D is for Deadbeat (29 page)

I could feel my temper snapping. “You want me to tell her that? You took a flying leap because you made a fucking
deal
with yourself?” His face clouded with uncertainty. I pressed on in a softer tone. “You want me to tell her we sat up here like this and I couldn't talk you out of it? I can't let you do it. You'll break her heart.”

He looked down at his lap, his eyes remote, face coloring up the way boys do in lieu of tears. “It doesn't have anything to do with her. Tell her it was me and she did just great. I love her a lot, but it's my life, you know?”

I was silent for a moment, trying to figure out where to go next.

His face brightened and he held up an index finger. “I nearly forgot. I have a present for you.” He shifted, letting go of the torch with a move that made me snatch at him instinctively. He laughed at that. “Take it easy. I'm just reaching in the waistband of my jeans.”

I looked to see what he'd produced. My .32 lay across his palm. He held his hand out so I could take it, realizing belatedly that I couldn't free up a hand to reach for it.

“That's okay. I'll put it right here,” he said kindly. He set it in the niche, behind the ornamental torch I was clinging to.

“How'd you get it?” Stalling, stalling.

“Same way I did everything else. I used my head. You put your home address on that business card you gave Aunt Ramona, so I rode over on my bike and waited till you got home. I was going to introduce myself, you know, and act like this real polite kid with good manners and a nifty haircut and stuff like that. Real innocent. I wasn't sure how much you knew and I thought maybe I could steer you off. I saw the car and you almost stopped, but then you took off again. I had to pedal my ass off to keep up with you and then you parked at the beach and I saw a chance to go through your stuff.”

“You killed Billy with that?”

“Yeah. It was handy and I needed something quick.”

“How'd you know about disposable silencers?”

“Some kid at school. I can make a pipe bomb too,” he said. Then he sighed. “I gotta go soon. Time's nearly up.”

I glanced down at the street. It was really getting dark up here, but the sidewalk was bright, the arcade across the way lit up like a movie house. Two people on the far side of the street had spotted us, but I could tell they hadn't figured out what was going on. A stunt? A movie being shot? I looked at Tony, but he didn't
seem to be aware. My heart began to bang again and it made my chest feel tight and hot.

“I'm getting tired,” I said casually. “I may go back up, but I need some help. Can you give me a hand?”

“Sure,” he said. And then he paused, his whole body alert. “This isn't a trick, is it?”

“No,” I said, but I could hear my voice shake and the lie cut my tongue like a razor blade. I've always lied with ease and grace, with ingenuity and conviction and I couldn't get this one out. I saw him make a move. I grabbed him, hanging on for dear life, but all he had to do was give his arm a quick twist and my hand came loose. I reached again, but it was too late. I saw him push out, lifting off. For a moment, he seemed to hover there, like a leaf, and then he disappeared from my line of sight. I didn't look down again after that.

I thought I heard a siren wailing, but the sound was mine.

 

 

 

 

 

I billed Barbara Daggett for $1,040.00, which she paid by return mail. It's nearly Christmas now and I haven't slept well for six weeks. I've thought a lot about Daggett and I've changed my mind about one thing. I suspect he knew what was going on. From a distance, Tony might have passed for a woman, but up close, he looked exactly what he was . . . a young kid playing dress-up, smart beyond his years, but not wise enough by half. I don't think Daggett was fooled. Why he went along with the game, I'm not sure. If he believed what Billy'd told him, he must have figured he was dead either way. Maybe he felt he owed Tony that last sacrifice. I'll never know, but it makes more sense to me that way. Some debts of the human soul are so enormous only life itself is sufficient forfeit. Perhaps in this case, all of the accounts are now paid in full . . . except mine.

 

—Respectfully submitted,
Kinsey Millhone