“I promised Sue we’d pull back on this. Just forget about it.”
“Are you crazy? Now I really want to go after him.”
“Sorry. I promised Sue. I can break my word to her, but you can’t break yours.”
“I didn’t give her my word. You gave her my word. So that doesn’t count.”
“You want to tell her that? You remember what happened the last time you broke your word to her?”
“Yeah. Spam the whole week.”
“Right. And you’re lucky she didn’t leave the goop on when she served it to you.”
“She had steak every night and I had Spam. She’s a lot meaner than she looks.”
Sue came back with a smiling nurse pushing a wheelchair. “Right in here, Mr. Thibodeau.”
“I can walk.”
“I’m sure you can. But these are hospital rules.” The nurse was middle-aged and had learned how to be sweet while she was slapping you around with rules.
When he was safely seated, Sue bent over and kissed him on top of his head. Then she looked at me: “You gave your word, Sam.”
“I did.”
“And I expect you to keep it. Both of you.”
“Maybe we could talk about that a little, honey.”
“Are you ready, Mr. Thibodeau? We’re going right down the hall and get you all fixed up. You may come with us if you like, Mrs. Thibodeau.”
Sue had elevated herself to wife status. I glanced at her and smiled. She scowled. Kenny should never have said that “maybe we could talk about that a little, honey.” The “honey” hadn’t helped at all. It was clear there’d be no talking about it. Not with Sue. Not ever.
I saw a doctor and another nurse go into the room where Kenny had been wheeled. Sue appeared about fifteen minutes later. The hospital coffee was withering my vital organs.
She came over and sat down next to me. “I feel stupid, Sam. I really overreacted.”
“You were worried.”
“I still should have been able to control myself.” She reached over and put her hand on mine. “I want to be a good mother.”
“I’m sure you will be. You got upset. So what? We all get upset. We just get scared.”
“Kenny doesn’t know this yet, Sam. I’m pregnant. Six months from now, I’ll be a mother and Kenny will be a father.”
So there you had it. The best news that Kenny would receive in his life. Better even than selling “Sex Sirens of the Watery Deep” to Real Balls Adventure.
“Wow.”
“I guess when I saw him there on the ground, all I could think of was that our baby wouldn’t have a father. And I’d be devastated if anything happened to him. He’s my life. You know how I always say that living with him is good practice for raising a kid? It’s true. And that’s what I love about him. He’s so vulnerable. He doesn’t worry about all the crap most men do.” Then: “A baby. Pretty good news, right, Sam?” She looked like a kid herself just then. A very happy kid.
“The best news of all.”
“Well, I’d better get back in there. No concussion and just four stitches.” She took her hand from mine. “So now it’s more important than ever that you two stay out of this thing-whatever it is.”
I almost told her. I almost said, Here’s the deal, Sue. I’m going to tell Kenny that I’m honoring my promise, that I’m giving this thing up completely. But I’ll be working on it on the sly. He won’t know, so he won’t be tempted to help me. Is that a fair deal, Sue?
But I didn’t. This was her moment. Her news, her baby, her joy. And I was going to tell her that I was going to break my word?
She kissed me on the cheek and then walked back to the room where Kenny was being patched up. I wondered where and when she’d tell him. I could feel myself grinning. In six months, the world would have one more soft-core porn writer.
Fire Chief DePaul lived in a new housing development on the east edge of town. The houses were painted in pastels. His was eggshell white. The lots here were about twice the size of the town’s other developments and the construction appeared to be considerably better. A new Ford sedan and a new Chrysler sat in the drive. As I walked up to the front door, I noticed that many of the drives had new cars in them. This was a prosperous part of town.
The girl who came to the door was likely around fifteen. She was tall, bony, blonde, and pretty in a flawed sort of way. She’d probably be a beauty when she got older. Right now, her thick glasses and her pimples weren’t helping. And neither was the T-shirt with the ketchup stain on it. “Yes? May I help you?”
“I wondered if your father was home.”
“He’s in the back yard.” From her right hand dangled a copy of The Great Gatsby. “What’s your name, please?”
When I told her, she jerked back as if I’d slapped her. “Sam McCain?” Disbelief made her gulp. Her father had obviously told her all about me. “Sam McCain,” she said again as if she’d just seen a spaceship land. “I’ll go tell him, but I’m not sure what he’s going to say.”
“Oh, I’ve never seen your father at a loss for words yet. I’ll bet he has plenty to say when you tell him.”
She shrugged thin shoulders and said, “Just wait here.” She paused: “This is my favorite book. I can’t decide if I’m more like Daisy or more like Gatsby.” Then she was gone into the shadows of the house. All the drapes had been drawn to keep the sun from scorching the interior. Somewhere a radio played “Love Me Do.” Hearing the Beatles reminded me of Reverend Cartwright standing there in his burned robes. Every once in a while, justice really does prevail.
He looked sporty in the white tennis shorts and Hawaiian shirt. Even the drink in his hand looked jaunty in its tall narrow glass. He didn’t open the screen door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I saw his daughter materialize in the shadows behind him. I didn’t want to insult him for her sake. “Look, I just need to ask you a few questions.”
“This is neither the time nor the place. And I’d think you’d be putting together another one of your so-called peace marches. You managed to get Lou Bennett killed. Maybe next time you can get me or some other patriot killed, too.”
“I want to know more about the fire that killed Karen Shanlon. You know this doesn’t have anything to do with patriotism. This could be a criminal investigation.”
He angled his head and said, “Nina, you go help your mother hang wash in the back yard.”
She left without a word.
He said, “I’ve heard that you’ve been talking to people about it. I have a friend in the library who tells me you’ve been reading up on it.”
I knew it wasn’t Trixie Easley. She hated the chief as much as I did. She’d been one of his targets many times when he wanted to have a certain book purged from the library.
“I’m curious about it. There’s no chance you could have been wrong? That it wasn’t accidental after all?”
“You want to know how many diplomas I have? They signify all the courses I’ve taken in various aspects of being not just a chief but an inspector as well. I don’t claim to know everything, but I’m not lazy. I keep up with my subject. I try to learn everything new that comes down the pike. And so my answer to your question is no, I did not make a mistake. Karen was smoking in bed. The house was old. There were a lot of books and papers around. I can’t tell you why, but she didn’t wake up in time. The working theory is that she was overcome by smoke before she even got out of bed. We’ll never know for sure. But she did die in an accidental fire. And it was too bad. From everything I’ve heard about her, she was a very decent young woman.”
And with that he closed the door. Didn’t slam it. Just closed it quietly. I felt like an encyclopedia salesman who’d just been rejected for the sixteenth time that afternoon.
I walked back to my ragtop. Lawn mowers roared. You could smell the heat.
I’d just slid in behind the wheel when Nina came around from the back of the house and walked up to me.
“This is a neato car.”
“Thanks.”
“He give you grief?”