Luckily they didn’t take the wheelchair away. It was parked outside the cabin when we decided to check out the ship. I talked Jean into using it ‘just this once.’
Using the map we’d been given, we headed upstairs to the promenade deck and found an opening to the outside that looked out to the dock. We stood with five hundred of our closest friends and waved goodbye to total strangers. More navy guys came up and offered us fancy cocktails for only $6.50 each. I bought two of those – two kinds of rum, pineapple juice, grenadine, and a shot of apricot bandy – and two Shirley Temples for the boys.
‘You realize that’s a gateway drink, don’t you?’ my wife the shrink said.
‘Huh?’ I said. I’m clever that way.
‘Shirley Temples. It’s a mixed drink for children to get them ready for alcohol,’ she said.
‘Huh?’ I said again.
‘Are you paying attention to me?’ she asked.
‘Hey, look down there! See that guy next to the woman in the red dress? He looks just like Al Pacino!’ I said.
‘No,’ she said, looking down. ‘He looks like Robert De Niro.’
‘Right. The other one. I always get them mixed up.’
‘You’re such a bigot,’ she said, but there was a smile in her voice.
‘What?’ I said in all innocence. ‘I’m a middle-aged southern white guy. What do I know about east coast eye-talians?’ I said, stressing the ‘eye’ to make her laugh. I got the desired result.
The boys had put down their Shirley Temples and were using the extra-long straws as swords to assault each other. I put my arm around Jean and stared at Galveston. We wouldn’t be seeing that bitch for seven whole days.
Let me just say this: I’m not a big gambler, I don’t play golf (there was a putting green aboard ship), and I’m not much for Vegas-style shows. But give me a free meal in a semi-star restaurant and you’ve got me for life. The restaurant spread from one side of the ship to the other, with windows looking out to the ocean on both sides. The tables had tablecloths and fancy china and silverware and crystal glasses. I wanted to mention to the boys not to touch the crystal, then figured the ship’s people had to allow for a little breakage or they wouldn’t let kids aboard, right? Then we sat down to a menu of stuff I loved and stuff I’d always wanted to try. Like an appetizer of escargot in garlic lemon butter with toast points, a main course of Chateaubriand with truffles, roasted new potatoes and white asparagus, and for dessert a chocolate soufflé with raspberry sauce. I wanted to lick each plate but figured that might embarrass my wife. The boys weren’t that crazy about the restaurant, wanting to know where on the menu were the chicken nuggets, so after a little fine dining we took them across the ship to the buffet line/food court-type place where they were able to find all sorts of kid-friendly foods: chicken nuggets, corn dogs, tacos, spaghetti and meatballs – you name it, it was there, along with some more adult treats like Chinese food, Mexican food, Greek food – and of course, hamburgers, hotdogs and fried chicken. There were vegetable dishes, too, and a salad bar with lots of fruit, but the only things the boys even looked at were the corn on the cobs. I figured no way was I going hungry on this trip, and say what you might about organized fun, as long as I wasn’t hurting for food, I really didn’t care.
That first night we took the kids to see a magic show, got them to bed around eight-thirty, all tucked in, gave Johnny Mac his mama’s cell phone and told him to call me for anything, and then locked the door and left.
Jean kept saying, ‘This isn’t a good idea.’
‘They’ll be fine,’ I kept saying back.
The only thing more adventurous, more spontaneous and more inquisitive than a ten-year-old boy is two ten-year-old boys. Where one boy alone might be a little reticent and a little nervous, add another and the word ‘dare’ and you have a situation. So it was on the first night of the voyage of the Star Line, Gypsy Cruise’s newest and proudest ship.
After the parents left the two boys, Johnny Mac in the top bunk, Early in the bottom one, talked about things. Like ninjas and zombies and who would win in a fight; about vampires and aliens and what it must be like to live on Jupiter. About inventions like a ray gun that could shoot candy into your mouth from a thousand miles away. After about thirty minutes Johnny Mac climbed down from the top bunk, got the flashlight off the night stand and, with Early behind him, crept into Johnny Mac’s parents’ room to check out their stuff. On the night stand between the two single beds, Early found a book. Since it was a hardcover and fairly big, Johnny Mac claimed it was his mother’s. ‘Dad only reads paperbacks,’ he told his friend. Early nodded his head. He totally understood that.
The volume of his mother’s was entitled Early Childhood Development, and the boys eagerly took it into their part of the ‘suite’ where they sat on the bottom bunk with the flashlight on and quickly turned pages looking for boobs. It was with great regret that they returned the book to his mother’s side of the bedside table, pictures of the developing boobs never found.
It was then that they heard a sound. Knocking on doors – not theirs, but other doors on the corridor – first one, then another, coming closer. Then, their own door! The boys looked at each other then ran to it. The knocking had moved on so they opened the door and leaned out. Three kids – two girls and a boy – were running down the corridor, the boy on the left, the two girls sharing the right, knocking on doors and laughing.
‘Hey!’ Johnny Mac called out. ‘What are y’all doing?’
All three turned around in shock. Seeing that it was just two other kids, the boy said, ‘We’re knocking on doors randomly, dumbshit.’
‘Why?’ Johnny Mac asked.
‘Why not?’ the boy shot back.
‘You guys want to join us?’ one of the girls asked.
Johnny Mac and Early looked at each other, then at their pajamas. ‘Let us get dressed.’
‘Meet you on C deck,’ the boy said and they were off, knocking on doors again and laughing.
Dalton couldn’t keep his eyes off Holly. He loved the way she dressed, all crazy-like. And her hair – he liked running his fingers through the funky colors when they kissed. Most of all, he loved kissing her. And that time when she stuck her tongue in his mouth, he loved the feel of that little ball in the center of her tongue where it was pierced. He never thought he’d like that kind of thing – he always thought he’d go more for the Trisha Nixon type. He’d had a mad crush on Trisha when he was a boy. He’d fallen for that type the weekend he’d met Holly, but it turned out this Trisha lookalike was a guy. Very disappointing.
But there was a problem. Holly wanted to meet his mother. His mama didn’t know he was dating. Whenever he went out with Holly, he told his mama he had to work overtime, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform because it was undercover work. The problem was, his mama wouldn’t approve of Holly, not one little bit. She kept trying to fix him up with women from his church, and they were nothing like Holly. They dressed more like his mama, and they talked about recipes and quilting and other women. Fact is, most of them were pretty old. Older than him, anyway. Maybe in their late thirties, early forties.
Dalton was thirty-five, and he knew Holly was only twenty-seven, but she fit him in almost every other way. Like sitting on her couch in her living room, watching TV, he’d put his arm around her and she’d snuggle up and she fit just perfect. Or walking hand in hand; he was pretty tall, but so was she for a girl, so their hands fit. And in the important places, like in his heart, she fit just perfect. He’d seen a little house, near downtown, for sale the other day. And he thought that would be a perfect place for him and Holly, after they got married, to live and raise a family in. But he wasn’t sure how to ask her. Surely, before they started having kids, she’d have to meet his mother.
We were headed down the promenade when my phone rang. I’d just got an iPhone and didn’t know exactly how it worked, so Jean had to turn it on for me. My old phone had been just fine – a fliptop I’d had for about fifteen years – but peer pressure had forced me into it. I took the phone from Jean and said, ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Milt, it’s Emmett,’ came a faraway voice.
‘Hey, miss me already?’
‘Well, you took a hell of a time to leave,’ he said.
I stopped walking and motioned to Jean, then moved to as quiet a spot as I could find on the promenade. ‘What’s up?’ I asked, falling easily back into sheriff-mode.
‘You remember a fella by the name of Darby Hunt?’ he asked.
‘Oh, shit, yeah. He’s not getting out!’
‘Already did – yesterday,’ Emmett said. ‘Bill Williams just called, mentioned how Darby threatened everybody in his wife’s family, and we’ve got like six of ’em here in the county, and all of his relatives.’
‘Man-o-man,’ I said. He was right – I took a hell of a time for a vacation.
‘Just wanted to give you a heads up. I know you can’t do anything about it from where you are, but just wanted to see if you had any insights for me.’
‘Let me call you back later tonight, ’k? I’m in the middle of this damn boat’s playground and can’t hear a damn thing. I’ll call you from the cabin.’
‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked.
‘The food’s damn good,’ I said.
We hung up and I made it back to my wife. First we tried a cabaret-type show, but the singer couldn’t sing, and one of the dancers fell on her ass, so Jean and I decided to leave. We found a quiet little bar not far from the theater, parked the wheelchair outside, and Jean used her crutches to go in. We took a table at the back. The place was not crowded – two guys at the bar, a couple at a table near the front, and us. Jean ordered a cocktail and I got a beer. And we sat there and talked like we never had the time to do at home. So this was vacation, I thought. Not bad. We needed this. We didn’t talk about who did what to who in my job, or who thought what about what in her job. We talked about us, our son, and our past and our future. And a little bit about our now.
That’s when she said, ‘You think the boys are still up?’
I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Should we call them?’
I pulled out my phone. ‘You want to do the honors?’
Jean took my phone and dialed her own cell phone number. After about three rings, Johnny Mac picked up. Jean put it on speaker. ‘Hey, big guy,’ she said. ‘Did I wake you up?’
‘Mom?’ he said in an exaggerated sleepy voice. ‘Yeah. I was asleep.’
‘Just wanted to let you know we’re headed back. Didn’t want to scare you when the door suddenly opened.’
‘No problem,’ our son said. ‘’Night, Mom.’
Jean hung up the phone and I said, ‘They’re still awake.’
‘Oh, definitely,’ Jean said.
We smiled that secret smile parents share when they know their kids are trying to pull a fast one. Boy, did we have his number.
‘Oh, crap,’ Johnny Mac said. ‘That was my mom. They’re on their way back to the room.’
‘Cabin,’ said the other boy, now known as Ryan, who was eleven.
‘Whatever,’ Johnny Mac said in an attempt to impress the girls – now known as Janna – nine, with curly blonde hair and big blue eyes – and Lyssa, ten, with long, straight black hair and big brown eyes. Mature for his age (or possibly just his father’s son), the attractiveness of the two girls had not gone unnoticed.
‘I guess we should get back then, huh?’ Early said.
‘Have I mentioned that’s a dumb name?’ said Ryan.
‘What’s a dumb name?’ asked Johnny Mac, with just a touch of heat.
‘Early. Who names a kid Early, for gawd’s sake?’ Ryan said and sneered.
‘My name is Earnest Eugene Rollins the fourth, if you must know!’ Early shot back. ‘But I was a month and a half early, and my mom didn’t want me being a fourth of anything, so she called me Early and it stuck.’
‘Sweet story,’ Lyssa said, smiling at Early.
‘Oh, yeah, real sweet!’ Ryan said, still sneering.
‘Jeez, Ryan, leave him alone!’ said Janna and swatted Ryan on the arm. ‘Y’all go on. You don’t want to get in trouble.’
The two boys waved goodbye, mostly to the girls, and headed back to their suite. They got turned around and couldn’t find their way back, but luckily, as they found out later, Johnny Mac’s mom had lost her wheelchair and had to use her crutches to get back to the suite. The boys got back in plenty of time.
Unfortunately they never thought about the fact that the door to the suite might have locked behind them. Panicked, Johnny Mac and Early looked all around, trying to find something with which to break down the door. Nothing. Then they saw Louisa, their steward, walking toward them down the long, long corridor.
Johnny Mac jumped up and down, waving his arms. Louisa hurried to their sides. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, slightly breathless.
‘Miss Louisa, please don’t tell my parents!’ Johnny Mac knew that a lady as young as Louisa would really like the ‘miss’ he added. The southern gentleman stuff worked like a charm. His dad had taught him that. ‘We went out for just a minute to get a milkshake at the soda fountain, but we locked ourselves out!’ he said, letting a little water fill his eyes.
‘Oh, honey, don’t worry! I won’t say a word.’ She pulled out a card key and opened the door.
‘Wow!’ Early said. ‘You had the right key card for our room?’
Louisa looked down at the card. ‘Oh, no. This is like a skeleton key, but a card. It opens all the rooms.’ She smiled and shooed them inside. ‘Better get changed and in bed quick, you guys!’ She giggled and shut the door behind them.
When we left the bar the wheelchair was not where I’d parked it. ‘What the hell?’ I said, looking around.
‘That’s OK,’ Jean said. ‘I don’t need it.’
Like I said, she does this kind of shit. Wants to be totally independent. I guess that comes from having been single for so long. She was in her early forties when we married. But it had been eleven years now. Time for her to realize she didn’t have to be so goddam strong all the time. She had me. I could do that part every once in a while.
We took our time getting back to the cabin. I found a bench in the foyer by the elevators and asked Jean if we could sit for a minute. ‘I need to call Emmett back. It won’t take a minute,’ I told her. I’m a good liar.
It was pretty late, but Emmett picked up on the first ring. ‘’Bout damn time,’ he said.
‘What a way to greet your boss,’ I said.
‘Boss? Didn’t you hear? I’m the new sheriff-in-charge.’
‘That’s acting sheriff, in charge of not much!’ I said. Sobering, I said, ‘Now, about that asshole Darby Hunt. And I do mean asshole. When they lived together in Prophesy he used to beat Cheryl something awful. And I hate to say it, but I’m the one who encouraged her to finally leave him.’ I shook my head, remembering. ‘Didn’t think he’d do that. Bad as he was, I didn’t think he’d do that.’
‘Man, we never know, Milt. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’
‘Yeah, I stopped doing that at least ten years ago, but now? I can’t believe they let him out. Can’t be for good behavior.’
‘He did twenty-five. What was his sentence?’
‘Huh. Twenty-five. Didn’t realize it had been that long. No parole for that asshole, happy to note. But they coulda kept him longer, just for the hell of it.’
Jean was getting fidgety. ‘Go on to the cabin, honey,’ I said, my hand over the phone. ‘I won’t be much longer.’
‘OK, but, Milton, we’re on vacation! Do you know the definition of that word?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said.
She gave me a look and headed for the cabin.
‘She gone?’ Emmett asked. ‘Now we can talk.’
‘I am on vacation,’ I reminded him.
‘Yeah, but you’re not dead. So tell me about this asshole Hunt.’
‘Bad to the bone,’ I said. ‘Him and two of his cousins, same age as him, used to terrorize Longbranch High, so much so that we got called in a couple of times, mostly when they were doing athletics outside of town.’
‘Yeah, I was about to say. The high school’s in city police jurisdiction and I don’t remember getting any calls on them.’ Emmett used to be police chief of Longbranch until politics got him booted out and I was lucky enough to talk him into joining the sheriff’s department.
‘Yeah, they turned over a car at a game against Bishop.’
He snorted. ‘A Volkswagen?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘A Chevy Impala. All three were big boys. Anyway, at the school rodeo at the arena out by Jasper, they got in a fight and put a kid in the hospital. Then one of ’em, never found out which, punched out a bull.’
This time he downright laughed. ‘You’re shitting me!’
‘No, and it might have been funny if it hadn’t been for the kid in hospital with a punctured eardrum and a caved-in sinus cavity. Doctors said he’d never ride a bull again.’
‘Shit. Sorry I laughed.’
‘Well, punching out a bull is kinda funny,’ I admitted.
‘Did the bull go down?’
‘Like two tons of brisket,’ I said.
‘I got a list here of his cousins. Which ones were his wingmen?’
‘Billy and Shorty Hunt.’
‘I thought you said they were big?’ Emmett said.
‘Yeah, Shorty was the runt of the litter. Only six-two, two hundred and ten pounds of pure mean.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah, no shit, ouch. He went after Dalton once, and big as Dalton is, it took two deputies to pull Shorty off him.’
‘Yeah, well, Dalton may be big but he’s not mean.’
‘That’s the truth,’ I said. ‘There were more cousins – boys – both older and younger than those three.’
‘Yeah, I got a shitpot of names here, mostly male.’
‘One girl in the bunch – Vivica. She was as big as the boys and a little bit meaner.’
‘I’m not looking forward to this,’ Emmett said.
‘Look, keep me posted, but if I don’t get back to my cabin pronto I’m in for a world of hurt.’
‘I hear ya,’ Emmett said. ‘But you know I’m gonna be calling?’
‘Without a doubt.’ I hung up and headed toward the cabin.
When I opened the door, the one small light between the beds was still burning but the rest of the suite was dark. Jean was in the bathroom, and when she heard me come in she opened the door. Her face was clean of makeup – the way I liked it best – and by the taste of her kiss, her teeth were brushed.
She whispered, ‘I thought I’d wait for you to check on them.’
We tiptoed into the boys’ part of the suite. Early was snoring like he meant it. Johnny Mac was totally still, almost rigid. Oh, they were both awake all right!
We went ahead with our nightly rituals, careful not to discuss anything we didn’t want the kids to hear. But then I decided to get creative.
‘So what did you think of that show tonight?’ I asked my wife.
‘The show?’
‘Yeah. Did you believe that was a real vampire?’
‘Well,’ she said, picking it up quickly, ‘I wasn’t quite sure about the vampire, but that thing with two heads was definitely real!’
‘I want to go back tomorrow night after the kids are down and see the mummy,’ I said.
‘Do you believe it really walks?’ she asked.
‘More than I believe there are real-life zombies,’ I said.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye in the boys’ area.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Jean said. ‘There is some medical evidence regarding the existence of zombie-like creatures, at least in nature. And if it’s true in nature, why not with humans, too?’
‘Gosh, I didn’t know that!’ I said. ‘Tell me all, but keep it quiet. We don’t want to wake up the boys.’
‘OK,’ Jean whispered, and it wasn’t two seconds before both boys were in the room with us.
‘Mom, really? What part of nature? What do they look like? Have you seen one? Are we talking reptiles, insects, or mammals?’
‘We’re talking you should go to bed when we tell you to, instead of staying up all night talking!’ I said.
‘There are no zombies. Or vampires,’ Jean said.
‘Or mummies, or two-headed things—’ I started, but Jean cut me off.
‘Well, there are two-headed calves, occasionally.’
I laughed. ‘Honey, you’ve been to too many carnival sideshows.’
‘No, they’re real!’ she insisted.
I laughed indulgently. That pissed her off. She grabbed her laptop, pulled up Google and downloaded a video of a two-headed calf somewhere where the one-headed people didn’t speak English. So we had to watch the video and discuss the phenomenon. That took us to almost two a.m.
We finally got the boys down and ourselves in bed. No reading for either of us tonight. Tomorrow would be our first full day aboard ship.
Having seen the menu for breakfast posted in the main dining room the night before, I knew where I was going, but the boys were having none of that. So I took them down to the buffet line where they got all the crap they wanted to eat, got them seated at a table, gave Johnny Mac his mother’s cell phone and told him to call me when they were ready to leave the buffet area.
I got lost on my way back to the cabin and ended up on the first deck, where they rented jet skis, water skis and other watercraft fun. They also rented scooter chairs – those things they advertise on TV for old people. I went in, rented one and drove it up the elevator to the right deck and to our room. I honked at our door. Jean opened it, looking lovely in pink and turquoise plaid Bermuda shorts and a pink golf-type shirt.
‘What the hell?’ she said, staring at the scooter.
‘They rent these downstairs,’ I said.
‘You really feel you need that?’ she asked.
I shot her a look. ‘Better this than me pushing you in a wheelchair. Those are your options.’
‘I prefer my crutches,’ she said, turning her back on me.
I got off the scooter, took out the key and pocketed it, and headed in the cabin after her. ‘I can say there were at least two hundred people on the promenade deck last night who would prefer you took the scooter.’
She turned and gave me a withering look. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, the sarcasm dripping off her tongue. ‘Did my pesky old handicap get in your way?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jean! There is absolutely nothing wrong with finding a way to fit into your environment! These corridors are not the streets of Longbranch where there’s plenty of room for people to get around us if they’re in a hurry. This is a smallish ship with five hundred people on it, half of ’em going the way we’re going. Besides, girl, you’ve got the biceps of a weightlifter,’ I said, reaching for one of them. ‘Which I find incredibly sexy.’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Who knew?’
Jean laughed and sat down on her bed. ‘So I need to worry if Arnold Schwarzenegger comes to Longbranch?’
‘Oh, baby!’ I said and sat down next to her, kissing her neck. ‘God, I’m hungry,’ I murmured. ‘I wish we could live on love alone.’ Then I took an innocent nibble.
‘Uh uh,’ Jean said, standing up. ‘If you want to bite something let’s go eat.’
‘You’ll try the scooter?’ I asked.
‘Only if I can take my crutches along so I can park the scooter at the restaurant, or outside a shop, or whatever. You understand?’
‘Completely,’ I said, already working my head around the breakfast menu I’d seen last night.
Johnny Mac went for seconds on pancakes and Early was behind him waiting for seconds on waffles. While they stood in line they grabbed some extra bacon, a couple of sausages, some fruit and three donuts each. Neither of them even ventured a thought toward the night before last, when they’d hugged a toilet for over-indulgence.
They’d barely started on their second helpings when Janna, one of the girls from the night before (the blonde with the big blue eyes), came by with her parents.
‘Hey!’ she said, smiling mostly at Johnny Mac. ‘Those pancakes are delish, right?’
‘Yeah, real good,’ Johnny Mac said, around a mouthful of said pancakes.
‘Janna, introduce us to your new friends,’ her mother said.
‘Oh, yeah, sure. Johnny Mac, Early, this is my mom, Lucy Tulia, and my dad, Mike Tulia. This,’ she said, putting her hand on Johnny Mac’s shoulder, ‘is Johnny Mac and this,’ she said, using only her head to point in Early’s direction, ‘is Early.’
Lucy Tulia smiled at the boys. She was a short, thin woman with pointy features – chin, nose and cheekbones. Her hair was highlighted and mostly blonde. ‘I think you might have last names, is that right?’ she said and laughed slightly.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Johnny Mac said, trying to stand up in the presence of a lady, like his dad had taught him. He made it up, brushed his hands off on his shorts, and held out his right hand to Mrs Tulia. ‘Johnny Mac Kovak, ma’am. And this is my friend, Early Rollins.’ Early rushed to stand up and shake hands with both parents. Johnny Mac thought the whole thing went quite smoothly and was very grown-up.
‘And how did you meet?’ Mr Tulia asked. He towered above his shorter wife. Well over six feet, he had dark hair and eyes and pleasant features.
Janna answered quickly, ‘They’re friends of Ryan’s.’
‘Oh,’ Mr Tulia said and smiled. ‘He’s a nice boy.’
Johnny Mac nodded, although he figured it was a pretty big stretch of the imagination to call the Ryan he’d met the night before ‘nice.’
‘My dad and Ryan’s dad are partners,’ Janna explained.
Johnny Mac nodded again, this time echoed by Early.
‘Mom, can I go with Johnny Mac and Early to the kids’ pavilion?’ Janna asked, the big blue eyes turned up to her mother’s face.
‘Sure. Are you kids finished eating?’ Mrs Tulia asked.
‘Mom! Look! Their plates are still full!’ Janna said, sliding in the seat next to Johnny Mac.
‘We’re almos—’ Johnny Mac started, but felt Janna kick him in the leg. ‘We won’t be long,’ he said.
‘Well.’ Mrs Tulia looked at Mr Tulia, then at the children’s pavilion at the far end of the food court. Then they both turned to look at the three fresh-faced children. ‘OK, but go straight there and stay there until we come get you.’
Janna smiled at her mother. ‘I’ve got my cell, Mom. Just call when you’re on your way, OK?’
Mrs Tulia kissed her daughter, as did Mr Tulia, and then they were away.
‘Gawd, I thought I’d never get rid of them!’ Janna said. ‘I’m so glad I ran into you two!’
‘It’s nice seeing you, Janna,’ Johnny Mac said.
‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘Let’s dump that food and get out of here.’
‘How far is the children’s pavilion?’ Early asked.
Janna laughed. ‘The children’s pavilion? Are you out of your mind? It’s right there!’ she said, pointing at the far end of the food court. ‘But Lyssa’s waiting for us – well, me anyway – on the top deck. We’re going to spit in the ocean!’
Johnny Mac and Early looked at each other and shrugged. Johnny Mac said, ‘Cool,’ and they were off.
The next morning Emmett decided it would be a good idea to go check out Darby Hunt. The address listed in the release papers faxed over by Bill Williams showed him living at his mama’s house, just outside of Longbranch. It was the other side of the town from where the sheriff’s office was located, but the town wasn’t that big, so going through it to the other side took only about fifteen minutes, even accounting for both stoplights. Mrs Hunt lived in a defunct subdivision started back in the seventies. The builders had mowed down a lot of trees and only managed to put up six houses. Hers was on the one street, Camino Real, in the middle on the right. Like the rest of them, it was rundown, the brown brick looking tired and the mustard-yellow trim needing a paint job – preferably, Emmett thought, in a different color. There wasn’t much grass, just bare spots interspersed with still-brown weeds that would blossom in about a week or two. The driveway led to an attached garage and was filled with vehicles: a Ford F150 pickup, probably an eighties model; a rusted-out Chevy Camaro with a faded racing stripe, a ten-year-old Cadillac, and on the walkway to the front door a spanking new Harley, bright red, with saddle bags.
Emmett brought Dalton with him, just as a visual aid, and the two walked up to the front door and rang the bell. It was obviously still working because Emmett could hear it in the house. At first no one answered, so he tried a knock. Before he could draw his hand back, the door was wrenched open and an elderly woman with a walker barked, ‘What the hell do you want?’
She was hefty, close to three hundred pounds, Emmett figured, wearing a short-sleeved house dress, her upper arms big and floppy, and slip-on slippers. Her dyed brown hair was sparse and the look on her face was not what you’d call pleasant.
‘Good morning, Mrs Hunt,’ Emmett said. ‘I’m with the county sheriff’s department. I was wondering if I might speak with Darby.’
‘You got no call coming here and harassing my son!’ the old woman fairly spat out. ‘He’s not on parole so you got no reason to come checking on him; ’sides, he never did it in the first place! And even if he did, that little bitch deserved it, the way she treated my boy!’
Emmett tried to shake off the disgust he felt and asked again, ‘May I see Darby, please?’
‘No!’ she shouted and slammed the door.
Dalton turned and started back to the squad car, but Emmett grabbed his arm. ‘No way,’ he said. He looked at the motorcycle sitting on the walk. No plates. Well, unless he found Darby with it on the street, nothing he could do about that. He was contemplating other ways to get at an ex-con when the door to the house opened.
In the file Bill Williams had faxed to Emmett the day before had been a fax-faded picture of Darby Hunt. Even just looking at a headshot, you could see he was a big old boy, and the type some women would find handsome. Blond hair in a mullet which, truth be known, was actually popular in the eighties, a big smile with straight teeth and dimples, dark eyes with long lashes – all that crap women think looks good on a man. Unfortunately the man standing at the door didn’t look a lot like the Darby Hunt of the picture.
‘And you are?’ Emmett asked.
‘Who you’re looking for. I’m Darby Hunt,’ he said.
The Darby Hunt of yesteryear was not present – this man was skinny to the point of being frail, the blond hair turned gray, what was left of it. The face was taut and wan, his pallor almost matching his hair for grayness.
‘Y’all wanna come in?’ he asked, holding the door wide.
Emmett hesitated.
‘Mama’s in her room,’ Darby Hunt said, a smile showing missing teeth but still a hint of the dimples.
‘Good. I’d hate to have to shoot her,’ Emmett said, crossing the threshold of the Hunt home with Dalton right behind him.
‘She’d probably outdraw you,’ Darby said, still smiling. The front door opened immediately into the living room, which smelled of dust and sickness. There was a beat-up recliner and a sagging couch, but against one wall was a new and big flat-screen TV. Darby pointed them to the couch and took the recliner.
‘What can I do for y’all?’ the ex-con asked.
‘I heard yesterday that you got out. You’d made some threats against your late wife’s family at your trial. Just wanted to come by and encourage you not to act on those threats,’ Emmett said.
‘Do I look like I have enough strength to hurt a fly?’ Darby asked.
‘Doesn’t take much strength to pull a trigger,’ Emmett said.
Darby nodded his head. ‘True enough.’
‘Besides, as I understand it, you’ve got a lot of cousins who could do your dirty work for you.’
Darby laughed. ‘Not so you’d notice anymore,’ he said. ‘You might be thinking of my old running buddies, Billy and Shorty, right?’
‘It crossed my mind,’ Emmett said.
‘Well, Billy died in a car wreck back in ’ninety-three, and they wouldn’t let me out for the service, damn their eyes,’ he said, the glassy-eyed stare making Emmett think he was seeing the past now, not the present. Darby shook himself and looked up at Emmett. ‘And Shorty moved to California where he currently resides in one of their fine institutions for the criminally stupid.’
‘Pardon?’ Emmett said.
Again, Darby grinned. ‘The boy never was much without me and Billy. He held up a diner where his girlfriend’s mother worked. He pulled some pantyhose over his face, but he couldn’t breathe, so he picked a hole in them. You know how a hole in pantyhose just grows and grows?’
Emmett couldn’t help himself. He smiled. ‘Showed most of his face before he was through, huh?’
‘Oh, yeah. Enough so that the girlfriend’s mama goes, ‘Shorty Hunt! You can’t date my daughter no more!’ All he could do was plead guilty.’
The smile faded and Darby Hunt rubbed his face with his hands and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘Look. I got nothing against Cheryl’s kin. They did the right thing. I killed my baby right in front of ’em.’ He shook his head. ‘I deserved what I got, if not more. I’da died with her, if I could, but I know my baby doll went to heaven, and I doubt I’ll be visiting there ever.’ He shook his head. ‘What I did—’ He shook his head again. ‘That never can be forgiven, by God or anybody else.’
‘Have you seen your daughter?’ Emmett asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Darby shook his head. ‘No, sir. Haven’t seen her in twenty-five years. Not since the day I killed her mama – right in front of her.’ Tears sprang to Darby’s eyes. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for that. Ever.’
Emmett stood up. He wasn’t going to shake Darby Hunt’s hand, but he felt satisfied that the McDaniel family was safe for now.
‘Thanks for the time, Hunt. We’ll let ourselves out.’
Darby stood and grinned. ‘Y’all hurry now. ’Fore I let Mama out.’
Emmett refused to hurry inside the house; once outside, however, it was a completely different story.