George Chesbro - Two Songs This Archangel Sings

The effect of Garth's scornful sarcasm was to make me feel more distant from him than I could ever remember feeling in my life. "Why don't you get to the point?" I said coldly. "That's assuming you have one."

"The point is that I've known Kendry longer than you have, and he had a police record longer than both our arms put together before you met him."

Ah.

"The reason the cops keep such close tabs on him," Garth continued in a much softer tone, "is because, unlike some criminologists and other professorial types, we don't believe any man can change as completely as Kendry appears to have changed. The rot's still there, just waiting to eat its way back up to the surface. That's what I think probably happened."

"What rot?"

"According to his police record, Kendry blew into New York about four years before you met him, probably in the summer of 'seventy-three."

"Where'd he come from?" "Military stockades-first in Saigon, then in Leavenworth. Needless to say, he'd been dishonorably discharged."

"How do you know that?"

Garth shrugged. "A quick call to connections in the military justice system. Standard operating procedure. Anyway, at that time he was living in a series of flea traps on the Bowery, along with the other bums. He was a drunk and a junkie himself. He'd work as a bouncer in some of New York's less glamorous night spots until he had some cash in his pocket, then he'd quit."

"What was he busted for?"

"Drunk and disorderly."

"That doesn't sound very serious to me."

"It is when it keeps happening, and it's even more serious when it keeps happening and you bust up some police officers resisting arrest."

"Okay, agreed. But-"

"He was a brawler."

"Did he ever kill anyone in any of these brawls?"

"No. He just kept making good business for the hospitals. The only reason he never did any serious time was because most of the people he brawled with had longer records of violent behavior than he did."

"He could have, you know."

"Could have what?"

"Killed somebody. I'm betting he could have killed anyone he went up against."

"You're missing the point. The man was committed to Bellevue for observation twice; for some reason, the shrinks there let him out both times. When I say he's crazy, Mongo, I'm not exaggerating. He was a man bent on self-destruction, and that's the rot I was referring to."

Garth's description of Veil upset me, as my brother had known it would, and I took some time to think about it. There was no doubt in my mind that what Garth had said was true, but I could not make the description of a drunk and a junkie and a bar brawler match the strong-willed and controlled man I had known for over eleven years.

People do change," was all I could think of to say. "Veil Kendry did."

"Maybe."

"Maybe ? That was more than eleven years ago. For Christ's sake, Garth, give the man a break."

"I grant you that he cleaned up his act for eleven years, but now he's wandering around with martial arts weapons, handguns, and a submachine gun. It's also possible that for all that time he was nothing more than a time bomb waiting to go off. You interpret the lights and the open loft as the actions of a rational man trying to send you some kind of signal. Judging from his past record, I say it's possible he wasn't thinking of you at all; he wasn't thinking of anything. He just went off, and when he did there wasn't a rational thought left in his head."

"Which explains why you've been trying to downplay everything I've been telling you."

"Right. You're incredibly loyal to your friends, and you can get a bit myopic where they're concerned. When a friend is involved, you walk into a wide open loft with burning lights and missing guns and smell a mystery. I smell a potential mass murderer. If that's true, there's no reason for you to be in his line of fire when he goes nova. The fact that he had that kind of armory squirreled away in the first place indicates that he's been thinking some very heavy thoughts for a long time."

"Maybe he was thinking of defending himself."

"Against what? A fucking army?"

"Against whoever it was who winged a shot at him."

"You can't be certain that's what happened. If he did go buggy, and that's what I think happened, he could have put that bullet hole in the window himself, as a kind of warm-up. If you go looking for him, you may not find what you think you will; it's even conceivable that you could trigger him into killing you, and a lot of other people. You let us handle Veil Kendry. He's a loony."

"What about the painting and the cash?"

"It could be that he expects to die, and that he wanted to leave something for you. He didn't expect you, or anyone else, to find it so soon."

"All of this occurred to you even before I mentioned the weapons, didn't it?"

Garth nodded. "It occurred to me during our second telephone conversation."

"You should have told me about his background then."

"You had an important lecture to deliver, and you already had enough things on your mind. There wasn't time to go into gory detail, and I was hoping I could talk some sense into you." He paused, smiled thinly. "That's still my hope."

"Why didn't you tell me about Veil before?"

"Because he'd been clean for almost a year at the time you met him. Under those circumstances, I would have considered it an abuse of my authority to discuss his record with you, or anyone else, who didn't have an official need to know. I'm a police officer, not a gossip, and Kendry's record was strictly police business. In any case, you'd have accused me of gratuitously badmouthing one of your friends-and you'd have been right."

"That was very honorable of you, Garth," I said simply. "It's exactly what I would expect."

"Now it's a different situation, because you've been toying with the idea of becoming involved in a search for a very dangerous man who isn't playing with a full deck."

"Thanks, Garth," I said as I picked up the painting and my gym bag. "I appreciate it. And don't worry; I'm not going to do anything foolish."

"You already have."

After leaving Garth I walked across campus to my office, where I typed up a letter to Veil explaining in detail everything I had done and planned to do, and giving my reasons. I made two copies of the original, then, after locking up the painting and gym bag in the office, walked the four blocks to my bank, where I opened a new savings account in Veil's name and mine and deposited the ten thousand in it. I added the account number to the letters, then went next door to the post office. I sent the original, by certified mail with no signature required, to Veil's address. The two copies I sent by registered mail to Garth and myself.

I debated going back to my apartment to clean up, decided that it would just be a waste of time. I still had a load of examination papers to grade, so after picking up a couple of sandwiches and some coffee from a deli, I went back to my campus office. After turning Veil's painting to the wall so as not to be distracted, I tuned my small desk radio to an all-news station and proceeded to attack the mountain of papers piled all over my desk.

Grading papers kept me busy until seven thirty in the evening. I went home, soaked myself under a hot shower, put on pajamas and a light robe. I poured myself a liberal Scotch over ice, then proceeded once again with my telephone ritual-Veil's loft, my answering service, the hospital emergency rooms. Nothing. The first Scotch felt warm and pleasantly heavy on my stomach, so I poured myself another. I put a TV dinner in the oven, made myself a salad, then went and sat down in the leather reclining chair in my den to study Veil's painting, which I had propped up on my desk, beneath a small spotlight.