The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) (11 page)

That pulled her out of whatever place she had just gone to. She looked at Max sympathetically. “I guess I can understand that. Every time I saw you on television, you just looked so lost.”

That startled Max. He sat a little straighter. “You know who I am?”

Alice laughed again. “Of course I do, silly man. ‘Sarah's Song’ got me through some tough times. There is no one on the planet who hasn't heard you sing. You were only the talk of the entire town for close to six months. You were on television more than the President.”

Max frantically trash-canned the mention of “Sarah's Song” and then deflated. “Oh, I guess that makes sense. It's just that no one has made a big deal over me here. I had hoped that I could start over again here without dragging my past with me.”

Alice put her hand on Max's. “You poor dear. You know we all drag our past mistakes around. No matter where we go, it comes along with us. I don't think there's any place in Heaven or on Earth where people haven't heard you sing or cried over what those vultures put you through.”

“Oh,” said Max, eyes clouding and threatening rain. “I guess I was just fooling myself. I just want...”

Alice wrapped Max's hand with both of her. “Sometimes you just have to be strong enough to carry the weight of your mistakes, hon. It's not easy, but the alternative is just to give up. Remember, God never will give you a burden so heavy that you cannot carry it...” She changed the topic when she saw Max's stricken look. “Dear man, you are right where you need to be. A lot of us injured souls find rest and acceptance in this town.”

Max was too wrapped up in his own problems to notice that the sadness in Alice's eyes was not just for him. She sat back, pulled her hands away, and studied the miserable man in front of her.

“So, where did you grow up, Max?”

He immediately missed the warmth of her hands, but he was grateful for the change in subject. “I grew up in the little town of Lakeville Minnesota, just south of Minneapolis-St. Paul.”

“Minnesota?” She giggled. “Hardly the hotbed of musical creativity that I’d have expected. I would have bet on Nashville or Austin, or at least LA.”

He smiled.

“Well, I have to admit my dad was a bit at a loss on how to deal with my obsession with music. He was more a real man who lived for beer and hunting on the weekends.”

“How about your mother?”

“I guess she’s the one I connected with more. She was always singing or humming something and she was the one who made sure music was always available to me. She’d also kick my butt if I didn’t practice. Her dream was for me to be a concert pianist.”

“A pianist? I didn’t know you played the piano.”

Max smiled at her and said, “Hey, I’m not just one trick pony. We had an old out-of-tune upright piano and when she caught me trying to teach myself how to play when I was four, she signed me up for lessons.”

“Four? Could you even reach the keys?”

“I was tall for my age, even then. I don’t remember, but my mom told me the teacher didn’t want to take me so young until she saw me play. I don’t actually remember much about her, but I do remember that old piano of ours.” His mind wandered through the corridors of memory, and he barked out a laugh.

“What?”

“I was just thinking about the time I broke it.”

Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes, and she leaned eagerly forward. “The piano? What did you do to it?”

“Heh, as I said, the thing was out of tune. When I was just starting, my mom browbeat my dad into paying to get it tuned, but after a few years, it started going sour again. He absolutely refused to ‘send good money after bad’ and it drove me crazy. So, one night, I got into the back and figured out which keys went to which strings and took it upon myself to tune it.”

Alice put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no! You didn’t!”

“Oh yes I did. Even before I was playing piano, my dad had me helping him fix his old truck. I couldn’t say I was mechanically inclined, but I knew which tools did what. So, one day, I opened that piano up and took wrench to it.”

“Oh no.”

“I had no idea how the thing worked, but I could tell that the little square pegs that held the strings were meant to be turned with a wrench, so I tightened them all down.”

Alice’s eyes and voice were laughing. “Oh my.”

“Oh yeah. I went though half the strings before middle-G snapped.”

“Goodness, were you hurt?”

“Not until after my next lesson, when I couldn’t hide my handiwork any more. Boy did I get a good walloping.”

She looked startled. “Dear lord, you’re dad hit you?”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughed. “You have to understand. Back then, it wasn’t such a stigma to give your kid a spanking. I have to admit, it really got my attention when I did something wrong. It never got out of control or anything, and it only took a few before I decided that listening to my dad and mom was the easier way to go.”

He laughed again and shook his head. “I haven’t thought of that for a very long time.” Max chewed on his lower lip for a moment and looked down through the tablecloth and days past, and then looked up at Alice’s troubled face.

“How about you? Do you play an instrument?”

She immediately smiled a little self-consciously. “Oh no, I just sing in the church choir.”

“You do? Sing something for me.”

She looked down and fidgeted with her spoon. “Oh, I couldn’t, I’d be too embarrassed.”

“Come on, just once. I bet you have a lovely singing voice.” Max searched his mind and came up with the only church song he could think of. “Sing me a little bit of ‘Amazing Grace.’”

“No, I couldn’t”

“Sure you can. Come on you don’t have to sing a lot.”

She pursed her lips and then looked at him severely. “Okay, but you can’t laugh!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” She paused, took a breath and sang. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…”

She had a sweet contralto voice. She obviously wasn’t trained, but it soothed Max’s soul to hear it. “Go on, don’t stop there.”

“Nope, that’s it. If you want to hear any more, you’ll have to sing with me.”

“Oh.” Max’s face fell and picked up the misery it had left behind earlier.

She grabbed his hands again. “Max, Max, look at me.”

He looked up and met her compassionate stare.

“Sing with me Max.”

He shook his head. All the people he’d hurt paraded through his head. “No, I can’t”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. You don’t know what I’ve done.” He added in a low mumble, “I don’t have the right.”

“You don’t have the right? Max, how is your not singing going to help anybody? It would be a crime to deny the world your voice. You can’t make up for your mistakes by punishing yourself.”

“Please, can we just drop this?”

“Okay, I’m sorry Max.”

“No, it’s my fault. You’re just trying to help.”

She sat across from him with her warm hands holding his, looking sincerely at him. When he met her eyes, the only thing he could see in her face was the kindness and concern. He found himself drawn to that gaze, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

Alice pulled her hands away from Max and raised one between them. She said softly, “I don't think that would be a good idea, hon.”

Max sat back, frustrated and confused. He hadn't been denied by a woman in ten years; they just naturally fell into his arms, wanting to touch just a piece of his fame and power. His presumption embarrassed him. He leaned back with a red face. “Of, course. I'm sorry, Alice, I didn't mean to assume... It's just that...”

“No Max, it's alright. You are a lovely man, but it wouldn't work out well right now.”

Max stood up. “I'll just... I'll just pay the bill, and then I'll take you back to the hospital. I've kept you too long already.”

When he came back, Alice asked him if he could drop her off at her house. He agreed, and they drove in an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by Alice's directions. When she finally said, “Here we go. Home sweet home,” they were pulling up in front of a small white clapboard house. It was humble and plain and well maintained, though the grass needed cutting. There were three blonde girls out playing in the yard around a rickety swing set. To Max, their ages seemed to range from maybe eight to fourteen. They stopped their play and looked distrustfully at the strange car. Alice turned to Max. “Thanks for the ride, Max.”

He forced himself to smile. “Thanks for listening Alice, it really helped.”

She smiled easily back. “I'm glad.” She studied his face momentarily before leaving. “We got Sunday services at eight, you should come. Be a member of the community... it helps.”

The thought of church services made Max uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it and thanked her again before she got out of the car. Upon seeing her, the three girls’ expressions changed from caution to delight, and they ran up to Alice calling, “Momma!” They surrounded her, taking up her entire attention in a big, active group hug.

Max smiled wistfully at the sight and drove away.

Max stopped at the post office in the back of the grocery store and found he had a manila envelope from his accountant Tony waiting for him. Finally! Now maybe he would get some answers. He tossed the envelope in the passenger's seat of his car and headed off to the Dixie. He could scarcely believe he had the information. It had been an uphill fight to get it and given their last conversation Max had half expected that Tony would just split town with all his money. He reviewed that conversation from a week before as he drove home.

***

 “Don't worry about it, Max, I've got you covered.” The tinny voice coming through Max's cell phone was smooth and slick.

Max's frustration leaked around his control and into his voice, as he paced around his faded room at the Dixie. “Tony, I'm done being a mushroom. No more keeping me in the dark and feeding me bullshit! I want an accounting of my money! I want to know how much I have, what form it's in, its liquidity, and where it's invested.”

Tony purred like a Lucian wanna-be. “Max, what's all this sudden concern about your money for? Is this about your annuity? If you need more cash, I can up the monthly amount to whatever you want. If you want to buy something let me know, I'll get it delivered.”

Max tried another tack. “Okay, I want a million dollars per month.”

It didn't have the desired result. Tony said, “Max, if you need it, you'll get it, but I'll have to liquidate some assets at a less than the optimal value— you would be better off keeping it where it is. Besides, what do you need that kind of money for?”

Max was momentarily stunned. He stopped pacing and stood sightlessly staring at the picture of a confederate soldier on the wall of his motel room. He had thrown out one million per month because it was ridiculous. He'd expected Tony to throw a fit or faint when he said it, but Tony had barely flinched! Just how much was he worth? Max shoved that question aside for a moment. “No Tony, I don't need that kind of money! I want to know how much I have and where it is invested. It's my goddamned money!”

“Max, you've trusted me to handle your affairs all these years. From the very first, you told me you didn't want to be bothered with the money. You gave me power of attorney over your assets and I have faithfully met my fiduciary responsibilities to you. You are heavily diversified in manufacturing, distribution, construction, infrastructure, commodities, stocks, futures, and others. Why do you want to mess with all that?”

“Why are you doing everything you can to keep me in the dark? I want to know what I'm invested in, down to the last penny, and I want it now!”

“Well, it's going to take some time to get all that together...”

Max shouted into the phone. “Tony, you have five days. If I don't have that report in my hand, I will find a money manager who can tell me where my money is. Do you understand me?”

There was silence on the other side for a few long moments, and Tony said tonelessly, “Yes sir, Mr. Faust. You will have that summary within five days.”

“Good. And Tony...” Max was interrupted by the beep from his phone indicating that the call had dropped. He pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it as if his irritation was the phone's fault. He muttered, “Crap,” and resisted the urge to crush it on the floor; there wasn't a cell phone store anywhere in or near town.

***

Now it was here. Max hurried into the cool air-conditioning of his room, sat on his bed and tore enthusiastically through the envelope. There was only one letter-sized piece of paper. The title on it read in bold letters: Investment Portfolio of Maximilian Faust. Beneath that title was a small grid with only five entries, each with a name, a percentage, and a value as of 6 days ago. He scanned through the list quickly.

Max was worth a little over six million dollars. Despite the number of occurrences of 666 (undoubtedly another joke of Lucian's) this lightened a load he hadn't realized he had been carrying. Given Tony's evasive behavior, Max had been half convinced that Tony was skimming so much money off of his accounts that there would be nothing left. He had hoped for a few hundred thousand dollars, enough to keep him alive for a while, but six million was more than he had hoped for. He started feeling bad about the way he’d jumped on Tony. Even if Tony was skimming, he had left Max more than enough to last him the rest of his life, even if he fully renovated his mansion here. Sadly, it was apparent Tony had known Max had been bluffing about the million dollars a month. That would leave him with no investments after six months.