Moondeath Page 5

  Lisa leaned toward Bob and whispered, “His name is Frank Simmons. Hers is—”

  She was going to continue, but the argument at the other table drowned her out.

  There was a loud bang as the woman slammed her hand onto the table, sending her glass of beer flying, and then shattering on the floor. Other talk in the bar died down. Even the jukebox was silent as the argument dominated everyone’s attention.

  “I don’t have to take this kind of shit from anybody!” the woman screamed. “You can just stuff it!” The woman reached across the table, picked up the man’s glass of beer, and flung it into his face.

  “Fuck off!” she shouted.

  The man sat there stunned, sputtering. The woman picked up her pocketbook and started for the door. Just before she left, she turned back and looked at the man, who still hadn’t moved. “You can go to hell!” she screeched, and then stormed out the door.

  The barroom sat in surprised silence, which was finally broken when an old man sitting at the bar started to clap his hands. “That’s tellin’ him, lady. Yessir,” he said drunkenly.

  The silence settled on the barroom like a crystal bell-jar. Then someone dropped a coin into the jukebox, and conversation slowly resumed.

  “Frank Simmons?” Bob said, turning back to Lisa. “Is he related to Ned Simmons?”

  Lisa nodded. “Yeah. His older brother. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh.” Bob looked down at his hands. “I, umm, I have Ned in school. At least, met him there.” He took a swallow of beer, emptying his glass. “It’s a long story.”

  “Umm.”

  “So,” Bob said, “who’s his girlfriend? Or should I say who was his girlfriend?”

  “Her name’s Julie Sikes. She lives a bit out of town, up on Martin’s Lake.”

  “She’s a pretty woman,” Bob said simply. He noticed, again, that Lisa was sitting very tensed. “Hey, come on. You can’t let that fight bother you. Have another drink.” He raised his hand to signal Frenchie. “Tell me about yourself. I’ve learned about the town’s school board, Frank Simmons, and Julie Sikes, but I still don’t know very much about you.”

  Lisa lowered her eyes and studied her folded hands. Then she shook her head and said, “No. No thanks. I’ve got to get going.”

  She stood up and started to walk away, but Bob grabbed her by the arm. She was surprised by his boldness.

  “Hey. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said tightly.

  “Something.”

  Lisa started for the door. Bob stood up and almost bumped into Frenchie, who was finally making his way over to the booth. Bob got out his wallet and handed the bartender a five dollar bill. He glanced over at the door and saw it closing behind Lisa.

  “Here,” he said, pushing the bill into Frenchie’s hand. “Keep the change.” He rushed out after Lisa.

  She was already out in the parking lot beside her car, fumbling in her purse for her keys. Bob ran up to her and caught her by the arm. He turned her around and was surprised by the pain he saw twisting her face. Her keys clattered onto the asphalt, and he bent down to retrieve them.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She looked at him, her mouth working to form words. Finally, she said, “It’s personal, OK? So don’t press, OK?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Bob started to back off. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, Christ!” she said. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

  Bob was still unsure, but he mumbled, “Sure.”

  They stood there staring at each other in silence. The sodium streetlight cast an eerie orange pall on her face, washing away all other color. The night was quiet except for the distant barking of a dog.

  Lisa shivered and took a step closer to Bob. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t act like that,” she said raspily. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him intently, as though trying to read his thoughts. “It’s just that sometimes, sometimes I like having someone I can talk to, someone I can trust.”

  Bob placed his finger on her lips. “You can talk to me,” he said. The sincerity in his voice made Lisa smile again.

  “So what got you so upset? Was it that argument in the bar?”

  Lisa nodded. “Yeah. That and other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “Well, it’s Julie. I, oh, Jesus, Bob! I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a damned fool. You’re going to think you’ve moved to the original Peyton Place or something. I don’t want to unload my problems on a total stranger.”

  “Not total stranger,” Bob said, and he pulled her closer. “You can tell me anything you want.” He leaned forward, and their lips met. Lisa didn’t resist the kiss but remained stiff. Her lips felt cold and hard. When they pulled apart, Bob saw that her eyes were filling with tears.

  “Hey, come on, Lisa. It can’t be that bad,” he said. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, she pulled away.

  “Oh, shit!” She covered her face with her hands and leaned against her car roof. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, then she straightened up, looked at Bob, and spoke. She fought to keep her voice steady. “Look, Bob, I’ve got to tell you. I should have said something before now. I’m sorry I didn’t but—”

  “You’re married, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said simply, staring at him with wide, gleaming eyes. She raised her hand to her mouth as though to hold back another sob and bit down on her knuckles.

  “I should have said something before,” she whined. “But it wasn’t like I was leading you on or anything. I like you. I liked you from the moment I saw you walk into the library.”

  “I thought you were pretty attractive too,” Bob said softly.

  “I, I was afraid you saw me playing with my wedding ring while you were talking to me. I guess I kind of tried to hide it.”

  “No, no, I didn’t,” Bob said, feeling foolish. He started to pull away from Lisa. “Well, I guess I should be getting on back home.” He paused, then added with a chuckle, “Read a little Greek drama before tucking in.”

  Lisa smiled, but Bob noticed that some of the sparkle had left her eyes.

  “I can give you a ride home, if you’d like,” Lisa offered. “It’s quite a long ways to walk.”

  “And how do you know how far I have to go?” Bob asked, with a trace of humor in his voice.

  “Oh,” Lisa replied with a laugh, “I know quite a bit about you. More than you think. I told you, Cooper Falls is a small town. Now come on. Hop in.”

  .V.

  “So how long has he been having an affair with Julie Sikes?” Bob asked. He and Lisa were sitting in her car parked on Old Jepson’s Road at the bottom of Bob’s driveway. They had been talking for close to two hours. His question hit her like a dull hammer blow in the darkness of the car. She looked at him and smiled weakly.

  “Jeff? My husband?” she asked, sounding surprised. “I, I really don’t know.”

  “But you’re sure he is seeing her?”

  Lisa shrugged. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but just mentioning it made her feel tense.

  “So why was she in the bar tonight with Frank?” Bob asked. “From the looks of things, I’d say they were kind of involved.”

  “You don’t know Julie Sikes,” Lisa said. She swallowed hard, and Bob waited for her to continue. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window on his side.

  “Julie was a sophomore in high school when I was a senior. Even before she dropped out, she had a, a reputation,” Lisa paused and shook her head with amusement. “Jesus, I sound like a class-A prude, don’t I?”

  “No,” Bob said simply.

  “Well, during her sophomore year, Julie got pregnant. She had to drop out right when she found out. It’s not like today, where someone can stay in school right up to delivery. So Julie dropped out just around Christmas vacation.”

  “Did she get married?”

  “Oh, yea
h. Billy Sikes admitted right away that the baby was his. He kind of took a lot of pride in that fact, maybe because it proved to his buddies that he was screwing Julie.”

  “Hell of a way to prove you’re growing up, isn’t it?” Bob exhaled and snapped the cigarette out the window. “He dropped out of school too?”

  “He already had. Billy had been or should have been a senior that year. He had a job at one of the ski resorts in North Conway. They got a house out on Martin’s Lake and Julie had the baby.”

  “How old is the kid now? He should be about what, nine years old?”

  “She. It was a baby girl. Well, that’s where it starts getting kind of weird. The baby was born that June. A real healthy kid and all. She died later that summer. The old scapegoat: crib death.”

  “That’s a drag,” Bob said. He turned and looked out the window, his thoughts suddenly on his little girl, Jamie. He remembered wishing many times, when he and Amy were having trouble, that Jamie had never been born, that their separation would have been much easier if a kid hadn’t been involved. He tried now to grasp the reality of losing a baby, and his mind rejected it. He didn’t tell Lisa any of his thoughts.

  “But see, one thing that’s always mystified me is that the baby was buried in a closed casket.”

  “So?”

  “For crib death? A closed casket? Come on!”

  “Well,” Bob offered, “maybe she just couldn’t stand seeing her baby like that.”

  “That’s what I’m getting to. It seemed not to affect Julie at all. She didn’t cry at the funeral. She didn’t even look upset.”

  “That isn’t a crime,” Bob said. “So she didn’t care for the baby?”

  “OK, OK. Maybe she didn’t like the kid, and maybe it’s a good thing that the kid didn’t have to grow up with, with Julie for a mother.”

  “That’s really not a very nice thing to say,” Bob said.

  “Come on, Bob, you saw her tonight. Can you tell me she struck you as a nice person?”

  “You want the truth?” he asked sharply.

  Lisa nodded.

  “Well, my first impression, other than the fight they were having, was that she was quite an attractive woman. You have to admit, she’s a pretty good looker.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know. That’s just the thing. See, even before Julie got married, she was sleeping around. She’s attractive and she knows it. And she uses it to get whatever she wants. So, to answer your question, how do I know my husband is sleeping with Julie? I don’t know, but I’m positive!”

  “What about her husband, Billy?”

  “That’s what I’d have to call the last, or most recent chapter. Her husband Billy was killed just this past August in a car crash.”

  Bob grunted and stared at Lisa. “And…”

  “And, just like when her baby died, it seemed as though she really didn’t care. She just showed no reaction to it at all.”

  “You know, Lisa,” Bob said, shifting around and placing his hand on her shoulder, “a lot of people find it hard to express their emotions, to really let people know what they’re feeling.”

  “You can’t say that about Julie, Bob. You don’t know her; I do. Her husband didn’t die alone. He was driving with a local girl, Joyce Brewer. When their bodies were found, there was a lot of talk about them having an affair.”

  “God, Lisa, you’re right. I think I did move to Peyton Place.” Bob laughed, but his laughter failed to lighten Lisa’s mood.

  “How does the expression go? He wasn’t even cold in the ground, and she was messing around with Frank Simmons, and my husband, and who knows how many other men.”

  “So why in the hell don’t you leave him?” Bob said finally. He looked at Lisa and saw the pained expression on her face. “You could, you know?”

  “I know, I know. It’s just, that, well...” She broke down and began to sob. Bob patted her shoulder and let her cry it out. They’d have time to talk about it. Of that he was certain. One thing he had decided in the two hours they had spent together was that he wanted to see Lisa Carter again, a lot.

  “Hey,” he said, once her tears had subsided, “it’s late. Tomorrow—” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Today’s another school day.”

  “Yeah,” Lisa said. She adjusted herself behind the steering wheel and started up the motor. Bob snapped the car door open and put one foot out onto the roadside. Even in the dark he could see that the gleam had returned to her eyes. He touched her and, with a slight pressure, signaled that he wanted to hold her and kiss her.

  “Don’t rush anything, OK?” she said, drawing away. Her voice was low and steady but not cold.

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks for being such a good listener.”

  “Aww,” Bob said, “it was nothing. Besides,” he added with a laugh, “it beats reading Greek drama any day. Good night.”

  “Good night, Bob.”

  He stood on the roadside in the darkness and watched her pull away, then he started walking up to his cabin.

  .VI.

  When Lisa got home, it was almost one o’clock. The stack of dirty dishes was still sitting in the sink where she had left them that morning.

  As if Jeff would ever bother to help with the housework, she thought bitterly, as she stuck her hand into the cold, greasy water and pulled the plug. She watched the water swirl down the drain, then filled the tea kettle with fresh water and put it on the stove.

  She went over to the kitchen table and sat down with a huff. The window was open, and the yellowed curtains billowed in and out on the breeze, catching now and then on the window sill’s chipped paint. She rested her elbows on the plastic tablecloth and let her breath out with a long sigh. She wanted to cry, but some of the emotions she was feeling counteracted that feeling.

  She looked out of the window onto the street when she hard a car approaching. When the car passed by, she felt vaguely relieved. Jeff wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, she figured. For the first time in her life, she wanted the time alone to think.

  The tea kettle started to whistle, so she walked over and turned it off. Then she left it sitting there until the water got cold.

  Chapter Four

  .I.

  Saturday, September 20

  Roy Granger, chief of police of Cooper Falls, was sitting in his office beside the open window reading the newspaper when he heard voices outside.

  “You never heard about that? Somewhere in Massachusetts, I think it is in Gloucester, or Marblehead, that this woman was killed and eaten by her dogs when they got snowbound.”

  “Never heard that one.”

  They were coming closer, and Granger recognized who they were even before he saw Ted Seavey and Gene McCann walk past his window. Granger sighed heavily and folded the newspaper up and threw it on top of the clutter on his desk.

  “Come on in,” Granger shouted, as soon as he heard the heavy clump of their boots on the steps. As the men mumbled greetings, Granger went over to the coffee pot on the table under the wall gun-rack and poured three coffees. He had done it enough mornings to know that Gene had two sugars and milk, and Ted had his black. He handed them each a cup and then sat back down in his chair beside the window.

  “What’s got you up and about this early, fellas?” Granger asked. He rested his cup on the window sill and leaned back in his chair until it touched the wall.

  “That damn dog, that’s what,” Ted replied angrily. “It got into my henhouse last night and tore the shit out of it.” He was pacing back and forth, his face creased with concern. “I was hoping he’d stop, that he’d gone away, ’cause he ain’t been seen for a while; but he’s back, goddammit!”

  Granger glanced over at Gene, who was sitting silently near the door, elbows on knees, studying the toes of his boots.

  “We gotta do somethin’ about it, dammit!”

  Gene nodded his head in agreement but didn’t take his eyes away from his boots.

  “You’re sure it was the same anim
al, this wild dog?”

  “Dammit! Sure I’m sure!” Ted bellowed, directing his anger at Granger. “He was howling like hell out there last night, and you should see the henhouse!”

  “I’m planning on taking a drive out there.”

  “When? Next week sometime?” Ted said. “Christ, Roy, the way you’re dragging your ass on this, I’m beginning to think—”

  “Look,” Granger snapped, “I just want to be sure. Remember last week when I got hauled out to Judkin’s place at three a.m. and it turned out to be nothing but a raccoon cornered in the barn by their dog? I don’t want to go off half-cocked, that’s all. A coon can raise a ruckus in a henhouse, but it sure as hell ain’t no wild dog.”

  Gene finally looked up from the meditation of his boots. “It’s a dog all right, and a damn big one. I saw the paw prints.” He shook his head with astonishment.

  “Fucking-A straight,” Ted said. “Look, I lost close to ten hens last night, and the ones that lived’ll probably be off laying for weeks. The henhouse looks like a goddamn tornado hit it.”

  Granger took a sip of coffee and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “Wild dog, huh?”

  “Come on, Roy, you know damn right well there are wild dogs in the woods around here. Tourists come up in the summer and let their animals run loose, even though we have leash laws; then, come September, they leave and don’t even try to get their animals back. What the hell are the animals gonna do? They have to survive somehow.”

  “Yeah,” Gene said softly, “’n every winter we find plenty of carcasses of deer that’ve been run down by dogs.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Granger said. “Those dogs that kill deer ain’t wild ones. And summer folk ain’t the only people who don’t observe the leash laws. Anyone’s dog can spend an afternoon chasing down deer and then come home in the evening like a perfect pet.”

  “Well,” Ted said solemnly, “this happened at night. And Cunningham’s lambs got killed at night. So if we ain’t got a wild dog on our hands, we got a coyote or a wolf.”