Роберт Паркер - All Our Yesterdays

“What is this place?” Tom said. “Why are we here?”

Gus again took his keys and got out. He jerked his head at Tom.

“Gus, I don’t like this,” Tom said. “I don’t want to go in here.”

Gus waited and after a moment, Tom got out and stood beside him.

“Why do we have to go here?” he said. “What’s here? I don’t want to be here.”

Gus took hold of Tom’s arm, just above the elbow, and steered him to the front door. Holding Tom’s arm with his left hand, Gus opened the door with his right and they went in. It had been cleaned up since Gus was last there. Everything was neatly put away. They went silently to the bedroom. The bed was made. The sheets were clean.

Gus let go of Tom’s arm and stood against the wall with his arms folded. Tom looked around, and then looked at Gus.

“What is this place, Gus? What the hell is going on?”

There were no lights on in the cottage, and the fall afternoon had darkened, so that the room was dim, full of the coldness and the silence of a place unlived in.

Gus walked to the bedside table and opened the drawer. In the drawer was the old Walther P38. Gus picked it up, and ejected the clip. The clip was full. He put the clip back in, jacked a round into the chamber, and put the gun back and closed the drawer.

“Gus.”

“Everything’s over, Tommy,” Gus said.

“Gus.”

“I’m going to arrest you. I know you killed those two girls.”

Faintly, from out front, came the sound of the small brook.

“You killed at least one of them here, probably both of them.”

Tom’s mouth was open as if he would speak. But no speech came.

“You been a fucking pervert all your life, and I helped you sit on it,” Gus said. “And for forty years, as far as I know, you didn’t kill anybody.”

“I didn’t, Gus. Honest to God I didn’t.”

“Just banged a few little girls,” Gus said. “And sent them on their way when they got older. Until this year when it all fell in on you. And you couldn’t sit on it anymore and you had to do it again.”

“Gus, I couldn’t help it,” Tom said. “I couldn’t help it the first time, I couldn’t help it now. You understand that, Gus. You know. I been good all this time. But everything...” He gestured wordlessly.

“I know, Tommy, and it’s my fault too. But we’re going to clean it up.”

“Gus, you can’t tell. If you tell they’ll get you too. You’ll go to jail too. I can give you tons of money, Gus.”

“You’ve given me tons of money,” Gus said. “That’s what this has been about.”

“I’ve got more. I’ll give it to you. And I’ll never do it again, Gus. I promise I’ll never touch another girl.”

“This is going to be lousy for your wife and kids,” Gus said. “I want you to think about it a little. I’ll be outside. You can come with me, or” — Gus nodded at the drawer where the Walther was — “you can try to shoot your way past me... Or whatever. You don’t have many choices. Take some time. Think about them.”

“Gus,” Tom Winslow said. His voice was strangled, barely louder than the faint hush of the brook. Gus went out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He walked across the living room and stood by the fireplace, facing the bedroom door. He took out his service pistol and cocked it, and waited.

Again, Tommy thought.

Dimly Tommy could hear the sound of the brook out front. Where Gus was. All this time from Conn to Gus. All this time and Tommy was back trapped in a little room by a cop named Sheridan. All this time. And Mommy can’t help Tommy now . It made Tommy feel hot to think that Mommy knew. She never talked about it, but she had to know. The other cop had told on Tommy. Tommy could kill him for that, the mean bastard. Tommy could kill Gus too, why couldn’t they leave poor Tommy alone? All this time, all the money, the deals with gangsters, all the time scared. Sick with being scared. Now Cabot would know, and Grace and Laura. Unless Tommy killed Gus. He’s right out there . Tommy could walk through that door and kill the spoil-everything-sonova-bitchen-bastard. And no one would know anything. No one knew they were there. Tommy looked at the door. He cocked the gun. Then Tommy’s legs got suddenly weak, too weak, too weak even to hold him up, and Tommy sat suddenly on the bed. The gun that had belonged to his father was heavy. Too heavy. Tommy had to hold it in both hands. Gus was too big. He had no kindness. Tommy thought of him standing outside the door like a rock. A bad hard fearful rock... Tommy can’t kill Gus... I wish my mother were here... — . He put the muzzle of the gun in his mouth and bit down hard on the barrel and pulled the trigger.

There were four of them in Gus’s car, plus six uniforms in squad cars, with body armor and shotguns. They parked in the little turnaround in front of the liquor store with the blue lights turning on the squad cars. Gus got out with Chris and John Cassidy. Billy Callahan waited behind the wheel. Cassidy leaned on the car.

“It might make sense,” Cassidy said, “if we knew what we were busting these people for.”

“Chris and I know why,” Gus said.

Cassidy nodded.

“Maybe, when I’m older,” he said.

“I’ll go in with Chris,” Gus said. “If we don’t bring him out in five minutes, John, you and Billy know how it works.”

Billy Callahan said, “You should wear a vest, Captain.”

Gus shook his head.

“Chris?” he said.

“Like father like son,” Chris said.

Gus started to say something and stopped. He tucked his badge in its leather holder into his breast pocket, so it showed, and started for the liquor store. Chris walked beside him. Butchie was out front when they came in. The pale clerk was expressionless behind the counter.

“This is my son Chris,” Gus said.

Butchie nodded at Chris and then looked back at Gus.

“Two carloads, Gus?”

“I know we don’t need them,” Gus said. “But we’re going to collar Patrick too.”

“What for?” Butchie said.

“Same as you.”

“What for?”

“Money laundering.”

Butchie stared at Gus.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Gus recited.

“I know my rights,” Butchie said.

Gus ignored him and recited the rest of it rote. Butchie waited.

When Gus finished, Butchie said, “I think maybe you have gone over the fucking edge, Gus.”

“We come in here straight up,” Gus said. “No body armor, no guns showing. We walk out together, ride downtown pleasant.”

“Gus, this is dangerous.”

“We need to be going, Butchie,” Gus said.

Butchie looked straight at Chris for a moment. “You know how dangerous this is?”

“I guess I’ll find out,” Chris said. He felt surprisingly steady. Part of it, he knew, was being with his father. But part of it... Have to think about that.

“We need to be going,” Gus said.

“Gus, you’re jumping off a fucking bridge here,” Butchie said. “You don’t think I’m going alone?”

“Don’t matter none to me,” Gus said.

Butchie looked first at Gus and then at Chris, then back at Gus. Then he shrugged.

“Gus, we know each other a long time.”

Gus nodded.

“I tell you something you can take it to the bank.”

Gus nodded again.

“I don’t like riding downtown in no squad car. Don’t look good in the neighborhood.”

“True,” Gus said.

“I’ll come in with Barry, today, before five.”

“Sure,” Gus said.

He turned and left the store. Chris paused for a moment. He looked at Butchie.

“You’ll be there,” he said. “Won’t you?”