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Authors: Peter Abrahams

Reality Check (2010) (20 page)

BOOK: Reality Check (2010)
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Cody and Simon walked across the quad, headed toward a dorm that looked bigger than Baxter, stone instead of brick. That sliver moon still hung in the sky, still spreading unease, at least in Cody's mind.

"That's DeWitt?" he said.

"My home away from home," said Simon, and then, after a pause, "In fact, my home."
"It's named after Townes's family?"
"So goes the tale. Dates back to 1902, I believe." "They've been rich for a long time."
"They certainly were rich," Simon said. "Rich beyond all reason. As for the present, that's another story."
"What do you mean?"
"No telling tales out of school. Or in school, as the case may be. But a quick Internet search of Pegasus Partners might be revealing."
"What's Pegasus Partners?"
"Not just another hedge fund."
Hedge fund: Cody was vaguely aware of the expression, had no idea what it meant. A question--a strange one for him-- formed in his mind. "And what about your family--are you rich within reasonable limits?"
Simon burst out laughing, looked for a moment as though about to pat Cody on the arm. "Afraid not," he said. "My father has this unreasonable gift."
"What gift?"
"For making money--his only real ability. He says wealth never stops circulating, and all you have to do is tap into the flow, like a maple sugar farmer."
"But what does he do?" Cody said.
"I just told you," said Simon. He took out a magnetic card, swiped it through a slot by the heavy wooden doors of DeWitt Hall. "Sorry," he said, "if that sounded rude."
"No problem," Cody said, and asked another question, a question that had been bothering him in a shapeless sort of way and now suddenly took form. "How did they get started together, Clea and Townes?"
Simon paused, the door half open. "That's an odd question," he said. "You're the second person to ask me."
"Who was the first?"
"That cop--Morton or Orton or whatever."
"And what's the answer?"
"What I told him is that I had no idea."
"And me?"
"What I'll tell you," said Simon, his voice softening and deepening a little on
you
, "is that intergender romance is not the specialty of the house."
"Oh," said Cody.
"Enter," Simon said.
Cody hung back, let Simon go in first.

Townes's room was on the first floor, at the end of a long corridor. The doors all bore small whiteboards for leaving messages, and sometimes a picture as well, photos of sports stars or musicians. Townes had a photo of himself on a big black horse Cody had seen in one of the stalls; a note on his message board read: dropped by--c u @ barn. Must have been an old message: Cody recognized Clea's writing. It knocked him a little off-balance.

Simon rapped on the door.
"Who is it?" came Townes's voice from inside.
"Me," said Simon.
"Unlocked."
Simon opened the door. Townes was at his desk; the computer screen displayed some sort of card game. Townes looked up, saw Cody, raised his eyebrows. The screen went blank.

"Cody here's taken a job at the barn," Simon said. "The barn?"
"He's got a question for you."
Townes rose. "What kind of question?"
Cody said nothing. Simon answered for him; Cody liked

having him for a spokesman. "It's about Ike and his alleged sense of humor. Cody wants an example."
"You're working at the barn?" Townes said. "Why?"
"Why?" said Simon. "He needed a job is why--it happens in the real world."
"The real world, Simon?" Townes came out from behind his desk. Simon licked his lips, surprised Cody by finding nothing to say. "Here's an example of Ike humor," said Townes. "He was eating a peanut butter sandwich and one of his teeth came out--you've seen his teeth. He dug around in his mouth for the tooth, licked it clean, and said, 'Thank God I got a witness. Now I can sue the pants off Skippy.' "
No one laughed. "Maybe he was serious," Simon said.
"Of course he was serious," Townes said. "That's what makes it funny." His gaze went to Cody. "Anything else? I've got work to do."
Anything else? For sure, but hard to put into words--and not now. He had to think. Cody noticed a big poster on the wall,

labeled
POISONOUS SNAKES OF THE WESTERN DESERT
. Did
Edenic

allusion
mean something about the Garden of Eden? He and Simon backed out of the room and closed the door.
In a sneaky way that should have made him feel ashamed but
didn't, Cody rubbed his shoulder on the whiteboard, obliterating Clea's message.

CODY AWOKE IN THE NIGHT,
his first night in the cabin near the

barn. Through the window he saw the thin crescent moon, now low in the sky, about to disappear behind the treetops. He switched on the bedside light, reread Clea's poem, "Bending," for the hundredth time. Was the bubbling snakelike thing Townes, and the face above his own? Or was it the other way around? Or was the explanation something else completely? He had the crazy idea that if he heard Ms. Brennan reciting it in her scratchy old voice, the meaning would be clear. Cody switched off the light and closed his eyes.

But he couldn't get back to sleep. For one thing, he couldn't find a comfortable position for his knee. His knee was getting better all the time--he no longer got the feeling it could come apart again at any moment--but it still swelled up and felt sore in the night. For another, the walls of the cabin were thin, and once or twice he heard Ike groaning in his sleep, somewhere down below. Most of all, he couldn't help going back to the moment when Bud reared up on the trail. Was it because he sensed Sergeant Orton hiding nearby, or because whatever had happened to Clea had happened close by, and Bud remembered? Cody went back and forth on that, tossing and turning in his tiny room, then recalled the new attitude he was taking to wasted time.

He rose. Time was passing and Clea was out there somewhere; and even--he tried to face the possibility--even if the worst had happened, then what difference did that make? He still owed her his best. Cody got dressed--his sneakers, left by the woodstove, were nice and warm--grabbed the keys to the barn, and left his room, descending the stairs very quietly, pulling the outer door closed behind him with just the tiniest click of the latch.

He walked to the barn, sneakers squeaking a bit on the packed-down snow of the path. The sky was dark but not black; the only true blackness to be seen was the mountains, looming all around. Cody went to the small side door that led to the tack room and stuck the key in the lock. What was this? The door swung right open, meaning Ike hadn't locked it, hadn't even closed it properly. Cody reached around on the inside wall, switched on the light; and saw at a glance that he'd been too quick in blaming Ike. He'd locked the door all right--Cody could tell from the bolt, set in the sticking-out position. The problem was that someone had knocked the whole brass lock right off its screws, splintering the doorjamb at the same time. Cody froze, listened hard. He heard nothing.

A flashlight hung on a hook just inside the door, a big, hefty one. Cody reached for it, at the same time switching off the overhead light. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and the layout of the tack room slowly took shape, dimmed way down. Ahead he saw a big fuzzy rectangle, the entrance to the main part of the barn. He moved to it, his sneakers now silent on the smooth old floorboards; silence to hear, dimness to see, and horse smell, dominating the other senses.

Cody left the tack room, walked between the two rows of stalls. Weak pinkish light glowed from the exit signs at both ends of the barn, got reflected in the eyes of the horses. They were all on their feet. Cody knew that horses slept on their feet; did they also sleep open eyed? He didn't think they were asleep, not from the way all those eyes seemed to be watching him. He felt their alertness; something about the feeling made him switch on the flashlight. Cody quickly aimed the beam into all the dark corners, spotting no one, nor any sign of disorder. He kept moving, toward Bud's stall.

Horses slept standing up, but not Bud. Cody told himself he should have known: Bud had his own ways. Cody looked over the double swinging doors of the stall, panned the beam around, saw Bud lying in the straw. Lying down and eyes open; at least, the eye that Cody could see.

"Hey, Bud," he said, very softly. No reaction: that would be Bud, totally zonked out. Cody moved on, shining the beam into all the corners, probing every shadow, satisfying himself that there was no one else in the barn.

He returned to Bud's stall, bothered by some impression, faint and fleeting, in his mind. What was it? He shone the light into the stall. Yes, that was it, the awkward way Bud had one of his back legs bent up underneath him. "Hey, Bud." Bud didn't stir, also didn't seem to mind the light in his eye, an eye that in sleep didn't look as liquid as usual, actually more dusty. "Bud, wake up." Cody panned the beam around. What was this, in the straw by Bud's head? A little wet pool? Wet and red? Cody flung open the stall doors. From behind came a voice.

"What the hell's goin' on?"

Cody whirled around. At that moment, the overhead lights flashed on, and he saw Ike coming toward him, Ike in pajamas, boots, and his ridiculous plaid hat; and also with that whittling knife in his hand. Cody backed into the stall, his feet bumping into Bud. There was nowhere to go.

Ike kept coming, bowlegged and fast. "I said what the hell's goin' on?"
"Did you hurt Bud?" Cody said.
"Somethin's wrong with the horse?" Ike said, pulling up.
"I think so."
Ike came closer. "What did you do?" he said.
"Nothing," Cody said. "Someone kicked in the tack room door--didn't you see that?" And that meant--Cody suddenly putting facts together in a way he wasn't used to--that Ike hadn't hurt Bud. Why would Ike kick in the door? He had a key.
Ike shook his head, his mouth falling open slightly.
"And I've got a key," Cody said.
Ike nodded slowly, and slowly lowered the knife. Cody moved aside. Ike saw Bud, dropped the knife, and fell to his knees. He dipped a finger in the red pool and tasted it. Then, very gently, he raised Bud's head and turned it a little. Cody knelt beside him. There was no missing the round hole, ragged at the edges, just behind Bud's ear.
"Someone shot him?" Cody said.
Ike didn't answer. He wrapped his arms around Bud's neck and held him close. Tears streamed down Ike's ugly face, dripped on that diamond-shaped blaze. Cody shifted around and patted Ike on the shoulder. He spotted a shell casing lying in the straw.

BOOK: Reality Check (2010)
12.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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