Next day came down to the jail some guy from near Chicago, said he was a doctor.
He wanted to talk to me, so I sat and listened.
I listened to him, then he listened to me. I told him where I’d met the kid and what he’d said and what had happened at this Luber’s farm.
“You know that wasn’t the boy’s father,” the doctor said.
“I know.”
“Just a total stranger. A hired helper named Goeblick. Luber happens to be married to a German woman, but he was out in the fields when it happened. Goeblick didn’t even resemble the Holloway boy’s father.”
“Oh, my God in heaven,” I said, because I’d been saying it all night and it seemed the thing to say.
“His father has been dead for four years.” That really got me.
“Does the boy know?”
“He should. He killed him.”
I wanted to swallow my tongue. It felt so big and swollen and shapeless in my mouth that I wanted to swallow it. Somehow, I got the words right:
“T-tell me.”
So he did.
Fair Holloway had caught his father as he was trying to leave his mother. The kid had walked in on the end of a real stinking farewell address by the old man, about a month after the stove episode. The kid had walked in and caved in the old man’s skull with a heavy frying pan.
Then he’d kissed his mother, told her he’d find his father and kill him when he did. Then he left home.
They’d caught him twice, but not before he’d killed two more men, neither of them anything like the dead Holloway, and neither of them bastards like his old man. They just happened to be married to German women, and they happened to be in his way.
They’d caught the kid and put him away twice, and twice he’d escaped. This last time he’d been out for two months, and they’d lost all track of him. His trail was fairly clear, though. He’d gotten two more men.
“Don’t he know?” I asked, and I’m afraid I was white around the face.
“No. Something went wrong. Here.” he tapped his head like he thought I was too stupid to know what he meant. “The boy thinks his father is still alive. He’s forgotten all the others he’s killed. Immediately after the murders, he seems to go into partial amnesia, blanking out that area of experience completely. He knows enough to get away, but he thinks he’s just hunting, hasn’t found the man yet.”
I was sick all through me. “He always seemed so quiet, and polite, and friendly — except for that thing about wanting to kill his father. Leastways he always was to me.”
The doctor frowned. “Do you want to know something?” he said slowly. “There’s a reason why he was always so respectful to you.”
I didn’t understand. “What?”
“You’re a dead ringer for that boy’s father. The dead Holloway.”
“Oh, my God in heaven,” I said again, so low he had to ask me what I’d said.
I went to say goodbye to Fair. I didn’t want to, but I knew I’d do it, anyhow.
He was sitting in his cell, just sitting, not doing anything, just sitting. He looked like he’d have liked some dirt to crumble in his hands. There wasn’t any, and I was sorry I hadn’t thought to bring some. But that didn’t really make sense.
“So long, Fair,” I said, through the bars.
“So long, Harry,” he said, from the bunk.
He’d lied about his name. It wasn’t Fairweather. I should have known that, but I didn’t.
“Well …” I began.
“Oh, I’ll see you, Harry. I’ve still got to take care of something.”
I looked in at him. He was sitting there calm and cool on the edge of the metal trough that was his bed, without any mattress, and I wanted to cry. That boy was only sixteen. He didn’t know anything. He’d never seen anyone or known anyone but that father of his. He’d never seen me. I wanted to be a friend, but all he’d seen was his father.
I’d been out on the road a long time; no wife, no kids, no real home, and I’d liked that kid. I’d liked him. It wasn’t right, it just wasn’t right.
It’s best to be alone on the road. Lonely is best.
I didn’t want him to say what he was gonna say.
“I’ve still got to kill my father,” he said, narrowing his sharp green eyes.
I turned away and walked away.
What was that?It is a wise father who knows his child.
What about a wise child that knows his father? Or a dumb child?
I should have had a chance —he should have had a chance. The lonely don’t know. They never know. They just go on down the road, they just keep walking. I’m getting on, but I knew that kid’d never had a chance.
I headed out of town, looking for the peanut crop.