But Bill Bradfield said, “It’s in God’s hands.”
Sue Myers would always maintain that she did not hear anything while driving the car that night. Sue Myers was as deaf as an oyster.
They reached Cape May, New Jersey, at 3:30 A.M. and went to a restaurant for a snack. They arrived at the Heirloom Apartments at 5:00 A.M., but something had gone wrong. One of their rooms was occupied and locked. The other was unoccupied but locked. They sat in the corridor and grumbled and dozed until 7:00 A.M. when the proprietor found them.
She told Bill Bradfield that she’d thought he’d wanted to book the rooms for the next weekend. She apologized and quickly arranged for a room for Bill Bradfield and Sue, and another for Chris and Vince.
She was so distressed that she left her keys behind in Chris and Vince’s room. When Chris Pappas found them and brought them to her later that day, she said, “You’ve saved my life!”
“No, you’ve saved ours,” Chris Pappas said.
Vince Valaitis decided to complete his weekly obligation by going to mass on Saturday night instead of Sunday. Bill Bradfield said that he was coming along.
When they got to the church, Bill Bradfield said, “I want to pray for Susan Reinert and you should too.”
When they got back from mass, Vince Valaitis stayed in his room but the others went to see Who Is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe?
Bill Bradfield saved the ticket stubs.
They went back to their rooms and read to each other from a book by Woody Allen, but nobody laughed much. They drank ouzo and wine that weekend but no one was in a party mood.
On Sunday morning, Vince had to go to mass again because Bill Bradfield demanded it.
“We’ve got to pray for Susan Reinert!” Bill Bradfield said.
Susan Reinert got a lot of Bill Bradfield prayers that weekend. He even lit a candle.
“This is to keep evil from her,” he said.
The proprietor permitted the guests to make a couple of phone calls in her office on Monday morning, and when Bill Bradfield paid their bill it was with a check that had everyone’s name on it.
He wasn’t satisfied that the check could serve as a receipt; he wanted a written receipt. And he asked the woman to write on the receipt that it was paid in full for three nights, not two.
“Please include Friday on the receipt,” he insisted.
The proprietor thought it must be for tax purposes or an expense account, and obliged.
Vince got scolded once by Bill Bradfield for failing to get a receipt for some hamburgers.
Bill Bradfield informed Chris that he probably wouldn’t have to testify on Monday afternoon after all, so they weren’t going to have to rush back.
Chris wasn’t surprised. These days the former philosophy student expected exactly the opposite of what his faltering logic told him was objective reality.
Before leaving the shore, Bill Bradfield took Chris outside to the VW and said that he had to dispose of some letters that might be “dangerous” to him in case something had happened to Susan Reinert.
“Look at this,” he said to Chris, showing him a pile of letters that he’d crammed into the storage space of the Volkswagen.
Chris read a couple of the letters and Bill Bradfield said, “See how she is? Nothing but sex on her mind,”
But Chris hadn’t seen any sexual references at all, and he said so.
Bill Bradfield snatched the letters out of Chris’s hand and said, “How about this!”
But when Chris read it he didn’t see anything extraordinary except a few “I miss you and love you” lines.
Bill Bradfield got angry and said, “Damn, I can’t find any of her filthy letters. You should see some of the disgusting letters she’s written.”
Then he added, “I better throw these away anyway. People could get the wrong idea about my relationship with that woman.”
So Chris just nodded patiently and watched Bill Bradfield speed through all the letters, and when he’d finished he stacked them in the well behind the backseat with other printed matter.
Later that morning, Vince noticed that the VW looked like a dried-up birdbath. He borrowed a bucket and some soap from the proprietor and volunteered to wash the Beetle. When he was cleaning out the inside of the car he saw a stack of letters and picked them up just as Bill Bradfield was coming outside.
“What do you want me to do with these?” Vince asked.
“Leave them. I’ll take care of them,” Bill Bradfield said.
Still later that morning, Chris walked down the beach to take a look at the corpse of an old ship protruding from the water. Bill Bradfield spent his last hours lying on the sand, flat on his back with his arms outstretched in a crucifixion pose. Vince thought it was the most depressing day of his life.
The drive back was very subdued until they were nearly home. Bill Bradfield said that he wanted to dispose of some “trash” in the back of the Volkswagen. He needed a trash Dumpster.
Chris drove behind an apartment building near his house and got out. He took the bundle of letters from Bill Bradfield and walked to the Dumpster. Like a Bradfield-trained man, he lifted the first layer of trash rather than just throw the letters on top where the wind could blow them into the window of a police station.
After they’d dropped Chris Pappas and were traveling home by way of Valley Forge Park, Bill Bradfield suddenly said he had to make a call to Chris because he’d forgotten to ask if Chris owned some of the books that would be required reading that summer.
He stopped near the chapel where Michael Reinert was to have been baptized and went to a public phone. He made a long telephone call then got back in the car.
Chris Pappas later said that he’d not received a telephone call from Bill Bradfield.
When they got home, Bill Bradfield made yet another call. This time, he told Sue Myers that he was calling Jay Smith’s lawyer.
When he was finished with the call, he hung up and told Sue, “Well, Jay Smith was sentenced to jail! Susan Reinert is out of harm’s way!”
He looked happy. He smiled.
As far as Sue Myers and Vince knew, he was planning to drive the Volkswagen to Santa Fe. Chris had never told them any different. Each of the friends had little secrets to keep from the others.
Vince was glad this weekend was over what with two trips to mass to pray for potential murder victims. He was hoping he hadn’t jeopardized his summer job by taking the day off.
He hadn’t even gotten his toothbrush put away before Bill Bradfield came exploding through the door.
“I just called Doctor Smiths lawyer!” he announced. “They sentenced him to prison!”
And then Bill Bradfield walked over to a chair in Vince’s living room and sat down. And began to cry.
At last he arose and came to Vince and hugged him and thanked his young friend for standing by him during all the difficult months.
Vince would never forget the next words out of Bill Bradfields mouth. With tears streaming, he said, “Thank God he’s in jail! I saved that fucking woman’s life!”
Bill Bradfield then drove straight to Chris Pappas’s house and gave him the good news.
By 6:00 P.M. Vince and Sue had helped Bill Bradfield get all of his things packed into the Volkswagen. Vince carried Sues red IBM Selectric typewriter, which he insisted he’d need in Santa Fe. And Vince was more than happy to say good-bye to his friend. He even packed a thermos of coffee for the first leg of the drive. To keep him awake.
That Monday evening Chris asked Shelly and her friend Jenny to drive him to the airport. Bill Bradfield was delivered by Rachel who had just learned to her very great surprise that he was not traveling by car with her. He was flying with Chris and she was driving the car to Santa Fe alone.