The Man Everybody Was Afraid Of by Joseph Hansen

Author:Joseph Hansen [Hansen, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Library
ISBN: 9781480416864
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-03-14T16:03:00+00:00

12

NOT EVEN AN EDGE of light showed the horizon when he got back. He left the rental car up a side street. Limping toward the glow above the shake roofs of the waterfront, he passed the Ford van that had bothered him on the hilltop behind Nowell’s and again down the dusty road near Ophelia Green’s. He craned to peer through the window. Nothing lay on the seats. In the rear, the cargo was darkness. He turned away. It didn’t matter now. It was over. It was certainly over for Lester Green. He wished that made him feel good but it didn’t. Frances Orton was right—something about it didn’t add up. He shrugged. Let Jerry Orton work it out. It wasn’t Dave Brandstetter’s business anymore.

The candle flames still flickered in the colored glass chimneys on the tables outside El Pescador. The breeze was soft, steady, cool. Beyond the white railings of the deck, the masts of the moored boats tilted shiny against the blackness of the bay. Pointing at what? He squinted and made out a few stars. They weren’t his business either. He wished all the tables were empty. Instead, at the farthest one, where they’d splashed the white cloth with red wine, college boys looked pale and laughed loud but not long and not together. Celebrating what—their first adult mistake? And at the nearest table, where he’d left them, Mona Windrow and Al Franklin nursed brandy snifters.

They had cups of coffee too, and Franklin smoked a slim cigar. He leaned back in his chair, paying her grave attention. She read aloud from a typed list open on the cloth where her plate had been. Dave heard her say “museum” and “curator” and “Arkansas.” There was no way to the door but past them. He hoped they were too busy to notice. Franklin raised his odd blue eyes and jerked a nod but swung his attention back to the woman right away. Plainly he wanted an encounter as much as Dave did. Then she looked up. And drew a sharp breath. And pushed back her chair. A patchwork knitting bag slid off her lap and spilled on the deck. Envelopes. Institutional checks.

“Oh, wait, please.” She came after him.

“He’s all right,” Dave said. “Safe in his trailer.”

“I owe you an explanation,” she said, “after this noon. You see, when I found him, he was sick, helpless—”

Franklin said, “Time comes when the only smart thing is to cut your losses. Mona—the nice man knows that.”

“Is he—?” she began. “Did he—?”

Franklin said, “She means, he talks too much.”

“He’s had quite a life,” Dave said.

“I’m afraid he’s angry at me,” she said, “but—”

“He’s grateful to you,” Dave said.

She studied his face, mistrustful, looking for irony.

“What did I tell you?” Franklin said. “Drink, Mr.—?”

“Brandstetter. No, thanks. I’d better eat while the kitchen’s still open.” He went inside.

The kitchen was closed. By folding a twenty-dollar bill into the palm of a tailored and unsmiling maître d’ he got the kitchen opened again. He also got a smile, a table, and a roomful of silence.

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