Moonbog (43 page)

“Sure,” she said. She put her hand on Georgie’s shoulder and directed him toward the door. “Come on, hon’, Daddy wants to be alone.” Leah eased the door shut behind them and said, “We’ll leave you alone.” The tone in her voice was bitter, but it failed to move Les to apologize. He snorted once, then turned around to look out at the setting sun. He was fuming from the interruption, but he let his mind wander back to the problems he had been considering.

So, no matter how much Old Man Logan knew or had told, he would have to die—
and soon!
The only consideration was how to kill him without leaving any evidence, but he had killed enough kids and not gotten caught. It shouldn’t be
too
tough.

Les paused in his thinking and listened to Leah as she clattered about the kitchen, putting away the groceries. He could hear her compliment Georgie whenever he put something away in its proper place. The compliments sounded a bit too sugary. Les shook his head and muttered, “Goddamned good little twerp,” and snickered softly.

Sighing deeply, he leaned back in his chair, beer can poised at his mouth, when he heard the front doorbell ring. He felt his stomach tighten as he listened to Leah’s footsteps approaching the door. “Goddamned great watchdog,” he said, wondering where the hell Muggins was and why he wasn’t barking at whoever was at the door. He heard Leah talking with someone at the door, and then she shouted, “Les, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Shit,” he whispered, wondering who it could be. The cops? Shaw and Porter out to ask him some more questions about where he was and who he was with? Maybe Old Man Logan spilled his guts. He took a swallow of beer, then shouted, “Show ‘em out to the porch.” He made sure to keep his voice calm and easy. If it was Shaw, there was no point in sounding like a scared rabbit.

Footsteps approached the back screen door. Les looked around just as Leah swung the door open and said, “Right this way, David.”

Les almost choked as he dropped his feet to the floor, turned, and started to rise. His foot knocked over the cans of beer beside his chair. His pulse was racing as he wondered if old Uncle Marshall was with David. He breathed easier when he saw that David was alone, and by the time the screen door had slammed shut, Les was grinning ear to ear.

“Davie my boy,” he said, too friendly, “how in the hell are you? What the Christ you doing out here? Come on, pull up a chair and have a beer.” He waved him on over.

David saw the three folding chairs stacked up in the corner of the porch. He went over, got one, unfolded it, and placed it a good five feet away from Les’ spot. He sat down and shook his head. “I’ll take the chair, but I’ll have to pass on that beer.”

Les held out the can to David, jabbing it toward him like a matador with his red cape. “Come on. Don’t be a pussy,” he said mockingly.

David took the can but didn’t open it. He held it loosely in his left hand.

“Well,” Les said, tipping his head back, “I don’t mind if I do.” He chugged until the can was empty and immediately reached for another. “So what in the hell brings you out here?” he asked, then belched.

David looked at him for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the floor. “Well, I just about got all my business settled around here. As a matter of fact, I just sold the old place to Harry Sumner this afternoon.”

Les cocked his eyebrows and then frowned. “That so?”

“I’ll be leaving soon,” David went on, purposely skimming over the mention of the old place, “probably tonight. I just thought I’d stop by and say goodbye.”

“Goin’ back already?” Les said. There seemed to be a trace of mock sorrow in his voice that irritated David. “Jeeze, too bad. We never even got a chance to get together and shoot the shit about old times.”

David smiled weakly. “Yeah, too bad.” He considered for a moment, then snapped the ring-top of the beer. “Hey, you know, on second thought, I’ll have a beer with you. Who knows when I’ll be back here again.” He took a swig and winced. “Christ, you always did like it piss-warm, didn’t you?”

Les snickered. David had expected him to smile because he was referring to an old joke they used to have, but the corners of Les’ eyes narrowed and he looked at David as though he was studying him for . . . something. David’s first thought was:
Does he think I suspect him?

The silence grew increasingly tense as it lengthened. It seemed to be charged with electricity. David decided to act as though he didn’t suspect or know anything, but he found himself thinking, as he looked at his old friend from high school, that this man could have been responsible for five, maybe more deaths.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your little vacation back home,” Les said. David snapped to attention and nodded. “But I’ll bet you’re anxious to get back to the city.”

“Ummm.” David looked out over the backyard and then again at Les. “Especially after what’s been going on in town here.” He looked sharply at Les and this time there was no denying, Les
did
tense up.

“Christ, yeah,” Les said softly. “I know. Quite a thing to have happen when you come home after all these years.”

Les was staring intently at the top of his beer can, trying to control his reaction. His breathing was shallow and he was beginning to feel dizzy. “‘Course, New York ain’t much better . . . worse, actually.”

David nodded, then said, “Hell, yes, there’s a mugging within earshot of my apartment building every other day. But there’s a difference between them and what’s been happening around here.”

“Oh?” Les looked at him, eyebrows tensed.

“Yeah. In New York, when you get mugged, you get mugged for your money. You can lay ten to one odds your mugger has a habit so bad it makes him burn. These murders in Holland seem to be . . . to be just for the thrill of it.”

Les grunted, and the awkward silence threatened to settle again. Each man felt as though the other was probing, digging, trying to draw something from him. David had a brief mental image of what it must be like to walk on a bed of hot coals, like those Hindu holy men. That was how he wanted to deal with Les—gingerly. He hadn’t intended to come out to Les’ house to draw any confession from him; he merely wanted to lead Les to think that everything was OK and that he would be heading back to New York, leaving Holland behind forever. But the massive thing that remained unsaid hovered between the two men like a hawk about to drop on an unsuspecting rabbit.

As they sat on the porch, their eyes flickering back and forth from each other to the lengthening shadows on the back lawn, they heard the front door bang open. A boy’s voice bellowed out, “Hey Mom! Is Sammy home yet?”

David looked at Les who said simply, “That’s Robbie, my oldest.”

They heard him come into the kitchen and yell, “Hey, Mom. Have you seen Sammy?”

“He’s not with you?” Leah shouted from somewhere upstairs. There was an edge in her voice that made David feel uneasy. He looked at Les who, seemingly unconcerned, sent a ball of spit arching over the porch railing.

“I thought you said he was going with you,” Leah shouted. They heard her footsteps as she rushed downstairs.

“He was,” Robbie replied defensively.

“You told me he was going swimming with you!” she yelled louder.

“He did. He was with me.”

“Where is he now?”

This seemed to get Les’ attention, and he looked up and shouted, “What the Christ is going on?”

Leah came running out onto the porch, her face twisted with worry. “Sammy’s not with Robbie!” she shouted. “He says he doesn’t know where he is.”

David felt grossly uncomfortable, but he was unable to look away from Leah’s terror-stricken face.

“So?” Les said.

“
So? So?
” Leah looked as though any moment she would break down and start screaming; “So he was
supposed
to! He said he was going swimming with them!”

Robbie came to the door and stood there silently. Les got up from his chair with difficulty and strode over to the door. “Where’s your brother?” he asked with no trace of kindness in his voice.

Robbie shook his head and shrugged. “I dunno’.” David looked at Leah, whose face had gone completely white. She was gnawing at her lower lip which had changed to a sickly pink color. She cast a pleading look at David; he opened his mouth but found that he couldn’t speak.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Les said. He moved menacingly toward Robbie, who shied away. “Your mother says that he was supposed to be with you. Why isn’t he with you?”

“He was,” Robbie said, his voice cracking. “He did go swimming with us, right after school. When we were getting ready to leave, he said he wanted to stay a little longer. There were other kids there and some adults. I thought he’d be OK. I figured he’d be home by now.”

“And you let him stay there? Alone?” Leah said. “There were other people,” Robbie said.

“Alone? You left him there alone?” The hysterical note in her voice rose higher and higher.

Robbie shrugged. “Hey, he’s old enough to walk home alone. It’s not like he was a kid or something.” He forced his voice to sound casual, but it was unconvincing—even to himself.

“With everything that’s been going on around town? You let him stay there alone?” Leah screamed.

She turned to Les and grabbed both of his arms. “Les . . . Les . . . what if . . . if . . .” but she didn’t complete her thought, finding it too terrible to say aloud.

“What if . . .
bullshit!
” Les shouted, breaking free of her hold. He backed away from her. “He’s all right. Nothing’s happened to him. He’s probably at a friend’s house or on his way home now.”

“Well, I’m calling the police,” Leah said, somewhat calmer. Still, to David, she looked like she was about to have a coronary. She turned to go into the house.

“Just a goddamned minute, there,” Les said as he strode to the door and held it shut by leaning against it. The screen sagged inward and Robbie took several steps back. Leah looked at Les, her eyes glistening with tears, her lower lip trembling.

“You don’t have to go callin’ no police,” Les said harshly. “Sammy’s OK. Nothing’s happened to him.”

“How do you know?” Leah cried out, terrified.

“I know,” Les said firmly. David cocked an eyebrow and looked at him.

“Les . . . Please!” she said with a whimper as she struggled to get the door open. Les’ weight held it firm. Leah looked pleadingly at David as she jerked on the door handle. “Honey, please! Please! What if the killer got Sammy. Oh my God! What if he’s
dead?
” She pulled at the door until the wood began to give way.

“Nobody got him,” Les said. David noticed that his voice was harsh and firm but there was also a distant quality to it, as though he spoke almost automatically. “Will you just calm down for a minute and think about it? You’re getting yourself all worked up about—”

“Please, Les. Please!” Leah sobbed. Her shoulders shook with coiled tension and, for a moment, David thought she was going to haul off and punch Les to get him out of the way. Then, abruptly, Leah seemed to collapse inward, like a sail with no wind. Les stayed where he was with his back pressing the screen door shut.

“He said he was coming right along,” Robbie said weakly.

Les snapped his head around and looked at the frightened boy. “What?” be shouted.

“He said he’d be right along,” Robbie repeated. “I thought he’d be home by now.”

With a sudden howl, Leah burst into tears. Her eyes were wide and fear-struck as she looked back and forth between David and Les.

“Shit, man,” David said, stepping forward. “Let her call Shaw if she thinks there’s something wrong.”

“Keep your fucking nose out of this!” Les shouted, turning on David and shaking a clenched fist under his jaw. “This ain’t any of your business.”

“Please, Les,” Leah sobbed.

Les looked at his wife and suddenly softened. “Look, hon’,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I know he’s OK. Nothing’s happened to him.”

“How can you be so sure?” Leah whined.

As David watched Les and Leah, his mind raced madly trying to fit things together. Since talking with Marshall yesterday, he was convinced that Les was responsible for the murders around town. Some of his reactions indicated that he knew nothing had happened to Sammy, unless—the thought struck David’s mind like lightning—unless, to cover his own trail and throw suspicion elsewhere, Les had hidden or—worse—killed his own kid. Les surely wasn’t acting like a parent who was concerned that his child might be in trouble, might be the most recent victim of a child molester and murderer.

Another thought followed immediately, and that was that perhaps Les was innocent, that Marshall was wrong all along and Les had nothing to do with the murders. Maybe he had been sitting on the porch drinking beer too long and was too buzzed to react. Or maybe he was just trying to keep things calm so Leah wouldn’t get hysterical. David wasn’t quite sure how he should read Les’ reactions to the situation, but he definitely felt sorry for the torment Leah was going through and he wished he could do something to help her.

David reached out and lightly tapped Les on the shoulder. Les twisted his head around and glared at David, all the while keeping his grip firmly on Leah’s arms.