CHAPTER 3

Callous as it might seem, Stevie was the one person I knew that I could easily understand being murdered. In fact, when we were growing up, I sometimes thought I would be the one to do it. He just had a way of pushing people’s buttons, and I swear he could have made a Buddhist want to slap him silly. So it was strange that the news of his death, his murder, was such a shock to me.

“The police seem to think it had something to do with drugs,” Tim explained to me when I called him back on Liam’s cellphone after sufficiently numbing myself with James Powers’s gift to civilization. I had slipped into a back room at the bar to get away from the raucous lunch crowd to where it was quiet enough to talk. For further privacy, I installed myself in an old wooden phone booth with a sliding glass door that Liam had somehow managed to keep in the bar. Legend had it then when a guy from the phone company came to take it away, Liam got the guy so drunk he forgot all about it. Having it here, even though the phone was no longer connected, was just another of those things I loved, and would miss, about the Pen and Ink. I placed a coaster on the writing platform in the booth and placed the beer I had brought with me on it.

“Did he have any drugs on him when he died? Did he have any drugs in his system?” I asked.

“Hell if I know. I get my facts the old-fashioned way--gossip at the Town Crier Diner with my breakfast and no one there seems to have any information--just opinions,” Tim answered.

The mention of the Town Crier brought back warm memories of teen-age nights spent languishing in the comfortably upholstered booths and sharing tall tales of sexual exploits--or, in my case, lack thereof--over plates of steak fries with gravy and onion rings, our selections from the jukebox mixing with the voices of waitresses barking out orders to the cook. It was odd to think of Tim now being one of the regulars we used to crack jokes about and swear we would never become. Still, I had to admit feeling a slight twinge of envy as I pictured him sitting at the Formica counter arrayed with condiments, sugar packets in their holders and salt and pepper shaker stations and discussing the high school football team’s chances in the upcoming season or the need for a traffic light on Main Street with the usual crowd that gathered each morning.

“Well, did they find the murder weapon?” I asked.

“What’s with the all the questions? Thinking of poking around where you’re probably not wanted when you come down for the funeral?”

“No, no, of course not. You know me. I just like to know what’s what is all,” I answered. And I meant it, despite what Liam had said about finding the killer in order to find myself. I had decided to go to the funeral somewhere between my last shot and my first beer, since I really had nothing else to do or anywhere else to go. Just for the funeral, that was all. I planned to get in and get out of my old hometown before moving on to the next phase of my life, whatever that might be.

“Well, if you are, you should know that I hadn’t seen Stevie for years, but from what I heard he was running with a pretty rough crowd. I’m glad you’re coming but you should be careful. The last thing you need in this town is more enemies.”

I took a swallow of my beer and imagined the type of people Tim was talking about--a gauntlet of drug dealers, bikers, and other small-time hooligans. I could picture them all lined up, just waiting for the chance to bash in my thick reporter’s skull with their chains, clubs, and baseball bats. And that was just the women. The men would rip me apart with their bare hands.

In and out--nothing more, I promised myself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave. No one will even know I’m there. By the way, how’s Sue Ellen taking Stevie’s death,” I asked, deciding to change the subject.

“About what you’d expect, seeing as he was her kid brother. Wouldn’t be surprised if she blames herself a little, although she did everything she could to help Stevie straighten out,” he answered.

“Yeah, she always looked out for him. Can’t tell you how many times she beat up one of the older boys for messing with Stevie when we were growing up. Nobody wanted to mess with her.”

“Right, up until high school and then there wasn’t a guy in town who wouldn’t of stood in line for a chance to wrestle with her.”

We laughed and then were both silent for a few moments. I knew that Tim, like me, was remembering how things used to be. You think things will never change, can’t imagine life being any different and then next thing, you see people you thought would be your friends forever in the supermarket or at the dry cleaners and they’re almost total strangers.

“Guess she’s still married to Tony,” I said.

“Yeah, though rumor has it things aren’t so great between them--just more Town Crier gossip, mind you.”

I had to admit I was a little glad to hear that. I never liked the guy, even before all the trouble I stirred up, and it was mutual. I wasn’t that surprised that Sue Ellen married him, because she’d always, even when we were kids, made it clear that she was going to marry money, and Tony came from the richest family in town. He married her, I always thought, just to prove he could, because every guy in town was after her. Of course, he was one of those bastards that always seemed to get what he wanted, even when he didn’t deserve it. Sue Ellen was another case in point. I always thought she was more of a trophy to him than a wife.

“She runs with the horsey crowd these days, so I don’t see too much of her. Got a couple of kids--daughters--both pretty like her. She raised them right, didn’t let them get spoiled, despite all the money.”

We were silent again. The thing about old friends, and I still considered Tim a friend, despite the years and the distances I put between us, was how you could know just what the other was thinking and it was just a matter of time before it came out.

“Do you think she’s still mad at me?” I asked. “I’d hate to come down to the funeral and cause some kind of scene.”

“No, to tell you the truth, I don’t think she is. Last time I saw her, she even asked about you. I think maybe being married to Tony, she understands how things really were. Now would Tony be thrilled to see you? That’s another story altogether.”

“So you still think I should come?”

“You kidding? You owe it to Stevie and, hell, if there is some dust up between you and Tony, well, no one would be happier than Stevie, wherever he might be resting. He’d hate having a boring funeral.”