people of this world. Some men have their six o’clock martinis: I have my fifteen minutes in the crowded aisles of Finast.
I had parked my car after returning from this ritual and was crossing the street to my apartment, grocery sack in one hand, keys in the other, when I heard my name called. Frank Murphy was standing in the shadows under a tree.
“You don’t look too good.”
“It’s been a couple of action-packed days.”
“I won’t argue with that.” He climbed the steps to the front door with me, glancing at the bag. “You had dinner yet?”
“No.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Come home with me. Martha’s fixing lasagna-right up your alley.”
“No. I’m bushed. I don’t think I’ll bother with dinner.”
“Sleep on an empty stomach? You’d never wake up. Come on, you don’t have to be sociable. I won’t even mind if you fall asleep at the table, but you got to eat.”
I shook my head again, but he tightened his grip. I looked up at him.
“Please. As a favor.”
He had more than dinner on his mind. “All right.”
I walked back down the steps with him, crossed over to his car and deposited my groceries in the back seat. That’s one advantage of Vermont winters-all the world is a refrigerator, especially if your car heater works like Murphy’s.
We’d been driving for five minutes before he spoke again. “So, any ideas?”
“Why the sudden interest?”
It came out sharper than I’d intended, and Frank lapsed back into silence. I didn’t want to be doing this. I needed rest and some time alone to think things out.
“Maybe there are some bad guys out there.”
I closed my eyes for a second. “What?” s›
“Maybe Ski Mask did save your skin. I mean, it’s not impossible. We never did find out much about Kimberly Harris. Could be all this is out of her past-a Mafia thing or witness protection or something like that.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Spare me.”
Murphy shrugged.
“Look, maybe he did sucker me with the gas thing, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be our main line of business. It’s like we’re standing knee-deep in shit and wondering where the smell’s coming from.”
Murphy groaned.
The predictability of it got under my skin. “Well, Christ, Frank. Wouldn’t you like to know what the hell is going on? I mean, we know goddamned well the Harris thing and Ski Mask are connected, and that we don’t have any other line on who the hell Ski Mask is. So why don’t we just face that and get on with it?”
“We are. That’s why you’re going to Connecticut.” His voice was gloomy. “I was just hoping we could do it quietly.”
I clamped my teeth and stared at the traffic ahead. This was stupid. I was right; he was right. There was a momentum building in this case; Ski Mask was our main line of business; Harris was the obvious avenue to pursue. I wasn’t all by myself. I was just feeling as frustrated as I’d ever felt.
When Murphy spoke again, his voice was quiet and slow-confessional. “I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“I’ve been acting like a jerk on all this.”
I couldn’t disagree, so I kept quiet.
“I remember the morning it all started-black rapist strangles white girl-I couldn’t believe it, complete with bondage, drugs, and stolen underwear. It was straight out of a horror movie. I remember thinking we’d never hear the end of it. The networks would grab it, and some headline lawyer from New York would show up. I’d end up looking like some Alabama redneck nigger-stomper, fat gut and all.”
“Jesus, Frank, where did you get that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It was just suddenly there. It was like Korea: when your tour was nearly up, you just knew something dumb was going to get you killed. You lost perspective-you got paranoid. Didn’t that happen to you?”
“Yeah, I felt it.”
“But not as bad, I know. Some guys really flipped out, probably wound up getting killed just because of it. I guess I was somewhere in-between. Anyway, it was the same feeling with this Harris thing. I felt like an ant trying to get out from under a giant foot in time. I felt its shadow right over me.”
He paused.
“Pre-retirement crazies?”
He gave a short laugh. “I guess. It’s not getting any better, in case you haven’t noticed. That trial… Well, not the trial, but the whole process lasted a full two ed augyears. All along, I kept expecting something to foul up, something that would turn on the spotlights. I did everything I could to speed it up-Christ, I’ve never been so efficient. That paperwork didn’t sit ten minutes on my desk. And when it was finally over, I couldn’t believe our luck. We’d actually pulled it off-nice and neat and legal as hell.”
Again, he paused and then sighed. “And up she pops again, like a cork to the top, three months shy of the exit door.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, or even if saying something might break the spell and deprive him of whatever comfort he was getting from all this.
“The real joke is I don’t even want to leave. If I could, I’d happily die at my desk. Florida to me is like one big cemetery, waiting to swallow me up.”
“Then don’t go.”
He looked over at me and smiled. “I envy you that. There was a time I’d have said the same thing. But things change. Martha or no Martha, I’d probably have found some hole to die in. Might as well be Florida.”
I looked out the window. We were getting close to his house. I’d have said Frank Murphy was the one man in this world to whom self-pity was foreign. I guess he was right: things change.
The car pulled into Hillcrest Terrace. “That didn’t sound too good, did it?”
“Nope.”
He parked and killed the engine. “I’m not even sure I meant it. It’s kind of like standing belly-deep in the pool and wondering if you’re half dry or half wet.”
Somehow, for no reason-or for all sorts of reasons-I started giggling. “You are losing your mind, you know that?”
He laughed with me but briefly. “I wonder sometimes. Five y ears ago-maybe more-you couldn’t have caught my coat tails. Now… I don’t know. I seem to have run out of spit.”
I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath and stretched. “Oh, hell, Frank, it happens. Don’t beat yourself up. Dive in… or get out.” I started laughing again.
He smiled and started up the car.
“Where’re we going?”
“I’m taking you home. You do need the sleep.”
13
A long-standing maxim holds that overly tired people don’t sleep as well as they do normally. I didn’t have that problem. I slept for twelve hours straight and woke up in the same position I started out in-on my stomach, fully clothed. I won’t claim I felt refreshed, but at least I could function.
I washed, changed my clothes, and packed a bag. Assuming Beverly Hillstrom was as efficient as I thought she was, the Kimberly Harris samples had probably arrived in Brattleboro sometime during the night.
When I got to the office around 10:30, Murphy, as was now becoming his habit, found me in ted au hehe
