P. Parrish - The Little Death

The spot of red and green on the wall above the bed caught Louis’s eye. It was David’s painting.

He went over and took it off its hook. He was certain Reggie didn’t want it. He was certain, too, that Burke Aubry wouldn’t mind if he took it.

When he went back out to the living room, Yuba and the suitcases were gone. Through the open front door, he could see her putting them in the trunk of the Mustang.

Mel was gathering up the pile of Shiny Sheet s and stuffing them into the garbage bag. He paused, peering down at a page.

“What’s that?”

Mel held it out.

Louis took it. It was the page with the photograph of Sam and the lawyer. Flowing blue dress, milk-white skin, and carrot-red hair.

“You okay?” Mel asked.

“Yeah.”

“You hit her in the heart.”

“That’s what we’re trained to do.”

“But it was a woman this time.”

“I’m fine, Mel. Let’s just get out of here.”

Louis crumpled the paper, stuffed it into the garbage bag, and hoisted the bag. He followed Mel outside, making sure he stopped to lock the door. Then he slipped the key into a flowerpot as Reggie had requested, put the garbage bag in the trash can, and got into the Mustang.

They headed south, passing the velvet greens of the country club and the geranium-bedecked entrance to the Breakers hotel. At the old stone Bethesda-by-the-Sea Church, Louis had to stop to allow the long line of cars to exit. He had no choice but to pull the Mustang behind the funeral cortege that was taking Tink Lyons to the cemetery.

At the Palm Beach police station, Mel and Yuba waited in the car while Louis went in and paid his “ugly car” fine. When he got back, Mel had put the Mustang’s top down and was slumped in the passenger seat. Yuba was in the back, face turned up to the sun.

“Let’s go home, Rocky,” Mel said.

They drove west on Royal Poinciana Way and across the bridge. After a quick stop to drop off the file box with Major Cryer at the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office, they headed due west on US-80.

Louis’s mind was racing ahead. And there was a lightness in his chest, like he could breathe for the first time in a week. No, for the first time in years.

Maybe it was Andrew’s questioning. Maybe it was the firmness of Major Cryer’s handshake and the respect in his eyes. Maybe it had been there, buried inside him for a long time now, and had only taken Joe’s words to bring it out.

I want you to want something for yourself.

Whatever it was, he had made a decision. It had come to him suddenly as they left the sheriff’s office parking lot, hitting him like a sharp stab to his heart.

He wanted to get back in. He wanted to feel the weight of a badge on his chest. Even if it meant going to Lance Mobley and begging, he was going to try once more.

He couldn’t wait to get home. The first call would be to Mobley. But he knew he had to make a second call to Joe. He needed to try once more with her, too.

The strip malls and gas stations disappeared, and they were out in the scrublands. Soon they reached the swaying green curtains of the cane fields.

Mel was slumped in the seat, asleep. Louis glimpsed Yuba in the rearview mirror. Her head was back, her eyes closed, her lips tipped in a secret smile, long black hair fanned out behind her.

Louis looked back to the road, squinting hard into the sun.

He had made love to her

He had killed her.

And now he had to forget her.