The stripper was preceded by a muscle-bound man in a leather kilt who rang a gong half again his size. Harry was back in that Vegas strip club that he and Cirba crawled into so long ago. What was it called? The gong rang loud all around him again… Nirvana, Harry remembered. Then he smiled as he thought, I’m entering nirvana. A third bang was even louder followed by a flood of light. Harry wondered if he was supposed to go to the light? He wanted to but there was no one source, it was all around him. Then he felt strong arms surround him as his friend Cirba lifted him and said: “I got you, pal.”
Harry didn’t remember it but, apparently, the only thing he said while he was being carried to the ambulance was, “Where did the strippers go?”
* * *
An IV bag attached to the drip was the first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes. He followed the plastic tube filled with the yellow liquid and found that it stopped in his arm. His whole body hurt but considering the alternative he had prepared himself for – that was just fine.
“Hey, handsome,” a voice said in his peripheral vision. He turned. It hurt but that too was OK.
MK was sitting on the edge of the bed pushing his hair from his forehead.
“Ow and hi,” Harry croaked.
“Water?”
Harry nodded then regretted it.
MK brought a cup with a straw to his lips. “Slow now.”
Harry sipped what was probably the finest drink of his life.
“Shall we sit you up?”
Harry wasn’t sure but MK didn’t wait for an answer. She pressed a button and Harry’s world righted itself. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.
“Ed’s been here most of the time you’ve been out. He’s keen to talk to you. Shall I get him?”
Harry said: “Yes,” but before MK could stand up he grabbed her hand. “Are we OK?”
MK stood. “See my nurse’s outfit?” She spun like a fashion model. “I’m not working today – I wore it for you.” She smiled, kissed him on the forehead and left.
All six foot plus of Ed hustled into the room. He was back wearing his statie uniform, and the hat’s huge brim blocked out the florescent light as he hovered over the bed. “You just couldn’t stay away?” he said, sporting an uncharacteristic big smile.
“It’s the silly hat that drew me back,” Harry said with a laugh that morphed into a cough.
Ed gave him more water. When Harry had finished he asked: “You OK to talk?”
“I guess; I haven’t spoken to a doctor.”
“Doc told me you had a concussion, blood loss, and dehydration and that if you didn’t go into a coma, you’d be fine.”
“I guess I’m fine then. How did you find me? Did Charlie call?”
“No,” Cirba replied. “The colonel did. Charlie rang him early in the evening last night and told him to call the police at midnight and say: ‘Check the ghost house’. He said it was a joke but made him promise to do it. Problem was that the colonel couldn’t stay awake that long. He called me when he woke up this morning. So what happened in there? Is Charlie our man?”
“No, our man is Helen.”
Harry went on to explain the whole tale. How Helen was a member of the Kozlov family and that she and Charlie were the custodians of the house where all the bodies were buried – literally. He explained how he discovered a backup of Big Bill’s computer at his mother’s nursing home at Lake Wallenpaupack that led him to the ghost house. Helen caught him in the basement, shot him, and then confessed that she killed Bill because he dared to sniff around the property. Sweeney was shot because he spoke to Bill.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Harry replied.
“So, Bill didn’t find out about the bodies in the basement?”
“Nope,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure he never even entered the property.”
“And she killed him just because he noticed that weeds were growing across the door?”
“And because he ran a title search.”
“Jesus.”
“We all knew Helen was a crazy bitch, we just didn’t know how crazy a bitch she was.”
Then Cirba asked what exactly happened in the house, and Harry made a split-second decision. Harry Cull, the seeker of truth, told a lie. The lie served two purposes: one, it relieved Harry of any of responsibility for Helen’s death. When the victim’s family is the most ruthless killing clan in the hemisphere, not admitting to killing one of them is a survival technique. Two, it let Charlie off a second-degree murder rap if he ever got caught. He told Cirba that Helen was killed by Charlie, who was stopping her from shooting Harry. He said that Charlie, not Harry, smashed Helen into the wall and then had to hit her with a shovel when she tried to shoot again. It was almost the truth and, like most good half-truths, no one questioned it.
“You should’a called me before you went in there.”
“Really? Excuse me, officer, I’m about to break and enter a house – would you care to join me?”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t’a’ done that. You almost got killed, Harry, but, on the other hand, you figured it out. Like Feather said: ‘You’re like a fucking Jedi’.”
Harry put on a Yoda voice. The way he was feeling it wasn’t far from his own. “No lie that is.”
* * *
The hospital kept Harry in for one more day. The state police captain came to visit and told Harry that he was un-fired and the hospital bill was on the state’s dime.
“I’m not sorry I canned you,” Captain Kutter said, “but I’m damn glad you hung in there. I’m not sure we would have figured this mess out.”
“Cirba would have gotten there in the end, Captain, he’s smarter than he looks.”
“Perhaps.”
“Hey, the Goat paid me a visit.”
The captain arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “What did he want?”
“According to his granddaughter – to kill me.” Harry filled Kutter in on the meeting.
“So after he met you, he decided to let you live?”
Harry shrugged.
“You must have a very likeable personality.”
“My charm didn’t work on you.”
“I’m warming to you.”
“So, can I stay in the jurisdiction?”
Captain Kutter smirked and reached to shake Harry’s hand. “You are officially un-run out of town.”
As he turned Harry said: “Captain, in the basement—” Harry stopped, plucking up the courage to continue the question. He didn’t have to.
“None of the remains were children or teenagers,” the captain said.
Harry let out a lungful of air like he’d been punched. “Thanks,” he said.
* * *
MK drove Harry back to the lake house. When asked what he wanted for lunch, Harry requested a Spam & egg sandwich. MK ignored him and made soup. He felt fine but allowed himself to lounge, read, and be nursed by MK for three days. When you got a nurse like MK, it’s fun being unwell. The Keller sisters came by and cooked too. Cirba and Harry had succeeded in keeping Eileen’s name out of the official report. She was grateful, not that it kept the rumours out of the pine needle telegraph.
* * *
He knew she was awake. He knew how she sounded when she was asleep. In the short time he had known her, Harry had picked up on MK’s idiosyncrasies with a speed that alarmed him. “I’ve got to get back to the city,” he said to the dark.
“Why?” MK asked.
“Work, money, I got to eat. It’s this habit I have. You could come with?”
There was a long pause that almost made Harry turn on a light. “No,” she sighed. “Bad things happen when you leave paradise. Haven’t you read your bible?”
“It might not be paradise for much longer if the frackers get their teeth in.”
“All the more reason not to go now.”
It was Harry’s turn to remain silent. After a moment he said: “I’m starting to think paradise is where you are.”
After that, conversation was replaced by other activities.
* * *
“Ting a ling,” Harry shouted, taking the place of the non-existing doorbell.
Old Todd thumped down the steps and said: “Well, well, the man of the hour.” The old guy poured a cup of coffee and threw a donut on a plate. When Harry reached for his wallet Todd said: “Your money’s no good here.”
“Why, Todd, you’re getting soft?”
“Not soft, entertained. Jesus, Harry, you really livened up this place. How many bodies they find in the ghost house?”
“I really can’t talk—”
“Fuck off. How many?”
“Five.”
“Jesus,” Todd whistled. “Hoffa?”
Harry laughed. No one had actually mentioned it out loud but the first thing the staties did was check the DNA of the victims against a sample of Jimmy Hoffa’s. “No Jimmy.”
“Shit, that would have been good.”
“I think the police captain agrees with you.”
“So who was down there?”
“I’m not supposed to say, and they haven’t identified all of them, but mostly they’re Jersey Mob guys that had gone missing.”
“They found the mayor yet?”
“Nope, he cleaned out his client escrow account and vanished. If he’s smart, he’ll stay lost. The cops are the least of his problems. There’s definitely a Mob contract out on him.”
“Well, I told you the mayor was an amoral asshole.”
“It wasn’t him; it was the wife.”
“Yeah, well, everybody knew she was a—”
“Don’t say it, Todd,” MK shouted from the door.
“Why, Miss Keller, I was just going to say that she was a disagreeable person.”
“Yeah, I bet,” MK said sitting next to Harry and kissing him on the cheek.
“I thought we said our goodbyes?” Harry said.
“I know, I know, but I was walking around the lake and had a hankering for a donut. The fact that your car was outside had nothing to do with it.”
Todd put a donut on a plate in front of MK and asked: “Would you rather a grilled Spam and cheese sandwich?”
MK crinkled up her nose. “Thanks but no thanks.
The door crashed open and when they looked they saw the unmistakeable frame of Trooper Cirba. “Good! I thought I missed you. They found the mayor,” the big man said as he bounded up to the counter.
“Where?” Harry and Todd asked together.
“At his mother’s house in Jersey City. Two bullet holes – one in Charlie’s head and the other in his mother’s head.”
“Fucking hell,” Todd gasped.
“Kozlov?” Harry half asked; he knew the answer.
“Who else? Saying that, it was a pro hit: the gun was left at the site. They won’t catch the guy.”
“Jesus,” Harry said. A chill went down his spine at the thought of the man he’d had tea with just last week.
Cirba lifted up the plastic dome on the counter and stuffed the majority of a donut in his mouth. MK, who was still a bit in shock at the news, stared at him as if he had committed the murders himself.
Cirba stopped chewing and looked like a guilty child. “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have an appetite after telling you that but, cut me a break, MK. The missus cooked stir-fried string beans last night – that was it – just beans.”
MK laughed, she couldn’t help it.
Ed grinned and polished off the donut. “What do you want to go back to that smelly city for?” he said to Harry through a mouthful of pastry.
“You think I can live on a state police consultancy fee? I have to get back to my job – stopping thin cats stealing from fat cats. Besides, without my corporate income how else would I be able to pay the mortgage I just got on the lake house?”
“No!” Cirba said.
“You bought the old Thomson house?” Todd asked.
“Yup, exchanged contracts with Frank this morning.”
MK smiled and kissed Harry again.
“I liked the neighbours,” Harry said, “and the local constabulary, and, of course, the shops. You’ll be seeing a lot of me up here.”
Cirba patted Harry on the back. “I told you – Ice Lake is a little corner of paradise.”
“That’s no lie,” Harry said.
* * *
Harry had a couple of detours before he drove onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike going south. He first pulled off onto the gravel verge by the entrance of the old quarry. “You OK up there Ryan?” he shouted to the top of a tree.
It took a while but a dirty face under a wool cap popped out from behind a frighteningly high branch. “Oh, hi, Harry. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Want me to bring you a copy of Walden when I get back?”
“Got one up here already, thanks.”
Harry chuckled. “You make sure you don’t fall, OK?”
The young radical gave Harry a thumbs up. Ryan had stopped throwing bloody birds at passing cars and, reportedly, was going to attempt the tree-sitting record. Harry hoped he had the good sense to quit before the Pocono winter properly kicked in.
* * *
Harry was disappointed his four-legged friend didn’t meet him at the garden gate. His disappointment turned to worry when he found the front door of farmer Jeric’s house open. Inside, the place looked deserted with discoloured rectangles on the walls where pictures used to be. Back outside he heard the revving of a motor and had to step back as a cattle truck containing two mooing cows pulled out from behind the milking barn.
Inside the barn Harry spotted old man Jeric with two men. The inside of the place looked as if it had been steam-cleaned. There were no cattle in sight, no hay in the feed troughs, and the floor looked like you could eat off it. The men were taking inventory of all the milking equipment. One man tied a numbered tag onto a piece of machinery, while the other noted it on a clipboard.
Jeric spotted Harry and walked away from the men, saying: “If you don’t recognize a piece, don’t guess – ask.” He took off his glove and extended his hand. “Mr Cull, right?”
“Harry,” Harry said, shaking. “Last time we spoke you asked me to inform you when we caught Big Bill’s killer.”
“Actually, I heard it was the mayor’s wife and you found Hoffa’s body. Is that right?”
“Half right, no Hoffa,” Harry said.
“That’s why I usually ignore that pine tree telegraph, it’s unreliable.”
“What happened here?” Harry asked gesturing around him.
“They bought the place, lock, stock and milking machines.”
“Who did?”
“Keystone Drilling, I think?”
“You think?”
“A lawyer came with a piece of paper to sign and a check. To be rightly sure, I don’t know where or who he was from.”
“What about the lawsuit?”
“Settled out of court.”
“What about the water contamination or the cow miscarriages?”
“I can’t talk about that stuff, I’m afraid.”
“How much did they pay you?”
The farmer frowned. “That’s an indelicate question, son.”
“But you can’t tell anyone that either.”
“No, I can’t.”
“The last thing you said to me was that you were going to sue them, even if it bankrupted you. Now no one will know what went on here.”
The old man straightened his glasses and said: “Thank you for coming by and filling me in on the Big Bill affair. I assume you can see yourself out.” He walked away two steps then stopped and turned. “My wife and I are getting a place in Florida where we won’t have to worry about nothing. I spent my life just wanting to be left alone in these mountains. I ain’t no activist and the way I see it there’s nobody out here on my side other than that damn fool kid freezing his ass in that tree. I… hell… I don’t have to justify myself to you.” He again turned away, and said: “Good day.”
“What happened to the dog?” Harry asked.
The old guy didn’t turn back. “He’s gone too.”
* * *
Harry’s last goodbye was a wave out the window as he drove down the mountain. He was sure that if the purple hitch-hiking statue of St Elizabeth had a free hand she would have waved back.