The phone rang and startled him. Then he ran to it. “Hello.”
“Papa?” It was Laura.
“Hi, Sweetie.”
“I’m home.”
“You made it safe and sound, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing fine?”
“Yes. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Mommy wanted me to call and tell you I got here.”
“I’m glad you did. I miss you a lot.”
“I miss you. Do you want to talk to Mommy?”
“No, I’ll talk to her later, okay? Bye, honey.” Lewis hung up. He went into his living room and sat on the sofa with his shotgun. He held the cold barrel against his face. The night was dead still, dead quiet. Lewis kept seeing in his mind the body of Martin Aguilera, naked and bloated, burns on the legs, and he could see the procession of men marching around the ugly sight of death, beating themselves, bleeding and hurting and for a second he understood, for a second would have been able to strike himself in the same manner. He took a deep breath and tried to think more useful thoughts.
Peabody was the next step. Lewis reviewed all his suspicions of the man. If he was involved in whatever was going on, then Lewis had to confront him. If the man was not a part of it, then Lewis would only make a fool of himself. He could live with that, was quite used to it.
He went to the kitchen and put on water for tea. Why had they taken Maggie? If indeed they had. Some unrelated crazy might have abducted her. The thought was no less disturbing. He fell into a chair at the table. The water boiled and the kettle whistled. Lewis cried.
Chapter Twenty
Lewis managed a couple of hours of sleep. The phone remained silent in bed next to him. He showered and dressed in the morning, ate a bowl of oatmeal, dumped the horses’ trough and put in fresh water. He got out into his truck and drove down the mountain. He skidded to a stop in the dirt lot of Peabody’s office. He found the front door ajar. The assistant was not at her station. The room was dim and so Lewis opened the blinds. Peabody appeared in the doorway behind the desk.
“I thought I might be seeing you this morning,” Peabody said, stepping fully into the room.
Lewis just looked at him. He was afraid. He looked at the man’s hands to see if he was armed. He felt dumb for not having brought his shotgun.
“How is your friend Maggie?”
“You tell me.”
Peabody smiled and sat at the desk. “Please, Lewis, have a seat.”
Lewis sat on the fake-leather-covered bench.
“Yes, we have your Maggie.”
“Please don’t hurt her.”
“Whether we do is up to you, Lewis.”
Lewis looked at the man’s face. He wasn’t the same Cyril Peabody, for the eyes were cold, the face hard. “Who are you? What’s going on?”
“I don’t see that you’re entitled to any answers here. If you want your friend back, then you’ll tell me what you know about Martin Aguilera’s corpse. You told me you got a look at it. I want it.”
“I assume you had it at one point.”
“That doesn’t matter. Where is it?”
“This has something to do with the burns on him, with the squirrel, with the missing animals.”
Peabody looked at his watch. “I’m not into all these deadlines like other people, you know. We have your friend. That’s what you need to understand. And we want the old man’s body. You can tell me where it is or you can get it for me.”
“I have no idea what’s going on, but I know that I’ve seen the burns and I know that you want me dead.”
“I don’t want you dead.”
“Your men tried to run me off the road.”
“What can I say? If people followed directions I wouldn’t be here telling you to get a body you should never have seen.”
“What they say about good help and all that,” Lewis said.
Peabody chuckled.
“I don’t believe you’re going to let Maggie or me live.”
“You’ve seen too many movies. Look at it like this: If you don’t help me, we’ll kill her and we’ll kill you. That’s a given. If you do help? A chance anyway.”
“Just so I’m clear on this,” Lewis said. His hands were sweaty. He was cold. He wanted to laugh. He felt crazy. “You want me to get Martin Aguilera’s body and bring it to you. Then, you’ll let Maggie go.”
Peabody pointed a finger at Lewis. “That’s it. That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I’m saying to you.” He leaned back in the chair. “It’s a pleasure doing business with intelligent people.”
“I’m not sure I can get the body.”
“You can try. If you fail, you fail your friend. I kill you and that’s that. I’m glad you got the kid out of the way. That’s just too much to explain. Parents and all that, you know. But you, you I can explain. I can give you a heart attack. You can have a car wreck.”
Lewis tried to think of someone to tell. There was really only his daughter and he would only scare her. Everyone else would think he was insane, a paranoid old man.
“You can see the sort of thing I mean,” Peabody said.
“I’m surprised you don’t already know where the body is. I’m sure you had me followed.”
“I’m not here to discuss this with you. I want the body. You get it. Now, I think it’s time you were on your way.”
Lewis stood and walked to the door. He turned and looked at Peabody. He’d never really hated anyone before, but he hated this man. He watched the awful man’s face smile at him.
Lewis didn’t think about saying it, didn’t really know he was saying it, but he did say it, “If you hurt Maggie Okada, I will kill you.” He felt stupid saying it, felt like he had been tricked into saying it.
“Good day, Lewis.”
Lewis left. He drove to town and parked in the lot of Archie’s Lumber Company. He just sat there in his car, replaying all of it over and over, shaking his head and not understanding how any of it could be real, remembering how normal the day had been when he and Laura were off to pay a visit to old Martin. He waved at some people crossing the lot. They seemed to look at him a second too long.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lewis checked his mirror as he drove through town and saw no van nor sign of anyone else following him. He parked in the grocery store parking lot, walked across the street and into a mineral and gem shop and exited through the back door. He crossed a vacant lot and was on the dirt road that went to the Episcopal church. He walked via backroads toward the plaza, realizing just how visible a six-foot, sixty-six-year-old, black man was in these parts. He found his way to the alley that ran behind the House of Boots. The back door was open and so he walked in.
He went to the curtain and looked at the room full of customers. A woman with a massive blonde hairdo was having her pre-school son try on fifty dollar snake-skin boots. A very large man had a peculiar, high voice and he was saying the boots in question were too tight. Salvador was sitting on a stool, his back to the store room, helping a couple of homosexual men in leather pants.
Salvador’s daughter Gloria was helping the mother and the very large man. She was a pretty young woman, a little heavy, but she bore her weight well. She wore a lot of makeup on her eyes. She saw Lewis.
Lewis smiled and waved at her.
“What are you doing there?” she asked.
Salvador turned around.
“I need to talk to your father,” Lewis told her. “Salvador?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the old man said. He let his daughter know it was okay.
“Estos son — son.” One of the homosexual men searched for a word, standing on a thick-heeled boot.