The Mortal Groove (31 page)

“But where is he?”

“I wish I could tell you, Siggy, but honestly, I have no idea. If I find out, I'll let you know right away. You do the same.”

“Sure,” she said, then added, “Jane? I'm scared.”

“He could sail through your front door any minute.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. Let's give it a little more time before we hit the panic button.”

 

 

“Don't anybody bother me for at least two hours,” shouted Katie Turk as she bounded up the stairs to her bedroom, holding her cell phone over her head.

“Why?” called Ethan, looking amused. He was standing in the kitchen with Randy and Sherrie.

“Because I'll be on my phone,” she shouted back. “With
Chad.
And don't listen at my door either. You guys oughtta seriously look up the word
voyeur.”

Randy laughed. Having Katie back in the house again was like drinking a glass of sparkling water instead of the plain tap crap. Sherrie had called him a couple of hours ago and said that her boss had phoned her asking if she could fly to Seattle with him for a hastily arranged business meeting tomorrow. He'd never invited her to come on a business trip before, so in Sherrie's mind, this was a precursor to the promotion she'd been angling for.

“I'm sorry it's such short notice,” said Sherrie.

“Not a problem,” said Randy, wishing she hadn't planted herself halfway across the room.

“We love it,” said Ethan. “I don't know why you both don't come back for good. This is your home, it's where you belong.”

Randy cleared his throat, gave Sherrie a look.

“It's not that simple,” she said.

“Yeah, right. And what does a retard know.”

“Ethan!” said Sherrie.

He set his empty bottle of beer down on the counter. “I'll leave you guys so you can
not
talk to each other some more. Be-sides, I better get goin'. I don't want to miss another episode of
Katie and Chad”
He winked as he left the room.

Sherrie shook her head. “Sometimes I forget what a great sense of humor he has.”

Randy smiled at her. “Ethan is an optimist at heart, always thinks things are going to work out for the best.” Looking away, he added, “Well, almost always.”

“I got your message about the marriage counselor,” said Sherrie. “What's her name?”

“Pearl Sarris. She's supposed to be good. So, are you willing to give it a shot?”

She kept her head down, pressed the toe of her shoe on the edge of the kitchen rug.

When she didn't answer, he spoke to fill the silence. “Katie and I had a great conversation the other day.”

“Did you?”

“I think we really communicated. We talked about my past, about the war.”

Under her breath, she said, “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“She seemed really interested. Said she wanted to talk to me about it some more.”

“Why don't you ask her how
her
life is going, Randy?”

“Are you saying I don't care?”

“No, but I am saying you rarely ask.”

He caught her eye, didn't like what he saw so he looked away. “Come on, Sher. Don't be so hard on me.”

“You know, Randy, when you try, you can be such a great guy. Early in our marriage, I couldn't believe how lucky I was.”

“It can be that way again.”

She shook her head. “Something's missing in you. You can be so incredibly focused, but you have no passion. Even in bed. It took me years to figure that out.”

“That's not true.”

“From the very beginning, I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. When we moved in here, I was just glad we could put Katie one floor down from our bedroom.”

“Why?”

“Because of your bad dreams!”

“Everybody has bad dreams, Sherrie.”

“Not like yours. Not everybody wakes up once or twice a month screaming, crying, drenched in sweat. I know you make light of it. You lie to me, tell me you were being chased by monster ants, grizzly bears, whatever. But give me
some
credit. I'm not that dumb. It's all tied to your past—the past you never talk about.”

“You really want to hear a bunch of brutal war stories?”

“Is that it?” She searched his face. “Maybe you've got post-traumatic stress. If you do, you can get help. In fact, why don't
you try getting some personal therapy. If you did that, I might consider couples counseling.”

“Look, either our marriage is worth fighting for or it isn't.”

“Fine. Fight for it. Find yourself a therapist and work on your-self for a while. I know you won't. You talk a good game, but when it comes right down to it, you're a coward.”

“You don't know me at all.”

“Don't I?” She held his gaze. “Prove me wrong.”

After she left, Randy drifted into his study, sat down behind the desk, and tipped his seat back. As soon as he closed his eyes, the phone rang. He held the receiver to his ear, said hello. He knew he didn't sound very upbeat. The talk with Sherrie had left him feeling strung out.

“Something wrong in paradise?” came Larry's voice.

“I thought I told you to get the hell away from here.”

“I been busy. Did you hear that Gunderson regained consciousness?”

“No,” said Randy.

“Believe me, pal, you don't want her to remember the night she was knifed.”

“Why? You said you had nothing to do with it.”

“Oops. Guess I lied. But here's the kicker. Ethan helped me.” Randy's eyes opened. “What?”

“I told him what Gunderson was up to. He agreed that she needed to be stopped, so I asked him to come with me that night. Told him that I'd talk to her, impress on her the need for her to stop her nosin' around, and then he'd be waitin' in his truck with the engine runnin' so I could make a quick getaway. And that's just what happened. I left my truck about two miles away. He drove me back there and we parted company.”

Randy recalled that Ethan had been out very late that night. He said he'd been driving around because he couldn't sleep. “You bastard! You didn't need to get my brother mixed up in this.”

“He already is, did you forget that little tidbit? And anyway, I needed a little insurance policy just in case you didn't see eye to eye with my methods.”

“Did Ethan know you planned to kill her?”

“Course not, man. He just thought I was gonna scare her a little.”

Randy switched the desk lamp off and sat in the dark. “What happened to the money?”

“My cut for taking care of business.”

“But you didn't take care of business, Larry. And now, what if she talks? She can ID you.”

“Yeah, I know. But I think I've got it handled.”

“Meaning?”

“I want you to do something for me. This is very important, so don't fail me, brother. You've got that hot-shit speakerphone in your office, right? I wanna do a conference call. Get hold of Del and tell him to come over.”

“Now?”

“Yes,
now,
asshole. Tell him it's life or death. Then get Ray Lawless over to your place. I don't care how you do it. And his daughter, Jane, too.”

“Why?”

“All part of the plan. Tell them they've got one hour.”

“What if they won't do it? Or I can't find them?”

“You'll find them. Tell them that if they don't come, the fuckin' sky will fall on them in the worst possible way. I mean it. Get them to your house
or else.”
He cut the line.
“What do you think he's up to?” asked Del.

The darkness in Randy's office moved around him like an eerie physical presence. “I don't know, but you better get your ass over here. You want to call Lawless, or should I?”

“No, I'll do it.”

“What about Jane?”

“I'll get Ray to phone her. But, Jesus, Randy. He hasn't given us much time.”

“I figure the one thing we've got going for us is that he's not the smartest guy in the room.”

“That could work to our disadvantage.”

Randy blew out some air. “I'm about ready to give up on this whole thing. Call the police and tell them everything I know.”

“The hell you will.”

“What are we
doing,
Del?”

“Saving our lives.
Surviving.
You want to go to jail? We made a deal all those years ago and we all swore we'd stick by it. You've got no right to mess with my life. Even if you're ready to throw in the towel, I'm not. I've got a lot of living left to do, a wife and two kids to support. Think about it, man. Is it worth it?”

“But other people are getting hurt. We never took that into consideration.”

“Just stay sane a little while longer. I'll be there in thirty.”

“If you can't find Ray or Jane, call me back.”

“Ray's at home tonight. And I'll make sure he gets Jane there, one way or the other.”

 

Ray had no idea what the summons was about, but Del made it sound like life or death, so reluctantly, he kissed Elizabeth goodbye and drove out to Marine on St. Croix. Sitting in Randy's
study now, with Jane seated in a leather chair next to him, he demanded to know what was going on.

Randy, who stood ramrod straight behind his desk, glanced at Del with a tense look on his face. “An old army buddy of ours asked me to set this conference call up.”

“Larry Wilton?” asked Jane.

A muscle pulsed in Randy's cheek. “Yes.”

“Who the hell is Larry Wilton?” asked Ray. Everybody seemed to know more about what was going on than he did.

“He tried to kill a friend of mine,” said Jane. “Melanie Gunderson. He knifed her outside the Unicorn bar in Uptown a few weeks ago. She's been in a coma, but she's doing better now. She's a reporter who was working on a story about a young woman who was murdered in Waldo, Iowa, back in the early seventies. Her name was Sue Bouchard. She was Randy's girlfriend.”

Ray gave Randy a sharp look.

“Ethan was arrested and tried for the murder,” said Jane. “Your
brother,
Ethan?”

“Yeah,” said Randy, looking away. “The whole thing was a travesty. Ethan had nothing to do with it.”

“The jury acquitted him,” said Jane. “And then, the case went cold.”

Ray studied Randy, saw the worry in his eyes, the faint slick of perspiration on his upper lip, then turned to Del and saw the same thing. “What's going on here? What's this Larry Wilton got to do with Jane or me?” And even more to the point, thought Ray, why the hell did Jane know so much about it when he knew nothing?

The phone rang, echoing like a cannon shot in the silent room.

“I don't know what he wants,” said Randy. “But I think we better find out.” He picked up the phone, said hello. “Yeah, they're all here. Just a minute.” He pressed the speakerphone button and set the receiver back on the hook.

“Well, well, well,” came Larry's tinny voice. He sounded amused, almost leering. “Welcome to my little party.”

“What do you want?” demanded Ray, impatient to get this over with.

“Hi, Jane,” said Larry, using a sexy voice.

“Come on, asshole,” said Del. “Spit it out.”

“Okay, but you're spoiling my fun.”

Ray looked over and saw that Jane's eyes were firmly fastened on the floor. Her intensity scared him more than anything else had.

“Here's the deal. I'm in a shitload of legal trouble, I guess you could say. The cops are after me for a small accident that happened not far from Randy's house. And now I hear that Melanie Gunderson has regained consciousness. Sorry to say, she can cause me even more problems if she goes to the cops. And then there's the little matter of that homicide in Waldo. I got lots of headaches here, people.”

“I backed off,” said Jane. “You have my word that I won't go to the police with anything I know.”

“And what do you know? A big fat zero. Just a lot of conjecture from a bunch of people who belong in the Alzheimer's ward. FYI, vegetables don't make good witnesses in court.”

“Right,” said Jane. “So you've got nothing to worry about.”

“Ah, but there's the rub. Sure, I got you to leave Waldo, but I don't trust you or your hefty friend. And then there's Melanie. Maybe you ain't gonna spill your guts to the police, but what if she does? It all gets really muddy here, folks, but if she did talk,
it would look bad not only for me, but for my best buddies, Randy and Del. I can't have that.”

“Larry, I don't—”

“Shut up, Randy! Shut the fuck up!”

Randy raised his eyes to Ray, then closed them.

“So, I went and bought myself an insurance policy. His name is Peter Lawless.”

Jane roared out of her chair. “What have you done with him?”