Breaking Point (5 page)

             
"I did. Well, we both did, I guess. I stopped being so available and he finally stopped calling. There was no huge break-up or anything. He still came in the store and we talked to each other and all that."

             
She'd hardly touched her food. The drinks were more attractive it seemed. My salad had been rather limp. I decided it was probably poured from a bag of mixed greens. The only dressing offered was a plastic bottle of Kraft French, which the waitress had graciously uncapped. The hot sausage was great, though. The bun was crusty and the sausage was just hot enough and was smothered in fried onions and green peppers. I could have eaten another, but didn't want to appear piggish. I did down all the greasy potato chips on Melanie's plate as well as my own. She didn't seem to notice.

             
I thought I'd gotten a pretty good handle on the Charlie and Melanie story and some extra items as well. It was getting on toward ten o'clock and I still had almost a two hour drive ahead of me, so I was thinking about leaving. Excusing myself, I went back to the men's room. When I returned, somebody had fed the juke box and Melanie was dancing in the small area at the back of the room with a tall lanky guy in a cowboy hat. She saw me and waved as they cruised by in that herky-jerky step that accompanies certain western songs. I sensed that our loosely woven "date" was over. I paid the bill, picked up my coat and stepped out the front door. And stepped right back into the shadow of the doorway.

             
There, moving slowly across the parking lot was a long black Lincoln Town Car. As they drove past the restaurant, toward the row of cabins in back, I could see the driver's face as well as the top of a woman's head, where she rested it on his right shoulder. Her blonde hair spilled out across his coat. I saw her reach behind his neck, tickling his left ear.

             
I almost said "AHA" right out loud. Talk about a coincidence. Here I was all the way down in Keokuk and there was my own dear brother-in-law, Talmadge Heiser. Why, I must go over and say hello.

Chapter 6

             
As soon as the Lincoln was out of sight, I slid out of the doorway and around the other side of the building where I'd left my car. I could see the headlights of his car as he pulled across the back of the lot and stopped in front of the first cabin. They were almost directly in front of me. There were plenty of cars parked between mine and his, so I wasn't worried about Talmadge spotting the Grand Am. He wasn't a car aficionado anyway and wouldn't know a Grand Am from a helium balloon.

             
I stayed in the shadows as Talmadge parked and got out of the Lincoln. He opened the passenger door and the two of them made their way to the cabin's door, hugging each other like they were joined at the hip. He must have had a key with him, because they went right in. Maybe he paid by the week or the month for this place. My brother-in-law was just full of surprises. Well, so was I!

             
When they were inside, I got into my car and ran the engine for a while to warm up. I was about frozen just from the few minutes I'd been out in the wind. I wanted to time my entrance just right. In my business, I'd done a bit of spouse tailing and the straying mates always seemed less indignant and more malleable when they were in their underwear... or less.

             
The car's heater was just starting to put out some warm air when I heard a shout from the front of the restaurant. It sounded like a man's voice and he was pissed off about something. I turned the fan off and listened. That's when I heard the woman yelling. She was letting loose a string of obscenities, and punctuating them, by the sound of it, by kicking somebody's car. I'd been listening to that same voice for the past several hours, over dinner. I turned my head toward the sound. Melanie Goodwin stumbled around my side of the building past the first car, carrying her coat over one arm, the red bag dangling from her hand. As I watched, she spun about forty five degrees and fell in the gravel.

             
"Shit," I muttered. I turned off the engine and slowly made my way back into the frigid night. Skinny cowboy guy was a few seconds behind her and got to her before I was around the back of my car. He leaned down and lifted her to her feet, spinning her at the same time so she was facing him. They were still two cars away, but I could hear his slurred speech.

             
"Hey, Baby, you think you're too good for me or what? Whattsa matter with you anyway?" His ten gallon hat was askew after he mashed his mouth onto her protesting one. The hat fell off completely when I popped him a stiff right to the jaw that left my arm vibrating. It was way too cold for these kind of shenanigans and I hoped that one good shot would take the fight out of him. It didn't.

             
Melanie had fallen back against a car when he dropped on his ass, and was staring at me, trying to decide if she knew me from somewhere.

             
"It's me,” I said. "Rudy." The wind sounded like a train whooshing through the parking lot but I think she heard me. Her eyes seemed to widen in surprise, but in that light I couldn't be sure. In another second, Black Bart was on his feet and rushing me with his head down and both arms out, headed for my stomach.

             
It had been awhile since I'd been in a scrap in a parking lot; several years, in fact. I wasn't too badly out of shape, but my square frame wasn't as tightly packed as it was when I'd been into the weights on a regular basis. My pal Woody and I used to do this quite a bit in the not so good old days back in Pittsburgh and it was all coming back to me now.

             
I caught Cowboy's right wrist in my left hand as he came in and shoved it out to the side. As his head naturally turned to my left, I brought my right knee up and connected with the left side of his chin as hard as I could. The hollow "thunk" told me I'd gotten it just right. He fell on his face without a sound.

             
Melanie was starting to step toward me and I reached for her arm. She seemed a little steadier on her feet now. The cold air must have had some effect on her Scotch-dulled brain. As I took hold of her, I saw several men coming around the corner, calling out as they moved.

             
"Andy. Hey Andy, where are you buddy?"

             
Andy was, of course, breathing gravel out of sight between two cars.

             
Pulling her coat around her shoulders, I tightened my grip on Melanie's arm and led her quickly to my car. By the time Andy's pals located him, I'd helped her and her belongings into the passenger seat. As I slid behind the steering wheel and threw the car in reverse, I could hear some angry shouts and see some movement in my direction. Locking both doors, I backed out and swung the car around behind the building and up along the other side to the highway. Gravel was flying as I spun out onto 61 and tore off north toward home. Melanie was silent beside me. About a mile down the road, I could hear her soft snores.

             
After a while, I checked the dashboard clock. It was after eleven and I noticed I was running low on gas. I had no idea where Melanie lived. Her place was probably around Keokuk and I was now driving in the opposite direction. This was another fine mess I'd gotten myself into. I'd deal with my brother-in-law sometime soon. In the meantime, I decided to blame him for my present predicament. If it weren't for his catting around, I would have been gone from the parking lot and on my way home when Melanie Goodwin had run from her Wild West friend. I didn't know what would have happened if I hadn't been there, though. Maybe there was a reason for some things.

             
I'd been checking my rearview mirror since I took off from the Eagle and ever since I'd turned onto 218, the road behind us had been deserted. It would be difficult for someone to tail me without being noticed. I was, after all, a professional. It was also true that the road was so flat and straight that they would have been visible for miles. I kept my eyes on the dark pavement and drove straight ahead for another ten minutes.

             
Finally, a convenience store and gas station lay ahead with the lights still on, so I swung in between the two gas pumps. When I returned to the car after paying for the gas, Melanie was awake, looking into the small mirror of a compact and trying to arrange her face a little. She looked at me as I got in.

             
"Holy shit. Is it really after eleven? We're almost to Mount Pleasant, aren't we?"

             
"Just a few miles away. I don't suppose you live anywhere around here?"

             
"Not even close." She was silent for a minute. "But I do have a good friend who will let me sleep at her place. Just give me a minute." She opened her purse and brought out a cellular phone. In a minute or so, we had turned off the highway and were heading west on a two lane toward Hillsboro, where Melanie's friend, Amy somebody or other, was waiting for her.

             
"So, what happened inside that place after I left?" I asked.

             
"Oh, that guy, Randy or Andy or something like that, was fine for a couple of dances and then all of a sudden he was pawing me and trying to unbutton me while we were dancing. I shoved him away. Then I just walked off the dance floor and grabbed my stuff and went outside.

             
"I saw the rest of it. Who were his pals, do you know?"

             
"They were all from Chicago, down here for the Turkey Shoot this weekend. The whole bunch of them were in the store a couple of days ago and he recognized me. Just some city boys out in the country for a good time I guess. Anyway, I kind of saw what happened out there. Thanks for the rescue. I don't know what he would have done."

             
"No problem. When you win, it's kind of fun." I didn't mention that my hand still hurt from connecting with his jawbone or that my knee was beginning to stiffen up.

             
Amy's house was half of a duplex, or what they called a "zero lot." It looked new. Melanie waved to me from the doorway after she was inside and I backed out and drove off toward Highway 218 and home.

             
The old post office was dark when I parked in front of my door and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a loving wife waiting up for me inside. The lights would be on and maybe there'd be a fire in the pot-bellied stove. I started humming that old John Denver song about being back home again, tossing in the few words that I remembered.

             
This was an old standby, as mental images go. It popped up at times like this, after a few beers and a cold lonely drive home to wherever I was living. The imaginary beautiful wife was always Caroline. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist, I thought. Or make a decision to just ask the next woman I saw to marry me and keep doing it until somebody said yes.

             
As I was hanging up my clothes, I thought of Elaine, my last girlfriend, back in Pittsburgh. I'd broken that off right before I came out here. Our three year romance had seemed to have possibilities. I'd suspected for the last few months, though, that it was the good times I spent with her two young sons that had really kept me in the relationship, rather than any real love for Elaine.

             
After five months in Iowa, I was certain it had been the right decision. I missed the kids and our times together, hiking, going to Pirates' games, playing catch, and all the stuff you do with 8 and 9 year-old boys. But I hadn't for one minute missed Elaine since I got here. Maybe I was finally starting to know myself and make some good choices.

             
While I was patting myself on the back, I noticed the red light on my answering machine was blinking, indicating three messages. It was after one-thirty and I wasn't going to return any calls tonight but I gave in to curiosity and played them back. The first was from Iris Wilson.

             
"Rudy. It's Iris. I just got a call from Charlie's parents. They want to know if I found an old picture of him in his stuff. It's a black and white photograph of him getting some award when he was a kid. If you have it there with his things, call me. Bye."

             
I didn't remember any photograph like that, but I'd look again in the morning, after I'd had some sleep. The second message was from Maxine.

             
"Rudy, Honey, I know I was supposed to wait a few more days, but Tal didn't come home yet tonight and I just wanted to talk to you. He did call and say he'd be really late. Something about a meeting again, but...well...you know. I just wanted to talk to you."

             
From the quiver in her voice, I could tell she'd been on the verge of tears. I was definitely going to meet with my brother-in-law soon, the son of a bitch.

             
The sound of the third voice made me laugh out loud.

             
"Rude. Hey man, what's up?" Only it sounded more like 'whassup'. "Long time no hear, buddy. Good thing your loving sister invited me for Thanksgiving or I'd have been sitting here in Pittsburgh eating my turkey from an aluminum tray next week. Call me as soon as you can, man, so we can plan our attack on the Midwest."

             
That was Woody. Even if I hadn't known his voice so well, I'd have recognized the traditional rendering of Pittsburgh as "Picksburgh." But his voice was more familiar to me than anybody's except Maxine's. Woody and I had been buddies since junior high and he'd just about lived at our house most of the time. The years I'd spent mooning around with Caroline, Woody had been my right-hand man at the parking garage, helping me to keep it going after my dad died. When I'd left Pittsburgh, he was the bouncer at O'Reilly's down in the Strip District, on the east side of the Golden Triangle....the hub of downtown Pittsburgh. Woodrow Bloom was my best friend in the world.

             
In spite of the pain in my knuckles and stiffness in my knee, I fell asleep with a smile on my lips. Woody would soon be here.