Mia spoke for the first time. “Were you one of those who tuned him up?”
The smile was still on his face. “Long time ago, lady.”
“You must have known it wouldn’t stop there.”
“Shit, what did we know? We were all young, strong, drunk, high, or strung out. We didn’t care. But I did luck out when the shit came down.”
“And how was that?” I asked.
“I was out on a beer run. I was the only one who had a car. Not like today, when every kid gets a car on their sixteenth birthday, the spoiled brats. I drove down to Bubba’s in Falconer, stocked up on a few cases, and when I came back here … Christ, what a show was going on.”
“What kind of show?” I asked.
“State cops, cops from Tyler and North Tyler, even the goddamn shore patrol. I drove into the parking lot up there, it was dirt at the time, and when I saw all those cars and some of my buds being led away in chains and handcuffs, well, shit, I turned around, dumped that beer, and went to the hospital in Exonia, all spiffed up and ready for afternoon class. Hah!”
“You didn’t get into trouble?” Gwen asked.
“Oh, a bit, but nothing they could prove. Besides, the whole mess was an embarrassment to the Navy and the town, and it was in everybody’s interest to keep things quiet. So that’s what happened. I hung out at a boarding house in Exonia for a few weeks, went to class a few times, and then diddled around until I was discharged. Maybe a week or so later I came by to see what was what, and the place was clean. I mean, clean. Everything had been pulled out, stripped. All the furniture was gone, even the hi-fi, which was a pretty piece of equipment. You know, I looked around, to see if any of my gear was there, but nope. But one place I didn’t look was the cellar. You sure the bar down there is gone?”
“It sure is,” I said.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Lots of fun memories about that cellar. You sure I can’t go down there for a peek?”
“There’s nothing down there except dirt and a furnace.”
He grinned. “That’s how we got the girls down there. ‘Come see our special party room.’ Hah. Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How did you end up living here? I mean, it’s always been government owned.”
“The government gave it to me a few years back.”
“Shit, for real?”
“Shit, for real.”
Gwen nudged him with an elbow. “You got anything else to say to Mr. Cole?”
“No, but—”
“But what?”
“Damn it, Gwen, why in hell didn’t you stop by back then? We would have had a good time, you and I. Honest to God.”
Gwen got up, and she and Mia assisted Turcotte to his feet. “I may have been wild, but I was smart. Come along, Bobby, you don’t want to miss tapioca pudding night.”
We got outside, Turcotte leaning onto Mia’s grasp, and Gwen asked me, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I said. “Always tired.”
She touched my cheek. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it. You grow older, and older, and friends and family start dropping off, and there you are. Death is just God’s sniper, one of my ex-husbands told me. Just don’t ask me which one.”
Gwen gestured at Turcotte, slowly going up my rugged driveway. “I know this wasn’t your plan, but it was good to get Bobby out, let him come back here, let him be a hell-raising young corpsman again for just a while. That was a good thing.”
“It was an accident on my part,” I said.
“It was still a good thing.”
She kissed my cheek. “Ah, if only you were a couple decades older …”
“Stick around,” I said. “I plan to get there eventually.”
Gwen laughed. “But that’s a goddamn race I’ll never win.”
Back inside the place seemed empty without my visitors. I imagined the ghosts of the past enjoyed the little visit from Bobby Turcotte. I sat down on the couch, slowly oozed over, and slept and slept until knocking on the door woke me up.
I rolled off, yawning, the cane with the ugly wolf’s head falling to the floor. “Hold on, hold on!” I yelled out, stumbling up, grabbing my cane, and lumbering over to the door.
On the other side, looking big, well-dressed, and very professional, were the two state police detectives from last night.
I squinted from the sunlight. “Have you guys gotten any sleep yet?”
One said to the other, “Steve, you get any sleep?”
“Frank, if I did, I’m not telling,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Cole, but we’re just wondering if you’ve thought of anything else since last night’s events.”
“Not a thing,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
A photograph of a dead Ramon was produced. “Do you know this man?”
I made a point of giving it a good look. “I do not.”
“Are you sure?” the other detective asked. “Are you sure you don’t know him, that he wasn’t coming to see you for a reason?”
“I still don’t know him, and if there was a reason, I would bet that he was trying to get away from all of the shooting in the parking lot and didn’t make it.”
Frank looked to Steve, who looked back, and the photo went away.
I asked, “How goes the investigation?”
“It’s going,” Steve said. “Trouble is, nobody wants to talk.”
Frank corrected him. “Not true. Some people want to talk. It’s just the wrong people.”
I yawned again. “But it seemed like there were two groups of guys up there, two gangs, shooting it out.”
“Maybe,” Steve said. “Or maybe it was one gang, splitting apart under the pressure, deciding to settle things on neutral territory, and then bam,
