Night Work Page 24

  “She’s a very disturbed woman,” I said. “You know that, right?”

  “She’s a little out there sometimes. Actually, I thought having her husband out of the picture would really help her. But I think she’s been getting worse.”

  “Should I even ask you what happened to Mr. Gayle? She mentioned him being depressed, but she didn’t say how he died.”

  “Yeah, she’s kind of blocked that out now, I think. At the time, though, she was all for it, believe me.”

  “All for what?”

  “For making things right. You see, what Mr. Gayle did to Brian, at the time I figured that was just something between him and his son. But when Brian went away and Mr. Gayle started in on Agnes? No way, man. I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

  “So you killed him?”

  “That’s a funny story, actually. I tried to this one time, when I walked in and he was beating on her. I got him right by the throat. That was the first time I’d ever done that, by the way, and I tell you, when you see somebody’s life getting squeezed out between your two hands … It’s something, man. Anyway, she started hitting me with things, telling me to stop. Then later she says if I killed him that way and went away to prison just like Brian did, then she’d be all alone. So hell, I’m not stupid. I got the message. If he was going to go, he had to go clean.”

  “So how did you do it?”

  “Well, let’s just say Mr. Gayle ended up hanging himself in the barn. Losing his son and all, it was just too much for him. If only Mrs. Gayle had been home at the time, or if I hadn’t been out mowing, maybe I would have heard him. It’s tragic, isn’t it?”

  “It sounds like you two are perfect together,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, whatever it takes to make her happy. I’m right there.”

  I looked around the place, at the pool, the house, the bright white furniture glowing in the sunlight. “Let me guess,” I said. “Mrs. Gayle has a little bit of money in the bank …”

  “More than a little bit, let’s say.”

  “And if you do what she tells you, no matter what it is …”

  “As it happens … Yeah, she considers me the only real family she’s got left.”

  It’s still not enough, I thought. People will do almost everything for money. But what Maurice did … No. No way. That kind of thing has to be in your heart to begin with.

  “That’s the part Brian never understood,” Maurice said, shaking his head. “Stupidest kid I ever met. Before everything went bad, I told him, I said, you got the best mother in the world. Your father, well, all you gotta do is play along with him for one more year, say ‘no, sir’ and ‘yes, sir’ and go to school instead of getting in trouble all the time. Then you can go off to college anywhere you want. Your mother will always make sure you have all the money you ever need.”

  “Instead, he ended up in the shed?”

  “Just play the game for one more year. That’s all he had to do. You can fake almost anything for one year, man.”

  “You’ve done it for a lot longer,” I said.

  He smiled at me. “It’s funny, I should thank you, Joe. If I didn’t have a reason to hang around that gym all the time, I never would have gotten serious about boxing. Turns out I’ve got a real talent for it, eh? If I had to, I could make some real money in the ring. Of course, that’s a hell of a way to make a living.”

  We were both quiet for a while. I wanted to lie back in the sun and sleep for three days straight. But I knew I had to stay sharp if I was going to find some way out of this.

  “So where is she?” I said.

  “Agnes? She’s inside.”

  “She didn’t feel like joining us for our little picnic?”

  “No, she had something else in mind today.”

  “What’s that?” I tried hard not to let the apprehension creep into my voice.

  “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “How ‘bout one more beer first? I think you’re ready for another cold one.”

  “I’ll pass this time, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’re being rude again, Joe. I hope you’re not going to make me count to three again. I might not even make it to two this time.”

  I grabbed another beer from the bucket and twisted the cap off. I took a drink, then another. It went down easy. Finish the bottle and take that long nap in the sun … Yeah, I thought, that would work. Figure out something when I wake up.

  “That’s the way,” he said, watching me. “Finish that up.”

  I tried to make it last as long as possible. One small sip, then another. But Maurice was patient. He waited without saying a word until the beer was gone. The sun beat down on us and a million katydids ran their buzz saws in the meadow beyond the rosebushes. I couldn’t see any other houses from where we were sitting. I couldn’t see the road.

  “Good man,” he said when I put the empty bottle on the table. “Doesn’t that feel better? Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “What?”

  “I gotta say, Joe. You don’t smell so great today. So on your feet.”

  I pushed myself up from the table and nearly fell over. When my head was mostly clear, I stood up straight and faced him.

  “In there.” He nodded his head toward the cabana.

  “Why? What’s in there?”

  “You’ll see. Go on.”

  It was just a few steps. I walked a line that would have flunked any field sobriety test, but I made it to the door.

  “Inside the cabana,” he said, “and take off those clothes.”

  I hesitated. He lifted the rifle again to convince me he was serious. When I pushed the door open, he flipped on a light behind me.

  “Take your wallet out,” he said. “Then put your clothes in that bag.” He motioned to a black plastic garbage bag folded on a bench.

  I took my shirt off, then my shoes and socks, then finally my pants and underwear. I put them all in the garbage bag. It felt strange standing there half-drunk and naked, but no stranger than anything else in the past three days.

  “Shower’s right there,” he said, pointing behind me. “Turn on the water.”

  It was a single stand-up stall. I leaned in and turned on the water.

  “If we have to leave the curtain open, the water will get all over the floor,” he said. “Can I trust you to close it without you trying something stupid?”

  “Like what, Maurice? What am I going to try?”

  “Just asking. You never know.”

  I put my hand under the spray, adjusted the water to the right temperature, and got in. When I closed the curtain behind me, I spent a few seconds desperately looking around the stall for some way to try something stupid. All I could see was a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Not exactly lethal weapons.

  “Take your time,” he said from the other side of the curtain. “I bet it feels good.”

  It did. Like the food, the beer, the sunshine, the warm water on my skin felt obscenely good. As I ran the water over my head, all of the dirt from the shed, the dried blood, the sweat, it was all being washed down the drain. If I’m dying today, I thought, at least I’ll go out knowing how good these things really are. I’ll be nice and clean, too.

  “So I bet you’re wondering,” he said. “I mean, about what her big plan is.”

  I gave the showerhead an experimental tug. If there was some way I could pull this thing off …

  “I say, aren’t you wondering about her big plan for you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I am.”

  “Last night, when we were all doing our little scene in the shed there … She said she had a revelation.”

  “Yes?” The showerhead was solid. There was nothing I could do with it.

  “She said she realized why Brian killed himself. I mean, she already knew mentally why he killed himself, because he couldn’t stand being in prison. That whole business about it being worse than death. But for the first time she
really knew why he did it, if that makes any sense. She finally felt it.”

  I turned and had to reach out for the wall to keep myself from falling. Okay, no sudden moves, I thought. You’ve been drunk enough times in your life. You know how to function when you have to.

  “You listening in there?”

  “I’m here,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  “It was good for her. She was actually pretty happy last night, believe it or not.”

  I gave the showerhead one more pull, as hard as I could. Then I looked at the rings on the curtain. Could I do something with these? Maybe hide one in my hand, try to stab him with it when he wasn’t looking?

  “It’s like she finally got to the point where she could accept it. Like maybe Brian was better off this way, not being in prison. Like he’s free now.”

  I ran my hands over the tiles on the shower walls. If one of these was loose, I could do some real damage with it.

  “So here’s the crazy part,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  This one here, I thought. It seems to have a little give in it. If I can just rock it back and forth.

  “Joe, what are you doing in there?”

  “Just washing my hair,” I said. “Keep going.”

  “It’s the crazy part,” he said. “You won’t believe it. She thinks that killing you would have given you the same sort of release. That you would have been much better off. Just like Brian. That’s why she was so upset you weren’t going to prison.”

  I dug my fingers around the tile. It has to come out, I thought. It has to.

  “So that’s her big idea, Joe. She wants to keep you here. Not in the shed, of course. That would probably kill you. She wants to keep you in the basement. Have me build a prison cell down there, you know, make it as real as possible. Run some bars from the floor to the ceiling, put in a shower and a toilet. Actually, there’s already a bathroom roughed in down there, so that part would be easy. But she wants me to install a camera so she can watch you from upstairs. One of those surveillance cameras. It’s like if she can’t have you in a real prison, this is the next best thing. Pretty crazy, huh?”

  “Yes,” I said. I kept working at the tile, trying to make it come loose.

  “It gets even better, Joe. Are you ready for this? She wants me to dress like a prison guard. And she wants you to wear a real inmate uniform. I think she was actually picturing one of those old-fashioned uniforms with stripes even though, hell, she saw her son in the joint. I had to remind her they wear prison blues these days. Or bright orange if they’re going off the grounds.”

  Keep talking, I thought. Just keep talking, even if it sounds like the most insane psycho bullshit I’ve ever heard. I pushed the tile back and forth, feeling the glue crumbling behind it.

  “God knows I’ve done a lot of things to make her happy,” Maurice said, “but this one takes the cake. Am I right?”

  A few more seconds, I thought. It’s almost free.

  “I said, am I right, Joe? Does this one take the cake, or what?”

  Up down up down. I’ll take it out and hide it behind my back. As long as he gives me a towel, I’ll be all set.

  I pulled it free just as Maurice slid the curtain open, pushing it with the rifle barrel. The tile fell to the floor and shattered into fifty pieces.

  I had to catch myself from falling again. When it all came back into focus, he was standing there looking down at the shower floor. A few seconds passed.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have had so much beer,” he finally said. “It’s obviously impairing your judgment.”

  I didn’t say anything. The water kept hitting my shoulder.

  “Okay, turn off the water,” he said. “There’s a towel right here around the corner.”

  I stepped out and grabbed the towel off the hook. As I was drying myself, everything he had been saying started to catch up to me. I had only been half-listening to it at the time, but now it was sinking in.

  “Your clothes are in this bag.” He put a shopping bag on the changing bench and stepped away.

  “You can’t be serious about what you were saying.”

  “I told you, Joe. Whatever it takes to keep her happy. No matter how crazy. Now get those clothes on.”

  I hung up the towel and went to the bench. Never had a simple shopping bag seemed so terrifying to me. I reached in, expecting to pull out a blue prison uniform. Or maybe orange, like he said.

  Instead, it was a pair of blue jeans.

  “I know it’s your size,” he said. “Good thing I can get into your apartment, eh? Makes gift-giving a lot easier.”

  There was underwear, socks, a white cotton shirt. At the bottom of the bag was a shoe box.

  “Top of the line,” he said. “I spare no expense.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you were talking about—”

  “You’re wearing real clothes now. Don’t you get it? You’re out on bail, just like Brian was.”

  “Out on bail?”

  “Yeah. That’s why we had our little picnic. You’ve got some real food in your stomach. Some beer. You breathed some fresh air. It’s like you were a free man today. Almost, anyway.”

  “You know how crazy this is …”

  “Just put the clothes on, eh? She’s waiting.”

  “Maurice …”

  “Put them on or I swear to God, I’ll just shoot you right now. Make my life a lot easier.”

  I did as I was told. When I was done, I stood there in my brand-new clothes, right down to my squeaking Nike cross-trainers. My head was finally starting to clear a little. From the back of my mind came an ancient memory, of being a kid and having new Keds on my feet, laced up tight. Knowing I could outrun anything. Somehow it made me feel like I had a fighting chance now.

  “You look a hundred percent better,” he said. “You just need one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  I saw a metallic flash as he threw something to me. In my compromised state I reached out late for whatever it was and missed completely. The thing hit me in the chest and fell to the floor.

  “Nice catch,” he said. “Pick them up.”

  I reached down and grabbed the handcuffs. As I stood back up I felt my head spinning.

  “Put them on,” he said. “With your arms behind you.”

  “I thought you said I was out on bail. I shouldn’t have cuffs on.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re sounding like her now. Just put them on.”

  I slipped one cuff on my left wrist. Then I put both arms behind my back and fumbled with the other cuff until it was on my right. I made sure they were just tight enough to click, but no more.

  “Okay, turn around.”

  I flexed my arms as I turned, trying to make my wrists as big as possible. I felt him grab the cuffs and give each side a few clicks until they were tight.

  “I think you’re ready,” he said. “What do you say?”

  “I say you can’t go through with this. Not unless you’re as crazy as she is.”

  For a second I thought he was going to hit me with the rifle butt. “Out this way,” he said, shaking his head. He moved aside and showed me the door.

  As I stepped outside, I felt the heat of the sun on my wet hair. It was a perfect August day in the Hudson Valley. I knew I was about to see just how long that perfection would last.

  “Back door,” he said.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” I said. “It’s not going to work.”

  “Just move, okay? She’s waiting for you.”

  “You can’t keep me forever, Maurice. You know that.”

  “Just stop talking now.”

  As I walked around the pool, I couldn’t help noticing how overgrown the rosebushes were. From a distance, everything looked good, but up close you could see the disorder and neglect. I wondered what was underneath the pool cover. Maybe fetid green water. Maybe nothing at all. I sneaked a look behind me. If I could somehow throw my weight into Maurice, maybe I’d get t
he chance to find out. But he was being careful again, walking several steps back, even though I was cuffed now.

  “Okay, step aside there,” he said when we got to the house. “I’ll get the door.”

  I stopped and waited.

  “Right this way,” he said, holding the door for me. “Word of advice. Don’t say a word unless you’re spoken to. You don’t want to make the judge mad, you know.”

  “This is completely insane,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Yeah, no kidding, Joe. But if you just go with it, it’ll be a lot easier. Now get in the kitchen so the judge can sentence you.”

  NINETEEN

  It was the same kitchen where this whole nightmare had begun, where Maurice had bounced me off of every cupboard before finally dragging me outside to the shed while Mrs. Gayle watched from the table. She wasn’t sitting there now. I didn’t see her anywhere. One of the chairs from the table had been pulled to the middle of the room.

  “Have a seat,” Maurice said. “Remember, keep your mouth shut unless she tells you to speak.”

  I sat down on the chair. It wasn’t easy with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I figured that was the least of my problems.

  Maurice moved in front of me. He stood there with the rifle tucked into his folded arms. He cleared his throat and waited.

  The seconds ticked by. He didn’t move. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see down the long hallway to the front door, but I knew he could. He glanced in that direction every few seconds, then back at me. Finally, he let out a long sigh and lifted the rifle upside down toward the ceiling. He banged on the ceiling with the rifle butt a few times. As I watched him do this, with the barrel pointed directly at his chest, I realized the man knew nothing at all about guns. It gave me a slim hope that I’d be able to escape alive if I found the chance.

  He stopped banging on the ceiling and listened. Then he banged again.

  I heard the creak of floorboards above us, then the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

  “Hear ye, hear ye,” Maurice said. “All rise for the Honorable Agnes Gayle, who will be presiding today over this courtroom.”