CHAPTER 25

“You’re telling us you are going to break into Stevie’s place, even though the police have warned you off the case, there’s one, maybe two people out there who’ve shown they have no problem sticking a knife into someone who pisses them off, and there’s a guy running around who has already given you a good beating and promised to kill you next time he sees you. You know, Wes, you’re an old friend, and it’s great that you have some Boy Scout kinda ideal about seeing justice done, but...well, you’re fricking crazy!”

I was sitting in the kitchen of Tim’s house. Denny, Bob, and Dom were there too. Seems they’d all decided a little intervention on my behalf was warranted based on the stories going around town about me. Ellen had taken the kids off to their various day camps and left us men alone, but not before shooting me a glance that made it perfectly clear where she stood in terms of my recent activities.

“I mean, look at you,” Denny continued, who seemed to be leading the program. “You’ve got a huge bruise on your forehead and every time you shift in the chair you grimace from the pain. When Tim picked you up at the station, the desk sergeant told him what that guy...what’s his name, Puddy?...did to you. You can’t tell me any of this is worth...well, whatever you think it’s worth.”

I needed Tim to pick me up at the police station because that’s where I’d been taken when the police found me at Tina’s place. An old lady neighbor discovered the cats running about in the hallway at some point in the morning. She investigated, came upon Tina’s open door, saw me, and called the cops. They, in turn, apparently believed that I had broken into the place just so I could somehow bind myself in duct tape and lie on the floor to conduct some sadomasochistic exercise to determine which of the muscles in my knees, hips, lower back, and shoulders could endure the highest level of agony. They arrested me for breaking and entering and threw me in a jail cell while they tried to get hold of Terri to corroborate my story. I was actually just drifting off into the most delightful sleep on my cot in the holding cell when an officer opened the door, poked me in my bruised side, and told me I was free to go.

Go how was unclear, since my car was back at Tina’s. Or where, for that matter, because upon my release I was told that her apartment was, for the time being, a crime scene and I’d called the Evergreen to cancel my room when I’d thought I’d be spending a few days at Tina’s place.

So I thought of Tim. It was his phone call, after all, that got me started in this mess. I figured he owed me.

“It’s not what it’s worth to me that matters right now, it’s what it’s worth to Hoppy,” I answered. “Puddy took all my money so I’m flat broke and getting him a story or two is the only way I can replenish my bankroll, meager as it was.”

“If it’s a matter of money, I’m sure we can help you out,” Denny said.

“No thanks. I appreciate your offer but I plan to get out of this town very soon and, when I do, it’s going to be a clean break. I don’t want to owe anybody anything. I want to completely forget I ever came here. You know, I really don’t know how you guys can stand living in a place like this.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that last bit, but I was sore and tired and was feeling a little ganged up on. I touched a nerve.

“You know,” Tim answered, “if you didn’t spend so much time behind bars at the police station, maybe you’d see that it’s really not that bad a place.” His voice began to rise. “Sure, it may not be the big city, but I like it here, like raising a family here. So I’ll tell you what--” He got up and left the room for a moment, returning with a check book he must have pulled out of a drawer in another room. “I’ll give you whatever money you need with no strings attached, nothing. And when you end up in Wonderland or Oz or wherever the hell perfect place you think you’re gonna find, you can use this to buy as much whiskey as you need and forget all about Stevie and Tina and East Hastings. Go do whatever big shots like you do and leave us little people to live our lives--”

“Hey, Tim, come on,” Dom broke in. “You can’t blame Wes for being a little...er...cranky. You have to admit it hasn’t been the best of times for him since he’s been back, and...um...we’re sorta responsible. We asked him to poke around.”

“No, Dom, I think Tim is right.” It was Bob’s turn to weigh in. “In fact, I think it’s for Wes’s own good that he leaves town. I mean, why should he care? He hasn’t lived here for years, he didn’t know the Stevie or for that matter the Tina that we did.”

I noticed the others looked at Bob in puzzlement when he mentioned Tina.

Bob noticed too. “Um, you know, we all heard the stories, didn’t we? She wasn’t exactly Snow White. At least that was the word around town. Anyway, Wes came down for Stevie’s funeral. That’s over. He’s got a life to get back to...or a new one to start...whatever it is. It has nothing to do with East Hastings, I’m sure.” Bob leaned his ample torso forward and, with a bit of a grunt, reached around and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened the fold and slid out several bills. “I say we all chip in what we can, and Wes--” He turned to me holding out his money. “You get settled. If you land on your feet, you pay me back, if not, no big deal. It was great just seeing you again.”

I looked at Bob’s outstretched hand, and at Tim poised with pen and checkbook in hand, then over to Denny and Dom. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Just the other day, you guys are telling me that you know things are corrupt in this town, how a few people might have the police and who knows who else in their back pockets. You even suggested that Stevie was killed because of something he found out about these people and they were actually covering up his death. Then I find a dead woman in my bed, get threatened by the cops, almost have my teeth bashed in, and I’m the problem here? That I should go away and things will all be better?”

“No, Wes, it’s not like that all,” Dom answered. “Part of it is...well, you know, it’s one thing if we say the town’s dirty, it’s another to hear someone else tell you that. And you know, like Tim said it really ain’t that bad a place. The schools are good, there ain’t a lot of crime, at least there wasn’t until you rolled into town.” He smiled, breaking the tension in the room a bit. “And finally, well, look at you. We didn’t expect all this crap to happen. We really have no right to ask you to continue doing this.”

I leaned back in my chair, slowly, the pain becoming a little more bearable, though I was beginning to stiffen up a bit, adding a new dimension to my discomfort. “Okay, I’m sorry about that crack about the town. Tim, you wouldn’t happen to have anything strong to drink about the place, would you. I’d prefer whiskey, but I won’t be choosy.”

“I’ll see what we got,” Tim said, laying the checkbook on the table and turning to leave the kitchen.

“Damn, Wes, it ain’t even twelve yet,” Bob interjected as he laid his wallet and the money on the table.

“It is somewhere in the world,” I answered. “And a few dozen aspirin, if you got them,” I said to Tim, then smiling at Bob before changing my request. “Actually just two would be fine.”

“You know, Wes, we’ve been so busy telling you what we think you should do, we haven’t asked you what you want to do,” Denny said.

Tim came back into the room carrying a bottle of Knob Creek Bourbon. Good whiskey, and I had to admit I was impressed. “Someone gave me this as a Christmas present once,” he said, putting the bottle on the table in front of me, along with two Aleve capsules. He returned to his seat.

I looked at the bottle and the pills on the table. “Well, I know you guys think I’ve got a problem but it hasn’t reached the point where I just drink out of the bottle,” I said.

“Oh, right,” Tim said sheepishly.

Dom, Denny, and Bob laughed. It seemed we’d passed the point of unease between us. Tim got up and went over to a kitchen cabinet, opened the door and pulled out an old fashioned glass and held it up for my approval. I nodded.

“Anybody else?” Tim asked, I think, out of habit because he really didn’t expect anyone to join me. Dom and Bob shook their heads no.

“Why not?” Denny answered, to the apparent surprise of the others. “Bad manners to let a man drink alone, or so I’ve been told.”

Tim took a second glass out of the cabinet, came over to the table, and sat them in front of me and Denny. “Want ice?”

I shook my head no and Denny did the same.

I opened the bottle and leaned forward to pour the whiskey into Denny’s glass.

“Not too much there. It’s just a social snort,” he said.

I poured about a pinky finger’s worth into his glass, then a good middle finger’s worth, or three, into my own.

I raised the glass to Denny. “Sláinte,” I toasted and we tapped glasses and each took a swallow, mine a wee bit deeper than Denny’s so I could swallow the Aleve I had popped into my mouth before raising the glass to my lips.

I sat back, closed my eyes for a moment, and felt the warmth of the bourbon begin to comfort my aches and pains. It was a good start. I estimated I had taken at least a three drink beating from Puddy.

I heard Denny let out a short, quiet cough in reaction to the strength of the whiskey. I opened my eyes and saw that he was holding his glass up in front of his eyes, examining the liquid.

“That’s a...well, that’s very potent,” he said, smiling over at me.

It was probably years since he had drunk anything stronger than a beer and even longer since he had anything to drink before the cocktail hour. He did it now just for me. He was a prince.

In fact, all four of my old friends were good guys. Besides a few bartenders, I hadn’t been around anyone I could really consider a friend in a long time. It felt nice being here with them.

“So anyway,” Denny started, “you haven’t answered my question. What is it you really want to do?”

I took a small sip from the whiskey, put the glass on the table, and shifted slightly in my chair. The pain was definitely lessening. “You know, I haven’t really thought about it too much. I did promise Tina’s sister the Chronicle would print a nice story about Tina--if I can convince Hoppy. I owe her that, and I owe Hoppy for the attorney and other stuff, and I do need some money.”

“You know, I just don’t get this whole thing,” Bob said, a tone of exasperation to his voice. “Sounds to me like you’re just trying to stir things up, maybe settle some old scores. I mean, what happens if you find out things that shouldn’t maybe be brought out into the sunlight, or what if it ends up hurting someone who is completely innocent?”

“You mean, Sue Ellen?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Sue Ellen, Tina’s sister, anybody who stands in the way of you getting your story,” Bob continued. “You do remember what happened before, what happened to old man DiCarlo? There was no proof he had anything to do with that company dumping the chemicals into the river. As far as he knew they were legit. He just paid them to cart it away from the dry-cleaning business. Hell, he was barely involved with running the damned business on a day to day basis by that time. But your story comes out and there it is--front page news--and even if he wasn’t he felt guilty, felt he betrayed the town, all the people who swam and canoed in and lived along the river--”

“C’mon, Bob,” Denny broke in. “Wes never claimed that old man Augustino had anything to do with what was going on. His story was about the company that was dumping that crap in the river. They were the guilty ones. And it wasn’t just chemicals from the dry cleaning business. They were dumping fuel oil, chemicals from the paper plant, treating the river like their own private toilet.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not talking about the bad guys. I’m talking about the innocent ones. I liked the old man. He sponsored my little league team when I was a kid, gave me my first job when I was in high school. Lots of people liked him. And it wasn’t five days after Wes broke that story that Mr. Augustino had his stroke, and not a month later that he was dead.”

“So you’re saying that Wes should have kept quiet, and we all should’ve kept swimming and fishing in that poison until some other innocent people, kids, got really sick or maybe even died.”

“No, what I’m saying is that Wes should think deeply about the repercussions of what’s going to happen. Let’s be honest with ourselves here. We all know who Wes is really after--the ones he is going to piss off,” he said.

“I’m not after anyone. And I’m not even going to write a damn story about anyone other than Tina. Hoppy wants me to look around Stevie’s place, that’s it, that’s all I promised him I would do. There’s no ulterior motive,” I answered.

“Oh, c’mon, Wes. Don’t try to kid us. It’s not that I blame you, they gave you a pretty rough time growing up, but many of them now are, for better or worse, our leading citizens. Things like murders have a way of clinging to a town’s reputation. People don’t want to move to, bring their kids up, in a town with that kind of stigma attached to it.”

“So you’re saying if our ‘leading citizens’ are involved in murder, they shouldn’t be held accountable because it’s bad for the town’s perception?” Denny asked. “That just sounds wrong in my estimation.”

“See, see? This is what I mean,” Bob said, looking at me while pointing at Denny. “A fricking drug dealer and a prostitute get murdered and right away people start assuming the worst about the best people in this town without one iota of proof. Admit it, okay, you hate Danny because he used to mess with you in school so you’re going to smear the police for not catching Stevie’s killer. You hate Tony and you’re going to smear him because he used to sleep with Tina while he was married to Sue Ellen--”

“Wait,” Tim interrupted. “Tony used to sleep with Tina? How do you know that?”

“What?” Bob answered, obviously flustered. “Why--why--why, that whore slept with everyone who had the money to pay for it. Besides, that was years ago--from what I heard,” he said, trying his best to recover.

The room grew quiet. I wasn’t sure if everyone was talked out or it was the break between rounds. I noticed that my glass was empty, leaned in, opened the bourbon bottle, and poured myself a second drink. I offered to pour another for Denny. He held his right hand over his glass and shook his head. I took a deep sip from my glass then took a deep breath.

“Bob, I understand what you’re saying but...well, I don’t see how I have a choice,” I said.

“Of course you have a choice,” Bob answered. “There’s always a choice. You just haven’t changed one bit.”

“C’mon, Bob, that’s not fair. He’s only trying to do the right thing,” Denny said.

“Right, right, sure,” Bob said. He picked his money off the table and put it back in his wallet. “Well, don’t say I didn’t try to help.” He got up and put his wallet back in his pocket. “You guys are too much, letting him do this. I thought I just heard you say how much you like this town.” He looked hard at each of them. “I’m out of here,” he said, turning quickly--at least quickly for Bob--through the doorway into the kitchen.

“Bob, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I said after him, but I don’t think he heard me as he slammed the kitchen door to the outside shut behind him.

The other three sat quietly for a moment, sharing culpable looks between them. Finally, Dom looked at me reassuringly. “It’s okay, Wes. I understand. You’re just doing what any cracker pot reporter would do,” he said.

“That’s cracker jack,” Denny said.

“What’s being a reporter got to do with cracker jack?” Dom asked.

“Nothing,” Denny said. “Never mind.”

“Actually, I think Dom has it right. Cracker pot reporter sounds just about right,” I answered, smiling at Dom. I stared down at my drink for a moment. “Let me ask you guys something? Do you think I’m a coward?”

My question caught them all a little off balance, and I could see the hesitation between them, the quick glances at each other, each not wanting to answer first. Denny finished his bourbon in one quick motion.

“Why...um...what brought that up?” he asked.

I sensed he was stalling. They all were.

“Something Puddy Salvatore said,” I answered.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re not going to let what some little thug said bother you. He was probably just taunting you...just, um, what do they call it...talking trash,” Tim said.

“That’s not an answer,” I replied. “Tell me the truth, guys. I really want to know what you all think. It’s important.”

Dom stepped into the breach. “Well, um, I can’t speak for the other guys, but, um, well, there were times when maybe you could have been a little more, um, insertive--” he said.

“Assertive,” Denny said.

“--I mean, the way those guys used to treat you in high school,” Dom continued through Denny’s interruption. “Danny, Randy Smith, Glen Poppy, Tony--well, they always seemed to be ganging up on you and there wasn’t much you could do--but maybe if just once--”

“I actually always thought I should have done more to help you,” Tim broke in, shooting Dom a quick hard glance. “I mean, I don’t know why they always picked on you, and maybe I was glad it was you and not me.”

“Yeah,” Denny added, “there was nothing you could have done. They were just a bunch of jerks, just had it in for you for some reason.”

“Yeah, right. That’s what I always told myself. But what about Tina. What would I have done if I was in the room when the killer was there. I mean, I let Puddy Salvatore wrap me up like a Christmas present and beat the shit out of me and the little pecker was only half my size.”

“That little pecker had a knife,” Denny said.

“Yeah, and so did Tina’s killer. Would I have just lain down on the floor and let him stab her while I watched?” I asked.

“Well, truth be told, we really can’t answer that question, can we?” Tim replied.

He got up, went over to the cupboard, pulled out a glass, and came back to the table. He opened the bourbon bottle and poured himself a drink, poured a little more into mine.

“I’d like to think you would have done everything in your power to stop him. And I think...well, I think regardless there’s different types of bravery.” He stopped and took a drink from his glass. “I heard what Bob had to say, and, in some ways, I agree with him. But if you’re determined to break into Stevie’s place tonight anyway--” He took another sip of his drink. “--well, I think I’m going with you.”