Джон Гришэм - The Rooster Bar

“I do.”

“Okay. Do you mind checking his place to see if he left behind a note? They usually do. If you find something, call me at once.”

“I’ll do that.”

Swayze put a hand on Mark’s shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, son.”

“Thanks.” Mark began walking along the sidewalk. Another ambulance was approaching from the west and traffic was backing up in that direction as well. There seemed to be a million flashing lights. Two larger boats with search beams had joined the first and they circled under the archways of the bridge.

Mark and Todd helped Zola to her feet. They were freezing, numb, but too shocked to feel anything. They half carried her back to the car, which was blocked by traffic. Todd started the engine and the heater and they sat in stunned horror and watched the nightmare. Zola wept in the front passenger’s seat. Todd slumped against his window and looked like a ghost. Mark sobbed and tried to catch his breath. Minutes passed as his phone kept vibrating. He finally took it out of his pocket and said, “Brenda’s called four times. Someone has to tell her.”

Todd said, “That someone is you, Mark. You have no choice.”

“Why can’t you call her?”

“Because you know her better. She’s calling you, not me.”

Mark clutched his phone and waited. A tow truck with yellow lights inched its way through the stalled traffic and weaved around the police cars. Someone with authority decided the ambulances would not be needed, so they left, along with a few of the police cars.

“You gonna call her?” Todd asked.

“I’m trying to find the courage,” Mark said.

“This is my fault,” Zola said, sobbing.

“It’s no one’s fault and you know it,” Todd said, but with little conviction.

“I did this,” she said. “I did this.”

The yellow lights turned around, and they watched the tow truck come toward them in an eastbound lane. It passed them with Gordy’s car on its rear wheels. More boats arrived and the flotilla fanned out south of the bridge, searching. The police cleared two of the westbound lanes and the stalled traffic began moving slowly.

Mark said, “What do I tell her? I can’t say he’s dead because we don’t know for sure, right?”

Todd said, “He’s dead, Mark. Tell her he jumped off a bridge into the Potomac River and they’re searching for his body.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You have no choice.”

Mark took a deep breath but did not make the call. He said, “I was with him when he made his decision. We were at the Waterfront, and Gordy was staring at this bridge. When he turned around he was calm and smiling. He made up his mind and was at peace with his plans. I was too stupid to realize it.”

“We are not doing the blame game, damn it,” Todd said.

“Well, you can bet your ass Brenda will point fingers and I’ll be the target. I lied to her all afternoon. I should’ve told her the truth and let her deal with him.”

“We did what we could. It’s not our fault he cracked up.”

“It’s all my fault!” Zola shrieked. “All of this.”

“Stop it, Zola!” Todd snapped.

A cop with a flashlight motioned for them to move, and Todd eased off the grass and onto a westbound lane. They moved slowly over the bridge. Three patrol cars were parked bumper to bumper in the outside lane. A group of cops huddled on the sidewalk, near the spot where Gordy jumped.

“Where are we going?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know.”

They crossed the river, turned south onto the GW Parkway, and got off on Columbia Island. Todd parked in an empty lot at the LBJ Memorial Grove, with a marina in front of them and hundreds of boats rocking gently at the docks. They stared into the darkness as the car’s heater strained and heaved. Mark’s phone began vibrating in his pocket.

“Are you going to call her?”

Mark looked at his phone and said, “I don’t have to. She’s calling me.” He opened a rear door, got out, and started walking toward the dock. He put the phone to his ear and said, “Brenda, something terrible has happened.”

They took Zola to her apartment and laid her on the sofa. Mark covered her with a quilt and sat at the end, holding her feet. Todd made a pot of coffee and as it brewed he sat on the floor with his back to the sofa. Zola placed a hand on his shoulder. For a long time nothing was said; the only sound was that of the coffeepot rattling and hissing.

Mark’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out. “It’s Brenda’s father again.” He tapped the screen, put the call on speaker, and said, “Yes, Dr. Karvey.”

“Mark, we’re driving over now, should be there in about an hour. We’ll check in at the Marriott in Pentagon City. Can you meet us around seven?” The voice was calm and assured.

“Sure, Dr. Karvey. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. I made contact with Detective Swayze and he has my number.”

“Good. See you at seven.”

Mark ended the call and said, “That’s exactly what I want to do. Deal with a hysterical woman.”

“I’ll go with you but we’re not going to be abused,” Todd said.

“We will definitely be abused. She’s already screamed at me twice. It’s all our fault because I lied to her, because we let him get away, because we didn’t call the family, because we didn’t take him to the doctor, because of everything.”

“It’s all my fault,” Zola mumbled without opening her eyes.

“It’s not your fault and your name has not been mentioned,” Mark said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Todd said, “If she starts yelling I’m walking out. I feel rotten enough without a lot of drama from Brenda and the families.”

Mark said, “When we were driving away from the city pound yesterday Gordy threatened to kill me if I called her. I mean, it wasn’t a serious threat, I think, but that was his frame of mind. He didn’t want her to know. And he refused to talk about going to the doctor. What were we supposed to do?”

“We’ve hashed this out already, Mark,” Todd said. He got up and poured three cups of coffee. It was almost 4:00 a.m. and they were physically and emotionally exhausted. Zola sat up on the sofa, took her cup, and tried to smile. Her eyes were red and swollen; she seemed on the verge of another breakdown at any moment. She said, “I don’t think I’ll go with you guys.”

“No, you need to stay here and rest,” Mark said.

“Good idea,” Todd added. “You really shouldn’t be around Brenda.”

“I met her once. She thinks we’re all just good friends. Gordy said she didn’t have a clue about us.”

“I’m sure she didn’t, but she could still be jealous,” Mark said. “She didn’t like the fact that Gordy was here in the big city without her.”

Another long pause as they sipped coffee. Mark broke the silence with “Oh yeah, we need to look around for a suicide note. The detective said so.”

“That should be fun,” Todd said. They walked across the hall, entered Gordy’s apartment, and turned on the lights. Nothing had changed since they left in a panic. A note would be in the bedroom and they didn’t find one.

“This place is filthy,” Mark said, looking around. The sheets were in a wad with half the mattress exposed. Clothes were piled on the floor. Two empty liquor bottles were on the dresser.

“I’ll clean it when you guys are gone,” Zola said. “I’m sure the family will want to see his apartment.” They stepped back into the den and stared at Gordy’s conspiracy wall. “Any ideas?” Todd asked.

Mark said, “Let’s take this mess down and save it. The family will have no use for it.” Zola filled a laundry basket with dirty sheets, towels, and clothing, and took it to the laundry room in the basement while Mark and Todd carefully removed the poster boards and sheets of paper from the wall. Rackley’s face and those of his confederates were placed in a neat stack to be hauled away. Next to Gordy’s computer, Mark saw two thumb drives and he instinctively put them in his pocket without a word.