Part 36 (1/2)
The smile turns to a broad grin; he laughs, middle-aged kid. I look at Frank and wonder what dark and twisted thing got ahold of his mind. Whatever incarnation of the devil it is, we are still struggling. Frank hasn't put the gun down.
I take a quick glance at my watch. It's after ten. If Tash comes through that door, the place is going to turn into a shooting gallery.
”Frank, you can't go on like this.”
”I know.”
”What are you going to do?”
”I don't know.”
”Let me help you.”
”How? How can anybody help me?”
”We can start by ending the violence,” I tell him. ”Do you think Penny would want you to do this?”
The look in his eye tells me he's never asked himself this question before. What little life is left leaves his face.
”Why don't you put the gun down? Let me make some phone calls?”
Eyes darting. He wants to say yes, but he doesn't know how.
”Please.”
Slowly the muzzle of the gun goes toward the floor. His grip loosens. He looks up at me. Gently he lays it on the floor next to his feet.
I'm afraid to make a play for it, especially now that he's going in the right direction. I might set him off.
”Can we call Doris? Maybe you could talk to her?
”That would be good,” he says.
”Do you have the number, up in Fremont?”
”Somewhere,” he says. He's reaching around, patting his pockets, the front of his s.h.i.+rt, seat of his pants. He stands up and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. He opens it and from the inside he pulls out a slip of paper and steps over the shotgun toward me.
There are penned notes, some names, probably jobs Frank has worked on and some penciled numbers. He points to one of these, an area code and number. He wants me to place the call, as if killing Tash is all right, but using his phone would be a social violation.
I take the slip of paper and walk toward the phone in the kitchen. I dial the number and wait. A tired voice, half asleep, answers.
”Is Doris Boyd there?”
”Just a moment. I'll get her.”
The sigh of relief that rifles through my body in this moment causes my knees to go slack.
Doris comes on the line. ”h.e.l.lo.”
”Doris. It's Paul Madriani.”
”What is it?”
”Can you hold just a moment?”