Part 12 (2/2)

”I know that. He didn't have no bite. Not yet.”

”But he thought.”

”I know what he thought and he didn't have no bite. That'd be no way to set it if he did.”

Vernon takes the pole to get the line back in the water and gives it back to Audie and they sit for a while. Audie is nervous and he watches the line as if it has threatened to bite him. Lester uncorks the flask and drinks and corks the flask again and what movement there is in the water is current only.

”He needs a bobber,” says Vernon.

”He'll learn to get along without.”

1990.

Audie.

THEY NEVER CAME to take down the tape so the time came we just took it down ourselves. Took it down and went on back in. n.o.body ever gave us any trouble about it. to take down the tape so the time came we just took it down ourselves. Took it down and went on back in. n.o.body ever gave us any trouble about it.

Preston.

THE THING WAS, he wasn't even charged. He wasn't held over and he wasn't charged. I guess the troopers figured they were doing him a kindness by letting him go home. All I know is it didn't cost them anything, because there sure as h.e.l.l wasn't any gamble to it. It's not like Creed Proctor was what you call a flight risk. They knew where they'd find him all right. Where in h.e.l.l would he go? He'd never been anywhere.

And if they'd charged him and set bail, how could he have come up with the money? He didn't have two nickels to rub together. Everybody knew that. So that's what I mean by the troopers figured they were doing him a kindness. Either that or they just didn't want to get saddled with him for as long as it was going to take.

I had those lawyers' names that Mary Spinelli gave me and I started calling them. I didn't have any way to judge one from another, so I just got prices. You wouldn't believe what the going rate is for that kind of work. I'm surprised anybody in this country can afford to stay out of jail. I'll bet the jailhouse has more poor men in it than rich ones, and I'll bet I can tell you why.

Mary's name helped and a few of those lawyers gave me a little free advice. Things to keep an eye out for. I appreciated that and once I'd talked to all of them I sat Creed down. I said with that confession he'd signed it wasn't going to be long before somebody came out here to arrest him and charge him with Vernon's murder. He said Vernon never was murdered and I said not according to that confession. According to that confession Vernon was murdered in cold blood and he'd done it by his own hand. He said well that was just what it said on a piece of paper and they couldn't prove nothing by that. It was just a paper. I got so fed up I could have done him in myself, regardless of what the law had in mind.

Margaret.

PRESTON WASN'T SLEEPING MUCH in those days. People talk about female troubles, but he was having male troubles. He'd get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and he just couldn't get back to sleep no matter what. Then the business next door got started, on top of everything. in those days. People talk about female troubles, but he was having male troubles. He'd get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and he just couldn't get back to sleep no matter what. Then the business next door got started, on top of everything.

I knew what he was worrying about, even though all he'd say that he was worried about was Creed.

We had a little money. We have have a little, I should say. There's my retirement from the school district. We do our best to live on that, as far as it goes, that and our Social Security. The fellow who bought the lumberyard doesn't always pay his note on time. He'll call and he'll say he can't make the payment because he's had a bad month or because he has some big contractor stringing him along or whatever. Preston says he understands and lets him go just this once, although by now I don't know how many just-this-onces there've been. More than I'd like to hear about, probably. I'll hear him on the telephone saying, a little, I should say. There's my retirement from the school district. We do our best to live on that, as far as it goes, that and our Social Security. The fellow who bought the lumberyard doesn't always pay his note on time. He'll call and he'll say he can't make the payment because he's had a bad month or because he has some big contractor stringing him along or whatever. Preston says he understands and lets him go just this once, although by now I don't know how many just-this-onces there've been. More than I'd like to hear about, probably. I'll hear him on the telephone saying, I remember February was always hard I remember February was always hard, or Old man Kinney never could pay a bill on time and I guess his son's no better Old man Kinney never could pay a bill on time and I guess his son's no better, and then I'll know I ought to think about making the pot roast stretch through another meal. My husband has a good heart and sometimes it gets him into trouble, so we keep within our means on my school retirement and the Social Security if we can't count on the lumberyard anymore. That's what he was up worrying about half the night. He didn't have to tell me.

Ben.

THE MAIN THING I didn't like was the older brother. Audie. It wasn't that I believed he would contradict anything we already knew if we got him on the stand. I just always kind of wished we didn't have him. That we didn't have to deal with him. I didn't like was the older brother. Audie. It wasn't that I believed he would contradict anything we already knew if we got him on the stand. I just always kind of wished we didn't have him. That we didn't have to deal with him.

From what everyone said-and by everyone everyone I don't mean the gossips around the courthouse or the big talkers at the Kiwanis Club or even the stories in the newspaper; I mean the troopers who'd seen him and the investigators from my office who went out there in a professional capacity and actually tried to take his statement-the older brother was something of an enigma. n.o.body ever suggested that he might be involved. On the other hand n.o.body was one hundred percent sure about what he really knew-including, I began to think, the man himself. When you started with that much uncertainty and added in the descriptions in the paper and the talk on the street and the stuff that got written in letters to the editor and what have you, it was a cla.s.sic case of the blind men and the elephant. I'm not saying that people saw what they wanted to see in Audie Proctor, and I'm not saying they saw themselves by any means. He was too particular for that. Altogether too colorful. I don't mean the gossips around the courthouse or the big talkers at the Kiwanis Club or even the stories in the newspaper; I mean the troopers who'd seen him and the investigators from my office who went out there in a professional capacity and actually tried to take his statement-the older brother was something of an enigma. n.o.body ever suggested that he might be involved. On the other hand n.o.body was one hundred percent sure about what he really knew-including, I began to think, the man himself. When you started with that much uncertainty and added in the descriptions in the paper and the talk on the street and the stuff that got written in letters to the editor and what have you, it was a cla.s.sic case of the blind men and the elephant. I'm not saying that people saw what they wanted to see in Audie Proctor, and I'm not saying they saw themselves by any means. He was too particular for that. Altogether too colorful.

But for an individual without a lot of endearing personal traits, he was oddly sympathetic. Weirdly Weirdly sympathetic. People in this area have gotten pretty well removed from the agrarian way of life even though it's still right at their doorstep, and here came this curious little man-I've heard him described as looking like a hermit or Rip Van Winkle or a prophet from the Old Testament-here he was in the flesh, reminding them of something they had come from but had let themselves forget about. Something they'd put behind themselves without even knowing it. Everybody in this county probably has a little bit of milk from that farm every day, in their cereal or whatever, and here he was to remind them of it. sympathetic. People in this area have gotten pretty well removed from the agrarian way of life even though it's still right at their doorstep, and here came this curious little man-I've heard him described as looking like a hermit or Rip Van Winkle or a prophet from the Old Testament-here he was in the flesh, reminding them of something they had come from but had let themselves forget about. Something they'd put behind themselves without even knowing it. Everybody in this county probably has a little bit of milk from that farm every day, in their cereal or whatever, and here he was to remind them of it.

There was power in that, I think. People were curious about him at first and definitely a little repelled, but it all had a way of turning into something that I can only describe as compa.s.sion. I'm not saying people saw what they wanted to see in Audie Proctor, but I'm not sure they were seeing Audie Proctor either. Not entirely.

1988.

Tom.

THE L LANDLUBBER L LOUNGE at Harpoon Gary's was cave-dim at noon, lit mainly by some strings of Christmas lights worked into dusty fis.h.i.+ng nets that drooped down from the ceiling over the bar. The lights blinked every now and then, making the broken fibergla.s.s lobsters and the big satanic plastic crabs suspended up there loom like props from an old science fiction movie. at Harpoon Gary's was cave-dim at noon, lit mainly by some strings of Christmas lights worked into dusty fis.h.i.+ng nets that drooped down from the ceiling over the bar. The lights blinked every now and then, making the broken fibergla.s.s lobsters and the big satanic plastic crabs suspended up there loom like props from an old science fiction movie. Revenge of the Appetizers Revenge of the Appetizers. DeAlton sat studying them and nursing his summer drink, a rum and c.o.ke. He hated this place, he hated all of these places at the beach, but it was far enough from home that n.o.body he knew ever saw him come in and n.o.body he knew ever saw him leave. Donna didn't like him having a drink. Not ever. He figured that it must have something to do with her old man, even though she'd been only what, three or four when he'd finally bought it.

It was cold in the lounge and it was no warmer in the sunlit dining room when he finished his drink and went out there to sit down and order a sandwich. They'd serve at the bar but those plastic lobsters and crabs gave him the creeps, so he sat all by himself at a square Formica table with an advertising place mat on it, looking through the picture windows over the beach. He had a little buzz from the rum and c.o.ke and that was enough to last him. He refused a menu and asked the waitress for an iced tea and a club sandwich on white toast, light on the mayonnaise. He studied the place mat. It was sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce but dominated by various arms of the Coletti family, who had run the beach as long as he could remember. d.i.c.kie's Family Restaurant. The Clam Shack. Harpoon Gary's right here. Plus the Sea Breeze Cabins and the Beachcomber Motel and the Little Starfish Day Care Center. Not to mention the beachfront amus.e.m.e.nt park, where Old Man Coletti still ran the ticket booth and kept his hand in the till. The iced tea came and he poured two sugars into it from packets that advertised their manufacturer on one side and Coletti's Cone Zone on the other. In case you couldn't get enough sugar for free.

The lunchtime crowd began to trickle in. People with flip-flops and damp cover-ups and the shapes of their wet bathing suits soaking through their shorts and T-s.h.i.+rts. Not one of them working. Not today. Not like DeAlton Poole, who had places to go as soon as that club sandwich came and he got it eaten and cleared himself out of there. He tried to remember the last time he'd taken a day off and he couldn't. Other than Sat.u.r.days and Sundays, which he had to admit even to himself was a better deal than he would have gotten if he'd stayed around the onion farm. But still. The life of a milking-machine salesman wasn't exactly paradise.

The sandwich came and he opened it up to check the mayonnaise and put it back together. He picked up the iced tea and held it up to the picture windows to see if the sugar had settled out, and he put it down and stirred it again. That was when he noticed his own son, sitting out on the beach in an aluminum lawn chair. He had his back to him and his s.h.i.+rt off but it was Tom all right. Sitting there taking the sun and smoking a cigarette and fis.h.i.+ng around in a foam cooler for a beer. On a Tuesday. How dare he. Wasn't he supposed to be working construction somewhere?

DeAlton took his time eating his club sandwich. He watched his son put out his cigarette in the sand and unwrap a Slim Jim and subst.i.tute it for the cigarette in between his teeth, sitting there like Roosevelt with the stupid thing just waving around. Sitting there watching the world go by. Looking at the girls in their bathing suits and not being subtle about it. DeAlton envied the beer and the beach chair and the boldness with which he looked at the girls. He even envied the cigarette, having quit a long time ago under Donna's orders. About the only thing he didn't envy about the whole scene was the Slim Jim, and as long as his son didn't see fit to show up at his construction job on a routine basis he could keep eating those things for lunch instead of enjoying a nice club sandwich in a nice air-conditioned place like Harpoon Gary's. He certainly wasn't going to go out there and invite him in.

He finished his sandwich and got a free refill on the iced tea and mixed in some sugar and sat nursing it. Cleaning up the last of his potato chips and keeping an eye on his son through the window and checking out a twenty-something girl who'd come into the dining room with her bikini soaking through a USA FOR AFRICA USA FOR AFRICA T-s.h.i.+rt like an X-ray. He couldn't help himself. She caught on after a while and shot him a look, and although he would have sat for longer if he could, he figured right then it was time to ask for his check. He was due at a farm over toward Peterboro in an hour or so and he didn't need long to get there. He paid his check and went out into the parking lot and followed a little sandy trail full of footprints over to the beach. It was hot in the sun so he took off his sport coat and the sun on his bare forearms was even hotter. He thought about the Bedouins or whatever they were, those wandering tribes in the desert, and how every time you saw pictures of them they were all covered up like that Lawrence of Arabia. It made sense when you thought about it. He put on his sport coat again and walked over to where Tom sat, sinking into the sand as he went and getting his shoes all filled up with it. T-s.h.i.+rt like an X-ray. He couldn't help himself. She caught on after a while and shot him a look, and although he would have sat for longer if he could, he figured right then it was time to ask for his check. He was due at a farm over toward Peterboro in an hour or so and he didn't need long to get there. He paid his check and went out into the parking lot and followed a little sandy trail full of footprints over to the beach. It was hot in the sun so he took off his sport coat and the sun on his bare forearms was even hotter. He thought about the Bedouins or whatever they were, those wandering tribes in the desert, and how every time you saw pictures of them they were all covered up like that Lawrence of Arabia. It made sense when you thought about it. He put on his sport coat again and walked over to where Tom sat, sinking into the sand as he went and getting his shoes all filled up with it.

”Hey, sonny boy. Catching some rays?” His voice came out louder than he meant it to.

”Hey.” Tom turned around in the folding chair, all nonchalant. But with the look of a high school kid caught with a cigarette in the boys' room.

DeAlton hardly knew where to start. The la.s.situde, the beer, the fifteen or twenty cigarette b.u.t.ts arrayed in the sand alongside the folding chair like ruins in the desert. He made his decision and nodded down toward the crumpled b.u.t.ts, acknowledging them as evidence of Tom's having been sitting out here for a while. ”That Fazio's giving you an extra-long lunch hour, is that it?”

What was Tom supposed to say. ”I'm not working for Fazio anymore.”

”How long's this been going on?”

”Awhile now.”

”You didn't tell me.”

”I didn't think I had to.”

”You didn't tell your mother.”

”I didn't think I had to tell her either.”

DeAlton pushed the toe of his loafer against the folding chair. ”Move,” he said.

Tom did. He vacated the chair and sat down gingerly on the lid of the foam cooler, not quite putting his whole weight on it.

DeAlton sat in the chair. He settled into it and folded his hands behind his neck and leaned his head back. ”Now this,” this,” he said, ”is living.” he said, ”is living.”

Tom indicated the cooler. ”You want a beer?”

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