Marshall quickly dialed the sheriff’s number, as Willis did not know it by heart. Marshall was always good with numbers. He made the call. There were already university security people all around, as well as sheriff’s cars, with lights flashing, to eventually lead people to the grave site.
Trudy, Olivia, and Rennie had decided to have the reception immediately following the service. Then family members, dear friends, colleagues, and his students could follow to the grave site if they wished. Otherwise, it would have been a snarl to leave UVA grounds, then try to return.
Two hours after the chapel service, they reached the grave site.
Out of the corner of her eye, at least one hundred yards away from the grave, Harry again spied Frank. How he had gotten there was anybody’s guess, but the burial details had been printed in The Daily Progress. Perhaps he’d hitched a ride with someone. Frank’s eyes never left Olivia, but he kept his distance.
After the interment, Harry said to Fair, “Frank’s here.”
“Where?”
She looked again at the spot. “He was over there.”
Fair unobtrusively, or as unobtrusively as a six-foot-five-inch man could, moved toward Olivia.
But Frank did not show himself again or harass Olivia. Their good luck held. Frank’s good luck was running out.
April 25, 2015
Two Hours Later
Foot traffic on the Downtown Mall filled the brick sidewalk going in both directions. The lovely weather brought out residents living in the area. Other people drove downtown for an outdoor lunch.
Relaxed in a director’s chair, Snoop sat under the overhang of the small crook of buildings next to the Paramount Theater. The shade felt wonderful. At his feet rested a colorful painted bucket. He’d made wooden letter openers with a sharp point, priced at two dollars each. People would walk by, notice how smooth and graceful they were, and figure for two dollars, how could they go wrong? Some folks were even nice enough to forgo making change, giving him a few extra dollars. With business this brisk, the night ahead looked promising, for Snoop would be able to buy a bottle of real liquor, not wine. He hated wine, although he’d drink anything if he had to do so. Even Listerine contained alcohol.
Half dozing, the shuffle of feet opened his eyes.
“Hey, man,” said Frank.
“Hey.” Snoop smiled at him.
Frank dropped next to Snoop, sitting on the ground. The bricks were hard beneath him, but he didn’t seem to care. “Heard some of the bastard’s funeral.”
“Who?”
“The Professor. Greg McConnell.”
Snoop said, “Why go, if you don’t like him?”
Frank grunted. “To make sure he’s dead.” He paused. “Taught me a lot about history, though. I’ll give him that. Taught me it all comes down to history.”
They both laughed.
A middle-aged woman stopped, picked up a letter opener, noticing the veining in the wood. “Red oak,” she said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I can never resist red oak.” She fished two one-dollar bills out of her cloth shoulder bag, handing them to him.
“Thank you and hope you only open happy mail,” said Snoop.
Frank plucked a letter opener out of the painted bucket. “Downed tree?”
“One blew over near the railroad track. I stashed what I could. Been busy ever since.”
The railroad line ran parallel just south of the mall. The small old C&O station at the northern end was no longer in use. Another brick station farther away handled passenger traffic. All across the United States, tidy small stations had been abandoned. Many towns no longer had passenger service. Those that did had nothing near the standard of the old days. Still, anything was better than getting ensnarled in Washington, D.C.’s traffic a hundred miles north. A pity the nation’s capital wasn’t on the Buffalo border, close enough to Canada’s capital. Many a resident in these parts, Virginia, Maryland, a sliver of West Virginia and southern Pennsylvania, would have thrown a joyous going-away party, thrilled to shift the congestion to upstate New York. Of course, those who made their living in the maw of endless traffic might feel otherwise. Once just to feel truly free again, Snoop and Frank hopped a freight boxcar, rode to Culpeper, Virginia, then hopped one back.
Despite their drunken dreams of escape, the Downtown Mall and its surroundings was their home. The other alcoholics, the shopkeepers, the sheriff’s people, and even some of the patrons of those shops knew them.
The two men sat next to each other for another fifteen minutes, then Snoop said, “You gonna stay sober?”
A long sigh. “No.”
“The man’s dead. Seems like you should be happy.”
“I’m glad he’s dead. I wish I’d killed him. Wish I’d had the guts when I was young but then Olivia would have hated me. No win. Know what I mean?”
Snoop nodded. Frank had some sense, but then so did most of the guys down here. The lights might flicker upstairs, but they could think clearly enough between power outages. It wasn’t lack of brainpower that drove them to hide in the bottle. He was never really sure why he or anyone else sought refuge there. Maybe the inciting pain receded, but the drinking had become a habit. Once one was a bona fide drunk, those first deep pulls on the bottle felt like rapture.
“So?”
Frank shrugged. “Dunno. I walked out of the halfway house. Didn’t check out.”
Snoop nodded. “They’ll be looking for you.”
“Yeah, they will. I hid at the old man’s reception, but some of the guys from ’59 saw me.”
“Fifty-nine what?”
“Football team. Good year. Those were the guys who gave us jobs, off and on. I let them down.” Frank stared off. “Didn’t mean to.”
Snoop nodded. “Maybe you should go back to the halfway house. Then check out.”
“Aw, Snoop, I don’t have to learn a skill. I already got a skilclass="underline" I can drink you under the table.”
They laughed.
“Got that right.” Snoop smiled broadly.
“And I have to be ‘reviewed.’ ” He tapped his head. “I’m not crazy. I might do crazy things, but I’m not crazy.”
Snoop poked at Frank with the letter opener he was holding on his lap. “What’s the craziest thing you ever done?”
“Hanging out with you!” Frank picked up a letter opener from the bucket and poked Snoop back.
“Thank you. Come on, what else?”
“Marrying three women. Man, one’s bad enough.”
Snoop roared and nearly tipped over in his chair. He knew Frank had no children, despite the wives. The men on the mall didn’t talk about the kids they’d left behind. Many had been in jail for missing child-support payments. That multiplied their feelings of worthlessness so the denials escalated, as did the drinking.
Snoop had four children, two grown now. He hadn’t seen them or the mother in five years. Couldn’t face them. Told himself she turned the kids against him, but truth was she hadn’t. He did.
The pair sat for a little longer. Snoop noticed a Charlottesville police car parking in the lot just above the Paramount, catty-corner from the main library, once the main post office.
He tipped his head. “Frank.”
Frank followed Snoop’s gaze, stood up. “I don’t want to go back. I belong here.”
“You gotta place to hide?”
“Yeah. Down by the new construction at the hospital. No one will be working tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was Sunday.
Snoop shook his head. “Can’t stay there forever.”
“No, but it will give me time to figure out how to get all these people off my back. Guess I shouldn’t have said I killed the professor. Was pretty well lit when I did.” He smiled. “Wish fulfillment.” As Frank started to leave, he leaned over to plunk Snoop’s opener back into the bucket.
“Take it,” said Snoop. “You might need it.”