The way I left things the last time, I had two options for how to procede. I could either have Wally be alive, or dead. Either way would have quite an impact on how things proceded. If he was alive, he’d need to be included in the procedings, if he was dead anything more I needed from him would have to be gotten at a different way. Ultimatelly I went with what felt right for the story, and I’m pretty happy with my choice.
I also decided to bring one lingering question to a close, thoguh hopefully in a way that left a few more questions unanswered, maybe even opened up a few new ones. I’m nearing the midpoint of the story now, having decided that this will run about 90,000 words in total, so it’s about time things got moving. I know I’ll have some pacing issues to deal with in the editing phase, but for now I’m just going with whatever seems to work.
For Idle Hands (working title) - Part 23
I blinked, looking down at Wally, trussed up in the trunk of his own car. Before I could check whether he was alive or not the smell hit me, and I didn’t have to investigate any further. The cold weather slows decomposition, but it doesn’t stop it at these temperatures, and besides there are certain bodily functions that react unpleasantly to a person’s death.
Wally’s hands and feet were bound with duct tape, and a strip had been applied around his head that covered his mouth. He’d been beaten pretty severely, though judging by the bruising on his knuckles he’d put up a pretty good fight. Blood streaked his face and matted his luxurious blond hair in places. I couldn’t see any obvious gunshot or knife wounds, if I had to guess I’d say he’d died of internal bleeding. Whether that had been caused by his attackers’ rough treatment of him, or if the car crash had done him in, I couldn’t say. The car was a crime scene now, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch it or anything in it.
This was the second body I’d discovered in less than twenty four hours. I hoped it would be the last. Death isn’t fun, or interesting, or cool. It’s not something to be glorified or romanticized. Death is horrible and messy and terrifying. Violent death, when one person’s life is ended by another, is disgusting and unnatural, and visceral beyond all comprehension until you’ve seen it for yourself. To this day I wretch at the very thought of it. Any man who claims he’s tough enough to just deal with it is a coward hiding behind his own bullshit. I’m told by those who investigate these things for a living that you get used to it after enough exposure, but I doubt you ever quite come to grips with it on the most basic level. It’s just not part of who we are as a species.
After I’d finished vomiting - at least I’ been able to turn around first, the CSIs were going to have a hard enough time with this as it was - Bob sidled up beside me.
“That boy dead?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah Bob, I’m pretty sure he is.”
“Damn shame,” he shook his head, more critical than morose. “Kid was a punk though, ever since he came to town back in ninety three I been sayin’ ta myself he’s gonna end bad. You live the way he did, was only a matter of time.”
I walked back towards the gate where I’d left the bike, far enough away that I couldn’t smell what was happening to Wally’s body. Bob followed a moment later, hobbling admirably as he attempted to keep up.
“How about you go call 911, Bob. I need to get going.”
“Why you in such a hurry? I know I shot at ya, but i don’ get much company out here. I was hoping you stay a spell.”
“I’m sorry Bob, I’d stay but I have to be gone when the cops get here.”
“Why, you done something wrong?”
“No, well, not really. Someone did though, and I’m trying to figure it out, and I can’t do that if I’m hauled in for questioning. Do you understand?”
“Aw, sure I do,” he clapped me on the back, “you detective types are always workin’ outside the law, figuring crimes what got the police stumped, right? Like in those movies with that little French fellow, Poirot?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s Belgian, actually, but that’s close enough. Just like in the movies.” If only.
“Fore you take off, I got to replace that helmet I up and shot like a buffoon. Stay here.”
He crab walked off, muttering to himself under his breath. Bob was a bit crazy, but I liked him most of the time, the crazy old goat. A few minutes later he returned with what looked like a world war two era metal Army helmet.
“This it the best I got. She’s not much to look at, but she’ll keep yer brain where it’s supposed to be. Now go on with ya, I called the police when I was inside, likely they’re on the way.”
I quickly thanked Bob for the helmet, then jumped on the bike. I strapped on the helmet, it was better than nothing I supposed, and took off, heading west again, though I was feeling completely lost at the moment.
I’d covered half the distance back to the power-line run, which I reckoned was still the fastest way to Yadira’s house, when my cell phone rang. Luckily I’d set it to vibrate, as I never would have heard it over the din of the dirt bike. I pulled off onto the should and checked the caller ID. It was Derrick, so I answered.
“Nick, thank god. I figured something had happened to you.”
“I thought it was safer not to try and call, I didn’t know if you’d be alone. What happened with the bulls, they wreck the china shop?”
“Sort of. They questioned me for a bit, and went though the office a bit, but the search warrant was pretty limited so they couldn’t do too much.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth, pretty much. Did I screw up?”
“Don’t worry about it, so far all they’ve got me for is leaving the scene of a crime, and I probably saved Gunn’s life, so they’d have a hard time convicting me for anything.”
“How hell did you get out without getting caught?”
“It’s a long story. The short version is that I’ve got most of the cops in Idle pretending they don’t see me until midnight, after that I’m fair game.”
“Then I guess we’d better figure this out before then. Where are you, have you got anything new?”
“You could say that. Reader’s Digest version: Lili is part of Espial Associates - she took those pictures actually - she also got me a change of clothes and I picked up a dirt bike so I’m mobile and more or less incognito, I found Wally’s car, it had been crashed in the woods in North Idle, and Wally was in the trunk dead, looks like someone beat the shit out of him.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So, you and Lili, huh?”I stammered something about how I didn’t say that, and it was none of his business anyway, and she was young enough to be my daughter for Christ’s sake. I could practically hear him smirking.
“But yeah,” he finally said, taking on a serious tone, “Wally’s dead? For real?”
“Wally’s dead,” I said, glad to be back on safer ground. At least I wasn’t responsible for what happened to Wally.
“That’s wild. I guess that rules him out as a suspect then, huh? Do you figure it was someone else who shot at you then?”
“I’m not sure, but my gut feeling is that he was in the trunk when that went down. That leaves the question of who would want both Wally and me dead?”
“Well, who was having those pictures taken earlier this year? Maybe someone’s had it out for Wally for a while?”
“No, Wally was having Yadira surveilled.”
“So, he was paying to have pictures taken of himself doing the nasty?”
“My thought on that is that he either forgot about it or he didn’t care, I wouldn’t put either past him.”
“So what’s your next move?”
I sighed, “damned if I know.”
Just then a mud spattered jeep passed on the road. Something about it seemed familiar. Of course, there’d been one like that at Rosie’s this morning, though it had been a different color. And with that, a thought occurred to me.
“Derrick, I have to go check something out, I’ll call you back.”
“What is it?”
“I’m going to Rosie’s. Wally’s destructive habits may just work in our favor this time.”
I skittered to a stop on Rosie’s dirt parking lot a few minutes later, I hadn’t been far. I threw the kick stand down and leapt from the bike. When I burst through the door, Rosie was pouring coffee for a young couple at the bar, she jumped and knocked one of the mugs, thankfully empty, to the floor. It shattered and fragments of ceramic skittered everywhere.
“Hey mister!” she yelled at me, “you owe me a new mug, eh?” She squinted at me as I headed towards the far booth, ignoring her. “Nick? You should know better, you owe me two mugs!”
I skidded to a halt in front of the furthest booth. The booth Wally had been sitting at when I’d come in this morning. The one he’d been carving something into.
Near the edge of the table, carved in crude inch high letters, was one word: Alyson.
The phone rang three times before my mother picked up. As it was ringing I stalked from Rosie’s, tossing the ten I’d weaseled out of Wally this morning at her before leaving.
“Did you know, Mom?”
“What are you talking about, Nick? Did I know what?”
“Did you know that Wally McCollin was Alyson’s biological father?”
“Did Wally tell you that?”
“Wally’s dead, mom. Someone beat him to death and shut him in the trunk of his own car.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible.”
“Did you know that he was Alyson’s father?”
She only hesitated a moment, then answered in a voice that told me she wasn’t going to bullshit me, and I’d better return the favor.
“How did you find out?”
“Wally and Yadira have been sleeping together for at least the past three years. Wally came to Idle around the same time I brought Yadira back, probably following her from Boston, though I never made the connection until today. Just this morning he carved Alyson’s name into a table at Rosie’s after hearing about Yadira’s murder. The only people who knew about Yadira at that point were the cops, me, Derrick, and you. Wally has never been on good terms with the Idle PD, I doubt Derrick told him, and I know I didn’t, so that leaves you.”
She sighed, a long tired sigh.
“How long have you known, mom? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”
“I’ve only known since Yadira and Alyson started spending time together. Yadira didn’t tell me, Alyson did, and I didn’t feel it was my place to spread that around. What a girl tells her mother in confidence, even her adopted mother, is only for the two of them. I don’t know why Yadira didn’t tell you, I can only guess that she didn’t think you’d understand.”
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t understand,” I yelled into the phone, “that man was a brute and a criminal. What the hell was she thinking? How stupid could she be?”
“Come now, Nick, don’t judge her too harshly. From what you told me about Boston, she was in a bad place. I’m sure Wally started out as just one more mistake. After he cam here, who knows? Maybe she loved him, or thought she did.
“Maybe after you left her, she just needed someone to hold her?”
“No, don’t you dare put this on me! I bent over backwards for that woman. I couldn’t be with her anymore after all she’d done, but I did not just dump her on her ass and leave her to fend for herself.”
“Watch you’re tone, don’t forget that I’m your mother.”
“And where was Wally when Yadira needed someone to cosign her mortgage loan? Where was Wally when she was in labor for fifteen hours? Where was he for the last twelve years of Alyson’s life when she needed a father more than anything, and all she had was me?” I collapsed to my knees in the dirt next to my dirt bike, fighting back tears. “I tried, mom, I tried so hard. It was just never enough. She needed a father, her real father, and all she got was a burned out vet with a bullshit PI gig who couldn’t even save his marriage to the most wonderful and forgiving woman in the world. She deserved better, Mom.”
“Maybe Wally was never a part of Alyson’s life because she already had you. Even with all of your faults, even though you weren’t always there, you always tried. Yadira could have changed the way things were, but she didn’t, because she saw that things were just fine as they were.”
“So why did she keep seeing him? It’s been going on for at least the past three years, maybe longer.”
“A woman has needs, Nick, maybe that’s just all there is to it.”
I wiped my eyes. I supposed she was right, Wally was even less the father type than I was. Still, Alyson had known, and now she’d lost her biological father too without ever getting to know him. She was such a good kid, it just wasn’t fair.
She deserved so much better than all of this.
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