West Seattle Blues (25 page)

“We had a deal.”

“I decided it was a bad one.”

“Don’t you want to know who killed that son of yours, old man?” He nodded his head toward the club. “The one you sang about in there.”

“Already figured it out.”

“You reckon?” Nick sounded amused.

“Yeah.”

I began to back away, hoping against hope not to be noticed, to push myself up against the wall, making it harder for a bullet to hit me.

Nick flicked his wrist and I froze. “Just stay right there.” His gaze turned back to Carson. “So who do you think pulled the trigger on your boy?”

“You.”

“Oh?”

“Then you had the balls to sting me for a grand just to lie to me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah.” That was all Carson said. He was absolutely certain, not a shred of doubt.

“If you’re so sure, how come the cops let me go, then?”

“They need evidence. But I just need to know.”

“If you reckon you
know
-” he drew out the word mockingly “-then explain why I did it?”

Carson shrugged. He wasn’t afraid, holding his ground, and staring at Nick while I tried to make myself
look small. I felt like I was watching a movie, standing here but also looking down on the whole scene, somehow apart from it. My mouth was dry and I wanted to scream.

“You tell me,” Carson said.

“A guy owes you money, he’s got to pay. If he doesn’t, he’s disrespecting you. If one guy disrespects you, others start to think they can, too.”

“What did Jimmy owe you?”

Nick’s laugh came out like a short bark. “I’m not saying he owed me anything. This is just assuming, of course.”

Carson nodded as if he understood. “A grand,” he said quietly.

“Why’d you think that, old man?”

“It’s the amount you wanted from me. Poetic justice. Get the father to pay for his dead son. That makes you look like a big man.”

“You can think what you want. Doesn’t make any difference.”

“Why? You going to kill us?” Carson asked bluntly and I began to shake. No, I thought. I wasn’t going to die here. I had a son to bring up, a husband to spend my life with.

Nick smiled. “You think I’m stupid? Kill you and I’d have the cops right on my ass. I’m just going to take your money, old man, then I’m gone from this town.” He glanced at me. “You pay up, too. I’m going to miss scaring the shit out of you.”

Carson reached around to his back pocket, took out a beat-up leather wallet and tossed it at Nick’s feet. The man stooped and picked it up.

“Take it. If it gets your ass out of here, it’s worth the money.”

I reached in my purse, opened my wallet and took out all the bills. Forty bucks. My chest was so tight I could hardly breathe, and I could taste bile in my throat. Nick stepped forward and snatched the money from my hand. He looked hard into my eyes.

“You never know when I’ll be back. Just keep thinking of that every time you’re out with that little boy of yours. Bad things happen.”

Nick turned and began to run. I couldn’t move, frozen to the spot. My mind was racing but my body had stopped.

He’d almost made it to the street when someone appeared out of nowhere, in front of him. The figure was just a blurred outline, darker than the darkness all around. Nick halted, arms down. There wasn’t even time for him to speak. The sound of the shot seemed to fill the sky. It rang in my ears and echoed down into my heart.

Nick fell to the ground, hurled backward. The gun, everything, fell from his hands.

The figure moved forward two paces. The light caught his face and the smoke rising from his pistol. It was Carson’s grandson, Jim Clark. He stared at us as if he was astonished at what he’d done.

“I…” he began, then looked down at Nick. “I…”

Carson dropped the guitar case. With quick decision he walked up to Jim and eased the weapon from his hand, taking out a handkerchief to wipe it clean. The young man didn’t put up any resistance. His gaze didn’t even leave the body.

“I forgot something.” It was the voice of someone who wasn’t really here, someone who couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “I heard what he said, how he killed my daddy.” He looked up, at me, and through me, his eyes seeing nothing at all.

Carson was breathing hard, rubbing the gun clean again, then clasping it firmly in his own hand. His face was set as he concentrated. Then he turned to Jim, speaking fast.

“You left right after the show. You don’t know anything about this, you understand?” He waited until the young man nodded, then continued. “And you let me have this gun a few weeks ago, for my protection after I was shot in Everett. You got that?”

“Yes,” Jim answered finally.

“Sure?”

He nodded again.

“Right, as soon as you get home, shower everything off yourself,” Carson ordered. Jim seemed groggy, as if he might pass out, still not moving. “Then get those clothes in the trash. Not your own. Use a business dumpster. Go. Now.”

A second later we were alone.

I couldn’t stop shivering. I hugged myself but it didn’t help. The sound of the bullet filled my head. My teeth were chattering like I’d never be warm enough again.

I’d seen someone die before, and I thought I’d locked those memories away, out of sight. But I hadn’t. They danced tauntingly within my mind.

A rivulet of blood rolled out and away from Nick’s corpse, slowly finding a path over the asphalt. I watched it, hypnotized, scarcely aware of Carson’s voice as he talked to me, until he grabbed me and held my shaking body close.

“I need you to help me,” he said in my ear. His arms were strong and comforting, as if it was my father who was holding me. “I need you to lie for me.” I moved my head to stare at him. “It was me who shot Nick,” Carson said firmly. “We were leaving the club and he came out of the shadows behind us. He was going to kill us both, so I shot him.” He’d never been able to do anything for his son, but at least he could keep his grandson out of jail. “Please,” he begged.

I tried to speak but my mouth didn’t want to work.

“Okay,” I managed finally.

“Remember, we were coming out of the club.” He looked down at the corpse. “He came out of there, after we’d passed him.” He pointed to a patch of pure darkness. I could see him thinking quickly. “He said he’d killed my son and he was going to kill us, too. I pulled my gun and that was it.”

“Yes.” My tongue was thick.

“Just remember that,” he told me. I could hear sirens somewhere, growing closer.

The medics wrapped me in a space blanket. I sat on the back step of the ambulance and watched the light glittering off its silvery surface. A pair of uniformed cops trained their weapons on Carson as he lay the pistol on the ground, then they snapped the cuffs on his wrist. A moment later, he stared at me, expression stoic, giving nothing away, from the back of a cruiser.

A detective talked to me and I told him the lie. Someone put a cup of coffee in my hands and I drank automatically, slowly warming up inside. The coroner’s van arrived and took Nick’s body away.

I took the cell phone from my purse and called home.

“Are you okay?” It was Dustin’s first question.

“Nick’s dead,” I said.

“Christ! What about you?” I could hear his panic. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I answered bleakly, explaining I wasn’t hurt, but I wasn’t okay, either. I told him Carson’s version of the story in three short sentences. Sometime, maybe, I’d give him the truth.

“Shit.” The word hissed down the line. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“He never touched me.” An officer was watching, gesturing to me with his hand. “I guess they’re going to want to ask me some questions. I don’t know when I’ll be home, okay?”

There was a pause. “I’m glad that bastard’s dead,” Dustin said at last.

So was I. There was only a chalk outline left where his body had been. They’d set up some lights to take pictures and video, before they hauled him away. He was out of my life forever. He couldn’t threaten me or my family anymore. He could never hurt Ian.

A cop drove me to the precinct in Dustin’s car. He tried to make small talk but I stayed quiet. I was hunching into myself, thankful but scared. I thought about Carson. He was going to jail for this. But I knew I’d have done just the same for my son.

The questions came and kept coming. The same ones over and over. I repeated my answers until the words seemed as solid as granite in my brain. Detective Andersen was there, listening, adding something at times.

They had their killer; Carson had admitted everything immediately. The police weren’t going to look further. This was another case closed quickly, a murder solved. Fast. Easy.
Done
.

I was numb inside, still responding by rote. Finally, about five a.m., they told me I could go home. There’d be more questions, and I’d have to testify, but it was over. As I was escorted out along a corridor, I saw Carson sitting in an interview room. He glanced up at me, his face blank.

Eighteen

I drove home on roads that were still quiet, taking it slow. It was still dark, and the first lights began winking on in houses. Dustin was still up, gazing fretfully out the kitchen window as I pulled up behind the Tempo with its flat tire.

Inside, he put his arms tight around me. I felt secure, loved. All I wanted was to go to bed and try to forget. It was over, but in some ways it would never be done. I was exhausted but I was scared to close my eyes, scared of where sleep might take me.

“How’s Ian?” I asked after a long time.

“Sleeping happily. How are you?”

I didn’t know. Happy Nick was dead. Sad. Guilty at lying. Empty.

“I’ll get there,” I replied finally.

Dustin didn’t press me to talk about it. Instead, he poured me a cup of coffee, before taking the cigarettes and lighter from the drawer and handing them to me. I stood out on the deck, drinking coffee and drawing the smoke deep into my lungs, holding it there until it hurt.

If I looked down into the yard I imagined I could see Nick’s body, just the way I’d seen someone else’s six years before. It had taken a long time for those nightmares to end. Now I had a whole new set to keep me awake.

“I’m calling in today and giving my notice,” Dustin told me as we ate breakfast later. Ian had woken a little after seven. At least the routine of changing, dressing and feeding him distracted me for a few minutes. Deep in my bones I was tired, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Not yet, anyway. I didn’t want to, because I wasn’t ready yet to face whatever would emerge when I closed my eyes.

“Good,” I said and entwined my fingers with his. I was so tired, so drained that I could barely move. “I could use having you around more.”

He wrinkled his face in thought, biting his lip.

“How about this? I got a couple weeks coming in vacation time…”

“Go on,” I urged him. I was too weary to think. I just wanted to hear it.

“I could just take that instead and finish today. We can have a few days together and I could call Elliott Bay and start there on Monday.”

“Okay,” I said. He made it sound so simple, so easy. “What about Montana?”

“Screw Montana. Someone else can go.”

“Good.” Right now I just wanted everything to be in order. I didn’t want to make any decisions for a while. The rest of the world could turn without me for a few days. I had Ian, I had my home, my husband, and I didn’t want anything more than that. I didn’t want the nightmares that were waiting for me.

“I’ll take the car and the paperwork into the office this morning. Then it’s just us.” He smiled. “I love you.”

I smiled back without the energy for words. He’d made the decision; he’d jumped, because of me. Right now I didn’t feel worth it.

“Hey,” I said, remembering something. I wasn’t even sure why it had sprung into my mind. “Tonia from
The Rocket
is moving to New York and she can’t take her cat. What do you think about us having him?” It seemed just inane and ordinary enough to be just right for what I needed at the moment. A dose of regular life.

“You think that’s a good idea with Ian?”

“Sure,” I told him. “It’ll be good for him.” Probably for all of us, I thought.

“If you want to do it, sure,” he said. “We had cats when I was a kid, I like them.”

I smiled. “I’ll give her a call. It’ll be a weight off her mind.”

It was nothing, really, but somehow it centered me and brought me back to the here and now.

After Dustin had packed all his work things in the car and driven off, Ian and I rediscovered all the presents he’d received for his birthday. Yesterday seemed a long time ago, separated by a deep gulf. I let him play, watching and thinking. He kept crawling in and out of May’s tent, vanishing into the tunnel, giggling happily. None of what I’d just experienced would ever touch him. Thank God for that, at least.

I was passing through the kitchen when the phone rang just after nine.

“Is it true?” Tonia asked. No Hey, how you doing, no Hello. “Carson Mack killed someone after his gig?”

The question jolted me straight back into the previous night, feeling so bitterly cold that I could hardly hold the receiver, once again smelling cordite and death.