I’m turning back into a pumpkin.” He squeezed Ray’s hand and got up, looming in the dark.
“Wait,” Ray whispered. “What happened to our friend? From up north?”
Manny looked over his shoulder to check for anyone nearby in the hall, then turned back showing his teeth. “Bart finished the barbecue.”
Ray flashed on the hole in the backyard, the pile of crumbling bricks.
“That thing’s got the deepest foundation of any barbecue in the county. He’s motivated, your old man works fast.”
MORNING, AND A feeling of being hollowed out, a husk around air and bones. There were two men in the room, behind the nurses as they worked checking the IVs and drains and patting his hand. Ray watched the men, one tall, long limbs folded into a chair, black hair and a knowing smile like an assistant principal who figures you were the one who took a dump in the faculty lounge and he’s just angling to prove it. He had a thick sheaf of papers and files in his lap.
The other one was short, gray- haired, moving around the back of the room with a dark energy, touching the pitiful bouquet from downstairs that Theresa had left, a card left thumb-tacked to a board for somebody’s grandma who had been in the room before Ray. The nurses left, and he sat and looked at them.
The younger one spoke. “Raymond!”
Cops.
“How are you, buddy? We thought we lost you there.”
“Ah, you know. Making it, Officer.”
“I’m Detective Nelson. This is Burt Grace, special investigator from the district attorney’s office.”
Ray nodded, and the gray- haired older man just looked at him.
“You know we’re police officers.”
Ray shrugged. Cheap sport coats and fraying collars, did anyone else dress like that?
“We wanted to talk to you about what happened.”
“I don’t really remember.”
The older one shook his head, snorted. “Right.”
“Well,” said Nelson, acting the reasonable public servant. “What do you remember?”
“I was coming back to my apartment in Willow Grove, this guy jumped out of the bushes and stabbed me.”
“You were home?”
“I guess. It’s all pretty hazy.”
“Did you know the man with the knife?”
“No, I didn’t really see him.”
“Lemme guess.” The older cop again, Burt Grace. “It was a big black guy you never saw before.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Grace turned to Nelson. “This is a waste of time.” He pointed at Ray without looking at him. “This piece of shit is in the dope business, and he got stuck by some other piece of shit in the dope business.”
Ray breathed through his nose, his body starting to hum with pain. “So is there something we have to talk about, or is this something you do for everybody gets stabbed in the county?”
Nelson leafed through the papers in front of him. “You’ve had quite a time, Raymond.”
“You got my life story there, do you?”
“Three juvenile arrests, sent to Lima. Two arrests as an adult, both involving stolen cars. Sent up twice.” He flipped pages. “You got a lot of interesting friends, Raymond. Emanuel Marchetti…”
Grace made a noise with his lips. “Manny Marchetti? That scumbag? Isn’t he the one his mother was a junkie retard got cut up in Bristol?”
Ray cocked his head. “Yeah, and you all did shit about that. It’s been ten years. Any leads on that, Kojak?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Burt?” Nelson held up his hands.
“What?” Grace made a gesture of throwing something away. But he went to stand by the window.
“He’s got anger management problems?”
“Detective Grace is a good cop.”
“I never heard a cop say another cop was anything else.”
Nelson was still paging through the files. “Harlan Maximuck. Jesus. Is he still alive?”
“Last I heard.”
“Is that story they tell true? About the guy’s head in his trunk?”
“I sure wasn’t going to ask.”
“Vietnamese organized crime figures. You get around.”
He went in the folder, held something up to his eyes. A picture. Turned it to face Ray and there she was. Marletta Hicks, in her cap and gown. He wasn’t prepared and turned his head.
“Pretty girl.”
“Why are you here?” His eyes down, boring holes in the floor.
“Stole a car, smashed it up with the daughter of a state trooper in the passenger seat. Man, here’s another one.” He held up a picture of Ray, much younger with his eyes blackened, his arms in casts. “Off to adult prison that time, the first time. With your arms broken from the accident. That must have been fun. Of course, worse for the Hicks family.”
Grace walked over and stood closer to Ray, and he thought the old man was going to take a swing at him. “You piece of shit. I knew I knew that name. You’re the one killed Stan Hicks’s kid. Jesus.”
“That’s what it says.”
Nelson lifted his head. “You say different.”
“Why would I?”
Grace said, “Oh, what the fuck. If this asshole is going to start lying again I’m going downstairs.” He looked at Ray. “They should have punched your ticket ten years ago, shitbird.” His footsteps moving away were like gunshots in the hall.
Nelson had a smile fixed on his face, waving pages from the file as if inviting him to continue. “You got something to say about all’this’I’m all ears. I never knew a convict who didn’t like to spin a yarn.”
“Okay, just be on your way.” Ray’s stomach cramped, and he gritted his teeth.
Nelson nodded and got up, pulling his card from his pocket. When he laid it on the bed table, Ray looked up, out of breath. “You got the file?”
Nelson held up the pile of papers. “Pretty much everything.”
“Okay.” Ray looked off, then back, breathing like he’d run a mile, spikes driven into him everywhere. “Okay, then.” He grimaced and sucked in air. “You know it all.”
“You got something to say about that?”
“Why would I?”
“Now’s your chance.” The cramp eased and Ray panted, open mouthed.
“No, my chance passed a long time ago. Just ask Stanard Hicks.”
“Marletta’s father? I know Stan Hicks.”
“Yeah?”
“Why would I care about any of this?”
Ray shrugged. “No reason. I mean, you got the file, so you got the story.”
“Raymond, you are a piece of work. Look at you.” He went into the file, came out with the picture again, and laid it on the table. Marletta smiling in her cap and gown, her brown skin glowing. “What ever else is true, Raymond, you’re alive, still. You know, in my religion, they tell me everything happens with some kind of purpose. You’re alive, and this beautiful girl is dead. I don’t know, Ray. I can’t see the purpose in that.” He turned, but Ray grabbed his arm, hard.
Nelson looked at the white hand on his arm and then into Ray’s eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“Not that. Forget all that.”
“What?”
“There’s a kid, down in Falls Township.” Nelson nodded, got out a pen.
