Joe Lansdale - Lost Echoes

Harry nodded at Kayla. She nodded back. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, then Kayla said, “When this big man came into the shelter, he just let the door slam?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t seem surprised by the sound?”

“No. The house isn’t that close, though. You could slam it a lot and it not be heard.”

Kayla nodded as if she already knew that. She had been there, the house and the shelter.

“You smell good,” Harry said.

“Yeah.” She broke her professional demeanor, smiled. “I’m not supposed to wear perfume on the job. But I can’t help myself. I’m addicted to it. Made it myself. From other perfumes. I wear too much, don’t I?”

“Not for me, you don’t.”

The sergeant was back; his attitude had changed. “I’ll make this quick. That was a call from the chief. He wants me to wrap this up. Chief got a call from Mr. McGuire, and he’s not going to press charges. His daughter isn’t either. They just want you to stay away from them and their daughter. Way they see it, some head problems got the better of you. I’m not saying that, but that’s what they say, and the girl, Talia, she says you scared her, but she thinks now you didn’t mean to hurt her. But she doesn’t want to see you again. Said you have a suit she bought.”

“The coat is still in the shelter. I’m wearing the rest of it. I’ll have it cleaned and returned. I’ll give you the tie, cuff links, stuff like that right now.”

“She bought all that for you?”

“Yes, sir. She didn’t like my Bealls suit. And, just for the record, she doesn’t like JC Penney either, and I’d guess she’s not crazy about Sears.”

Sergeant Pale studied Harry for a long moment, nodded slowly.

“Remember this. McGuire and the chief, they’re friends. Very tight. Hang together. Getting my drift? You’re getting a favor done here.”

Kayla walked Harry outside.

“Hey, great to see you,” Harry said. “Now if I could just throw up and shit my pants out here in the parking lot, it would be a perfect day…. Sorry—I talk stupid when I’m embarrassed.”

“That story you were telling, all of that sounds a little stupid.”

“I know. But that’s how it is. You’ve heard a similar story before.”

“I said as much.”

“And I thank you for that. Frankly, I’m kind of used to being thought an idiot.”

“You said you didn’t do that anymore.”

“I lied. I hadn’t seen you in a while, and I didn’t want to touch on the fact that I might be a fucking nut.”

“We could always be honest with one another, Harry.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not so long. Not really. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“You need a better class of friends. Girlfriends, for that matter.”

“She wasn’t very nice when you met, was she?” Harry said.

“You didn’t exactly rush in to support me.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I should have. I feel like the biggest dumb cluck in the world. Joey was right. She didn’t give a damn about me. I think she was using me to make another guy jealous. I’m slow on the uptake.”

“You’re trusting.”

“And how kindly that trait has treated me.”

“Wait a minute. Joey? You mean Joey Barnhouse?”

“Yep.”

“He was always such an asshole. I thought he’d be dead by now. Maybe shot while stealing beer from a convenience store.”

“You’ll be happy to know he hasn’t changed…. You know what, Officer? I don’t know how I’m going to get home.”

“I’m going to drive you.”

On the way to his apartment, driving slowly down dark streets, Harry said, “Questions you asked, I get the feeling you might believe me. Not just believe I believe, but that you might think there’s something to it.”

“I’ve thought a lot about what you told me long ago. About the sounds.”

“And?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

They drove a distance in silence. Harry was thinking about what he had read in the newspaper those long years ago, about Kayla’s dad hanging himself. He didn’t want to bring that up, but he certainly thought about it. Instead, he said, “How was Tyler?”

“Too many churches. Not enough Christians.”

“The school all right?”

“Pretty good.”

“You probably don’t know about it, but my dad died.”

“No. I didn’t. I’m sorry. He was a nice man. Recently?”

“A while back. Heart attack. Died at home.”

“You probably know about my dad.”

“Saw something in the paper.”

“Pink.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When they arrived at Harry’s apartment, Kayla pulled to the curb. “It’s the one on top,” he said.

Kayla nodded.

“Maybe we could talk,” Harry said. “Have some coffee sometime. It’s been a while.”

“Sure.”

Kayla wrote down her phone number, gave it to Harry. “Old times,” she said.

42

His apartment seemed a place of long ago and far away, but it had been only a few hours since Harry had sat on the couch waiting for Talia’s call.

No sooner was he in the door than he stripped off the clothes Talia had bought him, draped them over a chair. He put the shoes and socks together and put them under the chair. He sat on the couch in the silk underwear she had bought him and decided to keep them.

He figured, what he’d been through, he’d earned that much. Besides, they were really comfortable. He decided if he gave them back, he was gonna make sure they had a skid highway in the back, something she could remember him by. But no. He was going to keep them.

There was a knock on the door.

Harry got up and went to the window and looked out by moving the curtain slightly. A big man was looking right at him, and next to him, in front of the door, was Mr. McGuire. Still in party clothes.

Harry dropped the curtain.

“Open up,” said McGuire. “We just saw you at the window.”

Curses, thought Harry.

“Open the goddamn door, or Jimmy here will kick it down.”

“I’ll call the cops,” Harry said. “Fact is, I’m doing it right now.”

“Go ahead. I know the chief. He knows I’m here. Count of three, the door comes down,” McGuire said.

Harry opened the door.

McGuire and the moose named Jimmy pushed inside. Unlike McGuire, the moose wore blue jeans and a flannel jacket over a T-shirt.

“What a crummy place,” McGuire said. “You brought my daughter here?”

“Actually,” Harry said, “she preferred the backseat of the car.”

McGuire slapped out at Harry, and Harry stepped back and the slap passed by, and Harry thought: Cool, I’m really starting to learn something. I knew that was coming. I got out of the way, smoothly.

McGuire slapped him with the other hand.

It hurt.

Harry put a hand to his face. Thought, note to self: When you do something smooth and cool, best not to become too caught up in it. ’Cause then you get decooled in the following moments.

“I want you to stay away from my daughter,” McGuire said.

“Hey, I’m through.”

“Others have said as much, and they kept coming around. I know she’s always in heat, but you keep your dog nose out of her ass. Got me?”

“Promise you. I’m done.”

“You’re not done. Jimmy here, he’ll make you done. Like way fucking overcooked.”

Harry glanced at Jimmy. Jimmy didn’t seem too interested. He looked as concerned about this meeting as a pig might be over the proper use of dinner china. He probably had an overdue date with a beer, a nudie magazine, and a handful of Vaseline.

“Jimmy can really fuck you up,” McGuire said.

Jimmy slapped a big fist into a big open palm.