The River View by Jamie Harrison

Author:Jamie Harrison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2024-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

13Thickets

AT WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE END OF THE DAY, Jules started out toward his office with Tommy and the stroller and Celeste. He was badly off-kilter, and when he hit a wall of people in the Baird lobby it took him a minute to regroup.

Jules pushed past a dozen Selway-Whipple doppelgängers. They’d arrived on the same flight, and they were all clearly descendants of the people who’d loved the suffix polis: vacationing business types wearing pink and green, cardigans and seersucker pants and loafers. Golf clubs and floral bags and barrettes and lots of laughter; talk of fraternities and sororities and grills. He pushed through the line to get his mail from Edie, wishing he could show a badge.

“These fine people must be in town for the Selway event,” he said to Edie.

Big, jolly laughter from the big, jolly crowd. Still, Jules was in a pragmatic mood when he followed Celeste up the stairs to his office, bouncing Tommy with each step. All this mellow acceptance ended when he read the note in the fax machine: the warden at Deer Lodge said that Patrick Bell would not talk to him.

Jules wasn’t sure why this shocked him. Lately everything seemed to, as if he’d fallen into the habit of misjudging the world. It was four thirty. The warden picked up on the first ring.

“Any explanation?”

“Mr. Bell’s a nice guy, but a little troubled.”

A new bubble of anger broke through his outrage. “That nice guy killed my father.”

“I appreciate that, but the effort is real, and so is the brain damage. Some preexisting, some at the time of arrest, some later, when he kept trying to beat his brains out. So he’s unpredictable.”

So am I, thought Jules, wishing it were true. “The preexisting injury—that was his brother beating the shit out of him? And what did the cops do to him at the time of arrest?”

“Hah,” said the warden. “I believe that was the brother again. No love lost.”

“Except the wife’s,” said Jules, taking a stab.

“Yeah,” said the warden. “I was state police then, and when Patrick heard about his wife, that’s when he started driving his head into walls. He kept it up whenever they’d lift the drugs just a little bit. Hence Warm Springs. And eventually, he calmed down and they sent him here.”

Jules spoke carefully. “Can you explain why a man who intends to kill his wife is heartbroken when she kills herself? I’m confused.”

“I don’t know where you think this will get you, but he said from the beginning—I mean when he could talk again—that because his wife was dead, he didn’t want to live.”

“And why won’t he talk to me?”

“I don’t know, but I guess—why would he? He’s still not chatty, but within this world of ours, he’s okay. He gets some letters, talks to his parents about once a month, a few other visitors a year.”

“Where does all this leave my mother?”

“Still a widow,” said the warden. “Try writing him directly. I’m not the bad guy here.

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