same damn black eyes I knew as a child. It was my reflection but he was part of it, grinning right at me.
“You think I like being in you?” my reflection asked. “I know it was you in that car, don’t fool yerself any about that. You killed me, boy, and I know what you’re planning for my pal Bert, you murdering little bastard!”
“What of it?” I said. “You think the world’s going to shed a tear over Bert Debbles? He’s just a selfish, cold- blooded son of a bitch who’s probably no better than you were. What he’s getting is pure justice.”
“Maybe,” it admitted. “But what about this Jerry Bry fellow? He deserves what he’s going to get?”
“Hell, I certainly hope so, cause I’m looking forward to it.”
“I can see how you would,” it agreed. There was a pause. “But you can’t tell me Mary deserves what you going to do to her. Can you, boy?”
“Look, I have no choice-”
“Making excuses like always. You’re worthless. You just a murdering-”
“Shut up!” I shouted. “You got no right to criticize me, not after what you did to Momma and the rest of us! You killed her.”
“No, son,” and my-his-reflection shook its head. “You were the one who killed her. You knew what I was but you were too much of a coward to use my razor. You didn’t think I knew about that, did you? Well, I knew alright, just as I know if you had any guts yer momma would still be alive.”
I tried turning away. I tried but I was frozen. I couldn’t take my eyes from my-his-face.
“You know that, don’t you boy?” it said. “All I was trying to do was discipline you, but yer whining drove yer poor momma to hysterics. It’s yer fault, boy, and don’t you forget it. Don’t you never forget it. And don’t think I forgive you fer what you done to me.”
“You can’t lay that on me.” I forced myself to laugh. “No, old man. You killed her. Just like you forced yourself on your own daughters, and treated me like I was a piece of-”
“Heh, heh. You can’t blame me fer trying, boy. But about forcing myself on my girls, I won’t deny they gave me some pleasure. But you ain’t-”
“Sh-Shut up!”
“-that innocent yerself, are you boy? You guilty of the same crime, but you got yer excuses, don’t you?”
“Shut up!”
“That’s right,” it snickered. “You were forced to sleep with Mary? There’s no use hiding from the fact I’m in you, boy. You’re your daddy’s son alright.”
I woke up with the alarm clock, my heart racing, and almost fell out of bed running to the bathroom to study myself. I looked long and hard and couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. It was just one of those damn crazy dreams you have when you’ve got too much on your mind.
I shivered, my body wet and clammy with cold sweat. All at once I broke out laughing. Just a damn crazy dream.
I took a shower, dressed, put my overcoat on, and was out the door by seven. I stopped at a diner and had myself a breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes and potatoes. The waitress seemed surprised at how much I was putting away, and when I asked for another plate of pancakes she shook her head in amazement.
“How can you eat so much and not show it?” she asked.
“You know what they say,” I said between bites. “Breakfast’s the most important meal of the day, and if you got a lot to do you better start it off right.”
“I guess you’re planning on being busy all day long,” she said, laughing. “And probably all night too.”
I wasn’t about to disagree with her. After lingering a little over my third coffee refill, I hit the road, driving towards the mountains. It was almost an hour before I found what I was looking for. Off the side of the road was a large rock, large enough to hide a bus. I maneuvered the car behind it, and then walked back to the road to see how good a job I’d done.
There was no sign of the car. The only way someone would see it was if they left the road and searched for it.
I set off on foot down the mountain, keeping my thumb out. After an hour, a pickup truck stopped and gave me a ride. I explained that my car had broken down and I needed to get to Denver for an important business meeting.
“That’s funny,” the driver said, giving me a puzzled look. “I don’t remember seeing a car broken down on the road.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Well,” he hesitated, “in any case I’d be glad to help you out. I’m going there anyway.”
I settled into the passenger seat. At first my mind just drifted along with the road. Eventually I started thinking about Mary. To be honest, I must’ve known from the start she was my own flesh and blood. Maybe it took a while for me to admit it to myself, but I must have known. That had to be why I was willing to take her case for just about nothing-and fifty dollars a day plus paying for my own expenses is as close to nothing as you can get. No matter how much I’d tried kidding myself, there was only one way to make sure Mary never found out about Rose.
I never had any choice.
My poppa, Walt Murphy, the others-I never had any choice about any of it.
About any of them.
As we drove, my companion couldn’t keep from chattering about this and that, and his small talk pricked me worse than needles. I looked at him and wondered if one more would make any difference. It would be easy enough. If I carried his body a few hundred yards from the road, it would probably be months before they found him. If they ever found him at all.
I gave him a hard look. He was an annoying, dull-eyed man who didn’t know enough to shut up and leave a guy in peace. But I guess I didn’t feel like moving. Even blinking my eyes seemed too big an effort. Both the passenger and driver windows were open, and the wind was hitting me hard in the face. All I wanted to do was sit back and think about Mary.
I closed my eyes and felt like I was falling. For miles and miles. As if I’d jumped from an airplane. And it was a long way before I was going to hit the ground. I couldn’t see it, and I couldn’t see any reason to worry about it. No reason to do anything but sit back and enjoy the ride.
And I had a hell of a time.
Chapter 26
Bert Debbles’ room was more of an oversized closet than anything else, but I guess you can’t expect much for seven bucks a night. A narrow cot was wedged up against a windowless wall. The only other furniture was a small stained wooden chair and a tiny three-drawer dresser. The walls were bare, unless you wanted to count the water stains or the cracks. A single bulb hung from the ceiling.
I had been wrong about the lock, though; you probably could’ve picked up a dozen of them for five dollars. And I was also wrong about needing a screwdriver; a breadstick would’ve done the trick. Anyway, as it was, I had gotten into the room without breaking stride from my walk down the hallway.
I took my overcoat off, folded it on the chair and got to work. Aside from the furniture, there was a quart- sized bottle of gin beside the bed, and dirty clothing scattered about the floor. I went through the dresser drawers and found nothing but a bible and some clothes. Under the bed was a tattered cloth suitcase.
I pulled it out and opened it. Tucked under a pile of socks was an envelope, which had scribbled on the outside-
If anything happens to me give this to the police-Bertram Debbles. I ripped the envelope open and a key fell out.
It was a locker key from the Denver Bus Terminal. No more than what I was expecting. The old man was too greedy to risk sharing his secret with anyone, and was too cheap to spend any money on a real safety deposit box. I knew the old man because I knew my poppa, and there wasn’t much difference between them.
I held the key in my hand, and started laughing. It was just so damn pitiful. A bus terminal locker key was how he’d planned to protect his miserable existence. He should’ve sprung for the real thing.
