"You know how it is, Howard," I said. "It isn't the flu so much as the aftereffects."
"So I've heard," he said.
"It's kind of like I always say about auty-mobiles. It's not the original cost so much as the upkeep. But I reckon-"
"Got to run," he mumbled. "See you."
But I wasn't letting him off that easy. I was really in the clear, now, and I could afford to open up a little on him. "As I was sayin'," I said, "I reckon I can't tell you much about sickness, can I, Howard? Not with that shrapnel you got in you. I got an idea about that shrapnel, Howard-what you could do with it. You could get you some X-rays taken and print 'em on the back of your campaign cards. Then on the other side you could have a flag with your name spelled out in thermometers, and maybe a upside down-what do you call them hospital pisspots? Oh, yeah-urinal for an exclamation mark. Where'd you say that shrapnel was anyway, Howard? Seems like I just can't keep track of it, no matter how hard I try. One time it's in-"
"My ass"-he was looking at me now, all right-"it's in my ass."
I'd been holding him by the lapel to keep him from running off. He took my hand by the wrist, still staring at me, and he pulled it away and let it drop. Then, he turned and went up the steps, his shoulders sagging a little but his feet moving firm and steady. And we hadn't passed a word between us since then. He kept out of my way when he saw me coming, and I did him the same kind of favor.
So there was something wrong there; but what else could I expect? What was there to worry about? I'd given him the works, and it had probably dawned on him that I'd needled him plenty in the past. And that wasn't the only reason he had to act stiff and cold. Elections were coming up in the fall, and he'd be running as usual. Breaking the Conway case would be a big help to him, and he'd want to talk it up. But he'd feel awkward about doing it. He'd have to cut me out of the credit, and he figured I'd be sore. So he was jumping the gun on me.
There was nothing really out of the way, then. Nothing with him or Sheriff Bob or Chester Conway. There wasn't a thing… but the feeling kept growing. It got stronger and stronger.
I'd been keeping away from the Greek's. I'd even stayed off the street where his restaurant was. But one day I went there. Something just seemed to pull the wheels of my car in that direction, and I found myself stopping in front of it.
The windows were all soaped over. The doors were closed. But it seemed like I could hear people inside; I heard some banging and clattering.
I got out of my car and stood by the side of it a minute or two. Then, I stepped up on the curb and crossed the walk.
There was a place on one of the double doors where the soap had been scraped away. I sheltered my eyes with my hand and peered through it; rather I started to peer through it. For the door opened suddenly, and the Greek stepped out.
"I am sorry, Officer Ford," he said. "I cannot serve you. We are not open for business."
I stammered that I didn't want anything. "Just thought I'd drop by to-to-"
"Yes?"
I wanted to see you," I said. "I wanted to see you the night it happened, and it hasn't been off my mind since. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't face you. I knew how you'd feel, how you'd be bound to feel, and there wasn't anything I could say. Nothing. Nothing I could say or do. Because if there'd been anything… well, it wouldn't have happened in the first place."
It was the truth, and God-God! — what a wonderful thing truth is. He looked at me in a way I didn't like to name; and then he looked kind of baffled; and then he suddenly caught his lip under his teeth and stared down at the sidewalk.
He was a swarthy middle-aged guy in a high-crowned black hat, and a shirt with black sateen protectors pulled over the sleeves; and he stared down at the sidewalk and looked back up again.
"I am glad you did come by, Lou," he said, quietly. "It is fitting. I have felt, at times, that he regarded you as his one true friend."
"I aimed to be his friend," I said. "There weren't many things I wanted much more. Somehow, I slipped up; I couldn't help him right when he needed help worst. But I want you to know one thing, Max. I–I didn't hurt-"
He laid a hand on my arm. "You need not tell me that, Lou. I do not know why-what-but-"
"He felt lost," I said. "Like he was all alone in the world. Like he was out of step, and he could never get back in again."
"Yes," he said. "But… yes. There was always trouble, and he seemed always at fault."
I nodded, and he nodded. He shook his head, and I shook mine. We stood there, shaking our heads and nodding, neither of us really saying anything; and I wished I could leave. But I didn't quite know how to go about it. Finally, I said I was sorry he was closing the restaurant.
"If there's anything I can do…
"I am not closing it," he said. "Why should I close it?"
"Well, I just thought that-"
"I am remodeling it. I am putting in leather booths and an inlaid floor and air-conditioning. Johnnie would have liked those things. Many times he suggested them, and I suggested he was hardly fitted to give me advice. But now we will have them. It will be as he wanted. It is-all that can be done."
I shook my head again. I shook it and nodded.
"I want to ask you a question, Lou. I want you to answer it, and I want the absolute truth."
"The truth?" I hesitated. "Why wouldn't I tell you the truth, Max?"
"Because you might feel that you couldn't. That it would be disloyal to your position and associates. Who else visited Johnnie's cell after you left?"
"Well, there was Howard-the county attorney-"
"I know of that; he made the discovery. And a deputy sheriff and the jailer were with him. Who else?"
My heart gave a little jump. Maybe… But, no, it was no good. I couldn't do that. I couldn't bring myself to try it.
"I don't have any idea, Max," I said. "I wasn't there. But I can tell you you're on the wrong track. I've known all those boys for years. They wouldn't do a thing like that any more than I would."
It was the truth again, and he had to see it. I was looking straight into his eyes.
"Well…" he sighed. "Well, we will talk again, Lou."
And I said, "You bet we will, Max," and I got away from him.
I drove out on Derrick Road, five-six miles out. I pulled the car off on the shoulder, up at the crest of a little hill; and I sat there looking down through the blackjacks but I didn't see a thing. I didn't see the blackjacks.
About five minutes after I'd stopped, well, maybe no more than three minutes, a car drew up behind mine. Joe Rothman got out of it, and plodded along the shoulder and looked in at me.
"Nice view here," he said. "Mind if I join you? Thanks, I knew you wouldn't." He said it like that, all run together, without waiting for me to reply. He opened the door and slid into the seat beside me.
"Come out this way often, Lou?"
"Whenever I feel like it," I said.
"Well, it's a nice view all right. Almost unique. I don't suppose you'll find more than forty or fifty thousand billboards like that one in the United States."
I grinned in spite of myself. The billboard had been put up by the Chamber of Commerce; and the words on it were:
You are Now Nearing
CENTRAL CITY,TEX.
"Where the hand clasp's a little stronger."
Pop. (1932) 4,800 Pop. (1952) 48,000
WATCH US GROW!!
"Yeah," I said, "that's quite a sign, all right."
"You were looking at it, then? I thought that must be the attraction. After all, what else is there to see aside from those blackjacks and a little white cottage? The murder cottage, I believe they call it."