Sutter watched him with something approaching disbelief. This mad quoter of poetry, nightmare minister to the dead so far beyond the pale light could never fall on him.
Did you find it amusing?
Let me get this straight. You want the pictures and you want it hushed up. This threat to your social standin removed. Is that about it?
Breece thought it over for a moment. Yes, that’s what I want. What I really want is for everything to be back like it was before they stole my pictures.
He thought some more. He was aware that things could never really return to the way they were, for Sutter knew about it now, but he had already done some thinking about that. When the time came, he could take care of that himself.
Give me the money. I’ll have to get it from the bank. I don’t carry that kind of money around. I’m not a fool.
Sutter let that pass. Tomorrow, then.
Breece rose. He stood awkwardly a moment as if about to proffer a hand to seal this bargain, then thought better of it and made ready to leave.
I’ve kept you up long enough, he said. The money will be ready tomorrow.
When Breece was gone, Sutter closed the hearth door and turned down the damper and lay back on the bed still fully clothed with his hands clasped behind his head and stared at the ceiling and thought about the money. Fifteen thousand, but it could be readily turned into more. If Breece wanted the pictures desperately at fifteen, he would want them only a little less desperately at twenty. Perhaps twenty-five.
But it was more than the money. Something in his life that had been without form was taking shape. A dark, cauled shape that stood to the side and watched him with hooded, expressionless eyes. In some curious way he intuited that all his life previous had simply been a rehearsal for this.
By three o’clock Tyler had the roof of de Vries’s store painted and was cleaning out his brushes with gasoline. His hands and clothes were so smeared with red ochre he looked like the survivor of some terrible highway calamity. He wiped gasoline out of the brushes and stored them in the old milkcrate in the back of the truck and while he was loading the ladders de Vries came out. De Vries crossed the alley and stood on tiptoes against the building on the other side thebetter to see his own roof. Then he came back to where Tyler was.
You done me a good job, he said.
Well. It’s painted, anyway.
De Vries had taken out his wallet and was carefully thumbing through bills. He took out a sheaf of them and counted money into Tyler’s hand. He held a five poised in midair as if in momentary indecision then laid it atop the others and put away his wallet.
That’s five more than we agreed.
You did me a good job. No accidents. You stayed with it and got done in good time. You’re a careful worker. Last time I had it done Clarence Treadway done it drunk, and he dropped a paintbrush loaded with bright red paint right on the hood of Clyde Tookie Bell’s car, and Clyde was drivin a white Buick that year.
You hear of anybody else wants anything done, try to get word to me. I’ll try most anything once.
I sure will. I’ll get you some work.
I better get on home then.
He started toward the truck parked in the mouth of the alley but something in de Vries’s manner or in his face made him hesitate.
De Vries cleared his throat. Hold on a minute, he called.
Tyler waited.
It’s a feller been hangin around out front waitin for you to get done. He figured you was up on top and said tell you he wanted to see you. He knowed you was down, I guess he’d done be back here.
Who is it?
Do you know Granville Sutter? I just know of him.
If you know of him, then you know he’s got a bad name.
What does he want with me? Did he say?
No, he didn’t, and I didn’t ask. Didn’t figure it was any of my business, and Granville would of let me know that right quick anyhow. Reason I told you back here, I figured if you wanted to give him the slip, you wouldn’t have to go around front. You could just head up the alley there.
Well, I don’t mind talking to him. I never stepped on his toes that I know of. He may need some work done.
De Vries’s look said that this was not a strong likelihood. Any work Sutter needs doin you’d be well advised to pass on, he said. If he didn’t do nothing else, he’d figure a way to beat you out of your money. But you suit yourself on that.
I’ll talk to him.
There was an empty bench against the front of the store but Sutter was hunkered against the brick wall waiting with the calm patience of the country folk you used to see sitting about the town square. This bench was usually filled with loiterers or old men settling world affairs but Sutter’s mere presence seemed to have cleared it. Tyler approached him and for no reason he could name there was a tight empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something in Sutter’s remote eyes told him that this was the knock on the door at midnight, the telegram slid under the door in the dead of night.
You looking for me? I’m Tyler.
I know who you are. You old Moose’s boy. You don’t look much like him. Old Moose was heavy and built right close to the ground. You kinda rangy. Must of took after your mama’s side of the family.
Tyler didn’t say anything. Sutter dropped his cigarette. Ground it out with a conscientious foot.
Or who knows, he shrugged. Maybe you do look like your daddy. Names and blood don’t always go arm in arm.
Tyler was momentarily off balance. He stood studying Sutter as if measuring his size against his own. Finally he said, You might ought to watch your mouth. Anyway, I don’t reckon you been hanging around here waiting to talk to me about my daddy.
As a matter of fact I ain’t. Let’s take a walk, Tyler.
He started off toward the railroad tracks and after a moment’s hesitation Tyler fell in beside him. He was torn between curiosity about Sutter’s purpose and the desire to just walk away. More’s the fool he didn’t, Tyler thought, but the moment when he could have just walked off down the road and made this never be had passed and it would not come again. Somehow this all felt preordained and out of control, as if someone was behind the curtains mimicking voices and controlling the strings. As if for all the years of his life he and Sutter had been passing and repassing in the dark and now here they were face to face in God’s own daylight and there was nothing for it.
They walked past the drygoods store down toward the railroad track. Poolroom loungers watched them pass with curiosity. Mentor and protege, perhaps, warlock and aspiring wizard. People they met seemed to defer to Sutter, to give him more room than was necessary for his passage. Grimes’s carlot. Grimes’s cars sat forlorn and lustreless under the leaden sky, and the pennants strung on wires snapped and fluttered in the stiff wind.
Sutter didn’t talk for a time. He built himself a careful cig Sutter dropped his cigarette. Ground it out with a conscientious foot.
Or who knows, he shrugged. Maybe you do look like your daddy. Names and blood don’t always go arm in arm.
Tyler was momentarily off balance. He stood studying Sutter as if measuring his size against his own. Finally he said, You might ought to watch your mouth. Anyway, I don’t reckon you been hanging around here waiting to talk to me about my daddy.
As a matter of fact I ain’t. Let’s take a walk, Tyler.
He started off toward the railroad tracks and after a moment’s hesitation Tyler fell in beside him. He was torn between curiosity about Sutter’s purpose and the desire to just walk away. More’s the fool he didn’t, Tyler thought, but the moment when he could have just walked off down the road and made this never be had passed and it would not come again. Somehow this all felt preordained and out of control, as if someone was behind the curtains mimicking voices and controlling the strings. As if for all the years of his life he and Sutter had been passing and repassing in the dark and now here they were face to face in God’s own daylight and there was nothing for it.