The Cartoonist by Sean Costello

Author:Sean Costello [Costello, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Canada
Publisher: Red Tower Publications
Published: 2014-12-04T13:00:00+00:00

17

THE PHONE RANG AGAIN, AND although it startled him, it no longer seemed fearsome. Just a phone ringing, a prosaic sound, a sane sound. He stepped in off the deck and answered it cheerfully.

“Hello?”

“Scott.” It was Gerry. “Listen, we found them and they’re fine. Krista’s madder than hell, though.”

“Yeah, I know. She just called. Thanks, man. I owe you a big one.” Scott chuckled. “Now, can you get me out of this? If she finds out I’m behind all of this, never mind the lunatic reason for it, I’ll be a dead man.”

“That’s the easy part,” Gerry said.

“Thanks, pal. You must think I’ve been out in the sun too long.”

“Well, you know what they say about shrinks...no, really, I was moved by your concern for them. You’re lucky to have someone you feel that way about.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott said, feeling a small arrow of pain for his friend. Gerry’s wife, Steffie, had left him two years ago—a ransacked apartment and a note on the kitchen table.

“Can you tell me about your ‘loony reasons’ now, or do I have to wait for the miniseries?”

“You deserve at least that much,” Scott said. “But not right now. Next week over beer and pizza at the Hut, maybe. My treat. I want to get back to Krista. I’m going to join her in Boston tonight.”

“Okay, José. But give me ten or fifteen to sort out the ‘mix-up’ in the States before calling...and stay out of the sun.”

“Bye for now,” Scott said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a buzz.”

He set the rain-beaded handset on the counter and whipped spryly upstairs, taking the risers two at a go. In the bathroom, whistling tunelessly, he removed his soaked clothes and hopped into the shower. He felt great, better than he had in days. And yet, as the hot water worked its magic, he could feel the exhaustion creeping surely through him. He was headed for a major-league crash and he knew it. He’d probably sleep through his first two days in Boston.

A cow, he thought again. No shambling zombies from the valley of the dead. Not that he believed for one moment...

It occurred to him then that the Cartoonist had been right. Scott had been so distracted with relief, he’d discounted this basic truth. His girls did have an accident, it did happen at night and they did hit something in the road.

So they’re out of danger...right?

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off briskly and padded into the bedroom. Still a bit shaky, he picked up the phone and called the Air Canada reservations desk. The best they could do, they told him, was a connecting flight from Montreal. He would be flying Air Canada out of Ottawa at eight, then Delta from Montreal an hour later, arriving in Boston at ten fifty-five. This suited him fine. The later flight would allow him time to straighten things up at the hospital.

Next he dialed the number Krista had given him. A woman answered in a Yankee drawl, which to Scott sounded contrived.

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