First Gravedigger (13 page)

I sat down on a bench and glared at two surly-looking beasts who glared right back. Charlie's call hadn't been a total surprise, of course; I'd been halfway expecting it. What I didn't know was how much Charlie would try to bleed me for. The yak pens made a good place to meet: just isolated enough that blackmailer and victim could talk with little danger of being overheard. A new position for me—I'd never let myself be manuvered into a spot like this one before. In spite of the lump in my chest, I was curious to see how Charlie planned on handling it. Even he had to see there was no way of exposing me without incriminating himself.

Or maybe he didn't; maybe he thought he'd found a way. Charlie had never won any prize for smarts. He'd probably worked out some cockamamie scheme with enough holes in it to send us both up. The problem was, I didn't feel confident I could talk him around this time. This time, I'd be talking to a murderer. A man who had killed another man was not subject to usual methods of control. As long as we'd known each other I'd been able to manipulate him, so now I was having trouble adjusting to this new reality: I was actually afraid of Charlie.

The weather was beginning to cool a little. Only a few other zoo visitors passed my bench, most of them looking as if they wished they were somewhere else. One man was noticeable for the contrast he offered as he strode along the asphalt walk with a gaudily wrapped package crooked in one arm. One of those cock-of-the-walk types—the kind that expects lesser folk to get out of the way. I was shocked all the way down to my toes when I realized it was Charlie Bates I was watching.

Something had changed. Gone was that hangdog look that had been Charlie's trademark all his life. His clothes were good—and they fit. There was a bounce in his step I'd never seen before. Yes, something had definitely changed.

“Gladaseeya, gladaseeya, gladaseeya!” he started booming at me while he was still seventy-five feet away. Charlie the whiner—
booming
at me?

I said something and he said something and he sat down, putting the gaudy package on the bench beside him. He lowered his voice to a normal conversational level and said, “Man, is it good to see you! I dint want to call too soon—after the wedding, y'know. How long's it been?”

“Almost four months.”

“Four months! My best buddy Earl's been married four months! And I thought you'd never take the plunge. Y'know, sometimes I used to worry about you, Earl. 'Bout you never getting married, I mean. Sometimes it makes a guy wonder, y'know.”

I stared at him, astonished.

“Oh, I dint really think that,” he said in a rush, not wanting to hurt my feelings. “And I'm glad you went ahead and done it. But you sure surprised me, marrying the old man's widow like that. You can be a close-mouthed sonuvagun when you want to, Earl. Haw! You got yourself a real dish there. Not to mention
all that money
.” He opened his big mouth all the way and laughed and laughed.

I decided my best bet was to try to match his mood. “Say, buddy, tell me why I had to break an appointment. Why'd you drag me out here to smell the yaks?”

He looked surprised. “I don't think they smell so bad.” He turned to watch four or five of the huge animals gently bumping shoulders. “'Smatter of fact,” he said softly, “I think they're kinda grand.” He turned back to me. “You want to know why I gotcha out here. All right. I gotcha out here to thank you, Earl. You saved my life, old buddy.” He laughed at the expression on my face. “You don't know what the hell I'm talking about, do you? Well, I'll tell you. Earl, dint you ever wonder what happened that day—at Speer's house?”

Didn't I ever wonder
. I said dryly, “Yes, Charlie. I wondered.”

“Well, I'll tell you what happened. I was reborn.”

Reborn. Why did I have the feeling I was being set up for a punch line? “You mean you got religion?”

Charlie laughed so loudly that one of the yaks ambled over to the edge of the pen to see what all the fuss was about. “You could say that,” Charlie grinned at me. “You could say I got a kind of religion. What I got, Earl, was a purpose in life. And you made it happen. Listen. You ever pointed a loaded gun at a man, Earl? Course not. You don't know what it's like—holding the power of life and death in your hand. And then having the guts to
use
that power.”

“Charlie,” I said firmly, “tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, Speer was out back in the garden, like you said. Just sitting there, tired of digging, I guess. Sitting there like God Almighty looking out over what he'd created. I got up real close to him before he saw me. Then he just looked up sort of casual-like and saw this gun pointing in his face. Y'know what happened? Earl, it was like watching God Almighty fall on his face. That old guy was terrified. He turned white and his mouth was working and his hands was shaking and he just kept staring up the barrel of the gun. He was scared to death. He was scared of
me
.”

“So what happened?”

“He thought I was a burglar, see, and when he could talk he started babbling about how he'd open his safe for me if I'd just leave his porcelain alone. He was shaking he was so scared, but I was starting to feel pretty good. He was too old to fight back, and I wasn't in no hurry. So I just took my good old time. I told him I wasn't there to rob him. I told him I was there to kill him, and you'd sent me.”

“You
what?!
”

Charlie waved a hand in the air. “Nothing to worry about. No way that shaking old man was gonna get the jump on me—Earl, you'da had to see him to understand. He wasn't gonna challenge me. I had the gun. And I thought you'd like him to know before he went. Know that you'd won, I mean. Think about it, Earl. Think about him knowing.”

I thought about it. I thought about Amos Speer spending the last moments of his life understanding that he'd made a fatal mistake, that he'd taken on the wrong man when he went after me. Understanding that it was Earl Sommers who was running the show now. In spite of the risk Charlie had taken, I found myself beginning to smile.

Charlie laughed. “Thought you'd like that. You know what he did when I told him? Earl, it was the weirdest thing I ever seen. He just gave up. He gave up right then. This rich, important sonuvabitch just kinda melted down to nothing when I pointed the gun at him and told him he was gonna die. He wasn't even scared no more—he was just beaten. He just turned into a blob of jelly. He wasn't gonna fight back, he wasn't gonna do nothing.” Charlie made a face of distaste. “He was disgusting.”

The thought crossed my mind that Charlie had at last got a glimpse of the picture he himself had always presented to the world.

“It was the gun, y'know,” Charlie was saying. “It was all because of the gun. If I'da went there without no weapon, he wouldn'ta just give up like that. Like the gun was some kinda magic wand. All I had to do was wave it around a little and everthing changed. All my life I let other people beat me down. All my life. But now I had a gun in my hand, and this big shot who wouldn't even see me if he passed me on the street—well, he just give in to me. To me. Charlie Bates.”

I didn't say anything as I let what he was saying sink in. Charlie was making a cooing noise at the yak standing at the edge of the pen. “Then what?” I asked. “Then did you shoot him?”

“Not yet. I told him if he wanted to live a little longer, he could show me around the house. I always wanted to see how guys like him lived.” Enjoying his power over Amos Speer, stretching it out, making it last. “Man, that place is a
castle!
And my old buddy Earl's living in it now! We went all over the place, he showed me everthing. He done whatever I told him. Then I got hungry and told him to fix me something to eat. We went into the kitchen and he fixed me a salad. A salad, haw! He had this sharp knife in his hand and I kept hoping he'd try something, but he didn't.”

I rather liked the picture of the great Amos Speer chopping onions for Charlie Bates. A guided tour and lunch—that would account for the gap between the time I saw Charlie into a cab and the time Speer died. And it explained why the body was found in the house instead of the garden. “You took him back into the living room to shoot him,” I prompted.

Charlie nodded. “Y'know, Earl, it was kinda weird. All the time we were looking at the house, the time we spent in the kitchen—I felt like I really knew the guy. Y'understand? Never saw him before in my life, but I felt I known him a long time. Everything about him was familiar—the wavy hair, the size of his hands. I could draw you a picture right now of how his fingernails was shaped. I got kinda fond of the old guy. The way you feel about a sick old dog you gotta put out of its misery. So I wasn't mean to him, Earl. I just took him into the living room and told him to turn sideways so I could shoot him in the temple. And he did it! No argument, no fighting back.”

“Why the temple?”

“No reason. I just felt like it. So then I shot him, Earl. One shot, just like you said. He was dead before he hit the floor. He was dead, and I was alive—more alive than I ever been! I went there wanting to die, and I ended up getting excited about being alive!” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level. “Earl, I got a hard-on. I ain't gonna tell you how long it was since the last time. It made me feel good to kill that old man, Earl, doncha see?
It made me feel good
.”

I saw. Good lord yes, I saw. I saw and I wished I didn't.

“So, I skedaddled outa there,” Charlie went on. “I took some money from the old guy's billfold—not all of it, just enough to carry me for a while. Guess the police saw what was left and figured he hadn't been robbed at all. I sat around a coupla weeks, waiting to see if the cops could trace the shooting to me. They couldn't. Y'know Leyton Samuels?”

“What?”

“Leyton Samuels. Y'know the name?”

The abrupt change of subject threw me a little. “Uh, Samuels—let me see. Labor man, something to do with unions. Wasn't he the one who was killed a couple of months ago?”

“That's the one.”

“What about him?”

“Me.”

“You? You what?”

“I did that.”

I could barely speak. “You?
You
did that?”

“Yep. And that rich old woman in Squirrel Hill—hear about her?”

“Charlie—”

“And Frank Hellinger, the newspaper guy?”

“You killed all those people?
You?
In god's name why, Charlie?”

Charlie was enjoying himself. “The pay was right. You'd be surprised how many people are willing to pay to get other people put out of the way. I told ya I have a purpose in life now, Earl. I've turned pro.”

Charlie broke off as a woman and a small girl approached, the daughter dragging her feet and the mother trying to keep her temper. When they'd passed Charlie went on, “I finally found something I can do and I like doing. That's never happened before, Earl. Y'understand what that means to me? I'm still new at the game, but already I'm making more money'n I ever made before in my life.”

I was floundering. “Well, that's, uh.”

“You know what I did, Earl? I just left everthing. Everthing! Apartment, clothes, even the people I knew—I just walked away from 'em all. I got a new life now. I'm living good, I don't owe nobody—Earl, you remember the mob was after me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, they're paying
me
now!” Charlie was riding high all right. “I cleared up my debt and let 'em know I was available. Those fellas have turned out to be good customers.”

“That's. Terrific.”

“And Earl, I got me a woman you wouldn't believe. Everthing's breaking right for me—”

“Charlie, why are you telling me all this?”

“Oh, you'll never talk,” he said blandly. “You got as much to lose as me. But I figured I owed you an explanation. After all, if it wasn't for you I'da never found my true calling.”

What do you say to a man who tells you he's at last found his calling in life, and that “calling” is killing people? What I said was “Congratulations!”—and I said it as many ways as I could think of. Charlie the loser, irrationally transformed into a professional killer! Charlie Bates—
a hit man
.

Bigmouth Charlie was still talking. “Thass why I wanted to see you. To thank you. You made it happen. You saved my life, Earl. So I owe you, old buddy.”

“Ah, that's all right, Charlie, you don't owe me anything—”

“But I do. Is there something I can do for you? Some little favor—”

“No, no!” I said, alarmed.

“All right, but I'll find some way to pay you back.” I didn't like the sound of that very much. “Y'know, before I left Speer's house, I took something for you.” He picked up the gaudy package; I'd forgotten about it. “It's one of them little statues he had in cases all over the place, uh, the porcelain things. I knew you liked stuff like that.” He laughed. “Course, I didn't know then you were gonna end up with it all. Anyhow, here it is. Like a souvenir.”

A souvenir. Souvenir of a murder. “Charlie, you are truly incredible,” I said sincerely as I took the package.

“Aw, thass all right,” he said deprecatingly. “Just a little something to remember me by.”

Oh, I'll remember you, all right
. We sat without talking for a minute or two as Charlie watched the yak, and that alone told me how much he'd changed. Charlie had always been an overemotional, nonstop talker, afraid of silences. He was still garrulous, but his talk now was that of a man who was sure of his audience. He was the one who'd directed our conversation, not me. He'd even had enough self-assurance to tell me to think something over and then wait while I did.