Jokers Club (16 page)

Incoherent thoughts ran rampant through my aching mind when I awoke Sunday morning. It took a while for me to even realize what day it was; they all seemed to blur together, none having any more significance than the others. Time had no special meaning for me anymore, not here. It just kept on running. Mine was running out. I could sense it.

I didn’t even remember coming back to the inn last night. The whole end of the evening was one big black cloud. I had vague recollections of working on the book. I looked down and noticed I had slept in my clothes. One of my first thoughts was to call Dr. Cutler, tell him about what had been happening. Not necessarily about Dale’s murder but about what had been happening to my mind. The hallucinations and tricks it had been playing on me, my trouble distinguishing reality.

But if I did call him, I know he’d want me to come back to New York, back to the hospital and have the operation, remove the tumor. I couldn’t do that. I still needed the tumor, I think. Things weren’t finished here.

I thought about Lonny. I had to find him, find out if he was all right.

I stepped out into the hallway and went to Lonny’s door, putting my ear against it. The room was silent. I knocked, lightly at first, then louder. There was no response, so I reached down to the knob and turned it.
(Don’t open the door.)
I pushed the door open slightly and cautiously squeezed my head through. I was hoping so much to see him lying on his bed, asleep or more likely passed out.  His bed was empty, not even slept in.

I stepped into the room. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol. An empty whiskey bottle sat on his nightstand.

Had he come back to the inn at all last night? Or was he still roaming the streets out there?

I looked around the room. Maybe I should go through his drawers, see if I find anything? Like what? A knife?

If you’re going to do it, do it quickly, I told myself. I went to the bureau and opened the first drawer. Empty. I checked the second, then the third. All empty. I stood there for a moment, not even bothering to check the fourth. I didn’t need to. It just occurred to me, Lonny had been wearing the same set of clothes all weekend. He had only come with one set. But why?

I heard a door slam somewhere in the inn and decided to get out of the room. I closed the door behind me and went back to my room to grab a fresh set of clothes. I went to the bathroom and showered quickly and changed. Heading downstairs I ran into Professor Bonz on the second-floor landing. He was heading out with an armload of equipment.

“Morning, Professor,” I said. “How goes the fish hunting?”

He grunted, giving me a sour look. “Not too good,” he said. “If I don’t come up with something soon, I’m afraid I’ll lose my funding.”

I wondered how much funds that could be and who was paying it. “What are you using for bait?”

“Anything vegetable and animal I can get my hands on. Aside from human limbs.”

I laughed.

“He must be feeding too low in the lake,” he continued, “beyond the reach of my lines.”

“Maybe he feeds at night?” I offered.

The professor stopped on the steps and looked at me. “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

I began to wonder if he really was a professor of anything. Maybe he was more like an outpatient from Acorn Estates. “Do you need a hand with that stuff?” I asked.

“No thanks,” he said, continuing down the steps. “Mr. Wolfe said we should keep away from you and your gang.” He gave me a queer look.

“You don’t think I’m a killer do you?” I said this half in jest, but wondered how I appeared to a total stranger.

“You don’t look much like one,” he said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “Not that looks ever counted for anything. But I’d much rather spend time with a carnivorous fish than a carnivorous man.”

I held the front door for him, and he thanked me as he left.

The den was empty, so I checked the dining room to see if Lonny might be in there. Oliver sat at one of the tables, a plate of brown sugar covered pancakes before him. How could he possibly eat? My stomach was so twisted in knots, I couldn’t imagine trying to force food down. Death had destroyed my appetite.

“Have you seen Lonny?” I asked.

He shook his head. “The idiot’s probably passed out somewhere.”

The two of us just stared at each other.
What have you done with him?

“I haven’t seen you around,” I said.

“That makes two of us.”

I smirked and then turned away.

I stepped out onto the porch to a warm, sunny autumn morning. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the leaves discarded across the front lawn. Without thinking, I sat down on the porch swing, in the exact spot I had two nights prior. When it dawned on me, I looked at the seat beside me. There were still a couple of small red stains on the wood. I turned away. I didn’t want to think about it. I gently started to rock the swing but stopped as soon as I heard the creak of the chains that brought back an image of last night’s apparition.

I looked out at the lake and immersed myself in the peaceful quiet that surrounded the place: warm sun, white friendly clouds dotting the bright blue sky, orange and yellow leaves dropping from the trees to flutter to the green grass beneath. It was all so relaxing.

My life shouldn’t have turned out like this. It was all supposed to be different. Meg and I were going to be married, and we were going to live in a big house. A house like this one.

*   *   *

Yes. This
was
our house. And here I was sitting on the porch on a warm sunny day, resting before I went back inside to work on my latest novel. It was so nice to be successful enough to work at my own leisure.

I could hear the clattering of plates and glasses from inside. Meg must’ve been doing the breakfast dishes.

But that was the only sound I heard; otherwise it was strangely quiet. The children? Where were the children? I sat up, worried. But then I realized it was October. They must have been in school. That’s why I didn’t hear the familiar screeches and yelps of our kids as they played around the yard. I sat back and smiled. Life had been good to me. Meg, the kids, my writing: everything I’d dreamed about. It made me so happy.

The screen door opened and closed. Footsteps approached the swing and then there was a hand on my shoulder. A gentle, but trembling hand. Without looking I reached up to touch it. It was soft. I turned my head and looked up into her face, her beautiful smile, her lovely eyes.

“I love you, Meg.”

Her hand slowly withdrew. The smile faded as her eyes averted.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, rising from the swing.

She stepped away, not looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m leaving.”

“But why, I don’t understand,” my voice pleaded. “Don’t you love me?”

She faced me. “Not like I used to.”

There was sadness in her eyes. But was it sadness for herself? Or sadness for me?

“You can’t do this to us,” I implored.

“I have to go,” she said, turning and walking down the porch steps.

I wanted to do something, but my mind and body were frozen. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t act. Halfway down the walk, she stopped and turned.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “In time, you’ll find love again. Someday you’ll be happy.”

“Not for me,” I cried out. “I’m dying.”

But she didn’t hear me. She was too far away.

“She’s gone,” a voice beside me said. I turned and saw the Joker. I looked back but could barely see Meg in the distance.

“This wasn’t supposed to be your life,” the Joker said.

“But I wanted it so much.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. You both have your own separate lives.”

“We used to be a part of each other’s. Now, I have no idea what her life is like, and she has no idea about mine.” I let out a sigh. “I just wish –”

“What do you wish?” the Joker asked.

I looked at him. He was grinning, but this time it was a compassionate grin. I looked back to where Meg last was.

“If I had one last wish, it would be to see Meg again, hold her, tell her how much I’ve missed her.”

I felt the Joker’s hand on my shoulder.

“It’s so distant now,” I said. “I can barely remember what it was like with her. It’s as if time is slowly white-washing it away. I can’t even remember the color of her eyes.” I thought hard for a moment. “I think they were –”

I turned around. “—brown,” I said, staring into beautiful brown eyes as her hand withdrew from my shoulder.

“Are you okay, Geoff?” she asked.

I smiled, but then realized the eyes I was looking into belonged to Mary Torr.

“Oh,” I said, stumbling a step back, shaking my head to clear it. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Do you feel all right?”

“Yes,” I blurted. “I’m just, well, I guess I just got lost in my thoughts.” I sat back down on the swing. “I guess I haven’t been sleeping well.” I was more embarrassed than anything. I also realized I hadn’t cared too much about my appearance when I washed up this morning, so I imagined the way I looked, coupled with my actions, must have appeared very odd.

“I understand,” she said. “I have difficulty sleeping too sometimes.”

I figured she was just trying to appease me. I felt like an idiot.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, looking up at her. Was she real, I thought? Or was she someone I created? Did my mind conjure her up in Meg’s image to take her place? Is that why she seemed familiar to me?

“Try and get some rest,” she said before excusing herself. I watched her walk away.

I knew now that I would not find Meg here. She was gone, like so many other things in my life. I couldn’t dwell on thoughts of her. I had other tasks to concentrate on.

When Mary left my view, I leaned back on the swing, careful not to make it rock. I wanted to relax in the quiet of the moment, but that was broken by the car that pulled up in front of the inn. It was Chief Hooper.

The front door to the inn opened and I turned to see Oliver step onto the porch. He must have heard the car pull up.

“Hmmm,” he almost smiled. “I wonder what Heifer wants with us now?”

I said nothing, only watched as Hooper climbed out of his car with a struggle and approached the inn, pulling up on a belt that his stomach kept pushing down. It was as if the two were in a confrontation. The stomach won.

He stopped a few feet from the porch. He was chewing on something and looked all around the inn, his eyes resting the longest on the parking lot. It was as if he were pretending not to notice us. I couldn’t tell if he were chomping at the bit over something or waiting to finish chewing before talking. He swallowed and rubbed his chin. His eyes fixated on me with a look of distaste, and I thought maybe he didn’t like where I was sitting. His gaze shifted to Oliver.

“Mr. Mudge around?”

“Haven’t seen him,” Oliver said. “Why?”

Hooper ignored this. He looked at me.

“I saw him last night,” I answered, “but haven’t seen him yet today.”

“Where last night?”

“At Loon Tavern.”

The chief looked over at the parking lot again. He stared as if deep in thought.

“What’s going on?” I asked, thinking about last night.

The chief looked back at us and cleared his throat with a disgusting gurgling sound.

“I have a warrant for his arrest.”

I stood up. “What?”

“A murder warrant?” Oliver asked.

“No such luck,” the chief said, shaking his head.

“Then what?” I was confused.

“There’s a warrant from Maine out on him,” Hooper said. “Auto theft.” He looked to the parking lot. “That car right over there.” He indicated Lonny’s car, the one with the dealer plates.

“But I thought that was his car? He’s a car salesman.”

“Was,” the chief said, trying one more tug on his belt. “He got fired a few days ago. He was giving some customer a test ride when he got stopped for driving while intoxicated.” The chief shook his head and laughed, but it was more of a pitiful laugh than humorous. “The company canned him, and he was supposed to return his dealer car.” He scratched his head. “But it seems like he never did. Just took off with the car. His wife doesn’t even know where he is. They issued a warrant for his arrest.”

My god, I thought. What has Lonny gotten himself into? That explained the lack of clothes in his room. What could he have been thinking? What did he plan to do? I thought about something he had said the other night:
I’m desperate.
How desperate?

“What a pinhead,” was all Oliver said.

“Well, I’m going to have my men come up and impound that car,” Hooper said. “If Mr. Mudge shows up, you’d be advised to have him come see me.” He nodded. “Before I find him.” He turned and walked away, trying to saunter, but his body shape didn’t allow for it.

“Chief,” I called out after him. He stopped and turned. “Any word on Paul Woodman?”

“We still haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’m keeping on top of that.”

I decided not to tell him about who, or what, I saw at the cemetery. I wasn’t even sure myself if I really saw it. When Hooper was gone I turned to Oliver.

“What do we do?” It was as if he were still the leader.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Mudge is an idiot.” He turned to go back inside. “Let him dig his own grave.”

I couldn’t just sit by. I had to do something, had to find Lonny. I got in my car and decided to drive around town, see if I could locate him. It was probably futile, but it was something. Besides, I had nothing else to do.

I figured I’d check Loon Tavern first; it was as good a place as any to start, but when I pulled onto the boulevard downtown, I noticed Hooper had beaten me to it. His car was parked outside the tavern. I pulled over into a parking spot next to the boardwalk and cut the engine. I waited to see if Hooper would come out with Lonny. It was only a minute or two then the chief stepped out, alone. He got in his car and drove off. I breathed a sigh of relief.