Reed Coleman - Hose monkey

“He’s a liar.”

“Joe?”

“He promised to protect Cain from Mr. French.”

“Sometimes people make promises they want to keep and can’t. You know that Joe used to be a policeman, right?”

“Cain told everybody. It made me crazy how much he told me that.”

“Joe wants to find out who hurt Cain. I’m helping him and another policeman is helping him. You could help too.”

“I could?”

“I know you could.”

“How?’

“By holding onto Cain’s secrets for just a little while longer.”

T he Down’s girl refused to look at Joe. She was angry, that much he could tell. It was truly written on her red face. There was, however, a paradoxical stiffness in her slouched posture. He remembered back to Cain’s funeral, to the abject purity of the girl’s grief, how she had chided Cain’s parents. Clearly, he had done something wrong, but what, exactly? Marla had been very vague on the phone, saying only that it was important for the three of them to speak. Of course, nobody was speaking.

“Donna, you know I’m Italian,” Joe said. “Italians, when we’re mad at each other, we scream and yell. It’s scary, but it’s good too because we get it out.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the smile flash across Marla’s face.

“I’m not Italian,” Donna said.

“But you’re mad at me. I can see that. Don’t scream if you don’t want to, but at least you should tell me what I did wrong.”

“You lied. You said you would protect Cain.”

Joe was stunned. That sticks and stones rhyme was bullshit. Words could harm you. They just had. In a rush, it all came back to him, the reason he had stepped back into the fire. Cain was dead.

“I’m mad at me too, Donna. Sometimes I think that if Cain was on the truck with me that day, he would still be alive.”

“You hurt his feelings when you made him get off the truck.”

“I know. I also know that why I did that had more to do about me than him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either. But I do know I owe it to Cain to-”

“He loved working on the truck with you.”

Joe smiled. “I owe it to Cain to find out who did this to him. Is there something you know that could help?”

The Down’s girl looked directly at Marla.

“Remember what we talked about before,” Marla said. “Cain trusted you with the secrets, so only you can decide if telling is right.”

It didn’t take long to decide. Right and wrong were very clear things in her mind. Joe envied her that.

“Cain would sneak out at night sometimes,” she said. “He would go to the oil place. He loved it there best in the world. He would sit in the trucks and pretend to drive.”

“How do you know he would pretend to drive?” Joe asked.

Donna’s eyes got wide. Her ruddy skin whitened. Her hands started to shake. Worst of all, she stopped talking. Joe had reacted without thinking. He had asked precisely the wrong question.

“Donna, no one is going to get in trouble for this,” Marla assured her. “The only thing Joe is interested in is finding out who hurt Cain. If you are going to tell, you have to tell everything.”

“You went with him sometimes, didn’t you?” Joe said.

The Down’s girl stared at the floor. “Yeah. Cain knew a way to walk in the shadows past the cameras at the home. He was smart like that.”

“He must have loved you a lot to share that with you.”

Donna beamed. “He did. He even showed me his secret hiding spot in the oil place where no one could see him. Then he said I couldn’t go with him no more.”

“Why?”

“Because some trucks came and we had to hide in the secret place.”

“Trucks, what kind of trucks, Donna?” Joe was curious. “Trucks. Big trucks. I don’t know.”

“Did they have tanks? Were they tank trucks like in the oil place?”

“Uh huh. One was long and shiny like foil stuff.”

“There were other trucks also?”

“Two,” she said, holding up a like number of fingers. “Were they smaller than the big foil truck? Were they like the kind of truck Cain used to go in with me?”

“I guess.”

“Did they have words or pictures on the side?”

“The little trucks had a picture on them, like a triangle.” Marla fished a crayon and a piece of paper out of her desk. “Can you draw the picture for Joe?”

“I think so.”

As Donna struggled to recreate the picture on the side of the oil truck, Joe stared over at Marla. She wasn’t beautiful. She looked exhausted, but at that moment he wouldn’t have traded her for anyone in the world. Angela, his ex, was a knockout-sable hair, rich brown eyes, perfect olive skin. But even at the altar, Joe had doubts. He hadn’t so much fallen in love with his ex-wife as he had fallen into expectation. They were the right age. They came from the same background, the same neighborhood. Joe had a steady job and gave her the security she always craved. It was more like a completed checklist than love. When he looked at Marla, Joe wasn’t thinking about checklists.

“I think that’s good,” Donna announced, sliding the paper to Joe.

“It’s perfect, Donna,” he said, sliding it, in turn, to Marla. “Do you recognize it?”

“It’s an oil well. It’s the logo for Black Gold Fuel, Inc.”

“Will that help?” Donna asked.

“I think it helps a lot.”

“Can I go back to my room now?”

“Donna,” Marla interrupted. “What about Frank?”

“Frank?” Joe was confused.

“Cain made me promise never to tell about the trucks, because he said Frank could get in trouble.”

“Was Frank there that night the trucks came to the oil place?” Joe asked.

“No. Other men were there.”

“What other men?”

“They talked funny,” Donna said.

“Did they all talk funny?”

“No, just the men that got out of the real big truck.”

Joe slid Donna’s logo picture back in front of her. “The men that drove these trucks, the ones with this painted on the tanks, did they talk funny?”

“No. Can’t I go back to my room now?” she practically begged Marla.

“I know this is hard,” Joe said. “It’s hard to break a trust and tell secrets. Maybe I couldn’t protect Cain, but maybe you can help me protect Frank. We both know how much Cain loved Frank. Will you help me?”

“Okay.”

“Did Cain tell you why he was afraid Frank would get in trouble even though he wasn’t there that night in the oil place?”

“He said the men were doing illegal pumping stuff. I don’t remember the words.”

“Truck transfers?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, maybe. Can I go to my room now, Marla?”

“Soon.”

Joe continued. “Did Cain say anything else, Donna?”

“He said that Frank could get in trouble cause they were doing the bad pumping in his oil yard.”

“Did Cain tell you the names of the drivers of the bad trucks?”

“I don’t remember them no more.”

“Steve, maybe?” Joe tried.

Donna’s round face lit up. “Steve, yeah. That was one. I remember now. The other name was a funny name.”

“Cain said he knew both drivers?”

“I already told you that.”

“Sorry. This other driver, it’s okay if you don’t remember his name. Can you remember what Cain said about him or what he looked like?”

“Big. He was very big.”

“Bigger than me?”

“A lot bigger.” Donna stretched her arm up toward the ceiling.

“Did Cain say anything about him?”

“Cain didn’t like him. He was mean to Cain.”

“Fuck!”