The plastic bag was dark with oil, the rags inside slick and sweet smelling. Evil wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Jack stared down at the gun that felt so familiar in his hand, fascinated by the way the overhead light glinted off the barrel. He popped open the chamber and counted the bullets, and was about to pocket it when he heard the door squeak open behind him. Without thinking, he gripped the gun and spun around in a shooter’s stance. He knew how to do that very well.
One of the kids who worked at the nursery was standing in the doorway, his eyes the size of fried eggs and fixed on the gun. ‘Omigod omigod… Mr Gilbert? It’s me, Jeff Mongtomery? Please don’t shoot.’
Jack collapsed onto his butt and closed his eyes, feeling the tremors as the adrenaline tried to find a place to go. Jesus Christ, he’d almost shot the kid. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he mumbled, adrenaline gone, alcohol back, slurring his words. ‘I’m not gonna shoot you. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a guy with a gun?’
‘I… I… I didn’t know you had a gun? I just saw the light on and thought I’d better check it out?’
Jack lurched to his feet on jellied legs and saw the kid still frozen in the doorway, his eyes darting back and forth, looking like a rabbit about to run. It occurred to him then how bad this probably looked.
‘Listen, kid. This isn’t what it looks like. I fucking hate guns, but there’s some crazy son of a bitch running around shooting up the neighborhood, so I need this, understand?’
‘Yessir, yessir, I sure do. Uh… I think I’ll go now?’
‘No, no, wait a minute.’ Jack gestured wildly with the gun and the kid shrank back against the door, terrified. Jack looked from the kid’s eyes to the gun in his hand. ‘Oh, Christ, I’m sorry.’ He shoved the gun in his pocket and held out his open hands. ‘Don’t be afraid, kid… Jeff, isn’t it?’
The boy nodded cautiously.
‘Okay, Jeff, now listen. I’m really sorry I scared you, I’m just a little drunk, and pretty scared myself, and I’ve just got this gun to protect myself, see? But the thing is, it’s not exactly legal, you follow? So it wouldn’t be cool if anyone found out I had it. Especially Marty. For God’s sake don’t tell Marty, okay?’
‘Okay, sure, no problem, Mr Gilbert.’
‘Excellent. Just excellent.’ Jack clapped his hands together and the kid jumped. ‘So! Want to give me a hand stacking those bags back on the pallet?’
‘I sure do, Mr Gilbert.’
Jack gave him a wonderful smile. ‘You’re a good kid, Jeff.’
22
After the last of the mourners had left Lily’s, Marty found Jack slumped behind the wheel of his Mercedes, staring into the dark beyond the windshield, an empty silver flask dripping its last precious drops of bourbon on the buttery leather seat. Marty bent down to the open window and nearly passed out.
‘God, Jack, what the hell is that smell?’
Jack didn’t even look at him. ‘Sheep manure. You oughta air out the equipment shed, Marty. The place reeks.’ He sounded oddly sober for a man who had probably been drinking since sunrise.
‘What were you doing in the equipment shed?’
‘Just… taking a trip down memory lane, I guess. Pop used to take me out there when I was a kid. Let me hang out while he sharpened the tools. You know what? I think I’ve had a little too much to drink to actually start this thing, and I could really use a shower. Feel like driving me home, Marty?’
‘Not in that car.’
Twenty minutes later they were in Marty’s ’66 Chevy Malibu, top down to disperse the smell, heading west on the freeway past downtown Minneapolis. The traffic was light, the night air had an almost sexual warmth, and Jack was uncharacteristically quiet in the passenger seat.
Finally Marty said the words he’d thought would never come out of his mouth. ‘Okay, Jack. Start talking.’
‘No problem, buddy. Pick a subject.’
‘Let’s start with what you did to your mother.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Don’t give me that crap, Jack. You’ve got about as much interest in religion as a fern, and all of a sudden you’re filled with the spirit and decide to chuck the yarmulke and become a Christian? Bullshit. That stupid confirmation picture – and probably your marriage, too – was a direct shot at your folks.’
‘So?’
‘So it was childish and spiteful and damn near unforgivable.’
Jack sighed noisily. ‘You finished?’
‘No, goddamnit, I am not finished. So you had a fight with your dad. Lily didn’t even know what it was about, so why’d you shut her out?’
‘It’s complicated. And you don’t want to know.’
‘Yeah, I do want to know. I want to know what the hell Morey said that made you lash out like that.’
Jack straightened a little in the seat and looked at Marty with something like amazement. ‘You know what, Marty? You’re the very first person who ever thought I might have had a reason for what I did, that I wasn’t just being an asshole.’ He faced front again and shook his head. ‘Man, you cannot imagine what that feels like.’
‘Great. Glad I made you happy. So what was the reason?’
‘I really love you for that, Marty.’
‘Oh, for chrissake, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.’
‘Well that’s good, Marty, ’cause I didn’t want to talk about that shit anyway. Water under the bridge, spilt milk, bygones…’
‘Damnit, Jack, it isn’t any of those things, because it’s still hurting Lily. And you, for that matter. You gotta fix it.’
Jack shook his head strongly. ‘Can’t.’
‘Well then, tell me what it is. Maybe I can fix it.’
‘God, you are such an arrogant prick, which is pretty funny, when you think about it. What the hell have you got to be arrogant about? You can’t even fix your own life, so just leave it alone. I’m not going to talk about it.’
Marty’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he took the tight cloverleaf onto the freeway that led to Wayzata. ‘Fine. You don’t want to talk about that? Then let’s talk about Rose Kleber.’
Jack folded his arms across his chest. ‘I didn’t know her.’
‘Don’t give me that shit, Jack. I saw your expression when you were looking at her picture in the paper.’
Jack didn’t move for a minute, didn’t say anything, but Marty could feel him tense. ‘Okay, okay. So I met her once. So what? I meet a lot of people. Doesn’t mean I know them. I don’t think I ever even heard her last name. It was just a shock, that’s all. I mean, Jesus. Three old Jews get capped in three days, and it turns out I know all of them.’
‘How’d you meet her?’
‘Christ, I don’t know, what the hell is this? What’s with all the questions?’
Marty knew better than to give him time to think. ‘Well, it’s like this, Jack. The cops are looking for a link between the victims, and it’s starting to look like you might be it.’
‘That’s bullshit. I’ll bet you could find at least a hundred people who knew all three of them.’
‘They were close, weren’t they? Morey, Ben, and Rose?’
‘How the fuck should I know?’
‘Because you DO, goddamnit. You were scared shitless when you heard about Ben Schuler getting shot, and Gino and Magozzi saw that. You think they aren’t going to wonder why? And they didn’t even see you freak out when you saw Rose Kleber’s picture. Jesus, Jack, you know something about these murders. Why aren’t you giving it up? People are dying.’
Jack turned on him. ‘What the hell is this? Yesterday you couldn’t have cared less who killed your own father-in-law, and today you’re Mr Cop again. What’s that about?’
‘Oh yeah? Well you forgot something, Jack. Yesterday you were all over me for not trying to find out who killed Morey, and now that I’m asking a couple of questions, you’re the one who doesn’t want to talk about it. What’s that about?’