“What fiend?” Shep asked.
“The giant,” Mrs Sommers said. “The giant burned that house down. He was coming for me! I know it!” Mrs Sommers became hysterical. Once again, Betty calmed her down. Told the woman to fix her mind on nice memories. Scratch doubted Mrs Sommers had any left. She started talking about the first time she met her Konrad. She kept talking, sometimes in broken English, other times in German.
They left Saundra Sommers talking to herself.
22
Scratch had to go back to Darktown. Betty didn't know why he couldn't stay with her and put his business off for a day. He tried to explain, but Betty didn't understand the situation because Scratch was cryptic about the details.
“Just trust me,” he told her. “Please. Understand I have to take care of this and… I'll be at my place later.”
“I don't want to understand,” she said angrily. She looked away from his gaze and folded her arms.
“Get in the car,” Scratch said. “I'll drop you off wherever you want.”
“No, wait. Please, let me go with you.”
Scratch thought about it. “I'm going to Darktown,” he told Betty. “Are you sure you want to come with me?” He wasn't sure he wanted her to come with him. She'd learn more about him. She might even learn his secret. All Scratch could think about was how heavy that secret weighed on his shoulders. Maybe he should just let Shaw tell the world. Then he and Immy would have to answer for the killing of their father. All eyes on them, eyes on Immy for what their father had done to her, Scratch killing the man…
“I've been there before,” Betty said.
“Oh? When?”
“Last year,” she said. “Last Christmas. I took photos for the newswire. I'm not afraid.”
“You went by yourself?” Scratch asked.
“No.” Betty sighed. “Harry took me.”
“Harry took you, but you were not taking Christmas photos of children unwrapping presents. Were you?”
“Yes! Yes, I did…” Betty fell silent. “And some racy photos of negro prostitutes.”
“You sure you want to come along? I've got something to do. Betty. It won't be pleasant.”
“I don't care,” Betty kissed Scratch. “I just want to be with you. I'm scared, Scratch. I don't want to be alone. My house is gone. Most of my equipment… my work is burned up.”
“OK,” Scratch said. He popped a few more pills. Four were left in the bottle. He was feeling drowsy, and he could hear his own heart racing in his ears. He didn't want to go to sleep. He didn't want to dream about Korea, his father or anything, for that matter. “Wait in the car for me.”
Betty kissed him again. This time Scratch didn't flinch. He accepted the long kiss passionately, even placed a hand under her skirt. He didn't care if anyone was watching. He had a knot in his stomach. A bad feeling this might be the last time he kissed Betty. She pulled away and removed his hand from under skirt.
“Later,” she whispered and went to the '48 Dodge and slid into in the passenger seat.
Scratch looked in Shep's direction. Shep was enjoying a cigarette and trying not to watch Scratch and Betty. When he saw Scratch coming toward him, he turned away to watch the firemen working tirelessly to contain the fire.
“Shep,” Scratch called out. “You riding with us?”
“Don't bother,” he said. “I called Ralph from Mrs Stevens's house. He's coming to come get me.”
“OK,” Scratch said. “I'll swing by the jailhouse and talk to Felix in the morning.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you…” Shep finished his cigarette, tossed it in the street and stepped on it. “The old man summoned me today,” Shep licked his dry lips. “I need a drink.” He wiped his mouth.
“What did Spiff want?” Scratch asked.
“Me to keep an eye on you,” Shep chuckled. “He's concerned you're going to Darktown too much.”
“He wants me to get results doesn't he?” Scratch said.
“Well, yes. Of course.” Shep chuckled again.
“Then he shouldn't care where I'm going,” Scratch said.
“I think he's upset you haven't checked in,” Shep said.
“Jesus, we just talked the other day!”
“You know how Spiff is,” Shep sighed. “He's got to control every damn thing every damn minute. You don't how many phone a day calls I get. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder what our lives would be like if he wasn't around.”
“Just another yo-yo controlling our every move,” Scratch said.
“Yeah,” Shep nodded. “I think you're right”
“I'll call him in the morning. Hey, I want to show you something,” Scratch took out a piece of paper and showed it to Shep. “Have you seen any one wearing a ring with this in the stone?”
Shep looked at the paper closely. “Yes, actually I have.” He examined the paper again. “Governor Adams.”
“Quincy Adams? He wears a ring like this?”
“Scratch, if whatever you're mixed up in is involved with Adams and his people, drop it like a hot potato,” Shep said. “Dangerous people. I'm telling you.”
“What's the Governor of Oklahoma doing with a Nazi ring?”
Shep stared at Scratch. He sighed heavily. “WUNS.”
“What the hell is that, Shep?”
“World Union of National Socialists,” Shep said. He shook his head. “Damn Nazis. In America, Scratch. What's this world coming to?”
“I'm confused. You remember Pita-Paul?”
“Of course,” Shep said. “He's a bodyguard for Homer Williams.”
“He's been running around with Gilmore. He hit me and took the ring.”
“Damn it, Scratch. I wish you'd come to me first,” Shep put a hand on his right hip. It had been hurting him all day. “Where'd you get the ring?”
“Jerzy found it in the room Gardner was killed in,” Scratch said.
“I think you know the answer, Scratch. Pita-Paul is not just working for Homer. He's working for the governor.”
“Hold on.” Scratch held up a hand. “If he's working for a governor who believes in white supremacy, then why is he a bodyguard for a negro criminal?”
“He's working for someone more powerful than either the governor or Homer,” Shep said.
“Who could be more powerful than a
