Ed Gorman: Blood Game

He needed no more pain today.

In the morning Guild came down from his hotel room carrying his carpetbags. He had slept ten hours without any alcohol. Alcohol would just have made things worse.

He stood on the steps in the shade of the overhang. The bright day was already so hot the livery man down the street was sloshing water on horses.

From behind him a voice said, “I’d like to talk to you a minute.”

Guild turned to find John T. Stoddard standing there, carrying carpetbags of his own. Guild said nothing to him, just turned away and started down the steps, heading for the railroad station where he’d taken Clarise yesterday.

As he walked, he heard Stoddard coming up behind him, panting, change jingling in his pockets.

“I’m sorry about the way I treated Stephen,” Stoddard said. “If I could do it all over again-”

Guild set his bags down in the middle of the street and turned around and faced Stoddard. “I don’t have any right to judge you, Stoddard. I’ve done some pretty terrible things in my own life.” He frowned. “But don’t ask me to forgive you, all right? That’s something I can’t do.”

“He liked you, Guild. Did he-” He paused, looking aggrieved. “Did he ever say anything about me?”

“He said he loved you. He said that I didn’t know anything about your suffering and that I shouldn’t judge you. That’s exactly what he said.”

Guild picked up his bags and turned back in the direction of the depot. He walked as fast as he could. He didn’t want to see Stoddard ever again.

“Guild! Guild!” Stoddard shouted after him. “Please! Talk to me, Guild! Talk to me!”

But then a streetcar came, and John T. Stoddard vanished behind it. Not even his voice could be heard now, not even his voice.