Chapter Nine

The pinball machine, pool table, and television were the means of entertainment at Kelly’s Bar. David was in deep concentration at the pinball machine, systematically glancing at the score and plastic flippers jumping and moving with electronic speed. The lights, bells, and buzzers flicked on and off as the stainless steel ball rolled uncontrolled over the games surface.

Brian Kelly, wearing his traditional green apron with a light green shamrock in its center, stood behind the bar. The apron barely covered his two hundred and forty pound, six-foot-two frame. He watched a game show on television while his hands wiped clean beer mugs and shot glasses.

Art Finley entered and leaned against the polished bar, “Heard about the Collins kid?”

“No, which one?” Kelly placed a frosty beer mug in front of Finley.

“The little girl, police think she’s lost or followed an animal somewhere.”

“Followed an animal?”

Finley took a long swallow, almost emptying the mug before setting it back on the bar. He then began to relate his story of the missing child, beginning where the kids heard a noise by the river. Then he spotted David at the pinball machine. He left Kelly to join the stranger.

“You look familiar,” Finley said.

David kept his eyes on the game. “David Raferty, Doc Raferty’s nephew.”

“I thought I recognized you. I meet you the last time you came to Wexford. Let’s see, must be at least…”

He glanced at Finley and struggled to remember their other encounter. He could not place him.

“I don’t remember. I was younger, I guess.” David’s fingers pounded the flipper button, sending the pinball on a scoring binge.

“That long? Seems like yesterday. I’ve known your Uncle since childhood. Why I remember a time when…”

“Art’s better known for his knack of bothering folks. Come on over and have one on the house,” laughed Kelly.

“Just arrived?” Finley sided up to the bar seeking a free drink also.

“Thought I’d get a beer before I went over to my Uncle’s,” David said, avoiding eye contact with Finley. He did not care for the man, he was annoying and nosey and appeared to be someone in need of pleasing others but afraid of people in general.

He thought Finley an odd duck, with balding scalp offset by thick, bushy eyebrows lying like hairy caterpillars above deep eyes. His lips did not seem to move when he spoke, but a gruff voice came from his throat that commanded attention, which he obviously avoided.

It was not long before a white-haired man entered Kelly’s wearing chinos, sneakers and a black polo shirt. He stopped inside the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the illumination of the dimly lit room and spotted David at the bar.

“David,” the man happily exclaimed, walking toward him with his hand extended. David stood from the stool and greeted his Uncle with a hug, then shook hands.

“Good to see you, Uncle,” David said. “You look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“I keep active, watch the diet.” He held David at arm’s length, scanning his nephew from head to toe. “You’ve sprouted since I last laid eyes on you. It’s good to see you…and David, please call me Carl.”

“Okay…Carl. Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s why I came here, wet my whistle,” Carl smiled.

“Coming right up,” remarked Kelly before anyone could order.

“I see you’ve met Art Finley.” Carl nodded toward the man sitting beside him.

“It seems we’ve met before,” David mentioned.

“Everyone in Wexford seems to have met before,” Finley said sardonically.

“I suppose you’re right. It is a small town. He also tells me you two are good friends?” David looked at his Uncle, amused.

Carl laughed. “Friends I suppose, but I’m not so sure of the good part.”

Those who heard laughed.

“I was beginning to tell Kelly about the Collins girl.” Finley attempted to change the subject since the laughter generated by Carl’s remark focused on him.

“I met Chief Murphy on the way here,” said Carl. “Damnedest thing, little girl disappearing right from under the eyes of a bunch of kids.”

“Then it’s true?” Kelly stated, not noticing the ice in Finley’s stare because Kelly verified his story with someone else.

“Police are still looking,” continued Carl, “nothing has turned up.”

The door opened and a few of the volunteers in the search party came in. The mud on their boots showed that they had been along the riverbank.

“How about some beers, Kelly?” shouted a large man who could have been Paul Banyan’s twin brother. “And make them cold, you Irish bastard!”

Laughter filled the bar.

“What are your plans?” Carl asked David.

“I haven’t given it much thought. My mind’s been set on coming here for some reason, so here I am,” he shrugged.

“A fugue state…”

“A what…?” David looked lost at his Uncle’s theory.

“A person who runs away from anxiety with no memory of why they ran in the first place,” his Uncle offered. “Is that why you’re here, running away from something?”

“I’m not running from anything,” David replied. The thought of being a fugitive did enter his mind. Maybe he was on the run from the law; perhaps he was a serial killer or a bank robber…So where was the money or the desire for blood?

“You’re getting deep, Uncle, I mean, Carl. I’m not running from anything, I just can’t remember…some things. Maybe I’m exhausted from the bus ride,” David held back from telling him he could not even recall when he left, or where from.

“Tabula Rasa,” Carl stated with an air of knowledge. He could see from his nephew’s expression that he would have to translate. “Latin, David, means erased tablet, or in your case, blank slate. Don’t worry about it, you probably are overtired for some reason and after a good night’s rest you’ll feel.”

“You guys care for another round?” a feminine voice interrupted.

David turned and came face to face with Kelly’s replacement bartender. She wiped the bar with a damp rag while waiting for an answer. David was awestruck at her beauty, especially her eyes, illuminated by an intimate glow filtered by the smoky room. They met his and seemed to search for his soul. Long dark hair flowed like silk over her shoulders and down to her back.

Carl noticed David’s inability to answer so he took the initiative and ordered two more drinks. The haunting beauty went to refill the beer glasses. David tried hard not to show he was staring.

“Nancy Flanagan,” Carl began the introduction, “my nephew, David Raferty.”

“Pleased to meet you.” David tripped slightly on the barstool while politely trying to stand. His face turned numerous shades of red.

“Likewise.” She moved to another customer at the far end of the bar.

“My God, she’s beautiful,” David said.

“And single. She works here a few nights,” Carl stated, also following Nancy’s trek to the other end of the bar.

Nancy approached again, stopping when David leaned across the bar, “I was curious if you were free tomorrow.”

His voice gave away his nervousness. Nancy gazed at him with her bewitching eyes, seeking an ulterior motive. “I just met you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember much about Wexford and thought you might be free to act as my tour guide,” he said, sitting back onto the barstool.

She wore a slight grin as she made a drink for another customer. “Tour guide is it? Okay, I’ll go for that. I am free tomorrow and have nothing planned. Maybe a tour of Hicksville will take all of ten minutes.”

David wanted to look around town and see if anything familiar might return his memory. Something brought him here and if he found what it was, it might bring back the rest of his memory.

He smiled as he sipped his beer. Who better to spend the time with than this beautiful creature called Nancy Flanagan?

“Is ten o’clock all right?” she asked.

“Great, where can I pick you up?”

“You just did,” she giggled.

“Let me rephrase,” he laughed. “Where do you live?”

“Are you staying with your Uncle?”

“Yes”

“I live on Stone Street, two lefts from the end of your street, number twelve.”

“I’ll be there at ten.” David smiled ear to ear as she went to fill the table order. She looked back at him and smiled.

“Looks like you did well for yourself, young man,” Carl said.

“You were listening?”

“Of course I was. How else is an old geezer going to learn the fine art of picking up young ladies?”

“I wasn’t trying to pick her up. I thought she might show me...” David stopped when he noticed the smirk of delight on his Uncle’s face. He was not buying his tour guide story one bit. “I swear, just the sights.”

“Of course, just the sights.” Carl slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be here…I think.”

* * * *

Chief Murphy sat at his desk scanning the latest reports. His thoughts were on the missing child and his wife.

“Any calls on the Collins girl?” he called out to Keith, busy pouring them both a cup of coffee.

“Damn!” he stated, spilling some of the hot liquid onto his hand. “Sorry, Chief, nothing about your wife or the Collins girl but another search party is forming on the field. Only one call last night, someone ran over a mail box on Henderson Drive.”

Murphy shook his head. “Christ, I thought Boston was a high crime area. Did Andy find anything?”

“He hasn’t come back yet,” Keith said.

Murphy could see the shape of two horses feeding in the stable.

“I don’t like this,” he said, walking toward his patrol car parked out front. “Red is back without him.”

“Think there’s trouble?” Keith went to the window to see the stable for himself.

“I’m going to the field and get the searchers organized, then look for Andy. Stay here and check with me every fifteen minutes.”

Murphy left the office, remembering the blood on the bleachers and hoping he would find Andy soon.