“You know what they do to that sort in prisons,” Margaret added.
Mary looked at Margaret with a startled expression on her face. “You think he was innocent?”
Margaret nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it, sweetheart. And those Jehovah’s Witnesses. They were a pain in the neck but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. God, we used to throw our empty wine bottles down that hole. Probably landed right on one of those bodies. Remember that Gray kid, the one they thought ran off to Hollywood? He was in your biology class, remember?”
“The one that looked like Tab Hunter?” Mary asked.
Margaret nodded. “He could be down there. Jesus, I just remembered.
I lost my virginity behind the Mackenzie place.” Mary laughed.
“Don’t give me that look, Mary. I was a virgin at one time.” Margaret chuckled as she took a deep draw on her cigarette. “Can’t remember who it was.”
The two women both started laughing.
“Well, they won’t find your chastity down any hole,” Mary muttered through her laughter.
Margaret choked on her cigarette smoke.
“Oh, we shouldn’t be laughing,” Mary said, tears running down her face.
“What else can you do, dear?” Margaret responded after taking a sip of Mary’s coffee to clear her throat. “It makes you think about everything you knew in a different way. Sam said that as soon as they are able to get the bodies up, they would be looking into dental records. Most of the…
I’m sorry, Mary.”
Mary wiped her eyes with her tissue.
“It’s okay, kid,” Mary responded.
“Sam says that they’ve got plenty of video but are being as careful as possible with what’s down there. They don’t want to lose anyone trying to raise the dead. God, I hope there aren’t any recent additions.”
“A salesman disappeared,” Mary exclaimed. “Helen in our office was dating him. God, I knew him myself. Remember that asshole I told you about that couldn’t keep his hands off me.”
“That would be a long list,” Margaret giggled.
“You know the one,” Mary’s tone was impatient. “He tried to tell me that he was going to the NHL, like that would be a selling point to me.” Margaret nodded. “Ya. The one with the cowlick.” Mary laughed. “He was just a kid. Don’t think he’d started to shave yet. The police have been talking to Helen. She’s scared. But I’m sure he’ll show up again. Assholes like that always come out smelling like roses. Probably just wanted to get away from Helen. She’s very clingy.”
“That’s what Sam said,” Margaret responded.
Mary paused for a moment. “You and the detective…” Margaret sighed. “I wish. He likes blueberry pie and his coffee black.
That’s about as intimate as we’ve gotten so far.”
“Is he married?”
“I don’t think so.” Margaret paused for a moment. “I can’t get the image of all those bodies out of my mind. I liked Joe Mackenzie.” 124
Mary nodded. “I liked Joe too. He seemed like such a gentleman. Most of the men I have met have been such creeps, but you could always talk to Joe. He was a wonderful listener.”
“Maybe he had nothing to say.” Margaret smirked.
“Hank left,” Mary added sadly.
“Good riddance,” Margaret responded with a snarl. “He was using you.”
“Well, he could be sweet. I can’t believe that he’s a writer. I thought he was something exotic, a secret agent or something. I must have been mad. He wasn’t even very good in bed. But he was a warm body on a cold night. Do you think he was a writer? I mean, why was he so obsessed with these disappearances?”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Mary looked up at Margaret. “You don’t think?” Margaret shrugged her shoulders. “He comes out here doing research on a book and everything goes to hell. Police don’t like coincidences. I’ll bet the police will be talking to him. They’ll be talking to all of us.”
“But we don’t know anything.”
“Everybody knows something.” Margaret butted her cigarette out.
“They just don’t know it.”
“Did Sam say anything about Joe, about how he reacted to all of this?” Margaret smirked. “Joe denies everything. Of course, you’d expect that, wouldn’t you?”
Mary was silent for a moment.
“If he is innocent, what else would he say?” All These Years
Ruth Gray sat in the couch of her living room looking out the front window and softly weeping. Her husband, Frank, sat next to her, his arm around her shoulder, comforting her.
“After all these years,” she sniffled.
“We couldn’t have known,” Frank replied.
“I’d always hoped that he’d run off to Australia. Run off somewhere to start a new life. Every day the mailman showed up at the door, I prayed that we would get some news.”
“I know,” Frank responded in a soft, comforting voice.
“I dreamed that we had grandchildren,” she continued. “I could see them in my dreams running around a backyard, playing games, sitting on my lap, telling me stories, coming up to me when they had skinned 125 their knee or when their father had spoken too harshly to them. Oh Frank, they were such lovely dreams. And I would see you, Frank, lifting your grandson high above your head, taking him to soccer games, babysitting for…”
Frank nodded, squeezing his wife’s shoulder affectionately. “You talk in your sleep, dear.”
Ruth looked up at her husband. “This is worse than the first time.” Frank nodded.
“I wish that we had never found out. I wish I had died first. What am I going to dream about now, Frank?”
Returning to the Grave
Jack pushed the drink across the bar to Hank. Picking up the glass, he took a sip and put it back down.
“I guess we won’t see much of you now,” Jack said.
Hank shook his head. “The itch has gone,” he said. “I’ll go back to my desk. Mostly it’s just working through my notes, getting everything in order. God, it feels like I’m returning to the grave. If the book does well, I’ll make you famous, Jack.” The big man laughed. “What was it that Warhol said about fame? Each of us is allotted fifteen minutes. What do you do after your fifteen minutes are used up?” Hank gestured toward his glass. Jack poured him another drink.
“What would I do with fame?” the bartender asked, handing the big man his drink.
Turning on his stool, his back to the bar, Hank looked around the room. He knew that he would never see it again. What would be the point?
“I wish I’d spoken to this fellow Mackenzie,” Hank said as he turned back to the bar. “To think that a serial killer was working in the plaza over there and I never met him. Strange, isn’t it, how you can be right next to someone who will change your life and yet you never meet them? Life is filled with irony and odd coincidences.”
“What about Mary?” Jack asked.
“That was ending.” Hank smiled as he sipped at his scotch. “She bores easily. That’s why I never told her who I was. I could tell right from the outset that the only thing that intrigued her about me was not knowing who I was. She loves strangers. More romantic. I guess we’re all intrigued by what we don’t know. We’re not cut out to be gods. It would bore us to death. Mary will get by. She’s still got her looks.” 126
“She’s had a tough life,” Jack replied. “That kid of hers has been a trial.
And now finding all this stuff about her ex, him maybe being found in that hole. Makes you question everything about your life. Nothing is what it appears. Mary will struggle through a lot of sleepless nights.”
“But not alone, I suspect.” Hank smirked and swallowed the remainder of his drink.
Helen
“I’ve never sat at a bar before.” Helen smiled.
Jack grinned and handed her a glass of white wine.
“There’s a first for everything,” he said, polishing the top of the bar with a chamois. “No use sitting over in the corner every night by yourself.”
“I always thought that women who sat at a bar were advertising, asking to be picked up. But it’s sort of nice up here. I’ve got you to talk to and I can watch what’s going on in the bar. I love to watch people. My fiance would be so surprised if he saw me up here. He’s such a prude.