The Boy Must Die (21 page)

“There it is. The King.”

Randy went back inside and clicked the projector one more time. The screen filled with a picture of clouds and the cragged peak of Chief.

“The wind can cut you in half up there if you’re not careful,” Randy said, his voice suddenly becoming soft. “Spirits are everywhere. Some of them do not like to be disturbed.”

Justin stared at Cara’s face. She had stepped into the den and was lit by the glare from the projector. The hard light seemed to reveal the very bones under her skin. She fixed her eyes on the slide of the clouds and the mountain. Justin wondered what she was thinking. Every part of her body appeared taut, ready for action.

The crew of three were set to leave and go home to prepare for the trip. Randy reminded everyone about packing light but right. “On a mountain, the weather is unpredictable, so it’s always wise to dress in layers to keep dry and warm.” He also told Justin and the other two that departure time was 3:30. “We need an early start to get into the park and settle at the cabin.” David Home left first. Cara Simonds dawdled in the kitchen and took extra time to wash the coffee cups while Justin dried. He then walked her to the front door and asked her if she was excited.

“I’ll put it this way. It’ll be good to get away from my mom for a while,” Cara said, her expression darkening as she spoke. Justin wondered if she felt as lonely and isolated as he did.

After she left, Randy asked, “Justin, could you wait around?” Justin said yes. Randy grinned. “I’ll just put away the slides. Have a seat. There’s something I want to share with you.” Randy left for the den.

Justin sat on the chair in the nearly empty living room. Restless, he felt the presence of Yianni in the panic growing in his chest. He wanted to call Karen, but he couldn’t think of what he’d say. He got up and at the glass cabinet fingered one of the amulets Randy had collected. The blue flashes in the stone reminded him of sapphire. Justin looked over his shoulder. He held the amulet tight in his fist for a second.

“You got time for a beer?”

Justin jumped as Randy came back into the living room. “I could use one.” Justin placed the amulet back on the glass shelf.

In the kitchen, Randy pulled open the fridge door. He took out two dark ales and twisted off their caps. Justin was about to take a drink when Sheree Lynn Bird appeared in the doorway.

“Randy?”

Her bare toes curled up from touching the cool tiles.

“Hi, Justin,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Hi,” he answered. Justin found himself staring at Sheree Lynn’s body. She was wearing a T-shirt, her nipples pressing against the cotton, and a filmy muslin skirt slit up the side. The familiar tension surfaced. Justin had always wanted to have sex with her, and she had never shown any interest in returning his glances or his tacit invitations. In the past, he had gone over to her back door and offered to mow her lawn, do any favours around the yard. He’d once asked her out for a beer, but Sheree Lynn had never gone beyond coy refusals.
She’s a cock tease
, Justin reminded himself.
You’re better off.

Randy turned just then. Justin saw that he had been watching him and Sheree Lynn. “Come on, Sheree,” Randy said, his voice irritable and impatient. “Justin and I have to talk business.”

“Oh, do you?”

She sauntered farther into the kitchen and stood between Justin and Randy.

“You heard about Darren Riegert?” she said, addressing Justin directly.

“Let’s not bring that up again,” Randy complained.

Sheree Lynn turned and locked eyes with Randy. “What are you afraid of?”

Justin quickly looked away from them, towards the light in the dining room.

“You met Darren, didn’t you, Justin?” Sheree began again, lowering her voice and ignoring Randy.

“Yeah. I saw him once or twice.”

“Did you ever talk to him or Cody?”

How much does she know? Is she hinting . . . what if she goes to the police?

Justin shook his head. There was an uneasy silence in the kitchen.

“I see,” sighed Sheree Lynn. “It’s terrible what’s happened. Really awful.”

Randy reached out to her. He lifted her arms to his neck, surrounding her with his body as if she were a child. Whispering, he led her from the kitchen and down the hallway. Randy’s voice disappeared when a door clicked shut.

Justin felt more confused than ever. He fixed his thoughts on Karen, but the memory of her weeping face stabbed at him. Fuck it, he thought, his mind now conjuring up the image of Aunt Marion’s crumbling mansion. Satan House was always a place of sadness and bad luck. Justin had pitied his auntie, her bottle in her hand, her thin wraith-like body on the sofa in the living room, where she spent her drunken afternoons watching television.

“How did you hear about Darren?”

Justin was startled by Randy’s sudden re-appearance in the kitchen.

“My mom told me,” Justin said quickly. “She said the police were asking some questions.”

“Can I show you something, Justin?”

“Sure.”

Randy took a set of keys and walked out the main entrance of the apartment and down a set of stairs leading to the building’s parking lot. The front part of the building was cantilevered over the slope of the coulee hill. Randy and Justin moved past the parked cars and onto the slope that faced the Oldman River valley.

“Watch your footing here. There’s supposed to be some steps, but the landlord says the contractor has yet to show up to finish the job.”

Randy slid down the grass and steadied his stance. He pointed to a long line of garage doors built under the arches of the ground floor.

“Those are our storage lockers. One day we may be able to park our cars in them. Come on.”

In front of the locker where Randy stopped and searched for a key, Justin noticed tire tracks leading out from the locker’s entrance. Randy inserted the key and slid up the wobbly metal door. Inside the narrow concrete space sat a huge black gleaming Harley Davidson. Spoked wheels. Double leather seat. Chrome tailpipes.

“My folly,” beamed Randy.

Justin came up beside Randy and watched him run his hand along the polished handlebar. The air in the locker smelled of leather and motor oil.

“Impressive, eh?”

“Sure. You ride her much?”

Randy broke into a laugh.

“You want her, Justin?”

Justin blinked. It took him a moment to process Randy’s question.

“How do you mean?”

“Your family has money. You must like to show off. I am in bad straits these days, to be honest. My ex-wife, Connie, is squeezing my balls dry, and I need cash. I can sell you this baby for nine grand. A great deal.”

“But, Randy. . . .”

“You’re young! This could be the machine for you, believe me.”

Justin was surprised at the rush of his disappointment. This was not what he’d counted on. So that would explain the empty rooms, Randy’s lack of furniture. He looked again at the Harley. Randy was staring at him, nervously wiping his mouth. Justin felt an ache rise in his stomach.

“I’m not sure, Randy.”

“Look, Justin. Think it over. I know it’s sudden. Don’t tell anyone I showed you the hog. You’re the first I’ve offered her to. Believe me. I can give you a deal, like I said.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot. But, sir, I have a confession. I wanted to ask you for money!”

“No kidding!” Randy forced a laugh. “You broke or what?”

“I owe some money, and I was wondering if I could maybe get an advance. On my stipend for the dig. Today, in fact, before we leave town.”

Randy frowned and rubbed his right hand over his mouth. “Not at this short notice. Payroll is slow and sticky when it comes to that kind of arrangement, Justin. Believe me.”

“Sir, you could loan the bike to me. I could maybe try to sell it for you. Maybe we could work out an arrangement. I pay off some of my debt, then I pay you back slowly, maybe pay you my stipend. . . .”

“Well, no, Justin. That’d take some time. You sound like you’re in the same hole I am.”

Justin walked into the open and gazed down the slope of the hill. How easy it would be, he thought, just shut the garage door, turn on the Harley’s engine, breathe in the carbon monoxide. An easy crossing from life into death. He turned and watched Randy wiping the leather seat with a cloth. “You’re right, Randy. It’s a great machine. You could get a lot of money for it.”

“Well, Justin. You like her, then?”

Justin’s mind was running in circles. “Like you said. Nine thousand is a good deal.”

“You bet it is.”

“I should get going if you want us back by 3:30.”

“I’ll stay down here for a while. I may even take the bike out for a spin. You sure you don’t want to try her out?”

Justin hesitated. There was no way he could bargain with Randy now.

“I should move on.”

“Okay. See you at 3:30.”

Justin walked to the lot. It took him a minute to locate the Olds. He got in, started the engine, and drove towards the intersection. After speeding across the Oldman River valley, he headed up Ashmead and Dawson Streets, passed the post office and his old high school, and turned onto Parkside Drive. He parked and ran up a fieldstone walkway leading to the glistening oak door of a huge low-roofed house. “You’ve
got nothing to lose by asking,” he said under his breath. The garden was damp from a recent watering; the grass shone with hard green light. He desperately rang Patsy Hanson’s door chime. He rang it again. Where was she? The chimes had a lilting sound, an expensive sound, as if they had been fashioned from a thin precious metal. “One more time.” He pressed the chime. The last note was starting to fade when the door swung open.

Patsy Hanson stared into Justin’s face. For an instant, it appeared she was looking into thin air. She did not focus on him but seemed dazed at finding a young man on her doorstep.

But then she smiled.

Her right hand moved from the doorframe to her hip, while her left hand held aloft an unlit cigarette. She smelled of gin.

“Well, Justin. Long time no see.”

Justin first met Patsy six months earlier in his anthropology class. He was surprised when she asked him out for a drink; she was his professor, twenty years older than he was. Justin’s instincts warned him not to get involved, even though Patsy was attractive and persuasive. And she was always so forgiving and generous. Justin shoved his hands into his pockets. Patsy’s perfume and the gin on her breath gave him an erection.

“I need to see you,” he said. The wet warm air from the lawn pressed against him.

“How nice for me,” she said, throwing back her head. Her bikini was red and covered in black polka dots. Wiry pubic hair jutted out from the sides of the elastic along her upper thighs.

They made love first on the hallway floor. Justin kept his shirt and his hiking boots on. Patsy laughed when he grunted and came. She pulled him up and led him into her bedroom. Tossing her crumpled bikini onto her vanity table, she instructed Justin to peel off the rest of his clothes as she lay naked and waiting on top of the stretched starched white sheets. “I want to come back to you,” he whispered in her ear. The lie came out so quickly that Justin had no time to think about what he’d said. After showering together, Patsy insisted he stay the rest of the afternoon.

“I can’t. Honest. I’ve got Mucklowe’s dig to go on at 3:00.”

“I see.”

She made him coffee and sat down next to him at the round glass table in the kitchen, kissing him and fondling his neck while he hurriedly drank the bitter espresso. He knew she would not like what he was going to ask next.

“I’m in trouble, Patsy. I need some help.”

Patsy’s face pinched.

Justin’s next words came out choked, and his shoulders began to shake. “I’m really afraid. Yianni Pappas is after me.”

“What?”

Patsy wrapped her arms around Justin’s neck.

“How the hell did you get mixed up with him?”

“I borrowed money. A lot. I thought he was a friend.”

“He’s a crook, Justin. A mean one.”

“Some guys at school said he played fair. I didn’t know.”

“How much do you owe?”

“Six grand. He wants full payment by Saturday. Or else.”

Patsy Hanson let out a breath. She pulled her arms away. “I see,” she said, staring at the kitchen cupboards. When she stood up a few seconds later, her naked body caught the mid-afternoon sun. She meandered to the large windows that opened onto the back garden. “You said you wanted to come back to me, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“But you really came here to fuck for money.”

Justin said nothing.

“Well, didn’t you?”

“Patsy, I don’t know what to do.”

“I know.”Her voice was hard-edged.

Justin thought he should wait it out. All he needed from her was a cheque. It’d be easy to cash it today. On the way out of town, he could pay off Yianni. Get off the hook for good. Patsy liked being with Justin, and Justin knew it. She would act hurt and angry, but he knew she desired him. Still, he waited.

Patsy stood at the window and did not move. She looked like a statue, posed with her arm against the glass.

Justin moved his legs. “You know, Patsy, Yianni burned a guy so bad with a blowtorch the guy almost died.”

“I’m not sure that story is true, Justin.”

“He did it. He burned half the man’s body for a loan worth no more than. . . .”

“There are ways of getting money, I suppose, that don’t involve sex. Like a blowtorch. Sometimes I think that might not be such a bad thing.” Patsy’s voice was flat and toneless.

Justin stood. She will tell me to stay or to go, he figured. Even so, he must try to get her to see his desperation. Moving closer, he put his arms around her.

“My problem is your problem, too, Patsy. If Yianni hurts me or even kills me, you’ll have that on your conscience.”

Patsy Hanson turned to face Justin. His heart was beating fast, as if he’d been running, as if he’d been with Yianni Pappas himself. He had done something he’d never done before. He’d used his fear to make another person fearful.

“You
are
right about that, Justin. You are so right.”