tightened and her eyes focused.
“Know me yet?” I asked.
“Yeah. The white streak. Like your brother. You have a bad temper too. Buy me a drink.”
I held on to her. Her sweaty skin felt like wet clay. “No, you’re already stewed. You can earn half a C-note by not fucking with me and just answering a couple questions. Then you can get back to your other business, right?”
She looked back at the bar. The john was glaring at her empty seat, like he still saw her, or some other despised woman, sitting there.
She said, “All right, all right, let me go.”
I released her. “You know a cop named Gilmore?”
“Sure.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
She grinned and showed me her red waxy teeth. “The night he beat the piss out of you.”
“Right. Is he a regular around here?”
“No, nothing like that.” She licked her lips in what she thought was a seductive manner. It made my stomach crash. “Him and a few other cops come around every once in a while. The bar’s pretty close to the precinct. When they do I usually head out the back door. But like I said, it’s not often. Not regular.”
“He ever roust any women?” I asked. “You ever hear complaints about him? Following women? Anything like that?”
“No. What are you going on about? What are you getting at?” She moved for the money again, and this time I let her take the bill and crush it down into her cleavage. She put her hands back on my chest and tried to push me off. “I don’t like talking about cops. I don’t want nothing to do with them.”
“You said you were here the night my brother killed those people and was arrested.”
“Yeah.”
“Was Gilmore here that night? Think hard. And don’t try to bullshit me. There’s no more money to be made, so don’t string me along.”
A disgusted giggle floated up from her chest. “You don’t want bullshit then I’ll tell you I don’t remember. I remember your brother only because of what happened. I don’t know who else was here. I don’t know if Gilmore was around. I know he wasn’t one of the cops who arrested your Collie. I would’ve remembered that. But whether Gilmore was here having a beer, I have no idea. Did you really expect I would? That anyone would?”
It had been a stupid long shot, but it was all I had to play. “Okay, thanks.”
I walked her back to her seat. The john continued to drunkenly glower, lost in his bitter stupor. I took two steps toward the door. The fucking bartenders in this place never seemed to cut anybody off. Flo sat beside the guy and let out a laugh that made the flesh between my shoulder blades crawl. I got the hell out of there.
The drive home went by so fast it almost felt like it didn’t happen. My brain was on autopilot. I drove without thinking, without seeing the road. I couldn’t shake the vision of Gilmore strangling Rebecca Clarke, slowly squeezing the life adeout of her as she choked and gasped, and then five years later coming back to do the same thing to her sister.
I sat in the driveway without realizing I’d pulled in and parked. Maybe it was the slap Grey had given me, maybe it had rattled my brain loose. I put my head down on the steering wheel and started to drift again. I figured I’d better get inside to bed before I woke up on the Cross Bronx Expressway doing ninety-five onto the George Washington Bridge.
I barely got my clothes off before I hit the bed.
I dreamed of Kimmy. I would always dream of Kimmy.
She didn’t want to rush it. We weren’t speeding along. I had called the Montauk Lighthouse and asked a few questions about wedding ceremonies. I had the judge’s name. I knew what paperwork we needed to bring.
We were in the mall, moving past the huge plate-glass window of Fireside Jewelers, when she unlaced her fingers from mine and stopped in her tracks.
She glanced at me and gave a grin. I returned to her side and we stood shoulder-to-shoulder and stared through the window together.
She had her eye on a half-carat diamond bordered by twin sapphires. Not too expensive so far as these things went, but more cash than I’d ever dropped on anything in my life. My fingertips itched.
“I can get it cheaper,” I said.
“You can’t steal an engagement ring.”
“Why not?”
“Is that the question you’re asking me? Why you can’t steal my engagement ring?”
“Nope.”
We stood there for what seemed like a long time. I held her to me. Moments like these, I thought I could go straight. I wanted to offer our children a life, a future, something besides a house full of decades-old loot that nobody wanted. I imagined the ring on her finger. It looked like it would hurt if she brushed it against my back while we were making love.
We stepped inside. She tried the ring on and held it up and I kissed her finger and I kissed the piece of ice. I thought I had just enough cash in my wallet to at least make a down payment. I was wrong. They wanted twice as much. Kimmy reluctantly took the ring off but she remained giddy. I put my hand to her belly. My girl inside wasn’t moving yet.
I reached for her.
Sweat slid onto my lips and I heard voices in the backyard. The taste of salt reminded me of kissing down the length of Kimmy’s back that night while she giggled and eyed me over her shoulder and said, “That’s it, that’s it, worship me like a dirty goddess. Kiss me like I’ll die tonight.” I coughed and thought I should go to the window, I should see who’s out there, but I wanted to return to my girl. I rolled over. I pressed my face into the pillow. The voices stopped and the breeze carried only the scent of storm.
Part III. THE LAST KIND WORDS
30
I leaped out of bed to the sound of screams. I hit the stairs and jumped down three at a time. JFK rounded the corner, barking insanely. I’d never heard him like that before. He knew something I didn’t. My mother hung wilted against the back-door jamb, hunched over but with her knees angled outward like she was about to push out a baby. Beyond her, my old man was hauling something heavy across the yard, gasping, struggling, the way he had when we’d pulled up tree stumps together. JFK circled and chewed at his hindquarters. I watched my father dragging Mal’s massive and rigid body through the dirt, guts trailing behind. His brother’s dead weight was too much for my dad, and his eyes flitted in a wild panic as he searched anywhere for help. His wet gaze finally landed on me but he was too out of breath to say anything. He mewled what could’ve been my name. My father had finally lost control. I took a step off the back porch and my knees nearly went out from under me. My mother moved to me, turned away, and tightened her arms around herself, her eyes shut tight. Grey hurtled from the back door like a ballet dancer, covering an unbelievable distance in four or five bounds. He was in a white T-shirt and boxers, which were immediately soaked through with red. Grey’s voice cracked to pieces as he shouted, “Call an ambulance!” It was too late for that. It was too late for anything. My mother wailed in response. Dale appeared at my side. She wasn’t sobbing, but the tears ran into her mouth. “Don’t move him. You’re disturbing the… the… forensic evidence. The police-” My father and Grey dragged Mal on his back, flattening the grass and digging gouges in the rain- softened earth. Mal’s head bounced across the ground, which made his tongue jut and withdraw like he was testing soup that was still too hot. His eyes were half open and perfectly focused. He seemed puzzled, a little uneasy, but not too concerned about any particular thing. His face tilted and I caught his gaze. He still had something to tell me.
