to learn that she and Kenny had been very unhappy for a long time. Of course, who can be surprised at that? Look at the man, for God’s sake. He’s a buffoon.”

  “Nice guy, David,” I said. “I thought the man was your best friend.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” said David. “What matters is that due to some tragic circumstances completely beyond our control, most importantly Doreen’s betrayal of me and Kenny’s failure as a husband and provider, Allie and I are discovering that we have feelings for each other. No one would ever criticize us for that.”

  “Except that’s not the truth, is it?” I said.

  “What are you talking about?” said David.

  “Look,” I said, “we have a lot more to talk about, and both of you know it, so why don’t we sit down in the living room and talk this out?”

  “David,” said Allie, “I want to leave now. This is all very upsetting.”

  “It’s about to get a lot more upsetting,” I said, heading toward the living room, giving David and Allie no choice but to follow.

  Once we were seated I turned to Doreen. “Doreen, I’m sorry that this is all coming out like this. But there was just no time.”

  “Matt, it’s not your fault,” she said. “I’ve been avo
iding the truth my entire life. If this is the day I finally have to face it, so be it.”

  I was proud of her, but that wasn’t going to make this any easier.

  “You know, David,” I said, “I spent the drive back down here thinking.”

  “Bravo for you,” said my old friend.

  “I’ve been thinking about football.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Matt,” said Allie, “that’s all ancient history. What does it have to do with anything?”

  “But it does, doesn’t it?” I said, turning to Allie.

  “Matt, could you please get to whatever point you’re trying to make?” said David.

  “I was thinking in particular,” I said, keeping my eyes on Allie, “of that game against Cornwall in our junior year.”

  “Yeah, so?” said Allie, but something feral, something like basic dread, was creeping into her eyes.

  “It’s the story we all talked about a thousand times, right? About how you and Kenny had that Romeo and Juliet moment while we were out on the field for the coin toss. I don’t think we all ever got together without repeating that story.”

  “Matt,” said David, “what are you getting at?”

  “It’s a funny thing about stories,” I said. “The more you repeat them the more you believe that the version you’re telling is what really happened. We’re all human, and we all do it.”

  “Matt,” said Doreen, “you’re even starting to confuse me.”

  “See that?” said David, starting to stand, “Even your girlfriend here thinks you’re full of crap.”

  “Sit down, David,” I said, keeping my eyes on Allie. It must have been my old cop’s voice, because David sat right back down. “But that’s not what really happened, is it, Allie?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Sure you do,” I said. “I guess it was seeing the two of you hugging and kissing at the diner that finally woke me up, that made me recall that moment the way it really was.”

  “Oh, come on, Matt,” said David.

  “You weren’t looking across the field at Kenny, were you, Allie?”