‘Oh, I can do that. Did one thing already. There’s nothing like the Internet when it’s hooked up to state-of-the-art equipment.’ He comes back to the table and sits down. ‘How do you feel about being Elizabeth Anderson?’
Alice looks startled, then gives a tentative smile. ‘Fine, I guess. I don’t get to pick my own name?’
‘It’s better that you don’t. Too easy to pick one that links to your past. I didn’t pick it, either. Computer did. A site called Name Generator.’ He looks at Billy. ‘If you trust her, that’s good enough. What about these Jensens? Or the real estate guy? They have any idea you were someone other than Dalton Smith?’
Billy shakes his head.
‘So you’re clean and that’s good, because there’s a bounty on your head.’
‘How much?’
‘Chat rooms say six million dollars.’
Billy gapes. ‘Are you shitting me? Why? They were only paying me two to do the job in the first place!’
‘I don’t know.’
Alice is turning her head from one to the other as if watching a tennis match.
Bucky says, ‘Nick’s handling the contract, but I don’t think it’s his money any more than the money you were promised was his.’
Billy props his elbows on the table and his loosely closed fists on the sides of his face. ‘Who pays six million dollars to kill a shooter who shot another shooter?’
Bucky laughs. ‘Save that one. It’s right up there with she sells seashells down by the seashore.’
‘Who? And why? Joel Allen was nobody, as far as I can tell.’
Bucky shakes his head. ‘Don’t know. But I bet Nick Majarian does. Maybe you’ll get a chance to ask him.’
‘Who’s Nick Majarian?’ Alice asks.
Billy sighs. ‘Benjy Compson. The guy who got me into this mess.’
Which is sort of a lie. He got into it all by himself.
14
In the end, Billy decides he and Alice will stay with Bucky for three days, maybe four. He wants to finish writing about the Funhouse. That won’t take long, but he also needs time to think about his next move. Does he need another long gun, scope-equipped, to go with the Ruger? He doesn’t know. Does he need another handgun, maybe a Glock that holds seventeen rounds instead of a measly six? He doesn’t know. But a potato-buster for the Ruger might come in handy, little as he likes them. Would he have occasion to use such a thing? He doesn’t know that either, but Bucky tells him that a jam-and-lock silencer for the GP should be no problem. If, that is, he doesn’t mind something homemade that might break apart after a few shots were fired through it. Bucky says in the high country all sorts of accessories are available.
‘I could get you an M249, if you wanted. I’d have to ask around, but I know some people to ask. Safe people who can keep their mouths shut.’
A SAW, in other words. Billy has a brief but brilliant memory of Big Joe Kleczewski standing outside the Funhouse with that very same gun. He shakes his head. ‘Let’s stick with the silencer for now.’
‘Silencer for a Ruger GP, got it.’
Alice will have her paperwork in three days as well, but when she and Billy go for groceries in Sidewinder, Bucky wants her to pick up some hair dye. ‘I think you should go blonde for your driver’s license. But leave the eyebrows dark. That would be a good look for you.’
‘You think?’ She sounds doubtful but looks interested.
‘I do. You were in business school, so I’ll give you some background to go with that. Can you take shorthand?’
‘Yes. I took a summer course in Rhode Island and picked it up fairly fast.’
‘And you can answer a phone? “Dignam Chevrolet, how may I direct your call?”’
Alice rolls her eyes.
‘Okay, entry-level skills at least, and the way the economy is roaring, that should be enough. Add nice clothes, good shoes, and a cheery smile and there’s no reason why Beth Anderson can’t find her niche.’
But Bucky doesn’t like it. Alice doesn’t pick up on it, but Billy does. He just doesn’t know why.
15
They go for groceries, Billy wearing his wig and a pair of dark glasses Bucky finds for him in the clutter of stuff – what he calls Irish luggage – he hasn’t unpacked yet. At King Soopers Billy pays cash. They go back up Edgewood Mountain Drive, the Fusion thudding and bumping and forging grumpily ahead over the last two miles.
Alice helps Bucky put the things away. He looks at the plantains she purchased doubtfully but says nothing. When that chore is done, she says she’s tired of being cooped up and asks if it would be okay for her to take a walk. Bucky tells her that if she goes out the back door, she’ll find a path into the woods. ‘Steep slope, but you look young and strong. Might want to put on some bug dope. Check the bathroom.’
Alice comes back with her sleeves rolled up trucker style, slathering on Cutter. Her cheeks are shiny with it.
‘Don’t mind the wolves,’ Bucky says. Then, seeing her alarmed expression: ‘Kidding, kiddo. The oldtimers say there haven’t been wolves around here since the 1950s. All hunted out. Bears, too. But if you can make it a mile, you’re going to come to one hell of a view. You can look across I don’t know how many miles of gulch and ravine to a big old flat clearing on the other side. Used to be a resort hotel there, but it burned flat many a moon ago.’ He drops his voice. ‘It was reputed to be haunted.’
‘Watch your step,’ Billy says. ‘You don’t want to break an ankle.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
When she’s gone, Bucky turns to Billy with a smile. ‘“Watch your step, you don’t want to break an ankle.” What are you, her daddy? God knows you’re old enough to be.’
‘Don’t get Freudian. She’s just my friend. I couldn’t tell you exactly how that happened, but it did.’
‘You said they roughed her up. Does that mean what I think it does?’
‘Yes.’
‘All of them?’
‘Two out of three. One of them just jizzed on her belly. That’s what he said, anyway.’
‘Jesus Christ, she seems so … you know, okay.’
‘She’s not.’
‘No. Of course she’s not. Probably never will be, not completely.’
Billy thinks that, like too many depressing ideas, it’s probably true.
Bucky gets two beers and they go out on the front porch. Billy has parked the Fusion beneath, nose-to-nose with the Cherokee.
‘She seems to be coping, at least,’ Bucky says when he’s resumed his rocking chair. Billy has taken another one. ‘Got some guts.’
Billy nods. ‘She does.’
‘And she can read a room, as they say. Maybe she did want to go strolling, but she mostly left so we could talk.’
‘You think?’
‘I do. She can have the spare room while you stay here. A bunch of my stuff’s in it now, but I’ll clear it out. The bed’s stripped and I don’t know if there’s sheets, but I saw a couple of blankets on the shelf in the closet. That’ll do for three or four nights. Since you’re not sleeping with her, you get the attic. Most times of year you’d freeze or boil up there, but right now it should be just about perfect. I’ve got a sleeping bag somewhere. Maybe still in the back of the Cherokee.’
‘Sounds good. Thanks.’
‘Least I can do for a guy who’s promising me a million dollars. Unless you’ve changed your mind about that.’
‘I haven’t.’ Billy gives Bucky a sideways look. ‘You don’t think I’ll get it.’
‘You might.’ Bucky pulls a pack of Pall Mall straights out of his shirt pocket – Billy didn’t know they still made those – and offers it to Billy, who shakes his head. Bucky lights his smoke with an old Zippo, the Marine emblem and Semper Fi embossed on the side. ‘I learned a long time ago not to sell you short, William.’
They sit for awhile without talking, two men in porch rockers. Billy thought Pearson Street was quiet, but this place makes Pearson Street sound like downtown. Somewhere far off someone is using a chainsaw, or maybe it’s a wood-chipper. That and a light breeze sighing through the pines and aspens is the whole soundtrack. Billy watches a bird go stiff-wing gliding across the blue sky.