Chapter 26

They stood in the fog and darkness outside the bar. Meredith believed she understood more than she would ever tell Arthur Watson. There was a spirit of evil in her house, but an evil that rose from despair. As a counselor, Meredith had seen plenty of intimidated, unhappy people. She understood what drove Patty to suicide. She understood how Patty blamed herself for losing Arthur, and how Patty, even as a very young girl, had learned to suppress her anger beneath timidity.

And yet Patty had every right to be angry. In fact, she had every right to be furious. She had been raised by a narrow and probably stupid grandmother. She had her dreams obliterated by rape. She had suffered Elsa’s vicious tongue. It was no wonder that a spirit of violence lived in that house, along with Patty’s spirit of meekness.

“We’re going to go back into the bar,” Meredith told Arthur. “Pretend that we’ve just arrived. When Ed Johnson sees us, just act as if we don’t care. We’ll take a booth close enough that he can hear.”

“Is this wise?” Arthur asked. “And don’t worry, that son of a bitch will hear us.” He looked at Meredith, and there was both tenderness and protectiveness in his eyes. She could understand why Patty had loved him.

“I need you to do two things,” she said. “When I start raising my voice, you sit quietly. I’ll pretend to be angry. I’ll really be acting pretty badly. When I storm out of there, please call this phone number. A man named Gus will answer.” She fumbled in her purse and found a ballpoint. “Give me that envelope.”

Arthur passed her the envelope containing the check. She wrote Gus’s home phone number. “When Gus answers,” she said, “tell him what is happening. Ask him to get over to my house right away.”

Arthur stared through the window and seemed unable to believe that they were going back into the bar. He watched Ed Johnson. Anger tightened Arthur’s lips. The scar was white, like a streak of bleach on red cloth. His fists clenched.

“After you call Gus,” Meredith said, “I want you to wait until Ed leaves. The minute he leaves, come to the house—fast. Come in the front door. . . .” She fumbled in her purse again. “Here’s the key to the front door.”

Arthur Watson stood confused, but obviously willing. Meredith knew she could not explain everything she planned.

Instinct guided her. Instinct told her who had raped Patty. She was sure she knew who had been causing what Elsa called “incidents” in the neighborhood. She wondered if Elsa also knew.

But she could not tell Arthur. If Arthur understood that Ed Johnson was the rapist, Arthur might walk in there and kill him. Ed and Elsa Johnson had destroyed Patty. She would not allow them to destroy Arthur.

“Act casual,” she told Arthur. “You don’t have to be nice to him. Just pretend that you don’t care.”

As they entered, Ed Johnson turned on his barstool. He took a quick gulp at his whiskey and water, grinned, and jumped to his feet like a welcoming committee. “It’s old Art, “ he said, “and damn if I can believe who’s with him.” Ed’s face was reddened from drinking, but he moved accurately. He had not been drinking for very long. He advanced toward Meredith, arms out, as if to give her a hug.

Meredith thought of Sally and how Sally had dealt with Ed. Sally cussed whenever she wanted, and it seemed to work. Meredith dodged the encircling arm. “Stick it, Ed,” she told him, “where the sun don’t shine.” She forced herself to giggle.

Arthur was about to be a problem. His anger was so intense she was afraid he would take action. She could not have him getting into a fight. She took his arm, trying to lead him to a booth.

“Get this,” Arthur told Ed, “and get it good. Stay away from this woman. Go phone that old bat you’re married to. Spread the news. Do whatever crap you have to do, but stay away.”

Ed Johnson ignored Arthur. He looked at Meredith. “You’ve got some things to learn, little lady. This simp won’t teach you much.” He turned his back on Arthur, his movement filled with contempt.

“Take it easy,” she whispered to Arthur. “Head for a booth.”

From start to finish it took half an hour. Meredith watched the clock as she and Arthur whispered, fresh drinks untouched in front of them. Ed sat at the bar listening. He could not hear their whispers, but he was not about to move.

“Talk about anything,” Meredith told Arthur. “Tell stories. Talk about the weather. It makes no difference, but just keep whispering for now.” She watched the clock. After a half hour, when the clock read eight, she bumped her knee against Arthur’s knee. “I’m going into my act,” she said. “I’m going to act just awful. Don’t say anything. Just call Gus when Ed leaves, then get over to the house.”

She was not an actress, and she had never even liked movies all that much. Now some invisible will seemed to aid her. She pretended to herself that Arthur had just made a proposition. She pretended that she felt guilty toward Richard because she was out with another man. She pretended that she was afraid, because Ed Johnson would tell the whole town that she was having an affair. The pretending worked.

She pushed her wineglass away, so abruptly that it clicked against the side of the booth. Wine slopped on the table as she stood. “You bastard,” she said to Arthur in a voice loud enough for Ed to hear. “You seamy bastard.”

Arthur sat looking confused. She figured it was not hard for him to do, because he didn’t know what was going on.

“Before I’d do that,” she said, “I’d spend the rest of my life in a convent. I thought you were a nice guy.” She stood, fumbling in her purse, and threw ten dollars on the table. “I won’t even let you say you paid for drinks,” she told him. “Richard may be out of town, but I’ll spend the night alone—alone, dammit—before I put up with you.” She put on her coat, pretending difficulty getting an arm into a sleeve. When she walked from the bar she pretended to nearly lose her balance. Behind her, Arthur sat like a man who had just been clubbed. Ed Johnson perched on his barstool, and his ugly grin showed below a gaze that undressed her as she passed him. By the time she opened the door Ed was already headed for the phone.

Fog swirled in darkness, and the neon sign of the Top Stop Tavern glowed like a red eye behind her as she walked to her car. Meredith knew she was in a desperate game, but it seemed to her she had no choice. Part of her anger was real, and she knew she had to put it to rest. If she did not get rid of her anger, there was no telling what would happen when she got home.

She was angry at Patty, or at least she was angry at the sobbing and sad and sometimes vengeful force that lived in her house. Patty was dead, but an evil force existed. She did not know how much Arthur understood, but she knew what Patty wanted. She knew that Patty had wanted her to bear Arthur’s child, the child that Patty did not have.

Maybe, she told herself, maybe it was the last way that Patty had to show Arthur how much she had loved him. Maybe it was something worse. Maybe the evil that had been done now ruled Patty’s spirit.

If that was true, then the real enemy was the evil that living people had caused. A rapist and his filthy-mouthed wife had caused more evil than anything that could come out of some invisible world of terror. She told herself that Patty had been a victim, and Patty was still a victim. That might or might not be true, but it helped her lay aside her anger.

She wanted a few minutes at home before Ed Johnson showed up, so she drove as rapidly as safety would allow. She had no doubt that the man would fall for the bait. She was an attractive woman who had just announced that she would spend the night alone.

Rape. Even the thought thrust a fear into her that was more terrible than her memory of gray walls. She thought of the vision within those walls, the vision of a woman screaming. She thought of the brutality and violence of men like Ed.

Except, she told herself, Ed’s kind were not men. Arthur and Richard were men, but Ed was not. There was not much she could say or do about such swine, but she could do something about one of them. Meredith told herself that before this night was over, Ed Johnson was headed either for prison or for hell. That would give Elsa a tasty piece of gossip.