Part 19 (2/2)

”You think Walter Schor killed Lois.”

”I cleaned her up enough times after dates with him,” she says, voice lowering. ”And this sure is worth that four hundred: He sent another one of my girls to the hospital after a night of monkeys.h.i.+nes.”

”Because ... because ...” I wonder if I can ask it. ”Because Alice would never ... never hurt Lois.” I couldn't look the woman in the eye.

”I gave up long ago guessing what people were capable of,” she says. ”But my money's on Schor. Question is, How many times did Alice need to put Lois in harm's way before the party girl turned up cold? And I do know this. And then I'm done. Joe Avalon isn't about to be a patsy. And he's capable of just about anything when his back is against the wall.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I feel something very weighty has been communicated to me-but its full meaning is as yet unclear.

”It was Joe Avalon?”

She shakes her head. ”You're missing it. Listen close, and then I'm closing the shutters on the information booth. Joe Avalon isn't about to be a patsy. And, right now, he's capable of just about anything.

”By the way,” she adds, rising. ”It was Alice Steele, couple years back, who got put in the hospital at Walter Schor's hands. You don't forget that kind of dinner date.

”Before we took her in to County, she spent two days in there”- she gestures to the bedroom-”filling it with blood.”

I park my car three doors down from Olive MacMurray's house, trying to unravel all she said for my four hundred dollars. I don't trust myself to drive yet.

I sit for about twenty minutes thinking about Lois and why she let herself fall into Walter Schor's poisonous arms over and over again- one long death scene. ”The kind of dance you're lucky to make it out of,” she'd said, not so lucky herself.

And I think of Alice, Alice serving herself up to countless men and now sunk deep, heels dug in, in my brother's home. And Alice once lying on that bed in that fetid house, lying there, body twitching, more blood with each spasm, more pain with every move. Lying there in a doomed attempt to hide, to hide this, to hide all this. And it was to hide, to conceal, to bury, that she sent Lois up to the pyre and watched as the flames ate her alive.

My G.o.d, Bill, what you've let crawl into your bed ... you poor, hapless thing ... must you pay so much for your fine innocence?

I sit for about twenty minutes I sit for about twenty minutes and then It is then and there it is. There is no one there, and suddenly, blinking back at the house, I see him flicker up Olive MacMurray's porch steps out of the corner of my eye.

I have his picture in my head and then he is there. And me Like a sleepwalker As someone hypnotized And there I am, now out of my car, fast and without thinking, slinking past the three houses Back to 551706 Manchester Walking in a silence so deep it is as if all sound has been sucked out of the world I walk along the side of the house lean up against the wall, against the pitted s.h.i.+ngles along the window, open, paint-flecked through all this I pretend I didn't see who I saw, pretend it was just a trick of the light, the eye all ike the old adage, Speak of the devil, and he shall appear I press my hand, my palm against the heat-curled s.h.i.+ngles I might have even whispered it aloud not Bill it couldn't be Bill not my brother not then I hear the voice through the screen window ”We're talking a lot of money here,” he says. ”And all the protection you could want.”

Could that hard, anxious sound possibly be my brother's voice? ”How much money? My life wouldn't be worth a plug nickel, Detective.”

”He wouldn't be able to touch you, Mrs. MacMurray. I can promise that. We're talking serious money.” ”I'd need five grand.”

”Fine. I'll arrange to have it wired to your bank account this afternoon.”

”Do I look like a landlady? I don't have a bank account.”

”I'll get it to you.” A quaver tilts into his voice, and it is Bill and my G.o.d- ”He's going to find out I gave him up to you.”

”He won't. And if he does, it won't matter. He'll be in county jail and then prison for life. Murder first-degree conviction for Avalon. I promise.”

”And I get all his girls. And I get all his studio Johns.”

”Right. Who else but you?”

”I suppose even Walter Schor, if I want him.”

”Because you've got what I need to pin this on Avalon?” Hot desperation in his voice.

”We can make it work. He's dirty enough for any frame to work.”

”He's an animal.” Quaver gone and now a hard bark. ”I got into the law to beat guys like this.” Oh, it is horrible.

”Whatever you say, copper,” a low, amused drawl. A loud noise, a sound like a blood howl and it is me As I watch him walk rapidly out of the house, my body begins moving too. He pa.s.ses his car and keeps going until he reaches the donut shop. I follow at a distance. Don't think about it now, don't think about it now, just find out how, why, anything you can.

Looking furtively to his right and left-my brother, like a criminal- he ducks into the phone booth out front. I move quickly around the back of the shop and then sidle along the far wall, inching as close as I can to the front of the building while still remaining hidden by both the corner and the meager hedgerow that wraps around it. He has shut the phone booth door, but I can still hear.

His voice is loud, raked raw. ”I did it. Don't worry. I took care of it. I told you I would.” His effort to control his voice, sound strong is painful.

”No,” he says. ”It's just like I promised. She'll pin him for it. She'll claim he came to her that night talking about how he'd dumped her in the canyon. She'll say he did it to keep her in line. She'll say Lois was terrified of him. Once she has the money, she'll tell more.”

He pauses for a moment, listening. Listening and, I can hear it, jabbing his fist rhythmically against the door of the booth.

”Yes, yes. I did it all. You know, Alice, you know, he's done enough bad things he never got caught for. So he can pay by paying for this. He can pay for this. He should pay. This is about the kind of man he is and those things he made you do. He can't hurt you anymore.”

He can't stop. He isn't talking to her. He doesn't know it, but he's talking to me.

”He's going to pay for the things he made you do.”

I want to protect you from all that, my brother Bill once said to me. I had returned home crying. Some boy who had cornered me in his car, pressed himself so close, so roughly his watch had caught on my sweater and snagged it from collarbone to waist. The sweater was a favorite, was the perfect aquamarine. It was the softest thing I'd ever owned. It felt like p.u.s.s.y willows against my skin. It was the ruined sweater that brought me home with tears stinging. But my brother a.s.sumed it was the boy.

-Did he hurt you? Did he force himself on you?

-He tried to. He kept ... trying.

It was true, after all.

It took nearly an hour to persuade him not to go to this boy's house. I knew he wouldn't hurt the boy, just frighten him, scold him. But I was too embarra.s.sed. And part of me would rather listen to him. Listen to him say things like -I want to protect you from all that. I don't want you to have to know these things. About men. I want you to be safe forever. I will make you safe forever.

I want to protect you.

From somewhere in the dark murk of my head, the phone jumps at me.

”Lora? It's Bill. I'm glad you're there. We've been kind of worried about you. Alice says you missed school today.”

Images of my brother at Olive MacMurray's that very afternoon crackle through my head. I can't remember anything else I have done in the last six hours. Did I really drive home, park my car, walk up the stairs to my apartment, pour the gla.s.s of water in front of me, light the cigarette-whose cigarette?-I seem to be smoking now?

Gathering myself, stopping my pounding heart with my hand, putting on a face, a voice, I say: ”I wasn't feeling well.”

”Well, we thought maybe you forgot about the party. It starts soon.”

”Party?”

”The charity event Alice is hosting, remember? For the Police Benevolent League?”

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