“The one from Paducah. He’s driving here to meet me first thing in the morning.”
“Why?”
“He wants to tell me something.”
“About me?”
“I guess. Or Renee. Or both of you.”
“Will you call me when he leaves?”
“Yes.”
52
Dr. Gideon Box.
The display on my cell phone says Trudy’s calling. I answer with, “Has the detective gone?”
“No. He wants to see you.”
“Why?”
“He wants you to make a statement.”
“With you there?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. But I told him you were alive, and here in town.”
“I can be there in five minutes,” I say.
I get there, say hi to Trudy, and she introduces me to Detective Tan, who immediately takes me to the hospital chapel and records my statement. When that’s done, he fills me in on what happened after I left the hotel.
Renee flew into a drunken rage and trashed the room. When the other hotel guests complained, the front desk called the room and got no answer. They sent a security guy to check things out. After knocking and getting no response, he opened the door with his pass key. Found Renee passed out on the bed with a gun beside her. Moments later a policeman showed up, thanks to Trudy’s concern for my safety. When they try to rouse Renee, she babbles an amazing story about killing her husband and her best friend, strangling Aunt Lori, and lynching her step mother.
“I believe all those things are true,” I say.
Detective Tan says, “So do I. But there’s no proof, and drunk babbling does not a confession make.”
“Why not?”
“The defense team will hire ten psychiatrists who’ll swear that drunk people often confess to crimes they’ve never committed. And they’re right. By way of example, my wife had too much to drink one night, and-I shit you not-confessed to killing Elvis.”
“Maybe she did.”
“She was eight months old when Elvis died.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t haul her ass to jail.”
“No. And I won’t be hauling Renee there, either.”
“What about the gun?”
“She’s got a permit. We’re doing ballistics on it, but my guess is it’ll come back clean.”
“Why am I alive?”
“That I can’t answer, assuming your story’s true. If it is, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
I go back to Trudy’s room and give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Is he bothering you, Trudy?” Clem says.
“Can you give us some privacy, Clem?” she says.
“No. My orders are to stay here the entire time he’s in the room.”
“That was when they were sortin’ things out. They cleared Dr. Box of any wrong-doing. The only reason you’re here is to protect me from Daddy and Darrell.”
“Until the Sheriff himself changes my orders, I’ll follow the ones I’ve been given.”
She sighs.
I say, “Do we really care if he hears us talk?”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“It’s a small town. Within an hour he’ll know everything we said anyway.”
“I don’t care. I’m not answering any personal questions as long as he’s in the room.”
“I’ll respect that. How much did the detective tell you?”
“A hell of a lot more than you did.”
“Like what?”
“Like how you took a shower after letting Renee in the room because you wanted to get cleaned up for her after spending several hours in jail.”
“What? How did he know that? I just told him five minutes ago! And anyway, there’s a simple explanation for-”
“He also told me how you asked her to monitor the phone in case you received any important calls, and that’s how she was able to call me, and of course there’s the little part about how she ordered you a big room service dinner, and how you drank a bottle of wine together-”
“She drank the wine, I just-”
“And how you painted her toenails, and-”
“At gunpoint!”
“He said she was completely naked, and-”
“Just from the waist down!” I say, outraged.
“Can you hear how this might be taken the wrong way?”
“Yes, but-”
“He told me you got her drunk.”
“Yes, but-”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“What? You are?”
“Oh, for the love of God!” Clem says, from his post, on the other side of the room.
“Shut up, Clem!” Trudy says. To me she says, “I’ve spent all night thinking about your offer, and I’ve decided if you’re still interested, I’ll go to New York City with you. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We can’t ask each other any questions about our past.”
“That’s nuts!”
“We start fresh. Beginning right now.”
“I think I have a right to know what happened at the fence.”
She sighs. “And I have a right to know what you were hoping to do with Zander at the riverbank, with your pants around your ankles. But you know what? I’ve got the good taste not to ask.”
“That’s a copout!” I say. “A one-time thing. From what I hear about the fence-”
“Gideon,” she says. “Look at me.”
I do as she says.
“Do you really care what happened at the fence?”
“Yes,” I say. “Absolutely!”
“Is it more important than us? Think before answering.”
I pause a moment.
And another.
Then say, “No.”
She smiles. “Right answer. Now kiss me. Very gently.”
I look for a place on her face that isn’t swollen, bandaged, or bruised.
“Where?” I say.
“Surprise me.”
53
Trudy Lake.
Because of Darrell’s impendin’ court date, and Daddy’s hearin’, and my continuin’ divorce battle, I tell Gideon to go back to New York, and I’ll meet him in two weeks. With Renee on the watch list of three county police departments, and Cletus and Renfro dead, and Darrell banged up to the point he can’t blink his eyes without shittin’ his pants, I reckon I’ll be safe in Clayton till then.
Gideon wants to put me up in a hotel until my affairs are settled, but for the first time in my life I have an organized plan to move away, and I’m lookin’ forward to packin’ the items I’d like to take.
Gideon’s worried about Daddy, but Daddy’s not an issue. He’s in Logan, bein’ cared for by Renee. So it makes sense for me to stay in my own home for the next two weeks.
“I don’t like it,” he says, imitatin’ Clem, to make me smile.
The hospital doctor works his way to my room around noon, and clears me to check out. An hour later, I’m sittin’ in a wheel chair out front with an orderly at my side, squintin’ against the harsh sunlight, waitin’ for Gideon to drive up in his rental car and whisk me home.
When I’m settled in the car, he says, “Are you up for a short trip?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I need to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Faith Hemphill.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Why do you ask?”
I frown. “Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?”
“What?”
“The women, Gideon. Every time I turn around you’re with one woman or another, and either her pants are off, or yours are around your ankles.”
“This meeting’s about you,” he says.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Well I’ve got no interest in meetin’ her!”
“Why not?”
“Did you not drive two full hours a few days ago hopin’ to bang her?”
“Yes. But I learned a valuable lesson that day, with her, Zander, and Renee.”
“To keep your dick in your pants?”
“Yes.”
“Promise it.”
“As long as you’re willing to stay with me, I promise to keep my dick in my pants.”
I laugh.
“What?”
“You just basically promised we’ll never have sex.”
“I did?”
“Rewind it in your head.”
He does. Then says, “That didn’t come out right. I need a mulligan.”
“Too late,” I say. “You already made the promise.”