Ken Douglas - Dead Ringer

“He told me he expected it to happen one day,” Jonas said, “but he didn’t dwell on it.”

“He was my friend and I miss him,” Gordon said.

“Me too,” Jonas said.

“So, you two guys go way back?” Somehow Maggie didn’t have a hard time picturing Jonas and Gordon together.

“We do,” Jonas said and Maggie wondered if they’d been a couple in the past or would be in the future. She knew Jonas lived alone, though she didn’t know why. She grinned. They might be good for each other.

“What?” Gordon said.

“Nothing. I think I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Gordon’s arms were crossed, eyes scolding now. He was acting like a parent.

“Home, where else?”

“Not alone you’re not.”

“I’m a big girl, Gordon. Besides, you’ve got a game to finish.”

“I’ll drive her,” Jonas said. “I need a break anyway.”

“No you won’t,” Maggie said, adamant. “I’ll jog on home. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“They could still be out there,” Gordon said.

“Who?” Maggie said.

“That guy with the ferret face and his big friend,” Gordon said.

“Or Darley and Theo,” Jonas said.

“The first two are long gone,” Maggie said. “And Darley and Theo are under the pier where they’ve probably been every night since I’ve lived in the Shore. They’ve never bothered me before, they’re not going to start now.”

“You’ve had too much to drink to walk home alone. I’ll get my keys,” Jonas said.

“No,” Maggie said. “I’ve had a little to drink, but I’m gonna run. I wanna work up a sweat and clear my head before I see Nick.”

“Not gonna go down by the beach?” Gordon said.

“No. I’ll stay on the sidewalk all the way home. Satisfied?” Maggie pushed her unfinished drink toward Jonas. Then, “Your boys are calling you again.”

Gordon turned toward the back booth.

A man at the end of the bar raised his hand for another drink.

“Okay, you guys, I’m outta here.” Maggie went to the door and started running as soon as her feet hit the sidewalk.

A couple minutes later, she slowed to a jog as she neared home. In front of her duplex, she did a few quick stretching exercises, then keyed the door and jogged up the steps to her second floor apartment. She was eager to tell Nick about her night, but she’d come home to an empty house.

Inside, she was instantly hot, but Nick was gone. Though he’d mostly grown out of the asthma that had plagued him as a child, sometimes the sea air would bring on an attack and he’d grab his inhaler on his way to the thermostat. The contractions in his lungs could go on for three or four days and during that time he kept the apartment dry and as hot as the Mojave desert at high noon.

She wondered why he was out. It was unlike him. If he was going through one of his bad periods, he should be home in his hot as Hades bedroom, under the electric blanket, heat cranked up to the max. But he wasn’t home. It must be a heck of a story if he’d rushed out without turning off the lights.

Maggie opened the door to the balcony, stepped outside to free herself from the heat. From her angle of view, she saw both the pier and the Olympic pool. Cool shivers rippled up her spine as she thought about being alone in the dark with Darley and Theo as she huddled in fear, hiding from that slow witted Virgil and Ferret Face with his gun. Why were they after her? She’d done nothing to anybody to warrant such behavior. Could Darley and Theo be right? Could they have been after her because of something Nick had done?

And she thought about what Jonas had said about the two men who lived under the pier. He’d said she was lucky to get away from them, that she should fear them, but he was wrong. They were gentle and kind. Down on their luck, sure, but they’d certainly been no threat to her. On the contrary, they’d saved her from a fate she didn’t even want to contemplate.

She shivered. She saw that pier every day, had fished on it with her parents, had taken photos of it, had eaten at the restaurant on the end of it, but she’d never suspected someone lived under it.

She looked out over the ocean. That sailboat was still out there. She sighed. So much had happened to her in the last hour, it was as if her life had been on fast forward, but to the people on that boat, nothing had happened at all. They were lazily moving through the water, powered by a slight breeze. She sighed again. She used to sail with her dad. She missed him.

And her mother. Now more than ever she needed her wise counsel. But they were gone. There was nobody for her now. Nobody she could talk to, confide in, ask advice from. Certainly not Nick. She could talk to him about most things, but not this, not about the baby.

She’d thought about Gordon. But she could never bring herself to tell him she’d betrayed Nick. It would be like one of the Musketeers had deserted, gone off with the enemy. He was a man, after all. He’d take Nick’s side.

Oh, why did there have to be sides? The three of them were so close. Maggie wished they could sit down together and talk it out, but she knew that would never happen. This was her problem, her fault. Nobody was going to help her but herself and she felt woefully inadequate.

A cold breeze blew in from the sea, chilling her. She came in from the balcony, shutting the double doors after herself, plopped down on the sofa, sweating in the heat. For a second she thought about opening the door again and turning the thermostat down, but that wouldn’t be right, not if Nick was sick.

She picked up the remote, clicked her way through the channels, clicked it off. As usual, plenty of channels, but nothing worth watching.

Something smelled. She sniffed, frowned. It was her.

She pushed herself up, went to the bathroom, stripped, got into the shower and stayed till there was no more hot water. With her hair shampooed and rinsed, she put on a robe and came back out to the sofa. She couldn’t sleep and the thought of watching television till Nick came home didn’t appeal to her.

The phone rang. “Hello.”

“It’s me.” It was Gordon. “Where were you? I called and got the machine.”

“I took a long shower. I guess I couldn’t hear the phone.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Sitting on the sofa feeling sorry for myself.”

“What have you got to feel sorry about?”

“Nothing.” She paused, almost blurted it out, decided against it. “Girl stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“You want me to come over? Do you have something you want to talk about? Is it Nick? He’s not home, is he?”

“What are you, the question man?” She laughed in spite of the way she felt.

“Just the answers, ma’am, just the answers,” he said, imitating Jack Webb from the old Dragnet TV series.

“No, I don’t want you to come over. No, I don’t have anything I want to talk about. No, there’s nothing wrong with me and Nick. And yes, I mean no, Nick’s not home. There, satisfied?”

“No, I’m not satisfied. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Probably still working on that stupid drug story. Now that’s something I don’t get. How could he be so excited about drugs in high school? That kind of story’s been around since I was a kid. It’s hardly earth shattering. I mean, even if you filmed it live, who cares?”

“So, you’re upset because Nick isn’t home?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did. I’ll leave now and we’ll talk about it.”

“No, Gordon, don’t do that. I’m in my pajamas and I’m going to bed. You have a good time. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, see ya.”

“Yeah, bye.” He hung up.