Honeymoon for Three (14 page)

CHAPTER 15

Gary didn’t want to give up his dream, but
something was pulling him inexorably back toward consciousness.

“Honey, wake up.” Penny’s hand was on his
shoulder.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. He couldn’t
see anything. They had an inside room at the lodge with no
windows.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“Five o’clock.” She turned on the lamp
sitting on her nightstand. “I’d like to get up now and get out of
here.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“If we leave now, we can shake Alfred.”

Gary stretched his hand to his lamp and
switched it on. He tried to wake up enough to think clearly.
Alfred. Alfred had eaten dinner with them. He had gone to the
ranger show on geology with them. He had even done laundry with
them at the lodge. And he had somehow molested Penny, although she
had downplayed it.

At dinner, Alfred had asked them where they
intended to go in Yellowstone. Penny secretly put her finger to her
lips, warning Gary not to be specific. He talked in generalities
about their plans. Alfred suggested that they continue driving
together. Gary and Penny didn’t respond.

Yes, Penny was right. They should get out of
there right now and leave Alfred behind for good. Alfred was a
burr; once he stuck to you, he was almost impossible to get rid of.
In addition, Gary was afraid that if he saw him again, he would
beat him up. That wasn’t appropriate behavior for a honeymoon.

Gary threw off his covers and hopped out of
bed, grimacing as his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. “We can
be out of here in ten minutes.”

***

Alfred was livid. He stomped around the
parking lot. He picked up pinecones and threw them at trees. Penny
had betrayed him. They had a deal, and she’d betrayed him. That
bitch. That damned-to-hell bitch.

He had woken up at seven-thirty after a very
pleasant sleep. He had dressed and gone to their room and knocked
on the door. No answer. He had gone into the lodge café to see if
they were having breakfast. They weren’t there. He had gone outside
and looked for their car in the parking lot. The car was nowhere to
be seen.

He ate breakfast at the café, hoping against
hope that they might be back soon. An hour later they hadn’t come
back. They weren’t coming back. Penny had double-crossed him. He
paced back and forth the length of the parking lot, looking in vain
for the VW and throwing more pinecones. He became aware of people
watching him and started feeling self-conscious. Well, he would
find her. She couldn’t get away from him.

Alfred drove south toward Yellowstone,
because he knew they were headed in that direction. His calves were
still sore, but if he were careful, he could drive safely. As he
went, savage thoughts flooded his brain. It was Gary who was doing
this, not Penny. He had forced her to leave, against her will. He
was a domineering, moralistic pig. Gary was the cause of all his
problems. There was only one solution. He had to kill Gary.

His money situation was growing desperate.
When he stopped for gas in Helena, the capital of Montana, this got
his attention like a jab in the gut. After paying for the gas, only
a few lonely bills remained in his wallet. Not enough money to eat,
pay for motels, and buy gas for the return to Los Angeles, even if
he drove back by the shortest route.

What should he do? Alfred parked his car in
downtown Helena and walked around with his hands in his pockets. He
strolled past the state capitol with its dome on top. The dome had
a statue on it. There was another statue in front. Statues of
important people. People with money and influence. He had
neither.

During his meandering he passed a pawnshop
with various items for sale inside the dirty window. He walked
another block and stopped. One of the items in the window had been
a small gun. That’s what he needed. He walked slowly back to the
pawnshop. He had never been inside one before. He stood at the
front window for a minute, afraid to enter.

How much did a used handgun cost? If he said
he wanted a gun, would the owner interrogate him—ask him what he
wanted it for? Expose his ignorance of firearms? He had never shot
a gun, except for a BB gun when he was a child. The draft board had
declared him 4-F for a minor physical problem—not related to his
bellybutton—so he hadn’t learn how to fire a rifle, courtesy of
Uncle Sam, let alone a handgun.

What would he say in answer to questions? He
would think of something. His need overcame his trepidation, and he
opened the door to the jingling of a bell.

***

They purchased groceries in cold
Choteau, Montana. Then they drove from light rain into blue skies
as they approached Helena. They crossed the headwaters of the
Missouri River at Three Forks where three rivers come together: the
Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin.

All this time, whether she was
driving or riding as a passenger, Penny had been thinking how
wonderful Gary was. He was cheerful and attentive to her. He was
supportive of her, but not domineering. He enjoyed sightseeing as
much as she did. If she had any doubts about marrying him before,
they had evaporated.

She filled him in on the details
of what Alfred had done to her, now that they were separated from
him. She told him she had punched Alfred. He laughed and said that
since she had punched him, he didn’t need to. She told him he had
asked her to run away with him. Gary became very upset, but Penny
assured him that she had told Alfred in no uncertain terms that she
would never do that.

She loved Gary too much and told
him so. She would give herself to him without reserve tonight. He
deserved it.

***

A half hour after he had walked into the
pawnshop, Alfred walked out with a gun in his jacket pocket. He
also had some bullets and knowledge of how to load it, how to work
the safety, and how to fire it. It had taken almost his last
dollar, and he’d haggled to get the price down to one he could
afford. He felt surer of himself, more powerful, knowing that he
had a weapon.

What he had to do next was to replenish his
money supply. He continued to drive south toward Yellowstone. The
afternoon wore on. He was getting hungry, but he didn’t have any
money to buy food. In one of the towns along the route he spotted a
grocery store. He pulled into the parking lot and backed his car
into a corner stall where he had a view of the entrance.

He knew grocery stores. He felt comfortable
inside them. He sat in his car and watched shoppers go in and out,
trying to get up his nerve. He pictured how the interior of the
store would look—where the checkout counter would be located, close
to the entrance. He knew cash registers. He knew that checkers
often placed their large bills underneath the money tray. In order
to get all the money, you had to lift the tray.

This was a mom and pop store, much smaller
than the one he had worked at in Lomita. It didn’t have as many
customers, and it wouldn’t have as much money in the till. He
didn’t need a lot of money—just enough to tide him over until he
could get back to work.

The sun set, and he began to have hunger
pangs. All he’d had to eat since breakfast were some snacks. He
kept track of who went in and out of the store, and he was certain
that there were no customers inside at the moment. This was the
time to act. His stomach started churning, and he wondered whether
he would throw up. He swallowed to keep the bile down. He would
feel a lot better when he had the money and was far away from
here.

Alfred took one bullet and carefully placed
it in the chamber of the gun, following the instructions of the
pawnshop owner. He had considered leaving the gun empty, but having
it loaded gave him more confidence. He wouldn’t feel as if he were
bluffing, even though he had no intention of firing the gun.

He left the car keys in the ignition and the
door unlocked. He put up the hood of his jacket and sauntered
toward the entrance of the store, his hands in his jacket pockets
where he could feel the comforting hardness of the gun. He went
inside and was glad that the man near the checkout counter had his
back turned to him. He was placing some cans on a shelf.

The man was older and thinner. Alfred was
heavier and should be able to overpower him, if that became
necessary. He was confident that it wouldn’t, but it was comforting
to be dealing with somebody smaller.

He wanted to verify that nobody else was in
the store. He strolled down one of the few aisles, grabbing a bag
of potato chips on the way. He quickly checked the other aisles.
The store was empty except for the clerk.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred walked to the
checkout counter and plunked his bag of chips down. The man turned
away from the cans and came to the counter. He wore glasses and
peered at Alfred through the lenses with a slight squint.

“This all for you?” he asked.

Alfred nodded, not trusting himself to
speak.

The man rang it up and said, “That’ll be
thirty-nine cents.”

Alfred still couldn’t say anything. He froze
for what seemed an eternity. He felt like an actor who had
forgotten his lines. To cover his discomfiture he reached for his
wallet.

“Gonna get some rain tonight.” The man
waited patiently for him to produce his money.

Alfred had been driving through light rain
part of the day. He nodded and fumbled with his wallet. He pulled
out his last dollar bill and handed it to the man. He felt a sense
of relief. Maybe he would just pay for the potato chips and leave.
The man probably ran the store with his wife. He had a family. He
wasn’t rich. He couldn’t afford to lose his day’s receipts. He was
just trying to keep the wolf from the door.

The man opened the drawer of the cash
register. He took out coins for change. Alfred saw the bills
stacked neatly by denomination. There was enough money there to
last him for a week. He needed that money.

He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll take
it all.”

“Pardon?” The man turned his head toward
him.

He reached his hand toward Alfred with the
coins. Alfred had mumbled, and the man apparently hadn’t understood
him—or he had pretended not to understand him. Alfred could still
take the coins and get out of there. No harm done. But he was
hungry, and it was getting cold outside. He needed to find a place
to stay.

He jerked the gun out of his pocket and
said, “Give me all your bills.”

The man looked at the gun and then at
Alfred’s face. His eyes widened, but he didn’t show any other
emotion. He carefully scooped the bills out of each of the
containers, his hands trembling a little. He placed them together
in a single stack and handed them to Alfred.

That was easy. “Underneath. Lift the tray.”
Alfred made a lifting gesture with his hands.

The man lifted the tray. There were checks
underneath, but no bills. Alfred didn’t want the checks. He had the
cash. He needed to get out of there. But first he would tell the
man to lie on the floor and not move for ten minutes, so he
wouldn’t see Alfred’s car.

Before he could do that, the man said, “I’ve
got more money in the safe under here.”

He stooped, facing the counter in front of
Alfred. Alfred hadn’t thought to ask about a safe. He couldn’t see
what the man was doing, but he could hear a noise that might be the
turning of the dial of a combination lock. He looked nervously at
the entrance to the store and hoped the man would hurry.

There was a click and a creak that must be
the door of the safe swinging open. The man looked as if he were
reaching inside. Then he started to stand up. Alfred leaned forward
over the counter and saw a glint of metal. He pulled the trigger of
his gun without meaning to. Reflex.

The sharp noise of the shot startled Alfred.
His safety had been off. He looked at his gun, not believing that
he had really fired it. The man groaned and disappeared from view.
For a split second Alfred stood there. Then, heart pounding, he
shoved the gun into his jacket pocket. He took two quick steps
around the end of the counter and looked down at the man. He was
lying on the floor, clutching his chest. Red blood pulsed from
between his fingers. His expression as he tried to focus on Alfred
was accusing.

Alfred ran for the entrance. He banged his
shoulder into the door to open it. He stumbled and then raced for
his car, ignoring his sore calves. He opened the door with one
hand, slid onto the seat, and threw the bills down with his other
hand. He turned the key. The car started with a roar as he
depressed the accelerator.

Suddenly he knew he was going to vomit. He
opened the door and leaned over the asphalt, heaving his guts out.
Some of the odiferous mess didn’t make it to the ground. It ended
up in the car. He continued to retch long after his stomach was
empty. Sweat poured down his face, and he felt as if he were
burning up.

Finally the retching stopped. He sat for a
minute, trying to control his breathing and his heartbeat. He
closed the door and forced himself to concentrate. He shoved the
shift lever into drive and tried to pull forward. The car moved
under protest. What was the matter? Damn. The emergency brake was
on. He released the brake, pulled out of the parking lot, and
roared off into the night.

CHAPTER 16

They had entered Yellowstone National Park
at Gardiner, Montana. Now they were in Wyoming at the Mammoth Hot
Springs Campground. Snug and warm in their double sleeping bag,
while wolves—or were they coyotes—howled on the mountainsides.

Warm even though they were naked, their
bodies pressed together like ham and cheese in a sandwich. Penny
was especially amorous tonight. Gary had never suspected that
married life could be so good. On the eighth day of their marriage
he was sold on the institution.