F Wilson - Deep as the Marrow

“I didn’t see any. Want me to get you something else?”

“That’s okay. I’ll take my pill with water.” Pill? Oh, Jesus! Do I have her pills?

Poppy ran over to the night stand where she’d left her pocket book and dumped it out on the bed. She had some Valium, her driver’s license, some bills and change—but not Katie’s medicine.

She ran to the closet and yanked Mac’s jacket off the hanger. Maybe she’d stuffed the pill bottle in one of the pockets as she was leaving. She didn’t believe that for a minute but she had to check. She emptied the pockets; Paulie’s wallet, some loose change, and a cassette tape fell out. But no little amber bottle of pills for Katie.

Poppy slumped on the edge of the bed and wrung her hands. In the horror and confusion and panic back at the house, she’d forgot all about the pills.

Jesus, what else could go wrong?

She stood and paced the tiny room. Decision time. She had to get some medicine for Katie. She remembered the name on the bottle: Tegretol 100 mg. If she couldn’t get hold of any, she’d have no choice: Katie would have to go back home. A possible threat from Mac was not as bad as the totally certain threat of fits if she missed a dose or two of those pills.

Poppy had to get hold of some.

But where? How?

She pulled out the phone book and began flipping through the yellow pages.

19

Carlos listened to the distorted voice barking from the receiver.

“What kind of half-assed operation are you running there, Salinas? I just learned that a bottle of pills belonging to the little girl was found in a house in Falls Church where someone was murdered. What the hell is going on?” Carlos stared at the ceiling. Please, God, if you will ever do anything for me, do this for me now.

“One dead man?” Carlos said. “Has he been identified?”

“Yes. They got a tip as to his name and confirmed his prints. A smalltime hood named Paul Dicastro.” Thank you. God, Carlos thought. I will make a large offering to the church.

“No one else? No woman? No child?”

“No sign of anyone else, but they’re looking. Looking hard, because this death is now linked to the other matter. Better clean house, Salinas. And fast.” The line went dead and Salinas hung up. He turned to Gold who was stuffing a valise with papers from a filing cabinet.

“I believe we can relax for a while, Alien.”

“Relax?” Alien said. His face was unusually pale, even for him. “How can I relax?”

“Well, you insisted on knowing about my dealings with MacLaglen, and now you know.” He smiled. “Don’t you feel better?”

When Carlos had thought he would have to flee the country, he’d filled Gold in on the plan to remove Winston. After all. Gold had to know why they were running for the airport.

He did not return Carlos’s smile. “You want to say, ‘I told you so,’ go ahead. But right now, if we don’t get out of here—”

“Be calm. MacLaglen is not dead. He is still alive and free.”

Alien stared at him. “You’re sure of that?”

“My source.” Alien staggered to the nearest chair and dropped into it.

“What a relief! But why doesn’t he call back?”

“That I do not know. Something happened. An argument, perhaps. He may be busy trying to find a new hiding place for the child. Or, even better, a place to dispose of her. Keep trying to reach him. Sooner or later he will call in.” Carlos agreed with the voice on the phone: Time to clean house.

20

“See, I got like this problem with my nephew,” Poppy said to the pharmacist, keeping her voice so low that he had to lean forward to catch every word. “He’s visiting and I found these pills in his room. Not that I don’t trust him or nothing, but I’m like, ‘What are these?’ you know?” The overhead fluorescents gleamed off the black of the pharmacist’s balding scalp as he nodded and stared at her over the top of his reading glasses. The old dude couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her eyebrow ring. Did he like live in a cave or something? Hadn’t he ever seen one before?

For more than an hour she’d driven around with the yellow pages on her lap, checking out one drugstore after another. Finally she’d settled on Doc’s Pharmacy in what looked like a black neighborhood. Kinda small but with a good-sized front window, and off the main drag in a building that looked like it had been built when dirt was new.

“I’ll be happy to identify them for you,” said the pharmacist, like he got asked this all the time. He might have been “Doc,” but more than likely he was the original Doc’s grandson. Kind of grumpy, but then, closing time was near and he looked like he wanted to go home. “Give me one and I’ll look it up.”

“That’s just it. I ain’t got any. He only had one in the bottle and I’m like, I can’t take his last pill. But I saw the name on the bottle. It was Tegretol 1oo mg. Is that bad stuff? You know, like drugs?”

“Does your nephew have a seizure disorder?”

“You mean fits?”

“Yes, I suppose you could call them that. Tegretol is used for er, fits.”

“I don’t know. My sister never told me about that, and she’s on a trip and I can’t get hold of her to ask. If you could just let me see one…”

He sighed. “Sure. Wait right here.” Poppy watched him go to the rear shelves and return to the counter with a white plastic bottle. He shook a few pills into a plastic tray and handed her one.

“Is that it?”

Poppy held up the precious little pill to the light, but her eyes were on the bottle sitting a foot away on the counter. So close. So tempting. All she had to do was reach out, grab it, and run.

And maybe get caught.

Too many people around, too much traffic on the street outside. She couldn’t risk it.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s it. You think you could like sell me some of those?”

“Not without a prescription.”

“But he’s only got one left.” Poppy slipped a twenty on the counter. “Just a couple to hold him until I can get in touch with my sister?”

The pharmacist shook his head. “I’d like to help, but it would be against the law.”

They went ‘round and’round, but this old dude wasn’t going to budge. He gave her all sorts of suggestions that would have worked out fine if her little story was true, but they didn’t help Poppy one bit.

Just when she was getting desperate enough to make a grab for the bottle, he screwed the cap back on and held it in his hand.

“You can have that one,” he said. “Maybe it’ll give you a little extra time.”

“Thanks,” she said. “What do I owe you?”

“Forget it. I can’t sell it once it’s been touched anyway.”

Poppy stood on tiptoe and watched where he went, mentally marking the section of the rear shelves where he placed it. Then she looked at the single pill in her hand. At least Katie wouldn’t have to go through the night without her medicine.

Nice of the old grump to give it to her. Made her almost regret what she was going to have to do.

21

John pulled off 95 and coasted into the Maryland House parking lot. He found a space under a light and looked up at the big colonial-style brick building squatting on a rise about fifty yards away. Raindrops flickered through the light from its windows. With its wide brick chimneys and many-paned windows, it looked like a mansion that had fallen on hard times and was now tolerating tours to cover expenses—until you spotted the Bob’s Big Boy, Roy Rogers, Sbarro, and TCBY signs.

He checked his watch: 8:35. He was early, but didn’t see how he could be too early for this.

John sat and shivered. Not from the drizzle outside, because he was warm and dry here in the car. The cold came from within.