Linwood Barclay - The Twenty-Three

“Like I was saying,” Dwayne said, “I’m really grateful that-”

“Yeah, I got it,” Cal said. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Celeste.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I don’t think Harry is going to like this.”

Cal, looking in the mirror, said, “This might be him.”

Dwayne glanced in his own mirror. “Yeah, I think-he’s pulling over onto the shoulder.”

“Let’s do this,” Cal said, and opened his door. They were both out of the truck, standing by the back bumper, as Harry’s van rolled up on the gravel. The van stopped five feet behind Dwayne’s truck.

Harry got out, looked at Cal.

“I know you.”

Cal nodded. “Don’t worry about those business cards.”

“Jesus,” he said nervously. “Are you a cop?”

Cal shook his head slowly.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Dwayne. “Is this the guy? The one snooping around your place?”

Dwayne said, “Yeah. Look, Harry, I’m really sorry, but the thing is, I really can’t be-”

Cal cut in. “He’s not going to hold on to your shit any longer.” He patted the vinyl cover over the pickup bed. “It’s all here. You’re taking it back.”

Harry said, “No fucking way. They might be watching me.” Cal looked up and down the road. “Doesn’t look like it to me. Open up your van. We’ll get this stuff moved over.”

Harry raised his hands. “Whoa, whoa. Hold on.” He pointed at Dwayne. “We had a deal. I paid you for a service.”

Cal reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and slapped it into Harry’s hand. “That should cover everything you paid him, plus some interest.”

Harry peered into the envelope. “I don’t know about this.”

Cal said to Dwayne, “Open the tailgate. The two of you move the stuff. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Harry threw the envelope back at Cal. It bounced off his chest and landed on the gravel. No one moved to pick it up.

“No fucking way,” Harry said.

Cal moved his tongue around inside his mouth, poking out one cheek and then the other. “Can I have a word with you privately, Harry?”

“Huh?”

“Just for a second.”

Without waiting for Harry to decide, Cal stepped forward, put a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder, and led him down the side of the van, out of sight of any passing traffic. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dwayne pick up the envelope. In the distance, beyond a fence, stood a motionless Ferris wheel and roller coaster.

“Him and me had a deal,” Harry said.

“I understand that,” Cal said. “I’m gonna be honest with you. Dwayne there, he’s my brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, he mentioned.”

“He’s married to my sister. I love my sister very much. And while Dwayne is a bit of a dickhead, basically he’s an okay guy, and he’s been pretty good to my sister all these years, so I’d hate to see things go south for them.”

“I’m helping him. I did him a favor .”

“I’m sure you see it that way, and no doubt about it, these have been tough times for him. But he’s going to have to find a way out of his financial problems without you.”

“Look, I don’t give a fuck,” Harry persisted. “And I got people to answer to, you know?”

“You’re going to have to work it out with them.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“What do you know about me , Harry?”

“Huh? I don’t know anything about you.”

“Let me tell you. I used to be a cop.” Harry’s eyes went wide. “Right here in Promise Falls. But I’m not anymore. You know why?” Harry shook his head. “I lost it one day. I smashed the head of a hit-and-run driver into the hood of his car. So they cut me loose. A few years went by, I tried to get my life back on track, but that didn’t go so well. Had a wife and a son, but they’re both gone now.”

“What’s any of that got to do with-”

Cal held up a finger to let him know he wasn’t done.

“I don’t know who you’re working with. You’re not ripping this stuff off on your own. I know that much. You need two, three guys, at least. I don’t know if you’re a bunch of amateurs, or whether you’re actually good at this stuff. I don’t know whether you’re working with bikers or drug dealers or what, but I don’t care. This is what I do know. I know where you live. I know where you work. I know your wife’s name is Francine. That you’ve got two kids. Boy and a girl, both teenagers. And I can find out more if I need to. I’m telling you that you are going to take back this shit Dwayne’s been holding for you, that you’re going to take back the money, that you are never going to talk to Dwayne again, that if you see him on the street, you’re going to cross to the other side, that if anything ever happens to him or my sister, if one of you even mentions him to the cops if you ever get caught, I am going to find you and I am going to put a bullet in your head, because I don’t give a fuck about anything anymore except making sure my sister and her husband are safe.”

Harry blinked.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Harry nodded.

“That’s good. So can you now help Dwayne move that stuff from his truck to yours?”

“I can do that,” he said.

When it was done, and Dwayne and Cal were driving back to the house, Dwayne said, “I’ll find a way to pay you back the money.”

“Shut up, Dwayne,” Cal said.

Duckworth

VICTORRooney was sitting on the front step, shirtless and barefoot but wearing a pair of jeans, when I pulled up in front of the house. I parked at the curb, got out.

“Mr. Rooney,” I said.

He was eating a piece of buttered toast, and made no attempt to get up.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How are you today?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” he said. “Got the whole house to myself as it turns out.”

“I heard. Your landlady, Ms. Townsend, was one of the casualties.”

He took a bite of toast. “Found her yesterday morning in the backyard. Dead as a doornail.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have been quite a shock.”

Victor nodded. “Not the sort of thing you see every day.”

“You didn’t see her getting sick?”

“I’d slept in. By the time I came downstairs, she was already toast.” He glanced at what was in his hand. “Maybe that’s not the best choice of words.”

“So she’d had water from the tap, but not you.”

His head went from side to side. “Yeah, I mean, no. I mean, she’d had coffee, and I hadn’t had anything. I mean, other than some juice from the fridge. But it was okay.”

“Lucky,” I said.

“I guess. Mr. Fisher was lucky, too. I mean, he got pretty sick, but at least he didn’t die.”

“Yeah,” I said. “There might be long-term effects. They don’t know yet.”

“Huh,” he said. “So, Walden, he might end up brain-damaged or something.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“I don’t know exactly what happens now,” he said, glancing back at the house. “I mean, she owned the place, but who gets it now? She’s probably got next of kin or whatever you call it, but that’s not my responsibility, is it?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t, technically. “You might want to look through her address book, something like that. If she had out-of-town family, they may hear about what happened here and make inquiries. That’ll get the ball rolling. Failing that, the police will get to it eventually. They’re a little backed up right now.”

He nodded, took another bite of toast.

“I think I might just move, anyway,” he said. “I think I’m done here.”