I walked up the stairs carrying Mr. Winkley, and I had to walk slow because of my ankle. I figured I could stay one more night and leave early in the morning before Elsie woke up.
I was thinking I’d never get Roy even though I knew just how he did it. I figured he probably had the statue in a secret hiding place, but if I followed him to it and told the police, that would be just more evidence against me, especially since I didn’t have the Colonel to back me up anymore.
I decided that I’d drop Mr. Winkley off at my room, then check on the Colonel to see if he had come out of his trance and make sure he was all right, and tell him I was sorry and that he could find me under the bridge if he ever needed me for anything. Then I’d see Gladys and tell her I was sorry for calling her an old junky whore and ask her if she’d look after Mr. Winkley so that he wouldn’t have to live under the bridge.
I was walking by Francine’s room and she and Howie were talking in there. I put my hand over Mr. Winkley’s mouth and pressed my ear to the door.
“But it’s mine, Howie,” she said.
“Now Francine, we don’t keep things that don’t belong to us. There’s a big difference between when someone gives you something and when you take it without permission.”
“It’s mine on account of all the good things I’ve done and nobody ever did nothing for me. Please, Howie, let me keep it.”
I knocked on the door and everything went quiet. They weren’t going to answer the door. I walked down the hall stomping my feet so that they’d think I’d gone away, and then I tiptoed back.
“Let’s be reasonable about this, Francine. Just give it to me and I assure you there’ll be no questions asked. Otherwise you could be in a lot of trouble.”
Gladys came out of her room, saw me, and came over.
“Shh,” I said.
“What’s going on?” she whispered. “What are you doing here? Didn’t Elsie kick you out?”
“Francine’s got Nancy’s statue, and Howie’s trying to get it from her.”
I put my ear back to the door.
“Move over,” Gladys said. She put her ear to the door too, and we both listened.
“You don’t get nothing from me, Howie. You give nothing and you get nothing.”
I whispered to Gladys, “She’s got Elsie’s pin, the Colonel’s medal, my jack-knife, Howie’s hearing aid, and your earrings.”
Gladys’s eyes popped wide open and she made to bang on the door to get her earrings back, but I stopped her.
“Shh,” I said. We put our ears back to the door.
“My patience is wearing thin, Francine.”
“You’re going to be wearing this in a minute, Howie.”
Gladys whispered, “You can’t wear a statue; it must be Howie’s hearing aid. She’s going to give it back to him in a minute. Then I’m going in after my earrings.”
It looked like another dead end, and I thought I’d never find the statue.
“I’ve had enough of this!” Howie said. “I’ve tried to be reasonable. Now you’re going to hand it over!”
“You never did nothing for me and so you don’t get nothing from me!”
They were shouting now.
“Give me the statue!”
It was the statue! I handed Mr. Winkley to Gladys and opened the door. Francine had the statue held above her head, and Howie had hold of Francine’s wrists. He couldn’t take the statue without letting go of one of her wrists, so he was squeezing and shaking them to make her let go.
“Let me have it!” he said.
“Rot in hell!” she screamed. “You no good, stinking, rat bastard …”
She bit his arm and he let go of her wrist. I ran over and reached to grab the statue just as she swung her arm with the statue and smashed it over the top of his head.
Howie dropped like a sack of potatoes. Francine got down on one knee and began slapping his face to wake him up.
“Come on, Howie,” she said. “Quit fooling around and wake up. Howie?”
She thought Howie might be dead. She lifted his shoulders and put his head on her knee and she was looking at the ceiling and crying.
“I’m sorry, honey. Baby? Please, dear God, don’t take Howie!”
Gladys ran to tell Elsie. She got all the way to the stairs when she remembered she had Mr. Winkley, and she ran back and lobbed him into her room like a bowling ball, shut the door and ran down the stairs and shouted, “Elsie! Call the cops! Howie’s out cold!”
Pieces of the statue were all over the floor. Howie was starting to move his head around.
“No,” he said. “No cops.”
“Oh, Howie, thank you Jesus,” Francine said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, lamb chop.”
“He’s starting to come around,” she said to me. “Help me get him up.”
We brought him to his feet and got him to lie down on the bed. He had a lump on his head like a golf ball. He was still half asleep and mumbling about the statue, and I was standing there looking at the pieces on the floor.
“Don’t worry about it, sweet pea,” she said to me. “Everything of Roy’s always ends up getting broke.”
“Roy?” I said. “You mean you took the statue from Roy?”
“I’m going to see if anybody has some ice,” she said.
She left to get ice for Howie’s head and I got down on the floor and started picking up the pieces of the statue and putting them in my pocket. I was thinking I could glue it back together and keep it, and then I’d get a china plate and break it on the floor before the police came. But then, if I did that the police would never catch Roy, and nobody would ever know what really happened to Nancy. I was thinking that she would never use drugs, she never had men in her room, and she would never, never …
I looked at the pieces in my hands. Maybe she hadn’t been perfect, but she was better than any statue, because she was real and she’d been alive. I didn’t want her to be trapped in the statue anymore, and I was glad it broke. She was free now.
I was thinking that if Francine took the statue from Roy’s room, and if she would tell the truth about taking it, that might be enough for the police to get Roy. I didn’t want the statue anymore; I wanted Roy to go down hard. I let go of the pieces and they fell to the floor.
I looked up and there were two cops standing there. They were the same ones that came the morning after Nancy died.
“What happened here?”
“Francine hit Howie over the head with the statue,” I said.
“Is that the same statue you reported missing the other day?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why were you trying to hide the pieces in your pocket?”
“I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I didn’t kill anybody; I swear I didn’t! Roy killed Nancy and he took the statue from her room and—”
I stopped talking because the Colonel had come out of his room and was standing behind the cops waving his arms and shaking his head “no,” and so I didn’t tell them about how there was no money in Nancy’s pocketbook and Mr. Winkley went in the window and through the door and everything. I was glad the Colonel had come out of his trance.
One of the cops turned around and grabbed the Colonel and pulled him away from the doorway.
“Let us do our job, Pops,” he said. I didn’t like him getting rough with the Colonel and calling him Pops, and I wasn’t going to tell those cops anything. Also, I didn’t want to tell them about Mr. Winkley, because I didn’t want to get Mr. Winkley in trouble.
“All right,” the cop who’d been talking to me said. “You’ll be coming with us. We’ll make sure your friend Howie gets to the hospital.”
He slapped the cuffs on me, and in the hallway I saw the Colonel and the other cop talking quietly and they glanced at me as the cop led me out. I hoped that the Colonel was putting in a good word for me but I didn’t know.