three things have been my legacy. Three is the lucky number. If you have three you have a bonus. Bonus. Bonus is the whole bunch of them, the whole lousy town's scared. Who's next? they wonder. Who's next? So dumb. All they'd have to do is think. Put it together. Put their heads together. Think back. Look back. Yes, it's true. Simple is best. If you complicate things you get nowhere. Alphabets. Initials. What shit. What will they think of next? They cannot see the forest for the trees. They are simply-spellbound!
LOOKING BACK -25 YEARS AGO
Whitey's Dockside Restaurant has received national recognition in the new edition of 'Duncan Hines' Adventures in Good Eating' just off the press. It is the only restaurant in Seaville included among the 3,500 selected restaurants 'Recommended by Duncan Hines,' out of a total one-third million eating places in North America.
TWENTY-THREE
Hallock sat in the parking lot of the Seaville Nursing Home. The two most important women in his life for the last thirty years or so had been Fran and his mother. Three years before his mother had had a stroke that paralyzed her on one side. She couldn't be there for him anymore. In the last months she seemed to be slipping away, in a world of her own, talking a lot about her mother. It was painful and hard to watch. Still, he needed to see her today as he always did when things went wrong. Usually he went to her after Fran. But not today. Maybe not ever again. He didn't want to think about Fran now.
Looking down at his hat and gun on the seat beside him, he couldn't believe he'd never wear them again. Goddamn Schufeldt. Goddamn town. Who the hell was he kidding? You can't stay at the top if you're sliding toward the bottom. The fact was, he didn't have a clue to who this killer was. Maybe he'd been going at it wrong. Maybe? That was a laugh. He must've been nuts to try that scheme with the initials. But he couldn't believe he'd been publicly humiliated by that snot, Julia Dorman. The trouble with her was she'd had a husband who didn't love her, married her for her money, and everybody knew it. Including her. But Fran? Fran had a husband who adored her. So how could she have sat there like a lump and listened to that bitch pull him down? Ah, hell.
He took his gun out of the holster, rested it on his leg. How many cops had taken their.38s and just left all their troubles behind? One of the first things he'd heard as a rookie were the stories about cops 'eating their guns.' Mostly big-city cops, but occasionally a country cop would stick the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. Hallock shut his eyes. The image was terrible. No matter how bad things got he couldn't imagine doing that. He returned the gun to its holster.
Lifting his butt, he pulled his Sam Browne around his waist and buckled it in front. Technically he wasn't supposed to wear the gun any longer, but he didn't want his mother to know what had happened. More than likely she wouldn't even notice, but sometimes she was surprisingly lucid. He picked up his cap, set it on his head, checked his rearview and caught a good look at his face. Christ almighty, he thought, who the hell is that? Quickly he got out of the car.
As always when he first entered the nursing home, his sense of smell was assaulted, but by the time he left he had become used to it. As nursing homes went this one was pretty good, he was told. Still, there was no way to avoid the institutional feeling of the place, light green walls, tile floors, the hollow sound as you walked to your destination.
'Hi, Chief,' June Lynch, the head nurse, called.
He hadn't the heart to tell her he was no longer the chief. 'Hey there, June. How you doing?'
From under her cap yellow curls, like dandelions, framed her face. 'Okay. You?'
What was she going to think when she heard? That he was a damn liar, that's what. 'Doing fine. How's my mom?'
June came out from behind the desk, stuck a skinny arm through his and walked down the hall with him. 'Well, Chief, she's in and out today, know what I mean?'
'Uh-huh.'
'But she's been a good girl. Ate all her lunch.'
'That's good.'
Marion Hallock was tied in her wheel chair, staring straight ahead.
June shouted, 'Look who's here, Mrs. Hallock!'
Hallock knew his mother wasn't deaf, guessed June was just in the habit of shouting at her patients.
'Your best beau,' June added.
The left side of Marion's face drooped. When she spoke she looked like she was sneering. 'Not my beau,' she said with contempt, 'he's my son. My beau's dead.'
June knew Marion's husband was very much alive. 'Isn't she something?' she said to Hallock, trying to make a joke out of it. 'She's our Peck's bad girl sometimes.'
Marion looked disgusted and turned away.
'Well, have a nice visit. See you later.'
Hallock kissed his mother on the forehead. She looked up at him, pale blue eyes like bleached denim. 'Woman's a horse's ass.'
Hallock smiled. 'Ah, Mom, she's just trying to be friendly.'
'What for? Got all the friends I need. Saying you're my beau. Stupid. My beau's dead.'
'Why are you saying that, Mom? Dad's not dead.' He sat on the edge of the bed.
'Oh, him,' she said contemptuously.
'Who else?'
The right side of her face smiled. 'Never mind. Just forget it.'
Hallock remembered some garbled story about his mother and Ben Davis, the Chrysler dealer in Bay View, about forty years ago. He couldn't recall the details now, the whole thing had been hazy then. 'You talking about Ben Davis, Mom?' He took her good hand in his.
'He's dead,' she said, not looking at him. 'Died in that fire.'
'What fire?'
'That damn club.'
'Oh, yeah.' Hallock remembered that most people had gotten out but ten or twelve had died. He'd forgotten Ben Davis was one of them. Who else? It was twenty, twenty-five years ago, he couldn't remember. 'Was Ben Davis your beau?'
Marion Hallock touched a wisp of white hair that had fallen loose from her bun, then tucked it back in place. 'Don't go playing chief of police with me, Waldo. I don't go for it.'
'I'll never do it again,' he said. 'I promise.' And he never would, not with her, not with anyone. Suddenly the reality of his dismissal was shattering. He wished he were small enough to sit in his mother's lap, have her stroke his hair, kiss his cheeks, tell him not to worry, it would all work out.
Marion broke through his thoughts. 'Who are you?' she asked, pulling her hand from his. 'Just who the hell are you?'
'Mom,' he whispered.
'I'm going to ring for the nurse if you don't get yourself out of here. Policeman or no policeman.'
'No policeman,' he said.
'What's that?'
He bent to kiss her. She pulled back.
'Get,' she commanded.
'So long, Mom. See you tomorrow.'
'Don't come back here, I'll get the real police.' Hallock said, 'Yeah, you do that.' He hurried down the hall, ducked past the front desk and got outside before anyone could see the tears streaking his face.
– -
