Helen answered the door. She looked tired and oddly nervous. Helen usually looked fresh and completely in command. Even when he was a little boy, Arnette had sensed that Helen ran her relationship with David. David was impressive to look at but was none too swift in the brains department.
“Hi, Steve,” Helen said. “C’mon in.”
As usual, he felt like an intruder. Everything in here was valuable, from the somewhat severe modern furnishings — he hated chrome and glass, which always reminded him of those fag hairdressers he liked to hassle — to all the antiques.
Unworthy, he supposed. That was how he always felt here. That was how they always wanted him to feel.
“Pepsi?”
“No, thanks.”
“Coffee?”
“I’ll tell you, Helen, I’m in a little bit of a hurry.”
His tone surprised both of them.
He was used to talking to Helen in the tone of a supplicant. Anything Helen wanted, Helen got, and he had to oblige her whether he wanted to or not.
But just now he hadn’t sounded happy at all. He’d sounded irritated that he’d had to come out here.
They looked at each other as his words echoed in their ears.
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
“I just meant,” he said quickly, “the manhunt and all. You know, with Richie McGuire. That’s why I’m in a kind of a hurry. But anything you need, Helen—”
She smiled.
He’d slipped back into his supplicant tone.
For one shining moment, he’d been a free man, capable of speaking his mind to his cousin.
But then, seeing her displeasure, he’d reverted to type — to sniveling, ass-kissing type.
“Let’s sit down in the living room,” she said.
The centerpiece of the living room was the grand piano that sat in front of a large window overlooking a valley gorgeous with the colors of autumn. In the sunshine, the valley had an almost unreal look, like a painting in an old book. How could anything real be this beautiful?
“You know how hard David works to bring business to Crystal Falls, Steve.”
Arnette nodded.
“He’d planned to bring some prospective businessmen here next week, in fact.” She sat on the edge of a love seat, her hands folded neatly on her chocolate brown skirt. She still had damned good legs. For the thousandth time, Arnette found himself wondering why she’d never married.
“Well, now this thing with the McGuire boy has ruined his plans.”
“Oh?”
“Of course. He doesn’t want to bring anybody in here with a manhunt going on.”
“We’ll have caught him by then.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you will — if everything goes all right. If he doesn’t get to Mexico or someplace.”
“We’ll get him, Helen. Don’t you worry.”
“But that’s just the trouble. Even if you do get him—”
Just then, the grandfather clock in the corner chimed. Arnette listened, momentarily lulled, like an infant who is being rocked.
You could really escape from the world in a place like this. He’d always envied the rich their houses. The heavily wooded areas where they were hidden away. The deep plush carpeting. The expensive appointments. All the books and CDs and paintings. The refrigerator that was always packed with the best of foods. The dry bar where only the best of liquors and wines could be found.
Oh, yes, a place like this was a real escape. You didn’t hear all the traffic the way you did at his house, you didn’t have a couple of bratty kids crying all the time, you didn’t have to fork over $657.83 a month on a house you hated so much you’d almost torched it twice... with the wife and the two kids still in it.
“Are you listening to me, Steve?”
This was like a teacher catching you when you’d put your head down on the desk and started going to sleep.
“Oh, sure, right,” he said, bringing himself back from the fantasy of living in a place like this.
Someday, he’d have a house just like this one — and a new, young wife — and he damned well wouldn’t feel unworthy. He’d feel just as cocky and arrogant as cousin Helen did.
“What I’m saying,” Helen said, “is that we really need to have this thing wrapped up before these gentlemen get here next week.”
“I guess I’m not sure what you mean ‘wrapped up,’ Helen.”
For the first time since he’d arrived, Arnette found himself interested in why Helen had summoned him here today.
“Wrapped up?” What the hell was she talking about?
“I take it you know about the reward.”
“I sure do,” Arnette said. “I heard it on the radio. That’s going to make a lot of those guys pretty damned trigger-happy.”
Helen paused a moment, then said, “What if I offered you the same deal?”
“What same deal? You mean, the fifteen thousand dollars?”
“That’s just what I mean, Steve.”
“Wow,” he said. “So if I spot him first—”
When he was a little kid, he’d always gone around imagining that he was going to win all these contests he heard about on TV. Why, just win one of them, and his life would be changed forever. New house for him and his brothers. No more worries about running out of grocery money. And no more worries about the old man, either. When people had money like that, they were just automatically happy and things took care of themselves. If he could just win that damned contest, the old man would miraculously give up the bottle and they would have the same kind of happy life he’d always secretly longed for.
“I know there’s bad blood between you two,” Helen said.
“Yeah.”
“Started with Susan Kelly, didn’t it? Back in high school?”
“Yeah.”
That was another thing he’d always dreamed about, right along with winning one of those contests... winning Susan Kelly, too. He still felt she was the only woman he’d ever really loved... which sometimes made him feel oddly guilty about his wife. But she’d borne his children and stayed by him all these years, so even if he hated her...
If only he’d won one of those contests... and then won Susan Kelly, too.
“She thought she was going to get herself the son of a prominent surgeon,” she said. “All she got was a drunk.”
“He’s a drunk, all right.”
“She should’ve chosen you, Steve.”
“Ah, hell.”
“No, really. I’m being serious here. Now there’s nothing wrong with that wife of yours... I’m not saying that... but Susan and you would’ve made a very nice couple.”
He smiled. “I’ll tell her what you said.”
Helen watched him carefully a moment before she spoke. “You’re still a young man, Steve.”
“Twenty-eight isn’t so young.”
“Oh, hell, Steve, be serious. You could start your life all over again.”
He shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Let’s say that Richie got killed in this manhunt.”
His eyes narrowed. He watched her. Listened.